Cara had met me at the Sanitorium with one of her crushingly strong hugs. I hadn’t protested, only buried my head in her shoulder and breathed in the leather and jahla-soap scent of her skin. I’d told her of the hearing with occasional breaks for cursing whenever Pevennar jabbed me with his gods-damned needles. Cara gladly rode with me and Lena to the guest quarters, and gave Kiran a bone-breaking hug of his own the minute she laid eyes on him. The half-shocked, half-pleased look on his face set us both chuckling, though our laughter faded fast under the cold gaze of his guard mages.
Later, Kiran stuttered out a low-voiced, painful apology to Cara for the dead men at the convoy. She listened gravely, arms folded. What she said in reply was too soft for me to hear, but he squared his shoulders, a little of the strain easing in his face.
They brought us a simple meal of sliced meats and spice bread that none of us more than picked at. Cara did her best to distract with a host of outrageous climbing tales, both her own and some she’d heard from her father. Lena listened with solemn interest, but Kiran was silent, and I couldn’t manage even a single grin. My thoughts never strayed far from the mages and the wards. I’d seen no opportunity for escape. I hadn’t so much as a single charm, my body felt weak as a soaked reed, and the moment I got within a body length of walls or windows, a mage politely but firmly blocked my path.
It got late, and then very late. Kiran and I sat before a stone fireplace in the opulent main room, staring at flames crackling over pine logs. The fire’s warmth eased the deep ache that lingered in my muscles, though it did nothing to thaw the icy knot in my stomach. Cara lay curled on a low couch in the corner, the occasional soft snore escaping her. Lena had left when the guard mages changed shift. The new guards were at least kind enough to sit on the far side of the room, giving us the illusion of privacy.
“Cara talked to me,” Kiran said. It was the first time he’d spoken in hours.
I turned to him, glad of the distraction. My head pounded from puzzling over one futile plan after another. “And?”
He sat curled in a tight ball. Red firelight reflected in his eyes and cast shadows beneath his cheekbones. “She told me about Sethan, and his daughter.”
I glanced at the two mages sitting silently by the door, and narrowed my eyes at Kiran. Before the hearing, Cara had half-convinced me I ought to explain the whole mess with Melly, play on the Council’s sympathies...but my first glimpse of those cold, stern faces had changed my mind. Varellian and her ilk wouldn’t soften out of sentiment, and every instinct screamed at me not to give my heart into an enemy’s hand. I’d thought to tell the Council of Jylla’s betrayal, to explain why I’d taken Bren’s job—but in the end, they hadn’t even asked my reasons.
Kiran sighed, his own eyes flicking to the mages and back to mine. “I wanted you to know that I understood...and that I know what you did for me. You tried to rescue me from Simon, and you saved me from Ruslan. Twice. You risked your life, and almost died. Even if...if things go badly tomorrow...please know I’m grateful beyond words. And if the Council spares us—” he straightened, his face earnest. “I can never repay you—I owe you too much—but should you ever need my help, you’ll have it.”
I shrugged, embarassed. “You don’t owe me anything. I knew Gerran meant to sell you out, and I said nothing. If I’d warned you, there’d have been no need for any rescues.”
“You had no reason to put my welfare ahead of your loyalty to Sethan. Especially after I’d lied to you, and brought death to your friends.” Kiran’s gaze fell, his arms tightening around his knees.
I winced to hear the echo of my own weaselly rationalizations in his mouth. “Keeping silent wasn’t right, and I’m sorry for it.”
Kiran gave me a sidelong, surprised look. “But—if you’d warned me, then what of your obligation to Sethan?” His voice lowered to a bare whisper. “At least this way Cara can keep your promise for you, regardless of what happens to us.”
All evening, I’d clung desperately to the hope of Cara taking my stash of gems and coin to Ninavel to save Melly. Yet shame still sickened me at the thought of how I’d earned that pay.
“I should’ve found a better way,” I told Kiran. “One that didn’t mean fucking you over.”
“A better way...I wish I’d found one, as well. A way to escape Ruslan without anyone dying.” Kiran dropped his head to his knees. His next words came out muffled and rough. “I regret—so many things. What do you do, when a mistake cannot be undone?”
I stared into the fire, thinking of my blind idiocy in trusting Jylla, and the terrible moment when I’d realized Melly would be the one to suffer for it. At length I said heavily, “You make amends where you can. And if you can’t...well. You keep going, and try not to make the same mistake twice.”
Kiran was silent for a time. “Does the pain of it ever lessen?”
“Not quickly.” The slightest thought of Jylla still cut deep enough to stop my breath. And yet...my gaze settled on Cara’s sleeping form. Her steadfast partnership against Simon...the joy we’d shared in our night on the furs...her forthright concern, when I’d woken in Alathia...with those memories shining in my head, Jylla’s name no longer triggered the same depth of bitter, impotent fury.
“Sometimes, other people help pain fade,” I told Kiran. And prayed to Suliyya the Council would let him live long enough to experience the truth in my words.
***
Martennan showed up just after dawn. I stood, my stomach churning, as voices echoed in the hall and the two mage guards snapped to attention. Cara scrambled off her couch, her hair fraying from her braid and her face set in tight lines. Kiran woke with a start from his uncomfortable huddle on one of the chairs. He looked as bleary-eyed as I felt. I hadn’t slept at all.
Martennan entered, trailed by Lena and another mage, a lanky man with deep laugh lines bracketing his mouth. Dark circles shadowed Martennan’s eyes, his greeting smile more weary than cheerful.
“The Council has declared their judgment. I think the result a good one, all things considered,” he announced.
“Do you mean they won’t give me over to Ruslan?” Kiran asked, cautious hope dawning on his face. I waited, arms folded tight. Martennan’s idea of a good result might not match mine.
Martennan’s smile brightened. “Correct. Nor execute you, either. They’ve accepted your offer to help decipher Simon’s charms.”
Oh, thank Khalmet. I groped for a chair back as a millstone lifted from my shoulders. Cara slid a supportive arm around my waist. Kiran’s mouth was open, his blue eyes wide with stunned relief.
Martennan said, “I must confess the victory was hard-won. Several councilors were quite concerned over the part of Dev’s tale in which your mage-brother gave him the Taint charm that let you escape. They fear Ruslan may have arranged this entire series of events to entice us to accept you into Alathia, as part of some plot against us.”
“If they think Ruslan was faking his hunt of us, they should’ve seen his face when Kiran made it through the border,” I growled. I’d stake every kenet I owned that Kiran in Alathia was no part of Ruslan’s plan.
Martennan held up his hands and chuckled. “Oh, I believe you! I was there, after all. Thanks to Kiran allowing us access to his memories, we mages argued the councilors’ fear was almost certainly unfounded.”
Kiran’s quick, sharp glance at Martennan said he’d caught the qualifiers at the end of that sentence, same as I had.
Martennan’s round face turned serious. “The Council agreed to forego execution, Kiran, but it’s not all sweets and roses. They don’t trust you, not one bit. You’ll be kept under constant guard, and you’re expected to work with our arcanists to analyze not only Simon’s border charm, but others we found when we searched his house.”
“I can do that.” Kiran wore the look of a man who fears to wake from a dream.
Cara’s arm tightened around my waist. “What about Dev?”
“Dev...the Council agreed to spare your life, as Kiran requested.” But Martennan wasn’t smiling, and the lanky mage behind him now stood like a man braced for a fight. Lena’s eyes were fixed on the floor, her face clean of all expression.
“But,” I said. My relief vanished, leaving a cold hole in my chest.
“I’d hoped the Council might be persuaded to merely fine you for your crimes, given your efforts to stop Simon Levanian...but I’m sorry to report the Council feels a fine isn’t enough. In addition to confiscating your accounts at Haroman, Baltai, and Serover houses in Kost, they’ve sentenced you to ten years’ forced labor in the Cheltman mines.”
“What?” Kiran and Cara spoke in shocked chorus. I stood frozen, a black pit yawning within. Haroman, Baltai, and Serover were the houses I’d split my pay between when I moved it out of Bentgate. I’d been trying to hide the coin and gems from Pello, not the gods-damned Council, and I’d assumed Cara would take everything straight back to Ninavel.
Khalmet’s hand, better if they’d killed me. Even if I escaped the mines, I’d never earn back that coin before Melly changed. To fail now, after I’d thought Melly’s safety assured at last...despair threatened to swallow me.
“You can’t do this!” Kiran darted an agonized glance at me. “Dev risked everything to stop Simon—and this is how you repay him for it?”
Cara’s face was near as pale as Kiran’s, her fists clenched like she meant to throw herself at Martennan, hell with his magic. She knew as well as I what this meant for Melly. I shifted, pressed her wrist. Violence did no good against mages, but during my sleepless night I’d thought up one more token to play. I locked eyes with Martennan.
“What if I were to help you stop the smuggling trade? You might’ve arrested Gerran already, but that won’t stop his partner in Ninavel. But I know how Bren thinks, and I’ll bet you every kenet the Council took that I can mark his couriers far better than any of your mages.” I’d never be safe again in Ninavel once Bren found out I’d betrayed him so thoroughly, but I’d gain time to find another solution for Melly.
Martennan shook his head, regretfully. “I suggested as much to the Council, but they prefer to deal with the problem in their own way. Yet...” He turned to Kiran. “Kiran, several councilors told me if you showed us wholehearted assistance by deciphering Simon Levanian’s spellwork before the turn of the year—the Council might agree to hear a plea on Dev’s behalf.”
I barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. Oh, I should’ve seen this coming, after Kiran had tied us so neatly together. “So, I’m both bait and hostage. Congratulate the Council for me, Martennan—that’s a move worthy of a Ninavel ganglord.”
The gentle sympathy on Martennan’s face made me wish I still had my boneshatter charm. “The Council must be cautious when it comes to Alathia’s safety,” he said. “But I truly believe your situation can change, once immediate fears fade.”
Kiran said, “I’d have given the Council my best effort anyway, out of gratitude for a life free from Ruslan. If there’s anything else I might do to help Dev, you have but to ask.”
I rounded on him. “Khalmet’s bloodsoaked hand! Can’t you see the Council won’t ever let me go, so long as you roll over like that? They’ll only make you empty promises, and ask for more, and more—”
“I give you my word as Watch captain that the Council keeps its promises,” Martennan’s casual air had disappeared, his shoulders squared and his voice full of authority. “When the time comes to approach the Council, Kiran, I’ll help you seek Dev’s release.”
Gratitude brightened Kiran’s eyes. I ground my teeth. I didn’t buy Martennan’s helpful act, not for an instant. He’d probably been the one to suggest the hostage idea to the Council in the first place.
I started to say as much, but Cara jabbed my side. “Leave it,” she hissed in my ear, and faced Martennan. “When does Dev’s sentence begin?”
Martennan sighed. “Now, I’m afraid.” Behind him, the lanky mage drew out a thin gold torc. I tensed. The Council might forbid their citizens from deadly charms, but they didn’t balk at using them on criminals. I’d heard tell of the snapthroat charms worn by men sentenced to forced labor. Once around my throat, the cursed thing would tighten to cut off my breath with a twitch of an overseer’s finger. And given my status as the Council’s leverage against Kiran, I didn’t doubt I’d be watched closer than one of Sechaveh’s famed cobalt diamonds.
Martennan beckoned the mage with the snapthroat charm. “Talmaddis will convey Dev to the mines. Cara, I’ll escort you through the border at a spot of your choosing—it need not be at a border gate, if you fear Ruslan’s attention—and we’ll be happy to provide whatever supplies you require for mountain travel.”
“Wait!” Cara shoved in front of me, glaring at the advancing Talmaddis. “Let me say goodbye to him first, can’t you?”
“The Council ordered Dev collared without delay, but after, I’ll gladly permit him a short span for farewells,” Martennan said. “Though I fear we cannot give you privacy.”
A short span. Better than none, but oh, gods...I breathed deep, seeking the calm clarity I used for climbs. Melly...there had to be some way left to save her. If I swallowed my distrust of Martennan, and begged him for help—no, damn it, I’d only give him another carrot to dangle.
Cara grudgingly gave way for Talmaddis. I refused to flinch from the cold sting of the torc as he locked it shut around my neck. He muttered a string of singsong gibberish, and tapped the torc. The metal warmed and contracted tight enough to wring a choked gasp from me.
“Hey!” Fury sparked in Cara’s eyes. “Leave him be, you—”
“My apologies.” Talmaddis flicked a ringed finger and the torc loosened again. “I had to test the spell.” He backed to stand beside Martennan. Not far enough away, for my taste. My fingers itched to claw at the torc, as if that would get it off.
Kiran approached, pale as chalk. “Dev...” He swallowed, and spoke low but firm. “I know you think I’m a fool to believe the Council will hold to any bargains. Maybe I am. But I meant what I said last night. After what you’ve risked, and lost, all to help me—I swear to you, I’ll find a way to gain your freedom.”
An ember of warmth lessened the chill of the torc against my skin. Despite everything, despite the cost, I couldn’t regret the choice to save him. And his mention of bargains had inspired one final glimmer of an idea for Melly.