When Prince Amilton’s act was discovered, the trade negotiations fell into shambles. The king finally listened to the whisperings around him, the whisperings of his son’s indiscretions. Horrified that one of his own flesh was capable of such abuse, he began to look to his other son, Prince Zachary the workhorse, the son who, while his father was occupied fruitlessly teaching Prince Amilton the principles of kingship, excelled at his studies, learned about managing a province, and traveled to familiarize himself with the countryside and its people. When King Amigast chose Zachary to be his heir, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Almost everyone.
Prince Amilton, soured and seething hate after the loss of the throne, had returned to Hillander Province as governor. But his indiscretions continued, the clan’s wealth dwindled, and the province suffered. Zachary, now king, exiled his brother from the province and the country. No one knew where he had ended up. Laren had her own ideas about that, and had hoped the message would confirm her suspicions.
“Captain?”
“Hmmm?”
“Captain.”
Laren blinked. All of the advisors gazed at her. She straightened in her chair and cleared her throat, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming. “Yes?”
“What is the story behind this girl?” Sperren asked. “Would you care to explain?”
Finally, a flicker of interest lit in the king’s eyes.
“Karigan G’ladheon is a runaway from the school at Selium. Her father is a merchant in Corsa.” Laren described her chance meeting with Stevic G’ladheon, and his request for her Riders to search for his daughter.
“And how did she contrive to get hold of F’ryan Coblebay’s message?” Castellan Crowe asked in that snide tone of his.
Laren tried to conceal the annoyance in her voice. “I’m aware of the holes in my story, but I don’t believe that contrive is an appropriate term. I can only speculate about how and why Karigan G’ladheon came into possession of F’ryan’s message, and what happened thereafter.” Undoubtedly the brooch had called her, but this she wouldn’t tell the advisors. Let them believe it was pure coincidence.
“Then why don’t we have her here for questioning?” Crowe had been a law speaker before coming to serve King Amigast, and often insisted on cross-examining people.
Counselor Devon echoed Crowe. “Yes, why isn’t she here?” Devon was half blind with age, but immeasurably sharp. Often she was an excellent resource for how situations had been dealt with in the past. She had first served as Queen Isen’s personal Weapon, then instructed a generation of Weapons in the way of the Black Shields. She slid into the advisor’s position when her slowing reflexes and poor eyesight demanded she retire from the sword. As advisor, she oversaw the administrative activities of the Weapons, and so was not completely sundered from the profession that had once consumed her life.
Laren rubbed the brown scar on her neck. “She isn’t in any condition for an interrogation.” Crowe perked up at the word. “Perhaps you didn’t notice, but she couldn’t even support her own weight when she arrived.”
“Yes, but if she’s a threat—”
“She isn’t a threat,” Laren snapped.
“She used magic,” Crowe said.
“Magic isn’t necessarily a threat. Look, this girl isn’t what we have to fear. She brought a message through who knows how many perils, and we should be thanking her rather than hurling suspicions at her like rocks.”
“The message says nothing,” Sperren said. He had been steward-governor of Hillander Province since Amigast had been a boy, only to be brought to Sacor City by the late king to advise him. Laren wondered who held that position now. “We’ve known about Lorilie Dorran living in North for months, and the king has tolerated her presence. And the two assassination attempts? Easily thwarted by Weapons.”
“F’ryan Coblebay died because of this message.” This time Laren did not bother to conceal her annoyance. “And F’ryan was known to write important messages in code so they would remain uncoded by any enemy who captured them. I request that I be permitted to take the message, Excellency, so I might determine whether or not it is in code.”
Zachary nodded and passed it to her.
“What we should fear,” Laren said, “are these.” She held up the two black arrows which had lain on the floor beside her chair. She loathed touching them. They felt tainted and thirsty as if they could eat into her flesh.
“Yes, Captain,” Crowe said. “You came in waving those arrows about this afternoon as if you knew the answers to Bovian’s Seven Secrets. Please do explain.”
“I won’t pretend to know the answers to the Seven Secrets.” She smiled grimly. “But I have a good inkling about these arrows. I found them in Selium . . .in F’ryan Coblebay’s back. I spoke with a historian there, Master Galwin, who has an interest in relics of the ancient past.”
“Those hardly look ancient,” Devon said. It was amazing she could see them at all.
“I suspect they were very recently made, but in an ancient way. Master Galwin suggested that, by the way they were used to kill F’ryan—two arrows of a certain wood—that they are soul stealers.”
“Oh, come now, Captain.” Devon waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t waste our time with mystical fancies. There is no magic of that dimension anymore, and no one can steal souls. I’m sorry for the loss of Rider Coblebay, for he was a good man, but I doubt his soul is anywhere but with the gods.”