Sophrayni's Quiet Hunt Chapter 9.

Chapter 9.

 

Rescue.

         

“But you’ll have to face Wilgan and her eventually,” Tess said, frowning. “Why not now?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Sophrayni said slowly. “But I want it to be my way. Not hers. And I need to know more about her—and this Wilgan person.”

Tess nodded. “I’d better go and finish my meal, or the guards will get suspicious. We have about half an hour before they come back for the empty bowls and to check if we’ve taken the potion.”

Sophrayni waited until Tess had slipped away again, then stood and let her senses stretch outward. She didn’t summon power the way Calizone had—like a hammer striking stone. Sophrayni’s magic was quieter—threadlike, patient, weaving through the stone and silence.

The manor was layered with enchantments. Some crude, some clever. Most of the spells were designed to mask, not protect. She followed the threads of concealment, unravelling them one by one. Behind the west wing, beneath the old wine cellars, she found it: a sealed chamber, wrapped in silence spells.

Someone was inside.

She pressed her palm to the wall and whispered—not a spell, but a question shaped in magic. The stone answered with a pulse of recognition. The man within was drugged, but alive. His name drifted to her like a leaf on water.

Rocco.

She drew back, heart pounding. Lord Rocco hadn’t vanished. He’d been buried.

Tess returned moments later, breathless. “I felt you searching. I tried that, but it didn’t work for me. You found something?”

Sophrayni nodded. “He’s here. Locked below the cellars. They’ve kept him under the potion for weeks.”

Tess’s face darkened. “Can we get him out?”

“Not yet. But we can prepare.”

She turned to the tray and picked up the cup. “When I was in Cowton, one of the hedge witches there got rid of the potion from her body.”

“How?” demanded Tess.

Sophrayni smiled faintly. “She drank rather a lot of nettle gin. But it wasn’t the gin—it was the nettle.”

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small pouch of dried leaves. “Nettle disrupts binding magic. If we steep it properly, it can flush the potion from his system. We’ll make a tonic. Strong, bitter, and clean.”

Tess looked at the dried leaves. “They’re not going to make much tonic.”

She paced for a moment. “I know where there’s a huge patch of nettles close by.”

“Outside,” said Sophrayni. “Not much use to us then. And I’d need to know exactly where to go and pick them.”

Tess grinned. “I can get them without leaving here.” She looked up at the ceiling. A second later, a large bundle of fresh nettle leaves appeared on the bed.

“And we didn’t even get nettle rash picking them,” she said in triumph.

Sophrayni looked toward the wall, where the hidden chamber lay beyond. “He’s the key. If we free him, we can find out who this Wilgan really is.”

Tess nodded. “And her?”

Sophrayni’s eyes narrowed. “She’s next.”

There was the sound of boots in the corridor outside. Tess vanished in an instant. Sophrayni pulled the thin bed sheet over the bundle of nettles.

The guard came in and, without a word, picked up the tray and walked back out. He didn’t take any notice of Sophrayni at all.

Tess came back. “They never speak,” she said.

“Will they return tonight?” Sophrayni asked.

Tess shook her head.

Then we have time to make the nettle potion. We really need something to make it in—and some more of that spring water,” said Sophrayni.

Tess giggled and reached under the bed. “This do?” she asked, holding out a metal pot. “You haven’t been here long enough to have used this yet.”

The nettles were put into the pot, and Tess brought water.

“They need to soak for at least a day, but we haven’t got that much time,” said Sophrayni. She concentrated hard and waved her hand over the pot.

Tess watched in astonishment as the nettles dissolved into the water, making a green soup. “How?” she asked.

Sophrayni shrugged. “I’ve never tried that before. I folded time around the pot. Gave it a day in a moment. Now we need to strain the liquid.”

She looked around. “The sheet looks thin enough to strain it. It’ll smell sharp, but that’s a good sign.”

Sophrayni strained the liquid through the thin sheet and into the cup. A deep green stain bloomed across the fabric, sharp-scented and unmistakable.

Tess wrinkled her nose. “That’s not coming out.”

Sophrayni shrugged. “I won’t be sleeping under it. So long as it strains clean, I don’t care what it looks like. We can always do more as and when we need it. It should get rid of the effects of the potion—but not the spell that was with it.”

She tore a piece of the sheet and wrapped it around the cup.

Tess frowned. “Can you remove the spell?”

Sophrayni nodded. “Yes. It’s really only a small one, not a big one. But you need to remember—removing a spell, even a little one, gives the person who cast it a certain amount of pain. Nesthana would know that someone powerful was here. And I don’t want to face her just yet.”

Tess looked puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘little spell and big spell’?”

“A little spell heals a wound or removes a wart—quick, clean, and gone. A big spell… that’s something like putting someone to sleep for a hundred years and a day. Those need a way to undo them. Break them wrong, and the caster feels it—badly,” Sophrayni explained.

“Can you do big spells like that?” Tess asked, her voice hushed, looking worriedly at Sophrayni.

Sophrayni looked thoughtful. “Probably. But I’ve never tried. Calizone certainly could—and since she gave me all her power, I suppose I could. It wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, though.”

She paused, her gaze distant. “I may have to one day. Which is not a nice thought.”

Tess frowned and started to ask a question, but Sophrayni put a finger to her lips to quieten the girl.

“We need to get a move on. If Nesthana is any good, she’ll be keeping a close eye on us—and we’ve been using magic. As good as we are, we’ve been sending out ripples. She could well be able to sense them.”

Sophrayni knelt beside the lock, fingers brushing the iron. She didn’t force it open—she unwound it.

Her magic slipped into the mechanism like a whisper, not a command. Pins shifted. Tumblers softened. The lock sighed and gave way.

She eased the door open just enough to slip through. No creak. No echo. Just the hush of stone and shadow.

Tess followed her out into the passage, eyes bright. “You didn’t even touch it.”

“I asked it nicely,” Sophrayni murmured.

They moved quickly, keeping to the narrow servants’ paths Tess knew by heart. Past the kitchens, behind the wine racks, down into the cold belly of the manor.

At the base of the stairs, Tess paused. “He’s just through there. No guards. They think the potion’s enough.”

Sophrayni nodded and unwrapped the cloth around the cup. The nettle tonic shimmered faintly, bitter and green.

The lock on the cell door gave Sophrayni no trouble, and the door swung open.

Inside the chamber, Lord Rocco lay still, his breath shallow. A faint shimmer clung to him—the residue of the potion, and beneath it, the deeper binding spell.

Sophrayni knelt beside him and lifted the cup.

“Help me raise his head,” she said.

Tess did so gently, and Sophrayni poured the liquid between his lips. It took a moment. Then a tremor ran through his fingers. His breath deepened. His eyes fluttered open—clouded, slow, but alive.

He blinked, confused. “Where…?”

“You’re safe,” Sophrayni said softly. “You’ve been under a potion. This will clear it from your body—but not the spell beneath.”

Lord Rocco’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his voice was sluggish. “Who…?”

“Sophrayni,” she said. “Witch of the Dark Forest.”

He flinched faintly. “That name… not safe…”

          “I know. But I’m not her. She’s gone now,” said Sophrayni gently.

He looked toward Tess, recognition flickering. “The little beggar girl…”

Tess nodded. “Still here.”

Lord Rocco tried to sit up, but Sophrayni placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. The deeper spell is still in place. If I break it now, Nesthana will feel it—and I’m not ready for that fight.”

Lord Rocco’s brow furrowed. “My family… my clerk, Baston?”

“We’ll find them,” Sophrayni promised. “But for now, you need to stay quiet. Rest. The spell masks you from her. If it breaks, she’ll come.”

He nodded slowly, eyes heavy again. “She’s… not just a witch…”

“I know,” Sophrayni whispered. “And Wilgan?”

Lord Rocco’s lips moved, but the words didn’t come. The spell held him still.

Sophrayni turned to Tess. “We’ve bought ourselves time. Now we use it.”

Lord Rocco stirred again, eyes half-focused. The nettle tonic had cleared the potion’s fog, but the deeper spell still held him in its grip.

“Wilgan…” he murmured. “Shouldn’t be here… not a Kingsman…”

Sophrayni leaned closer. “What is he?”

Lord Rocco’s brow furrowed. “Blood… royal blood… nephew…”

His voice faltered. The spell tugged him back into silence.

Tess glanced at Sophrayni. “Is he trying to say that Wilgan’s related to the king?”

Sophrayni nodded slowly. “That would explain a lot.”

Lord Rocco’s lips moved again. “Baston… clerk… knows…”

Sophrayni turned sharply. “Where is he?”

Tess frowned. “He was taken when Lord Rocco disappeared. I don’t know where he is.”

“Can’t run the place without a clerk,” Lord Rocco muttered before collapsing back onto the bed.

“I think I know where Lady Rocco and the children are being held,” said Tess. “I looked for them before you came.”

She grimaced. “She wasn’t happy about that. She stopped the guards from bringing me food for two days as punishment. I haven’t looked for anyone since. Bessie Curlees might be locked up somewhere as well.”

Sophrayni pulled her nose thoughtfully. “If, as Lord Rocco said, they need a clerk to run the place, then Baston is going to be where he usually did his work—rather than locked up somewhere.”

“I know where his office is,” said Tess excitedly. She turned to go.

“Slow down,” warned Sophrayni. “Lord Rocco is in no fit state to go anywhere at the moment. We need to rescue his family and Bessie if we can, and get them somewhere safe. Then we can go looking for Baston.”

Tess nodded. “Follow me.”