Tyrus pondered the Prince’s words. He nodded subtly. “Khiara?”
She looked almost startled. “His skin smells putrid. I do not believe it is a disguise.”
Hettie motioned with her hand. “I have a charm, a necklace, with the power to assume the disguise of anyone I have seen or met. If he is a Druidecht, perhaps he wears such a charm. We cannot trust what our eyes see. He admitted himself that the spirits in this realm were cunning. I do not have a good feeling about this, Tyrus. I smell a trap.”
Kiranrao gave her a pleased look, rose and began pacing around the circle. He seemed edgy and restless to Annon. He had changed much since their first meeting in Havenrook. Khiara watched him with wary eyes.
“Baylen?”
The Cruithne rubbed his forearm vigorously, pausing a moment. “I’m still thinking about this. Come back to me.”
“Paedrin?”
The Bhikhu was squatting so low his heels touched the ground. He gave Kiranrao a challenging look. “His story rings true to me as well. He described perfectly the way one of the Arch-Rike’s rings controls you. If we all go to see the Empress together, then the Tay al-Ard will be drained and we won’t be able to use it again quickly. I’m not sure the Empress knows this, but let’s assume that she does. If her intentions are evil, she brings us to her in a way where we are surrounded and in terrain we do not know without a way to escape. It seems foolish to me, therefore, to all go together. Just a few should be sent to claim the knowledge. The rest stay here.”
“A thoughtful plan, Paedrin. Thank you.” Tyrus picked at his beard. “Do you believe a trap is awaiting us?”
“After what you put us through in Drosta’s Lair, I’ve come to expect them. If you go, you should take only one of us with you. I would suggest myself because of the Sword of Winds. It would be easier for a Vaettir to escape and I don’t think Kiranrao even wants to go.”
“You may carry the Sword,” Kiranrao warned, “but you will have no idea what direction to go or how to make it back to us.”
“It may not be easy to find, but flying above the land would be easier to spot this chasm than the way we came. Or if Tyrus gave me the Tay al-Ard, that would change the situation as well. Do you want to go, Kiranrao? I think you would fit right in to a colony with leprosaria. It would only improve your good looks.”
“Enough,” Tyrus said, glaring at Paedrin. “Annon?”
The Druidecht swallowed and struggled with his feelings. They had been deceived so many times by the Arch-Rike along the way that he found the past biasing his feelings. Like Hettie, he assumed there would be a trap as well. He was also uncertain whether to trust the nature of the spirit creatures in this realm. Were they obeying the Empress out of respect or compulsion?
“I’m struggling,” Annon confessed. “My heart wants to believe him, but we have been fooled so many times. Even the Thirteen were betrayed by one of their own because of the Arch-Rike.”
“We all see that, Annon. What does Nizeera think? She is wise to the ways of mortals.”
Annon had not thought about that. He reached over and stroked her head.
Tyrus is considerate. There are some spirit-kind in Mirrowen that are not trustworthy. Those that are not are banished to this world. He does not reek of spirit magic. He reeks of death. I believe him.
Annon smiled at her, grateful for her presence. He turned to the others. “She trusts him. As do I. If you want, I’ll go with you to see the Empress. I’m a Druidecht and have been taught that we are welcome in these lands of all the races and people. But we should all go together. Let’s face this Empress with all of our knowledge and skills. If it’s a trick, she’ll regret deceiving us.”
There was a subtle shift in the mood. Annon could see the others considering his words. He stared down at the ground again, absently stroking Nizeera’s fur.
“Baylen?”
The Cruithne rubbed his bottom lip. “She sent one of your best friends to try to win your trust quickly. She sent her own husband, if what he said is true. I think we should hear what she has to say. But let’s be clear. It’s very likely we’ll be fighting our way out of there. Though I’m frankly not afraid of facing men whose arms fall off.”
Paedrin let out a loud chuckle. “I was thinking that very thing. Do we go together, Tyrus? I would vote for leaving Kiranrao behind.”
Kiranrao gave Paedrin a withering look, but he said nothing. He looked at Tyrus, slowly shaking his head no.
“Shion?” Tyrus asked, turning to the quiet man sitting next to Phae.