"We're getting somewhere, too," Jervis put in diffidently. Tashir raised his head and sniffed, once, then scrubbed the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand and nodded. "You want to tell 'em, Tashir, or you want me?"
"I can," he said, though his voice quavered a little. "I remember why those things couldn't get me the way they got the others. I was - pushing them away with my head. I remember doing that; I remember them trying to get at me, and I remember just shoving - like this -"
He screwed up his face with effort, and Vanyel found himself being pushed across the floor, away from the boy, bedding and all. When he reached out his hand, he encountered what was almost a surface, as if the air itself had solidified.
Tashir dropped the effort with a gasp. "It hurts to do that," he said, "but it hurt less when I was scared."
Vanyel nodded. "And the reason that the others held their attackers off for a little while - which was why the rooms with people in them were torn apart - was because of the rings. The stone told me that there's some limited protections spelled into the rings by the ceremony of binding. Unfortunately those protections were mainly meant to be used against someone trying to probe a guardian's mind, not against someone trying to kill him."
"One more day should see us with all the answers," Savil observed.
"Let's just hope they aren't answers we don't want to hear,'' Jervis replied grimly.
Sensitized by the heart-stone to what magically should and should not be associated with the palace itself, Vanyel took the lead the next morning, making a check of every room in the palace. Once they found the trap-spell catalyst, they would have a much better chance of unraveling the roots of the spell itself.
There was nothing on the first floor, and nothing in the private quarters, not even Ylyna's. But when they reached the guest rooms -
The taste of evil was in the air of the primary suite so thick that Vanyel could hardly believe that Savil didn't sense it, too. This was a set of five rooms reserved for the most important of visitors, the suite that the Mavelan representatives had undoubtedly occupied during the signing of the treaty and the wedding. The effluvium of wrong was strongest in the reception chamber, a room of linen-paneled walls hung with weaponry and the heads of many dead animals, and furnished with a variety of impractical and uncomfortable unpadded wooden chairs, and one large desk. He traced it, growing more and more nauseated by the moment, to of all things, an ornamental dagger hung in plain sight on the wall above the hearth.
He didn't touch it - he couldn't bear to - but he didn't need to. It had been there for years; perhaps as long as eighteen or twenty. The spell had been given plenty of time to permeate through the physical fabric of the palace like a slow poison in the veins of an unsuspecting victim.
"That's it?" Savil said incredulously. "I must have passed this room a dozen times."
Vanyel shrugged, and found himself a marginally comfortable chair. They were likely to be here a long while, once Savil got started. "Did you test that dagger, or were you looking for something hidden?" he asked.
"Something hidden," she admitted ruefully, walking slowly and reaching for - but nor touching - the dagger. Her eyes unfocused. "That's it," she replied after a moment.
"All right. I'll link to you, and you slip me inside the spell," Vanyel told her, bracing himself in the chair. "Get out as soon as you can; you've been draining yourself quite enough as it is."
"Not as much as you, ke'chara,” she retorted, her lips thinning, as she took a seat on the floor at his feet, and laid her hands over his wrists.
"But I'm not a Web-Guardian," he pointed out with ruthless logic. "Come on; let's get this over with."
He closed his eyes and evoked a light trance-state; centered, then reached for a deeper level of Savil than he touched in Mindspeech.
Like hand taking hand, he linked with her; followed her blindly through a twisting, torturous maze of fire and shadow and confusing shapes in which the slightest misstep would mean things he preferred not to think about. Savil knew what she was doing; if she couldn't weave her way through this thing, no one outside of k'Treva could.
:Brace yourself, love. I'm going to toss you in.:
He "made" himself as compact and small a "bundle" as he could - and felt himself hurled -
He crawled on hands and knees into consciousness. He opened burning eyes, his stomach in knots, his head pounding, and wanting a bath more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. He felt filthy inside as well as out.
Savil was still kneeling beside him, holding both of his cold hands in hers, staring intently into his eyes. "You're back," she said.
"I'm back," he replied, swallowing bile. "You won't like it."
"I don't like it now." She released his hands, and he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
"Remember what you said, about 'blood' being involved very subtly in this? It is; and given what I found out about the guardianship of the heart-stone it's sicken - ingly logical. When this spell is triggered on someone, it not only goes for them - but for everyone sharing blood - relationship with that person that is also a mage or carries the potential. Everyone, right down to babes in the womb."
Savil's face grayed a little. "So whoever did this -"
"I've got that, too. Last person to trigger it was dear Uncle Vedric Mavelan. Last person targeted was Tashir. So much for all his protests about wanting to help the lad."
"Tashir?" Her voice rose at least half an octave. "But then - that means that Vedric knew the boy wasn't his!" Vanyel grimaced, and tried to sit up straighter. "Exactly. He knew it all along, and made no attempt to clear either his sister, or the youngster. Now, I have a few guesses as to why there seem to be inconsistencies. The biggest is why the maid Reta I spoke to survived. My guess is that Vedric shielded the palace to avoid blood in the streets and the question of why Tashir would murder people he didn't even know existed. If he hadn't, it's pretty likely that people would have looked elsewhere for a perpetrator, rather than to Tashir. And that shield would explain why the Mavelans weren't attacked, since they were related to Tashir through Ylyna."
"And why Ylyna was killed with everyone else; she must have been carrying Mage-potential," Savil mused aloud.
"The thing is - this is a trap that resets itself. Until we destroy the maker, anyone that knows how can set it against anyone else.''
He sat bolt upright, as the shields on the palace buckled and weakened under a furious attack.