Even in the early hours of morning, Willowshade remained much the same as when Arin had first seen it. People thronged the streets, the constant bustle and noise a testament to the tenacity of the village's early risers.
Someone hurrying along their way even nearly collided with Siel once again, prompting Arin to pull the younger tower magician closer as they walked.
They dealt first with all the other matters they'd mentioned to Sir Veylor – much to the chagrin of the head tradesman, who was most certainly not one among the aforementioned early risers. The bleary-eyed man had only admitted them into his quarters for a discussion after reviewing the order they'd procured from Willowshade's headman, and had seen them off while still yawning uncontrollably.
That done, they then made straight for the weaver's lane, where the old maid lived.
It was only after a while of knocking on the front door that there were some signs of activity from within the house. A few shuffling footsteps were followed by some low grumbling, before the door was finally cracked open.
A familiar, thin face glowered at them suspiciously through the narrow opening. Siel offered up a polite smile in return, while Arin remained further to the back, stony-faced and silent.
He'd leave the talking to the wide-eyed boy for now. He just hoped madam Seren would be agreeable in return.
After a few moments of silence, the old woman sighed. 'It is much too early for callers,' she grumbled. 'I didn't think tower magicians could be so uncouth.'
'We beg your pardon,' said Siel, still smiling. 'But we have things we must urgently ask of you, things about Silvershade, and lady Elara, so –'
'And I have already told you of all that I know,' interrupted the old maid. 'I have nothing more to offer to you. Begone.'
And with that, she started pulling the door shut once again.
Okay, this wasn't going to work.
Arin reached over Siel's shoulder and jammed the opening. He then yanked the door open, tearing it out of the old woman's hands. Madam Seren stumbled backwards in shock. Before she could open her mouth to scream, however, the two of them had already pushed their way into her house and shut the door behind themselves.
'What -! What terrible -!'
'You are a liar, madam Seren,' said Arin.
The old maid's eyes flickered between their two faces. 'I- I don't know what –'
'You know. You know all about what's happening in Silvershade,' Arin continued, fixing his gaze onto the weathered face.
'I know that you have – you have lost your minds! That's what I know! Leave at once, before I call for the officials and have you reported -!'
'We know of your husband, madam Seren,' said Siel in a quiet voice.
The old maid stopped speaking abruptly, her eyes wide.
Arin sighed quietly to himself. When they'd searched the head caretaker's quarters, they hadn't found any correspondence or trace that would suggest his relation to madam Seren. Even sir Grif's office had only had the one letter, that he hadn't gotten around to reading before falling into the unending sleep.
If not for Lana confirming the matter within the dream, they would've had no way of determining the truth from merely the few childish paintings in Elara's bedroom.
It was as though all correspondence with the old maid had been regularly, and purposefully, destroyed over the years.
Arin had no doubt they would similarly be unable to find any incriminating letters stored within madam Seren's home.
'Tell us what you know,' he said, taking a small step towards the old lady. 'Tell us… when did lady Elara's talent first start morphing into a distortion?'
'Quiet!' cried madam Seren, her voice shrill. 'D-distortion? I know nothing about this!'
'No?' Arin's voice was icy. He took another step towards her, forcefully suppressing the deep sense of discomfort that was unfurling in his chest.
No one with a normal brain would ever take any joy in threatening old ladies, dammit!
Clenching his jaw, he continued nonetheless. 'Then let's talk about something else, madam Seren. Tell us about miss Lana.'
The old maid gasped sharply. Her fingers scrabbled at the back of a nearby chair, and she stumbled, nearly falling into the seat as the strength seemed to leave her legs.
'Lana? She… she left,' she mumbled, eyes darting to one side. 'That girl left, to go seek out opportunities in the cities. I know nothing – I know nothing about –'
'About how miss Lana is currently still in Silvershade? Lying cold… dead… pitifully abandoned, in an unmarked grave in the hills?'
'No! Quiet! No, no…'
'Tell us; how many people have died because of your lies, Seren? And how many more will die? All. Because. Of. You.'