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The guard captain barked an order, bringing an instant hush.
Valara held her breath and in the stillness heard a single pair of measured footsteps. The footsteps paused. A murmured conversation followed. She could not make out the words, but she could guess. The king had sent a man to question the Károvín prisoners. The guards in Osterling had tried that once or twice. Valara had overheard them whispering about a cruel magic laid upon the Károvín soldiers.
The murmuring changed to raised voices. The argument was conducted in Karóvín, but she could not make out what they said. The exchanges grew louder, more abrupt. Then …
“Ei rûf ane gôtter. Gaebe mir alle werrit.”
A rank smell swept through the prison. Valara bent over double, overwhelmed by the harsh magic. Beyond the thrumming in her head, she heard the whine of voices. Erythandran. Károvín. But the Erythandran grew louder, more insistent, commanding the other to speak, speak the truth, no matter what spells were laid upon them, while the other voice rose into a shriek. Valara pressed both hands over her ears, but she could not shut out the cry until—
Abruptly the shrieking stopped. Valara slumped to the floor. She heard the soldiers outside her cell muttering softly. Even they were troubled.
A metallic clang echoed down the corridor. The muttering stopped at once. Now movement flowed through the crowd of soldiers. They were making way for someone’s passage. Before Valara could stand up and recover herself, the guards outside parted and two men came forward to the door of her cell.
Both were clothed in dark blue robes and trousers. One had a complexion that was blacker than a moonless night, and silver hair, cropped close. She had seen him once before, the day after the battle. He was Osterling’s regional governor, Lord Nicol Joannis. The second man was taller, his spare frame stooped as if from a heavy burden, and he wore a broad hat that cast shadows over his face.
Joannis produced a key and unlocked the door. The second man walked past him into Valara’s cell and signaled for his companion to remain outside. As he turned to face Valara, he removed his hat, revealing a gaunt face and pale brown eyes. Torchlight reflected from the silver in his long thin hair.
“My name is Lord Markus Khandarr.” The man spoke in strongly accented Károvín. His voice was clear and deep. “I am a councillor to the king and his chief mage. The commander sent word that you wished to confess. Here I am. Speak.”
Valara glanced from him to Joannis. One to question, the other to watch. She had planned to announce herself plainly, but the conflicting signals of magic and violence made her wary.
“I have no need to confess,” she said in Veraenen. “My message was to Veraene’s king, not a minion.”
Khandarr waved his hand, as if dismissing her words. “Reliable witnesses have sighted Károvín ships in our waters. Such news worries Armand of Angersee; therefore it worries me. He has sent me to question all the prisoners. And you. Tell me your name, and what you know about Károví’s plans for Veraene.”
He had answered in Veraenen, at least, but his abrupt tone unsettled her. You are my prisoner, it said. Valara ran through her answer twice before she could speak. “I will tell you as much as I am able. Remember, I asked to speak with your king. I believe we can help each other.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then answer my questions. Six weeks ago, the king’s fleet sighted a large number of Károvín ships bound for the east. Not long after, three of them foundered off our coast. Tell me where Leos Dzavek sent those ships. And why.”
Valara hesitated, glanced toward Joannis. No sign of what he thought. It was clear, however, that he would not interfere with the king’s chief councillor and mage. And Khandarr was obviously impatient for her to answer. Oh, but it was so hard to break the secrecy of three hundred years, especially to this man.
He is the voice of the king. I must work through him.
Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Leos Dzavek has discovered how to break through Luxa’s Hand—what you call Lir’s Veil. He sent those ships to invade our kingdom.”
Khandarr watched her, his pale eyes unblinking. “Go on.”
“His general took a number of prisoners for questioning, but he left behind most of his troops. I am a member of the court. I requested an audience with your king so we might discuss the possibility of an alliance. I would offer a great deal for safe passage back to my homeland.”
She heard a soft murmur from one of the guards. Joannis leaned closer, his eyes bright with anticipation. Khandarr, however, did not change his expression. “One of the Károvín sailors mentioned an island kingdom before he died,” he said softly. “He died from choking. Another one said the word magic before her throat burst open and she bled to death.”
A chill went through her at this flat recitation of violence. “So you see I’m not lying.”
“Nor have you told me the entire truth. For example, you are a trained mage. The guards tell me you attempted to break free using magic your first night here. And there are traces of your signature in this cell, though you tried to erase them. Did you help the Károvín to break through the barrier? Is that why Leos Dzavek sent ships to Morennioù? You call it an invasion. To me, it looks more like an alliance—”
“There is no alliance,” Valara broke in. “Leos Dzavek sent twenty or thirty ships against Morennioù. He gave them orders to murder the king and—”
She stopped at the eager look on Khandarr’s face.
“And did he?” he asked. “Did he murder the king?”
Valara said nothing. She had already said too much.
“I believe he did,” Khandarr said softly. “So Morennioù’s king is dead, and the barrier no longer quite so formidable. And you, you know far more than you admitted at first. Yes, my king must hear what you have to say, but everything, not just what you choose to reveal. You will not be bound by Leos Dzavek’s spells.”
He raised his right hand and murmured the familiar invocation to magic. The current gathered around his fingers. Another spell and the air crackled with a bright electric charge. She swallowed
with difficulty.
