Concentric Circles (35 page)

“Next?” Meekal said, indicating Myra.

Myra backed away. “Wait a minute. This is a mistake.”

The call of an osprey filled the chamber and Neveous transformed. The White Lady now held the Staff of Life. “For now, my child, you must join your friends.”

“No. I didn’t do anything. You know that.”

The White Lady smiled. “Aye. I do.”

“But then why go into the staff?” she asked, clearly frightened.

Meekal stepped forward, frowning. “Why were you looking for the Circular Chamber?”

Myra set her jaw, light flickered across her features, marking the plains of her face. “How do you know about that?”

“You’ll find that I know quite a bit about what goes on in this castle.”

“Then you know the Circular Chamber is a magical portal to another realm.”

“That requires a blood sacrifice. What were you planning?” Meekal stepped closer, confining Myra between the stone wall and his rigid body. “Well?”

“Nothing.”

“Myra, it’s time.” The White Lady pointed the lion head toward her.

“I’m innocent! You know that! Why would you do this?”

“‘Tis for the best.” The staff glowed with a purple aura and took Myra into its form without the previous struggle of its other inmates.

“I’d like to know why you took her at that instant,” Meekal said, rounding on the White Lady with fiery determination in his stance and gaze.

“You have gained much wisdom during your journey through the stones. A Mage now.”

Meekal set his jaw.

“You won’t be seeing Myra again. She will do her duty, serve the greater good and testify under cloaked identity. Then she will be released to continue her good work elsewhere.”

“She was a spy.”

“Aye.”

He moved forward. “You sent her to the same place as Syther? Won’t he find out?”

“While the staff may appear to be one of the ‘same place’ that is merely an earthly illusion. I believe you understand the multi-facetted aspects of magic now. Am I right?”

“Aye. I have learned much.”

“Then rest easy, Meekal. Myra will be fine.”

Meekal’s gaze dropped to the empty tapestry. The face looking up at him from the artwork radiated triumph from the catch, which ended in a successful foxhunt. “All right, if you promise me.”

She laughed gently. “It’s a promise. I’m glad to see you still look out for others.”

“It’s a gift.”

“What’s a gift?” Shayla asked, striding in.

“Meekal’s penchant for being a guardian,” the White Lady replied.

“Aye, that he is,” Shayla said with pride and reached to caress a silver wing that now graced the side of Meekal’s head. “He is a love, isn’t he?” A quick kiss and she shifted to a more business-like demeanor. “The surrounding forest is cleared of Gnomonn. Vince is with Gail in the front courtyard. We have twelve more of Syther’s minions to turn over to Neveous. Where is he? I thought he was in here with you retrieving the two you captured while still in the wall?”

 “Ahem. Well,” Meekal said, grinning. “Neveous is still here.” He turned Shayla to face the White Lady.

“Bugger.”

“
T
RICKY, TRICKY, TRICKY
.” C
IARAN
L
EXISS
said, chuckling. “
H
OW COULD HE HEAR ME, IF NOT OF DIVINE ORIGIN
?”

“Let’s go,” Meekal said. “You can figure it out as we walk. I’d like to see some of the castle and its grounds from this side of the stone façade.”

“Shall we walk then?” The White Lady indicated the door with the Staff. “After you.”

“You aren’t going to shift shape again, are you?” Shayla looked as though she wouldn’t believe even the truth.

“You know I can read that look, right?”

“Pfft.”

She laughed. “You are a delight to work with, my dear.”

“Bet you tell all the witches that.”

“Now that you mention it.”

“Ladies, can we go now?” Meekal clasped Shayla’s hand and gave it a tug.

* * * * * *

A return to the sunlight surrounding Shadow Run revealed the sky cleared of menacing darkness. Even the shadows beneath the garden trees dappled with life. “Wow, it’s great to see something you thought never to witness again.” Meekal tilted his head back as far as comfortable and stared at the sky’s majesty.

“Couldn’t you see outside from the inner walls?”

“Aye, I could, but everything was gloomy and black. Why look?”

“Good to see you’re safe,” Gail said, stepping away from the group of Adjutors guarding the Thyrza wizards and witches awaiting their incarceration within the Staff.

Meekal shook her hand and eyed Vince over her shoulder. “Vince?” He inclined his head toward the back courtyard wall.

“Sure,” Vince answered, moving around Gail.

“Wanted to talk,” Meekal said, and indicated a long stone bench placed against the southern wall. A large fountain, water spilling from the jugs of several Greek inspired women, blocked the view of Adjutors and prisoners. “When I was in the wall, I saw some things.”

Vince sat, placed palms on his knees and faced the water, jaw set firmly.

“Malvenue.”

Silence.

“And you.”

Vince swallowed roughly.

“Vince.”

“What do you want me to say, Kal? Answer unspoken questions? Write a tell all book? No. You know what you know. I’m here on the right side. Do you doubt me? Is that what this is about? Trust?”

Meekal shoved his hand through tangled hair and gnawed on his lower lip. “I want to trust you. Why didn’t you ever tell? About Malvenue and Syther?”

Anger raged across Vince’s expression. The powerful emotion projected from every pore, compelling Vince upward like a wrathful warrior. “What do you think I told? Are you prying into personal ground? Just because you don’t know something doesn’t mean I didn’t report!” Vince stopped speaking, the words caught in the air like jagged flames between them. “Damn you! You were a kid! There’s a hell of a lot you didn’t get—just because of that!”

“Vince.” Meekal moved closer. “I understand about the witch’s grass elixir. It was a good move.” He hesitated, and then reached to pat Vince on the shoulder.

Vince growled and pulled away. “Why dredge this up if you understand?”

“It’s just part in parcel of what I witnessed. I saw you with Malvenue, Nott, Grimm and Syther. You were all together—an integral part of Malvenue’s inner circle. Why didn’t you report that Syther was there? An important part of the inner workings.”

Vince turned away, refusing to hold his gaze.

Meekal flinched, a seed of doubt growing large in his gut. “Vince.”

“Is there a problem?” Gail asked, coming around the large fountain. She glanced between them, and then gestured toward the other Adjutors. “Strange, I could hear yelling but didn’t understand the words.” She locked eyes with Meekal. “Well?”

Meekal crossed his arms across his chest and glared. “Aye, there’s a problem. However,” he said, pulling his brows down hard. “It’s strictly between Vince and me. Hence the muffling charm. Would you excuse us?”

“Do I have to pull rank on you, Meekal?” Gail stiffened, waiting for his answer.

“Gail.” Vince’s voice stopped on the edge of tension.

“Pulling rank won’t change my response, Lieutenant Graham,” Meekal said stubbornly. “I have an issue I prefer to speak to Vince privately about. It doesn’t concern the Order of Adjutors or you at the current moment. Excuse us.”

Gail turned to Vince. “Are you fine with this, Vince? What’s your side of the story?”

The cloud of anger remained on Vince’s face although he nodded curtly. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

Immobile she studied his face and body language. “Fifteen minutes.”

Vince coughed. “Whatever you say.”

One last glare at Meekal, she turned sharply and strode around the fountain.

When she reached the other side, Meekal upped the amps on the charm, adding a louder sound of water falling to improve the buffer. “Syther. Why didn’t you tell?”

“You assume I didn’t.”

He shook his head, a deep penetrating sadness threatening to overwhelm him. In order to calm his emotions, he spoke low. “You surely must know I came out of the wall a changed person. I know and understand things that would twist you mind, Vince. One of those changes is that I can read your soul.”

His large hands clenching and opening, Vince sat on the bench. He gave Meekal a brief eye contact, and then he pulled his gaze away as though the stone garden path beneath his feet proved an interesting work of art.

“You have a void.”

Vince wore the look of a marble statue, features unmoving into frozen dejection. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered.

Meekal approached. He stepped to the left, eyed Vince and then glanced toward the morning sunlight coming from the other side of the fountain. “You have a void. It’s true. What does having no shadow have to do with Syther?”

“I have a shadow.”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re wrong.”

“The argument is futile, Vincent.” He inflected his voice with purpose, allowing it to drip with sensual overtones the way Malvenue’s came across when he spoke.

“Don’t you ever say that!” Anger and embarrassment flushed his cheeks.

Meekal stepped closer, nose to nose. “Tell me why you don’t have a shadow and what it has to do with Syther. This can only get bigger—and you know it.”

Vince thrust him away. “I’m Ascian—that’s why! So is Syther!”

“He has a shadow!”

“It isn’t real. It’s a Gnomonn.”

“Makes sense. That would explain why he covers his tracks so well. Where’s yours?”

“Gone. It left with the other Gnomonn when we banished them.”

“Why not tell about Syther and Malvenue?”

Vince guffawed. “I already said I did. Just because you don’t know about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Despite who you are, you don’t have Ascian clearance.”

“You’re separating his crimes? Isn’t that racist?”

“Obviously, there are some things I can’t tell you. But I will say that they knew about Syther and let it go at the time. Ascians have special attributes, I’m sure you’ve read the basic stuff. We don’t have shadows, but can utilize the Gnomonn to our advantage. That alone should have been the clue to Adjutors that Syther is one of us. Whether the information will come out in trial is strictly up to the Council of Brehons.”

“Other attributes?”

“Invisibility, shape-shifting, most of the usual stuff.”

“Wait a minute. Syther can shape shift? Damn we better report this.”

“Gail already knows. Don’t forget, she’s married to him.”

“Aye.”

“If you two don’t come out of that magic bubble, I’m going to put you back in the wall!”

“Won’t do you any good,” Meekal said in humor. “I can get out now.”

Vince stopped Meekal’s movement toward Gail’s angry presence. Low-voiced, he said, “She doesn’t know about me yet. Let me be the one to tell her, okay?”

He clapped Vince on the back. “Sure thing, o-prince-of-the-rare-wizards. Friends?” he asked, holding out a hand with peaceful intentions.

Vince clasped it and pulled him into a one armed hug. “So what’s with the hair?”

[24] Circle’s Threshold: Stygian

“For the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”

“Guilty.”

“So say you one, so say you all?”

Nine specially chosen jurors faced the Council of Brehons and responded in turn, “Aye.”

Shayla shifted in her seat and straightened to sit higher, aiming her gaze at Syther’s face, set as though in stone. He didn’t flinch, blink or even seem to breathe.

The last “Aye” hung in the air, and then silence.

Bang! The gavel of justice hit, resonating with authoritative finality.

A symbolic sword was drawn, making the sound of steel against scabbard.

“Upon a verdict of Guilty, this Council of Brehons sentences you, Sable Malcolm Cumyn Graham—”

“Then you fail!” Syther roared, shaking a fist at the Honorable Mathilda Eudemon, Chief Justice. “Sable Malcolm Cumyn Graham no longer exists. I am Sir Syther, the Quitch!”

“Life imprisonment within the Stygian, with no possibility of parole.”

Wild whispers passed through the crowd as if on an ocean’s wave. Many people rose to exit the multi-decked chamber.

“You failed!” Syther’s shout bounced off the tiered decks accompanied by his maniacal cackling. He struggled against the guard’s grip upon his bindings. “I will return! You’ll see!”

A door shut, cutting off Syther’s voice from her life. Shayla remained seated.

“Ready to go?” Meekal asked, passing a hand over her arm down to her hand. He entwined their fingers and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Shouldn’t I feel a sense of closure?”

“Aye. It’s over.”

She sighed. “So this man who murdered a wonderful person and tried to kill us just goes off to some unseen place to be held captive for the rest of his life? Seems anticlimactic to me.”

“Shay, Stygian is a prison within a magical realm where there is no escape.” He shuddered visibly. “I went there once—duty to a client which was job related. It’s dark and filled with potent powers that confine each individual inmate within a chamber composed of their crimes and own hatred toward humanity.”

Shayla stood and draped her handbag over her shoulder. “How can Syther’s crime confine him? He killed Amethyst, his own mother.”

“Like a hologram, his life will play before his eyes—never pausing. It’s actually the absolute retribution because Amethyst was a loving mother. He will see that in black and white comparison to his evil deed.”

“Like a hellish existence?”

“Aye. Trust me; you don’t want to see what he will. It will not be a peaceful life. He won’t even think in terms of escape, because there is none.”

She began the trek down the steps to the lower level. Gail’s face, ashen white, tilted toward her, nodding in greeting.

“Are you all right?” she asked, patting Gail on the back with a quick hug.

“Yes. From this point forward, I can go on.”

“What will you do?” Shayla pulled a tissue from her purse and pressed it into Gail’s hand.