Finally, the voice he had been expecting since his arrival breezed into his mind. He knew the distinctive signature of the link: Merkhud. There was no cordial greeting or even hesitation.
I am not permitted to meet with you.
We have this at least.
There was a pause. Tor filled it, deciding he would lead this conversation.
Sorrel was left behind in the forest. I have no knowledge of how she fared when the Inquisitors arrived.
He delivered the update in a flat voice but he knew it hurt Merkhud. He intended it to. Tor expected a slippery reply, certainly one with undertones of denial to his accusation that Merkhud and Sorrel knew of each other.
I don’t understand. I have not been able to speak with her now for an Eighthday,
the old man replied sadly.
Tor counted back in his mind. That would be the day he had left her.
What did Nyria say?
Ah, so Merkhud was tracking events, even if he was not interfering as he normally did, Tor thought.
That she would intercede with the King on behalf of Alyssa. You knew, of course, before I left that she was at Caremboche.
It was not a question.
Yes. I hoped you would be together again.
Merkhud’s voice gave nothing away.
I know of Orlac, Merkhud. I am on friendly terms with five of the Paladin. Tell me of the Trinity,
Tor said harshly.
The alarm in the old man’s silence was palpable.
Who told you?
Never mind who. Time is our enemy. Tell me.
Merkhud was not ready for this but his plans were falling around him. Sorrel was no longer in contact, had disappeared. Tor was a prisoner. Only Themesius and Figgis remained of the Paladin to keep the god imprisoned. Orlac would soon be free and they were no closer to solving the riddle of the Trinity. He had to tell Tor what he knew.
He began to tell his story which had started centuries earlier. Tor sat in silence, his head cupped in his hands, as Merkhud’s voice spoke of a baby being sold to a young man, sentient and grieving over the loss of his newborn son.
S
ix of the King’s Guard escorted Tor. Captain Herek was at his side. ‘Don’t look at Goth—he will do all in his power to dissemble,’ the soldier whispered through gritted teeth. Goth had no friends in the King’s Guard.
When the doors to the throne room were opened, Tor, who had walked through this vast hall many times during his life at the Palace, felt suddenly fearful. He had managed to find the courage required to face his sovereign and explain himself. He had strode tall, even showing some bravado with the soldiers, knowing he would speak eloquently and argue his case well. Now, though, as he recognised many familiar faces in the crowded hall, all looking so bleak, he began to feel the first stirrings of fear for his own life. Surely this was not what Lys intended for
him? Clinging to that thought, assuring himself that she had a far grander plan for him, Tor cast his eyes over the faces he recognised; most of whom wouldn’t meet his glance. But he searched only for Alyssa.
She was sitting straight-backed and composed near a window where the sun lit one side of her very still, very blank, very beautiful face. His heart leapt to see her and his body ached to hold her once again and tell her he loved her; tell her he was sorry. He cast—it was instinctive. Nothing. The archalyt was back in its place and blocking him. She looked at him, though, and he knew she felt something. A nudge perhaps.
Her eyes lost their dreamy look and registered his presence. He could not fool himself that it was a look of love. It was more a look of shared despair. She too felt the lack of hope in this room.
Herek’s touch at his elbow recalled his attention. He was asked to stand in front of the throne. Their majesties were not yet present but a gathering hush was beginning to stifle the mutterings of those around him. He saw a slash of purple: Goth. Next to him his henchman, Rhus, just as evil. And there was Merkhud, seated in the shadows, not looking at him though the link opened swiftly.
Are you feeling brave?
I was,
Tor answered.
But not since seeing her.
The old man frowned.
As soon as these theatrics are over, we must talk. No matter what the outcome, don’t say anything we have not discussed.
Are you spinning your threads again, Merkhud?
Tor was surprised at the facetiousness of his remark.
He was feeling restless, wanted these proceedings to be done.
I had a strange dream last night, Tor,
Merkhud said, ignoring the comment.
A woman came to me.
Her name is Lys.
Is it?
The old man shrugged.
I wouldn’t know. She whispered in my thoughts. Do you know what Spiriting is, Tor?
No.
That is why we must talk.
They could say no more for the heralds sounded and everyone stood. The royals entered from the door behind the dais to take their thrones. Nyria’s eyes flicked to Tor; they implored him to be strong.
Lorys lowered himself stiffly into the great throne of his forebears. The gathered nobles and high-ranking courtiers returned to their seats. When the medley of coughs, shuffles, throat-clearing and the sounds of people settling themselves fell silent, the King turned and nodded to Goth.
This stage was Goth’s dream come true. Normally his audience were peasants; at best merchants, vintners, storekeepers, the odd innkeeper or wealthy brothel-owner. This was different; here was the attention he craved. He must thank Gynt later for giving him this reward.
He had rehearsed well yet he looked to the fancy gilded ceiling of the throne hall and held a long pause as he pretended to search for the right words. Then, as though filled with regret at the tasteless task ahead of him, he proceeded to ensure that his listeners were
made absolutely clear about the enormity of the criminal’s actions.
‘My liege,’ he said, bowing to Lorys. ‘Your majesty.’ He bowed courteously to Nyria but the inflection in his voice as he spoke to her was anything but courteous. ‘We are gathered here today for the regrettable duty of bringing to justice one of our own. It is a torrid tale of broken trust, the misuse of power bestowed by the Palace in good faith and the lust of a young man out of control.’
He allowed his opening to seep into the minds of his audience by pausing to sip from a glass of water.
He continued. ‘Torkyn Gynt was accepted into our royal community more than six year-cycles ago as apprentice to the revered Royal Physic Merkhud.’ He nodded to the old man who ignored him.
‘That the lad was talented is not in question, my lord. Torkyn Gynt was, and still is, a most skilled healer and a fast learner. Our beloved Queen herself benefitted first-hand from his ministrations not so long ago in circumstances when most physics would have been calling for my services as priest.’ He smiled, though only one side of his face moved into the grotesque expression.
‘Gynt has enjoyed privilege, rank and your majesties’ benevolence over the years.’ Goth saw Lorys nod and liked it. ‘When our Queen was ailing and Physic Merkhud was himself too frail to travel, he suggested Under Physic Gynt go in his stead to represent the Royal family at the ten-year Czabba Festival. Gynt was warned of his responsibilities, my
liege, and strenuously cautioned by his superior against getting involved with any of the members of the Academie.’
Goth sipped his water again, eyeing Tor.
‘Your majesties, I would suggest that Physic Gynt has consciously, actively and without regard for the sanctity of these women ignored a sacred and ancient law. He must pay the penalty.’
He puffed himself up and turned to his King. The hall was silent, save for the sound of a falcon’s wings flapping outside one of the windows.
After a deliberate length of time, Lorys spoke. ‘And what of the woman known as Alyssandra Qyn, Lord Goth? What penalty must she pay for her part in this?’
‘She must be bridled, my liege, like any sentient woman. I fear she no longer fulfils the status of Untouchable after laying with a man.’
Goth could not wait to see Alyssa on her knees before him wearing the dull bridle studded with archalyt.
‘And if laying with him was against her will, Chief Inquisitor?’
‘She spent more than ten moons in the forest, King Lorys. I would suggest this is not the action of someone desperately trying to escape.’ Goth sniggered and looked around for others to join him. Only Rhus obliged.
Merkhud stood. All eyes turned to him.
‘Your majesties.’ He bowed as protocol demanded. ‘May I approach?’
‘By all means, Physic Merkhud. I would wish to hear your thoughts on this matter,’ Lorys replied, clearly relieved.
Merkhud nodded and took the floor. Goth reluctantly gave way.
Trust me on this, Tor. Hold your powers. I know what I do,
the physic cast before addressing the gathered.
Trust him,
Cloot whispered.
Lys is using him,
he added cryptically.
Merkhud pulled thoughtfully at his whiskers and then began.
‘It is true that I cautioned the Under Physic about how he must conduct himself while at Caremboche. And he understood this. Confirmed it twice in my hearing.’
Nyria looked rattled. She had expected support from Merkhud for Tor, not attack.
‘I would propose that the girl was seduced by an articulate and clever manipulator of women. His success with the fair sex is legendary, and little wonder. I’m sure there is no man in this room who would refute his charm and looks, and no woman present who would not agree that if they were ten years younger…’ He allowed his voice to trail off and shrugged, and heard the few chortles in the audience he wanted.
Goth’s expression darkened. This was not how he had planned proceedings.
‘Alyssandra Qyn is young and vulnerable, unused to the wiles of a charming man who was also an
honoured guest, a royal visitor and someone whom her Elders expected her to entertain with generosity and grace. I would suggest that if the Under Physic here is asked, he would admit that he seduced the girl; that she is the victim, not a perpetrator.’
Nyria just stopped herself from clapping. The old rogue was crafting his plan beautifully. He had had her worried initially but she felt her spirits lift now as she saw her husband nod.
The King signalled to Herek and Alyssa was brought before him.
It was the first time Lorys had seen her properly; at their first brief glimpse of one another she had been dirty, dishevelled and in a trance-like state. Now she stood proudly in front of him. Her hair gleamed and she wore a simple but fine robe of the palest green which some good soul at the Palace must have lent her. She did it justice. She was an extraordinary beauty and Lorys found his throat dry just looking at those eyes which blazed back at him with defiance.
Tor saw it in his face and Nyria recognised it too. For one of those rare times in his life, King Lorys had been surprised by a woman. All reason was floating away as he was confronted by someone he instantly desired.
Herek cleared his throat quietly and the King realised he had been staring at the girl.
‘What do you say in all of this, madam?’ he asked gently and cleared his throat from embarrassment.
Alyssa did not hesitate. ‘I have nothing to say to a man of such power who would stomp on helpless
people—his own loyal subjects, I might add—and encourage their torture and sanction their death simply because they are empowered. Do what you will with us. It seems your Chief Inquisitor wields the sword around here, my liege, rather than you.’
Gasps came from around the hall. This was treacherous talk. Lorys found himself momentarily without words. He was stunned by her accusation but the greater impact came from her courage. He was past being impressed by her glorious looks now—he recognised they were enough to make a man do dangerous things—but he was captivated by her strength. He could not allow this woman to be bridled and secured in some faraway place.
He held his hand up and peace returned instantly.
‘You make dangerous accusations.’
‘I have nothing to lose, your majesty. If you think I fear for my life, do not. I would welcome death after losing a man I love and my child. And if you think I fear for my freedom, your toad over there in purple took that away a long time ago.’
It was a couched remark. No one but the few who knew about the rape understood it.
‘Speak plainly, young woman,’ the King requested.
‘I have nothing more to say.’ Alyssa bowed to the Royals and daringly returned to her place by the window.
This prompted a fresh wave of gasps and mutterings; most of it out of awe that someone would challenge Lorys.
Lorys scratched his beard. This was certainly a difficult situation. If the girl would not bring into the open that which her barbs hinted at, how could he save her from punishment?
While the King pondered, Cloot linked with Tor.
They’ve got Saxon!
Imprisoned?
Tor had desperately hoped Saxon would escape capture.
No. Herek left some men behind to find him. I think it will work in Alyssa’s favour. The captain aims to pull a bluff which might bury Goth’s chances of having Alyssa at his mercy.
Goth sensed the King’s indecision and moved to restore a balance which had weighted itself against him in recent minutes but he was cut off by Tor who suddenly stood up.
‘King Lorys, I have something to say which might make it easier to decide Alyssa’s part in this and explain why she was under the protection of the Academie in the first place.’
‘Go ahead,’ the King offered. He seated himself and shook his head at Goth, whose expression was now thunderous.
‘I am totally to blame for where she finds herself, my liege. I admit unequivocally that I seduced Alyssandra Qyn, despite all warnings. That she loves me and I her is irrelevant.’
Someone could have dropped a needle in the throne room at that moment and everyone would have heard it.
‘She told me a secret that she will hate me
revealing now to these fine people. But, as you have all discovered, I am not honourable and so I can tell it to you without hesitation.
‘Before Alyssa became a member of the Academie, when she was just a young country girl who happened to be mildly sentient, Chief Inquisitor Goth, in the mood to rut, met her in the town of Fragglesham.’
Goth was determined to let this go no further. He interrupted but the King clearly wanted to hear Tor’s story and forbade further outbursts. Lorys indicated that Tor should continue.
‘At Fragglesham Goth had Alyssa captured. She was taken to a house on the outskirts of the town where he stripped her, tortured her and raped her.’
Chaos erupted in the throne room as people leapt to their feet. Soldiers instantly surrounded the King and Queen, lest violence break out.
‘This is preposterous,’ Goth spluttered. ‘The man is a villain. How can you take his word against mine, my liege? The girl won’t speak. There are no witnesses. This is merely a criminal trying to ingratiate himself so that his own punishment may be lenient.’
Tor spoke quietly and looked directly at King Lorys. ‘What if there were a witness, my King? An independent witness who would corroborate not my story but that of a terrified young woman?’
‘Bring him on!’ Goth gestured theatrically. He knew there was no one alive who could bear witness against him. Rhus was loyal and the man called Drell who had captured Alyssa all those years ago was nothing but
bones by now. Rhus had seen to his despatch, as he had the people Goth had paid to guide Alyssa in the wrong direction from the burning circus tent.
Tor glanced at Herek. The captain gave him a look reminiscent of Prime Cyrus: a wry smile, a lifted eyebrow. How did Tor know of the Kloek? It had been a master stroke to find him and had taken little persuading to bring him to Tal where the girl was. Herek had no idea what the connection was; he just knew the man was howling for Goth’s blood. Bring him on, indeed. Herek nodded.