Besides, maybe I could get that charm back.
Cara slid a strong arm behind my shoulders and lifted me to a sitting position. “Easy. You’ve been down a whole week.” She stuffed pillows behind my back, one warm hand lingering on my shoulder.
“A week?” The charm had fucked me over, and no mistake. But maybe if I wore it only for brief bursts of time, or if—
I yanked myself free of speculation. Better not to think of it, not until I had a chance at the charm. Instead, I surveyed the room. Polished walls of red-gold cinnabar wood, no decorations, plain but sturdy furniture. No question I was in Alathia. I stiffened and grabbed Cara’s wrist. “Wait, what are you still doing here? We agreed you’d ride for Ninavel!” I’d meant her to take my hard-earned pay and head straight for Red Dal and Melly.
“The Alathians insisted I testify before the Council here in Tamanath,” Cara said. “And after...well, if you think I’d leave when you were barely breathing and had one foot in Shaikar’s hells, you’re crazy.”
This was Tamanath, not Kost? Shit.
“The Alathians found us, then.” I’d hoped to sneak across the border using Simon’s charm and leave the Alathians none the wiser. I should’ve guessed they’d be watching the border keen as banehawks after I’d sent Cara to them.
“A good thing, too,” Cara said severely. “You’d have died if they hadn’t. Khalmet’s hand, Dev, you nearly died anyway, even with the best healers in Tamanath working on you. They said you used some blood mage charm that chewed your insides to shreds.” She glared at me. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“That I’d prefer a delayed death to an immediate one. Seriously, Cara, that charm’s the only reason we survived Ruslan.” I had no intention of admitting that while I’d put it on to save Kiran, I’d kept it on for other reasons entirely.
Kiran...oh, hell. “What happened to Kiran? Where is he?” Suliyya grant he’d run before the Alathians came.
But Cara wouldn’t meet my gaze, her face suddenly shuttered.
“Cara. Just tell me.”
She sighed. “The Alathians arrested him. They saw him use Simon’s charm to cross the border. He’s charged with both blood magic and border violation.”
Gods all damn it, exactly what I’d feared would happen if the Alathians got their hands on him. Both offenses were grounds for execution. Even if Kiran was as hard to kill as Pello had claimed, no doubt the Alathians would find a way in the end.
The skin around Cara’s eyes creased with worry. “I asked to see him, but they won’t even tell me where he is. Hell, I barely managed to get in here to see you. I did find out they mean to have some kind of Council hearing over Kiran. I think the Council’s been waiting for you to wake up—they want you as a witness to the crimes.”
I jerked upright, heedless of the protest from abused muscles. “If the Alathians think I’ll sign Kiran’s execution order for them—after all I just went through to keep him alive!—they can rot in Shaikar’s innermost—”
“You won’t have a choice. I talked to some of the guards. They said the questioning will be run by mages, and they’ll use truth spells.” Cara looked unhappy. “They used one on me back in Kost. The way everyone in Ninavel sneers over Alathian magic, I’d thought to find it no stronger than a loosetongue charm—but Dev, that spell was nothing to sneer at. Trust me, you won’t be able to hold anything back.”
Oh, fuck. No denying Kiran was a blood mage, and that he’d worked blood magic. Harken and the other dead at the convoy...I no longer doubted that Kiran had only meant to save lives, not take them. But the Council wouldn’t see it that way. They’d look at him with the same horror and contempt I’d felt back in Bearjaw Cirque’s cave, before I met Simon and Ruslan and realized Kiran showed no hint of that casual, arrogant cruelty they so readily displayed.
I’d do my best to make the Council understand, but I’d need a tongue smoother than Varkevian silk to convince a bunch of dour-faced, strict-minded Alathians a blood mage deserved freedom. Wait a minute, smooth tongue...
“What about Pello?”
“No good news there, either. I could’ve sworn no man could escape the knots we tied, and I took both horses with me when I rode for Kost, but when I brought the Alathians after giving testimony, he was gone. They sent mages to hunt him—the gods know he left enough blood on those ferns to fuel a hundred tracking spells. But if they’ve found him, I haven’t heard about it.”
I slumped against the pillows. “I knew I should’ve killed him.”
“You did right.” Cara squeezed my shoulder. “You spared his life—surely he’ll remember the debt he owes you. Besides, what profit would he find in Melly now?”
“Plenty, if he sells news of my interest in her to Red Dal.” I scrubbed a weary hand over my eyes. “Damn it. Just once, I’d like for something to go right.”
“You don’t think surviving against two separate blood mages counts?” Cara poked me with a stern finger. “If you weren’t an invalid, I swear, I’d kick your ass. All that talk of ‘I’ll not abandon you,’ and then you lie to me and run off on a gods-damned suicidal rescue attempt.”
Her tone was teasing, but genuine anger heated her eyes. I shrugged uncomfortably. “One of us had to go to the Alathians. Better if that was you, since you’ve no history of smuggling to distract them. But I didn’t think they’d reach Simon in time, so that left me to try and stop him.”
She shook her head. “Your logic’s not the problem.”
“Then what is? The part where I wanted you safe from a blood mage?”
“No, damn you. It’s the part where you didn’t trust me enough to make my own choice in the matter.” She stood and paced to the window with quick, jerky strides. “Damn it, Dev! This is why I had that Shaikar-cursed rule on bedplay. Sex fucks up judgment, every time.”
I shoved myself up again. “You think I wanted you safe just because we’d shared a bed? For Khalmet’s sake, Cara! You’re my
friend.
I’d have done the same for Sethan, in your place.”
She studied me, scowling. “And Jylla? If she’d been partnering you in this, would you have lied to her?”
Heat rose to my face. No, I wouldn’t have. Because unlike my outrider friends, I could always trust Jylla to be ruthlessly practical. “Jylla never lets her feelings get in the way of a job,” I mumbled.
Cara snorted. “Because she doesn’t have any, no doubt.”
“I didn’t say it was a good thing.” I picked at the linen sheet rucked around my waist. “If you knew what I intended, even if you didn’t try and stop me...I thought it’d cause you pain. I wanted to spare you that.”
She settled on the bed. “Trust me, the truth hurts less,” she said quietly. “If you’d died...” she rested her forehead against mine, and I heard her breath catch. “I’d have preferred to have said a proper goodbye.”
“Me, too,” I admitted, and kissed her, slow and sweet.
The door swung open. Cara sprang to her feet. I slouched back, glaring. Trust the Alathians to interrupt
now.
A skinny, hook-nosed man dressed in a starched brown uniform marched in, carrying a metal rack rattling with glass vials. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of men in the gray and brown of soldiers, bracketing the door.
“I’m pleased to see you’ve woken at last,” the hook-nosed man said. He set the rack down on a side table. I eyed the vials, which contained a veritable rainbow of colored liquids. Did the Alathians mean to drug me before layering me in truth spells?
“Who’re you?” I asked warily.
“Third Healer Pevennar.” He laid a hand on my forehead, ignoring my involuntary flinch. “Fever’s gone, I see. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling?” I snapped. “I’m sore, tired, starving, and under arrest.” Cara hadn’t said as much, but the guards on the door only confirmed what I’d suspected. Kiran wasn’t the only one in trouble with the Council.
Pevennar didn’t even blink. “The soreness is to be expected. The charm you used modified your bodily humors in a way that resulted in quite a buildup of harmful toxins. Though the levels have reduced, it’ll take some days yet before we fully clear your system.” He lifted my eyelid with a thumb and peered at my eye. “I’ll have some food brought up, though I warn you, it’ll be nice and bland. None of your Arkennlander spices to shock the system.”
I produced a bright, false smile. “Wouldn’t want to upset the condemned prisoner’s stomach.”
“That’s right,” a new voice said. “You know how we mages are. So picky about having clean floors.” A dark-haired man in a mage’s uniform leaned against the doorframe. His round, smiling face made him look more like a shopkeeper than a mage, and he spoke in a cheerful drawling style notably different than the usual clipped Alathian accent. He straightened and bowed to me from the waist in the Alathian style. “Captain Martennan, Seventh Watch, at your service.”
My nerves frayed further, but for once I managed to hold my tongue. Pevennar continued his examination, poking and prodding me with dispassionate efficiency. I gritted my teeth and tried not to swat his hands away.
Martennan bowed to Cara. “How lovely to see you again, Cara. I trust you have no cause for complaint, now?”
Cara’s back was straight and her blue eyes cool. “Thank you for allowing me to see him.”
Martennan waved a dismissive hand and dropped into the chair by the window. “Dev, I’m sure Cara has made you aware of the situation.” His cheerful face remained easy and open, but the calculating intelligence lurking in his eyes raised all my hackles.
“You mean the Council hearing,” I said flatly.
“Exactly.” He leaned forward in the chair, his expression earnest. “You realize your friend Kiran is in a lot of trouble.”
“Isn’t he always,” I muttered. Pevennar chose that moment to jab me in the arm with a copper needle long as a piton. I yelped and jerked away. “What was that for?”
Pevennar carried his blood-smeared needle over to the rack of vials on the table. “I need to assess the remaining level of toxins in your blood.” He slid the needle into an empty vial and plinked in several drops of a dark liquid.
I rubbed my stinging arm. “Khalmet’s bony hand. And you people think blood mages are bad.”
“You’ll have to admit there’s a slight difference between Pevennar and a blood mage,” said Martennan, with an amused lift of a brow. “In any case, back to your friend. Now that you are awake, the hearing will take place tomorrow. You should be aware that your case will be considered along with his.”
“My case?” My stomach sank. If they’d learned how long and how often I’d been smuggling illegal goods across their borders, I was in for near as bad a time as Kiran.
“In the course of our investigation, we learned you were the one to originally bring Kiran into Alathia,” Martennan said. “You’ll have to explain this to the Council, and they will decide the severity of the offense.” He leaned back in the chair, his eyes holding mine. “I suggest caution in your answers. Pevennar told us you remain weak and easily overtaxed.”
I knew what Martennan meant. The Alathian spell would force me to tell the truth, but only in answer to the specific question asked, and if I played up my weakness, they might not question me as long. But why bother warning me?
No sign of his thoughts showed. His round face was all smiling benevolence again as he stood and bowed.
“I leave you in Pevennar’s capable hands,” he announced, and exited.
Cara and I exchanged a look, but didn’t speak. Eventually Pevennar finished puttering around with his vials and left, after a parting admonition that I needed to get plenty of rest. I rolled my eyes as the door shut behind him. Rest? Yeah, right. Not when I might spend the rest of my days stuck deep in some mine. Or dead, if the Council was in an unforgiving mood.
“What do you make of that?” I asked Cara.
“Martennan?” She looked thoughtful. “He’s pretty relaxed for an Alathian. They’d spent three days stonewalling me about seeing you, and then he showed up and gave me access right away. Maybe he can help you with the Council.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“He hasn’t asked you to,” Cara pointed out.
“He will. I know his kind. He wants something, I’m sure of it.” I’d known men like him in Ninavel. The casual cheer, the friendly smiles...all an act meant to manipulate a useful mark. The minute their game was done, they’d cast you into a viper pit without a backward glance.
“So? If it means he helps you, then good.” She leaned in and whispered, “Four guards outside your door, and they keep a mage lurking around, too.”
I was in no condition for any daring escape attempts, either. Khalmet’s hand, I could barely sit up unaided. Cara was right. If Martennan had some game in mind, I had little choice but to play.
***
It wasn’t Martennan who showed up the next morning to collect me for the hearing, but his first lieutenant, a young mage named Lena. In truth, she’d given her name as an impossibly long mouthful. Alathians in Tamanath held to a bizarre custom of only using formal family names in public, like their first names were some Council secret. She wouldn’t tell me her first name, but after listening to me stumble over her full family name a couple times, she shook her head and told me to call her by the short form. Lena wore her dark hair in a tight crown of braids, and her skin was nearly as brown as an Arkennlander’s, with an incongruous smattering of dark freckles. She carried herself with a rigid precision that matched my expectations of an Alathian mage, as opposed to Martennan’s casual slouch.
Pevennar wanted them to haul me to the hearing in some kind of glorified stretcher, but I insisted on walking, hoping to loosen frighteningly stiff muscles. Lena was surprisingly patient, adjusting her pace to my slow shuffle and making no comment when I stopped to rest, which I did often.
A matched pair of soldiers tromped along with us, to my combined annoyance and amusement. Here I was, barely able to stagger ten steps without stopping, and they treated me like I might singlehandedly overpower Lena and vanish through their border.
If only. I slowed to a crawl once I made it outside, turning my face up to the sun. The warmth did little to ease the queasiness of my stomach. They hadn’t let Cara come with me. Lena told me the Council didn’t need any further testimony from her. She’d said I’d see Cara again, regardless of the hearing’s outcome, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.