AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sulla, Casimir, and Rheave are already waiting for us there, their stances tensed. Stavros will be employing his gift at what seems like the most crucial moments in the hopes of preventing attacks before they happen. Casimir is judging the emotional atmosphere of the crowd.
The other three of us are staying braced to use our magic to solve any problems that arise.
As I settle into place, the crowd parts in front of the stage. Lothar strides between the watching figures, his posture as haughty as always. His velvet cloak drapes unevenly across his one-armed form.
Tinom makes a gesture, and our defensive force gives way to let his former colleague through. My teeth set on edge.
“We’re letting him walk right up here?” I murmur.
Casimir smiles tightly. “It was negotiated. Tinom and Lothar are going to look over each of the candidates to confirm there are no signs of hidden magical advantages.”
A chill rushes through me. “He’s going to get that close to Petra?”
“I don’t like it either, but it’s supposed to be a show of trust. The other clerics will be right there, along with her guards.”
That doesn’t feel like enough. Without another word, I ease away from the wall and slink across the brightly painted boards amid the looming equipment.
Petra stands in the open center, now joined by the other three candidates: a lean man with a sharply pointed beard who I think I recognize as a count, a bulky fellow with flinty eyes who I wouldn’t be surprised to discover was once in military service, and a sinewy-limbed woman with elegantly braided hair who’s probably a minor noblewoman of some sort.
They’ve all dressed in the agreed-upon outfits of a simple short tunic and slacks. The single layer of fabric leaves little opportunity to disguise even small blades or magical trinkets, and their tight shoes offer no room to conceal a weapon.
As Lothar ascends the steps to the right of the stage to stand next to Tinom, I dart over behind him. The towering, lopsided man wafts a smoky cologne that makes my nose wrinkle. It reminds me too much of the late-night rituals his scourge sorcerer colleagues conducted.
I don’t sense any magic in it, though. Even when I lean as close to him as I dare, I can’t pick up the faintest vibration of magic on or around his body.
He could be holding his gift in reserve until he’s right in front of Petra. Or maybe whatever his talent is, it wouldn’t help him sabotage her, so he’s counting on someone else’s help.
At least I know he isn’t carrying an enchanted object on him that could harm her.
My magic reverberates through my torso. My fingers curl into my palms, holding back the urge to harm him quite permanently now that he’s finally right in front of me.
But he knows the audience works in his favor to some extent as well as ours. If Petra’s allies murder the leader of the Order seemingly unprovoked, it’ll appear to prove all his claims true.
Even if it looks like an accident, his people will blame it on treachery.
We need to treat him as an equal rather than a criminal until he exposes his true colors.
Restraining my power deep within me despite its frantic burn, I lurk nearby as he moves down the row of candidates. He gives each of his own only a cursory examination, already familiar with them. Any stealthy advantages they’re concealing, he’s approved.
When he stops in front of Petra, I tense even more, focusing all my senses on every minute movement of his body. Petra stands rigidly, her eyes fierce as she gazes back at the man she watched slaughter her parents. Her guards step forward to shadow her more closely.
Lothar skims his hands through the air around her body as if testing her, but I still can’t pick up on any magic emanating from him. From his grimly satisfied expression, I think maybe he’s just hoping to intimidate her.
Well, it would look awfully suspicious if she experienced any ill effects while he’s standing right in front of her. Any sabotage he’s planning, it’d be easier for him to get away with it once the trials have begun.
I don’t completely let out my breath until he moves away from her. Tinom finishes studying the last of the Order’s candidates and steps to the front of the stage.
Magical amplification sends his voice ringing over the crowd. “Now each of the candidates will swear before the All-Giver and all the godlen that they will not use their own or any other’s gifts to assist their performance in these trials. They come to these tests with no foreknowledge of the correct answers or approach. They accept their judgment based on their own mortal skills.”
As the candidates swear in one by one, I duck back into the spy alcove. I’ve only just returned when Filip hustles over to our part of the platform.
The Order defector faces us with an uncertain expression. “The three sacrificial accomplices who came with us in case we needed them to speak—they want to stay near Ivy and Sulla.”
Sulla turns and asks the obvious question for me. “Why?”
He seems to grope for his words. “I’m not sure—I?—”
“We think we can help.” One of those accomplices is hobbling along the base of the platform to come up beside us, supported by a man from Pima. Poltus’s voice comes out thick and the long cloak and loose pants he’s wearing only hide some of the deformities inflicted on him, but we weren’t going to put them back in their shrouds.
