A Flame in Hali (37 page)

“How did you know—”

“I saw
Dom
Rodrigo pour some of it into a meal intended for Saravio.”

Too late, he realized he had used Saravio’s true name, not the alias of the Blessed Sandoval. Mhari seemed not to notice, or perhaps she too was distracted, focused on the puzzle that was even now resolving itself.

Eduin felt her surge of elation, saw her fingers curl white-knuckled around the vial. He had, he knew, just handed her an instrument of revenge against the man who had tried to usurp her place. She was not a woman capable of easy forgiveness.

“And your friend?” she asked.

“Tasted nothing of the dish.”

“What happened to the food?”

“I asked the cook to keep it in a hidden place.”

“Show me where.”

Mhari carefully locked the cabinet, retaining the blue-green vial, and escorted Eduin from the still room. The cook was, for once, not busy with some preparation, but sitting comfortably with two of her young helpers, stirring honey into mugs of
jaco
. They rose as the
leronis
entered, the girls flushed with alarm. The cook disappeared into the back reaches of the pantry and emerged a moment later with the tray. She had been as good as her word, for not even the cloth cover had been disturbed. It was exactly as Eduin had left it, askew and with a triangular rumple in one corner.

Cook held it out to
Domna
Mhari as if it contained a nest of venomous serpents.

“Put it down,” Mhari said, gesturing at the end of the worktable, which had been cleared and scrubbed clean. She bent over the tray, her nostrils flaring very slightly, corners of her mouth tight, and brought out her starstone. She carried it in a silken pouch on a long braided cord around her neck. “Now remove the covering.”

The woman did so, holding the cloth by the edge of one corner. Eduin suspected the offending item would mostly likely end up in the fire rather than the laundry.

Fingers spread wide, Mhari passed her free hand over the covered dishes. She half-closed her eyes, searching with her
laran
for psychic residues. Eduin did not need to follow her with his own thoughts to know what she would find.

I have him now!
Triumph flared within her mind, filtered through a veil of simmering resentment.

Mhari would do his work for him, and no one, not even Lord Brynon, need ever know that it was Eduin and not she who had discovered the poison attempt. Let her keep all the credit for herself; he wanted no fame. All she would have to say was,
I have learned that someone has tried to murder Sandoval
—the Blessed Sandoval, the savior of the heiress of Kirella—
and I wish to examine the suspect under truthspell.

Her eyes gleaming, Mhari commanded the cook to safeguard the evidence and then swept from the kitchen.

“Well!” the cook exclaimed, when she returned from replacing the tray in its hiding place. “What do you suppose that was about?”

“I don’t know,” Eduin lied, “but I expect we will soon find out.”

They did not have to wait for long. Within the hour, Lord Aillard commanded the cook to produce the tray, and the Blessed Sandoval, along with his assistant, to attend him directly in his presence chamber. Saravio followed Eduin without comment, uninterested in the happening.

The chamber was already filled with every person of importance in the castle, so that the atmosphere, laced with tension, was thick and close. Even without
laran,
Eduin would have recoiled from the jangle of nervous energy.

Lord Brynon sat in his accustomed place, with Romilla on a smaller throne at his side. The girl’s face was as set and pale as the first day Eduin had seen her, but her expression was grim and her eyes alight with inner fire.
Domna
Mhari stood a little to the side, her hands cupped between her breasts.

As Eduin and Saravio entered, a courtier came forward and escorted them to two chairs near the front of the room. As they took their places, the crowd fell silent except for the occasional nervous cough or rustle of a lady’s skirts.

Lord Brynon gestured to the captain of his guard and a moment later, two armed men brought out the physician. One held each elbow. They halted before Lord Brynon.
Dom
Rodrigo delivered a formal bow with the same ease as if he were a welcome guest and not a prisoner. Even so, fear rose like a dark mist from his mind.

“Vai dom!”
the physician cried. “I beg of you, tell me why I have been brought before you in such an unseemly manner. I am no common thief, to be thus surrounded by armed men.” Shrugging his robes into place, he jerked away from his guards. “If some malcontent has laid a complaint against me, let me hear it from his own lips, that I may refute the scoundrel!”

“Silence!” Lord Brynon’s voice rang out above the rumbling of the court. “Let there be not a single word spoken until all is prepared,” he nodded to
Domna
Mhari, “and let us speedily reach the heart of this matter, for the very thought of such treachery is abhorrent to me.”

Mhari turned her palms upward. The blue-white fire of her starstone flashed in her cupped hands. She bent her face over the gem, as if breathing in its power.

Eduin braced himself for the first stirrings of the truthspell, although he had no reason to fear it. He had done nothing to injure any person within these walls.

Old habits of secrecy died hard, and he had carried secrets for as long as he could remember—his true identity as the son of the outlaw
laranzu,
Rumail Deslucido, his unsuccessful attempts to assassinate Prince Carolin Hastur, he who was now king, his successful murder of Felicia Leynier, the circle he had illegally gathered to defend Hestral Tower, his role in the riot at Hali Lake . . . Depending upon how the questions were phrased, it might become apparent that he was hiding something. There was so much to hide. If pressed, he could draw upon the Deslucido Gift, as he had in the past. That was the greatest and most terrible secret of all.

The
leronis
began the ritual phrases that would establish the spell. “By the fire of this jewel, let the truth lighten this room in which we stand.”

Eduin had seen the setting of truthspell a number of times, and had been trained to do it himself; he knew that he alone possessed the ability to nullify it, and yet the process stirred him on some deep and wordless level. From the small blue jewel in Mhari’s hands, a glow began, slowly suffusing her features. It filled the room, creeping slowly from face to face as if it were a living thing with an intelligence of its own. He felt it shimmer across his skin, cool as polished glass, saw it bathe Saravio in a twilit glow.

The blue light touched each according to his nature, heightening the essence of the person. Romilla looked as if she had been carven from alabaster, her father a cragged bird of prey.
Dom
Rodrigo’s features turned blotched, the folds and lines of his face becoming crevices of darkness.

Mhari lifted her head. In that moment, she seemed taller, worthy of her own pride. “It is done, my lord. While this light endures, the truth alone may be spoken here.”

“Now, we will have the truth of this business.” Lord Brynon’s voice deepened, like distant thunder. Hearing it, Eduin remembered the unnatural storms over Thendara, the crackle of unspent lightning, the taste of power in the air.

“
Dom
Rodrigo Halloran, stand forth.”

Visibly gathering himself, the physician stepped away from his guards. He licked his lips and bowed deeply to his lord. “I am here, and ready to serve to the full capacity of my skill and training.” He paused, then added with a trace of his old arrogance and a sidelong glance at Saravio, “As I always have.”

“You say you have always served this house?” Lord Brynon asked.

“I have ever sought the health and welfare of every member of the ruling family.” The blue light remained, clear and steady, on Rodrigo’s features.

“And all who dwell within these walls?”

The physician hesitated before replying, “That I cannot swear for certain, my lord, for I do not know all of them. I am bound by the oaths of my profession to harm no one, regardless of my personal feelings.”

“So there are none whom you dislike here in this company?”

Dom
Rodrigo remained silent.

“Make him answer!” Romilla cried, half-rising. “He must not hide behind silence!”

“None whom you wished any ill? What about Sandoval, who saved young Kevan’s life? Who succeeded in restoring Lady Romilla to sound mind when you had failed?”

“My lord, I cannot—” Rodrigo lifted his arms in a piteous gesture. His hands shook.

Lord Brynon rose slowly to his feet and pointed to Saravio.
“Did you attempt to harm that man?”

Dom
Rodrigo fell to his knees. The only sound that emerged from his mouth was an incoherent stammer. “I—I—” The blue light on his face wavered and then went out.

For a moment, stunned silence hung over the room. Eduin jumped to his feet. “My lord, I ask you—on behalf of the Blessed Sandoval—permit me a question or two before you pronounce judgment.”

Romilla touched her father’s arm. “Yes, let him speak. Let us know the will of Sandoval in this affair, for it is
he
to whom I am indebted and
he
who has been injured by this treacherous villain.”

Eduin bent over until his mouth was beside Saravio’s ear. “Attend carefully to what I say, and watch this man’s reactions. Remember that it is Naotalba’s will that all men love her and rejoice in her service, and also that they suffer in the presence of her enemies.”

Saravio nodded.

Taking a step toward the cowering physician, Eduin pitched his voice so that the entire assembly could hear him clearly. “
Dom
Rodrigo, for the moment let us set aside the matter of whether you acted alone or at the orders of some other party. Instead, I ask this on behalf of the man you would have harmed: What do you know of Naotalba?”

In an instant,
Dom
Rodrigo’s expression went from guilt to confusion. The blue light of truthspell flickered across his features once more. “Naotalba? I—I know nothing—have nothing to do with her. Why should I? She does not even exist, except as a tale to frighten foolish maidens.”

Eduin bent over Saravio again, giving the appearance of consulting about the next question. “Do you hear? He denies even her existence.”

Saravio’s eyes glinted in response. The muscles of his jaw clenched.

“But he is no leader,” Eduin went on. “We must find out whom he serves.”

Eduin straightened and asked, in the same tone of voice. “What about Varzil Ridenow? Do you also know nothing of him?”

“Of course, I do! I am no ignorant simpleton!” Regaining a measure of composure,
Dom
Rodrigo heaved himself to one foot and then the other, standing. Now the blue glow steadied. “Varzil of Neskaya was first trained at Arilinn Tower and is perhaps the most notable Keeper of our time.”

“So you approve of him? Believe in him?” As he spoke the words, Eduin felt a lash of fear and anger from Saravio. Romilla flinched visibly. Mhari paled within the aura of blue light.

“What kind of questions are these? Unlike the mythological figure you previously cited, this man is real and so are his accomplishments. Together with Carolin Hastur, he rebuilt Neskaya Tower. Now he is emissary to that same King Carolin and his name is often praised as a force for peace and justice. Many call him Varzil the Good.”

“And you? Do
you
admire him also?” Eduin pressed.

“He is honored wherever he goes.”

Again Saravio’s mind sent forth an intimation of fury, stronger this time, like caustic over raw skin. The courtiers murmured, restive. Several voices rose above the others.

“Traitor!”

“He sold us out!”

“The Hasturs? Could
they
be behind this?”

One of the chief councillors, an older man with a dignified bearing, stepped forward. “
Vai dom,
must this continue? The prisoner has failed the test of truthspell.”

Lord Brynon stirred in his great chair. Truthspell turned his features stark and grim. “I do not understand this line of inquiry. What is your point?”

“He has not yet told us who sent him here to destroy Kirella’s hope for the future,” Eduin said. “We must have the entire truth.”

“Varzil Ridenow?” the old councillor said, astonished. “Why would he concern himself with Aillard business? You cannot seriously—”

“Silence!” Lord Brynon cut him off. Drawing himself up like a predator about to strike, he said, “
Dom
Rodrigo Halloran, did you place poison in the food of Sandoval?”

The physician stood like a beast at bay. With an odd dignity, he raised his head so that all might see the truthspell. “I did add a substance to a meal intended for this charlatan. It was no poison, and would have brought no harm to any ordinary man. But I did not believe him ordinary. How could any normal man presume to intervene with the treatment of the young mistress? Since the moment of his arrival, I suspected this Sandoval as being a wild
laran
talent, untrained, lacking even the rudiments of discipline, erratic and unpredictable, in short, dangerous in the extreme. How else could he have suborned Lady Mhari, a legitimate
leronis,
and recruited her to be his ally? How else could he have cast his net of seduction over this entire court, especially young Lady Romilla, who in her illness and confusion, fell victim to his wiles? I sought only to reveal his true nature—”

“You admit it, then?” Romilla cried out, her voice sharp and harsh like the scream of a hunting falcon. “You admit you tried to poison him? Or at the very least incapacitate the one man who could bring light into my darkness?”

“You know not what you speak,
damisela,
”
Dom
Rodrigo returned, his voice now soothing. “Sandoval might have seemed at first to help, but in the end, his lack of training would surely have brought you even greater illness. What his purposes are, I cannot say, beyond his own advancement in this court through illicit control over your susceptible mind. I, on the other hand, have always been your true physician, desiring nothing more than your happiness and well-being, and have ever sought to use my knowledge and skill in your service.”