The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 8: Partner in Crime

Inna's head throbbed with the insistent rhythm of a thousand drums. She grunted, confused, and used one weak arm to prop herself up on an elbow while she waited until the world stopped spinning. Her eyelids fluttered open to a crack, her vision nothing but white, blinding light for the first few seconds.

Then a face materialized, hovering in front of her own. She screamed and lashed out with a fist.

The woman—old, wrinkled, dark all over except for the silver strands of her hair—merely chuckled as Inna's body froze mid-movement. "Now, now, let's not start off on the wrong foot here."

A tickling feeling coursed through Inna's arm and broke through the paralysis before she had a chance to lift up the spell herself. Intimidated by this stranger's fast spellcasting, she leaned back to create as much distance between them as physically possible. "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, I'm just a humble fortune teller, my dear," the woman answered in a much too casual tone.

Inna narrowed her eyes. She had her doubts about this witch's claim to be "just a humble fortune teller".

"My name is Zohra," she continued with that spurious cheerfulness that was starting to get on Inna's nerves. "This is my shop."

"Really? Lovely place." Inna never took her eyes off Zohra.

The other woman let out another chuckle, although Inna failed to see what was so goddamn amusing. "Of course, I don't have to ask you who you are, princess. There aren't many women in this city whose appearance matches yours in beauty, especially not in this district."

"Do you think flattering me will help you get out of this situation unscathed?" Inna growled, balling her hands into fists. Her blood boiled and burned until red flares of anger streaked her vision. "You sedated me! You attacked me!"

For the first time since their conversation had started, the kind, patient expression on Zohra's face faltered. "To be fair, you were the one harrassing my protégé. Forgive me my curiosity, Your Highness, but what were you doing at Primsharah's black market?"

Inna pressed her lips into a thin line. The events leading up to this point returned to her—well, the parts she could remember. Her gaze scanned the room, searching for the tall, young thief with dark brown hair and turquoise eyes she had met outside the black market. Arran was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

She bit her tongue not to lose her patience and snap at the fortune teller. "Your protégé."

"Arran?" Zohra angled her head. "How should I know? I'm obviously not his mother." She circled her face with a hand and grinned. "He'll show up when he feels like it."

Great. She cursed Isha, the goddess of fortune, in silence for abandoning her in this crucial moment. For all she knew, Arran had dumped her here with this crazy old hag to get her out of the way until he had finished robbing Onshra's temple.

"You do know that harboring and protecting a criminal is a felony, right?"

Zohra laughed, a cold, joyless sound that sent shivers down Inna's spine. "And what proof do you have of Arran's crimes?"

"I will have plenty of proof to put him behind bars for an eternity as soon as he returns with the Amulet of Doom."

Zohra gaped at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Her face darkened in a way that would probably have daunted a less arrogant person than the crown princess of Primsharah. "And I've always heard people say you're such an intelligent girl."