“I have and she does.”
“I am grateful for her kind words.”
“As is only proper. Her attention is a great honour. She is one of the First, and one of the greatest of all Terrarchs. I have long been an admirer of hers.”
I’ll bet you have, thought Rik. Sincere as Joran sounded, Rik did not believe him for a second. He could not help but see the Inquisitor as an enemy, and that made him doubt anything Joran said.
“Have you any idea of your parentage?” Joran asked.
“None,” said Rik. “I was brought up in Temple Orphanage in Sorrow.”
“From which you vanished aged about eight or nine years old.”
So he knew about that. Rik felt the jaws of the trap beginning to close. “I left.”
“You left?” There was a certain amount of amusement in Joran’s voice. “You simply walked out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was not happy there.”
“What made you unhappy?”
Rik shrugged. “Discipline. I did not like being made to learn to read and write. I did not like the masters, or the work they made us do.” It was hard to keep the bitterness from his voice even now.
“A great many people would have been grateful for such an education. You were being taught an uncommon skill, one that would have fitted you for gainful employment.”
“Alas I did not appreciate that at the time. And by the time I had found out how hard life was on the streets, I could not go back. I knew they would not take me.”
Joran appeared sympathetic. “How then did you survive?”
“Begging, and scavenging.”
“Until you went for a soldier.”
“Yes.”
“You joined the Seventh when you were fifteen. That means you must have spent a considerable time on the streets.”
“Yes.”
“Many would not have survived that.”
“I was lucky.”
“You certainly seem to be, to have made your way from the streets of Sorrow, to the corridors of this Palace. I don’t think anyone could deny you are very lucky.”
“I am aware of it.”
“Your military record was not so distinguished, at least to begin with. I notice you were flogged, at the order of Lieutenant Sardec.”
“You have obviously read my record. I’m afraid it shows I was never good at taking discipline.”
“Yes, it does. At the same time, I can see that you were commended for bravery on a number of occasions, and were selected for the Foragers from the line company. That shows your commanders must have thought you a superior soldier.”
What it really showed was that Weasel and the Quartermaster considered him a superior thief, and had a use for his talents. They had seen to it he was transferred. If the Inquisitor did not know that, Rik was not going to tell him. “Again, you would have to ask them.”
“I already have. They agree. And you have since distinguished yourself in a number of ways.”
“I have done my best to serve the Queen.”
“Tell me about Achenar.”
Rik told him about the buried city of the ancients, and the Spider-Demons that inhabited it. He found himself shivering as he recollected the dank depths and the sinister things that scuttled there. He told him about the summoning of Uran Ultar and the way Sardec lost his hand, and how he himself had shot the Prophet Zarahel. Joran was a good listener. He concentrated on Rik’s words most flatteringly, and when he finished said, “So far your every word accords with what others have told me.” There was a slight note of insinuation in his voice.
Before he could stop himself Rik said, “And why not? It’s the truth.”
“I never said differently. I find the whole thing fascinating. So it was your deeds in Achenar that brought you to the Lady Asea’s attention.”
“I believe so. I had never met her before then.”
“Indeed. And she certainly chose to place great trust in you. I mean she selected you to infiltrate the Serpent Tower and rescue Queen Kathea.”
“I volunteered,” said Rik, a little too quickly for his own liking. It was a lie too. Asea had given him no choice in the matter.
“Why did she do that?” There was a cat-like quality to the Inquisitor’s manner now, as if he were coming to the part that really interested him, and where he expected Rik to trip himself up.
“Someone had to do it.”
“And she chose you. To sneak into one of the best protected fortresses in the world, wrapped round with charms woven by an ancient race, and bound to the service of one of the greatest Terrarch wizards. That was quite a feat.”
“She provided me with counter-magic.”
“And we both know that Lady Asea is the greatest of all Terrarch sorcerers.” There was a note of sardonic mockery in Joran’s voice now, as if he knew something that Rik did not, and was simply waiting for the contradictions to emerge.
He knows nothing, Rik told himself. He’s simply insinuating things and hoping you’ll make a mistake.
“I am in no position to judge that.”
“She has been teaching you magic. She told me that.” Rik shrugged, not wanting to say anything incriminating. He was really starting to dislike this one-sided game, where all the cards were stacked in Joran’s favour. Joran made a deprecating gesture with his right hand and said, “If you are a Terrarch that would not be a crime.”
“And we are here to decide whether I am a Terrarch, are we not?”
“Amongst other things. How did you get into the Serpent Tower?”
“In a cart, hidden among supplies.”
“And that was before the Tower vanished.”
“You know it was.”
“And yet even after the Tower vanished, you managed to escape along with the Queen. That is quite a feat.”
“We used an ancient escape device.” Joran raised an eyebrow. Rik understood now why the Inquisitor was not wearing a mask. His features were very expressive, and at this moment they expressed mocking disbelief.
“It was fortunate you knew how to do that?”
“I was told how to use it.”
“By Asea?”
“No, by a Serpent Man whom Ilmarec had enslaved.”
“Why did he do that?”
“He hated Ilmarec and wanted revenge.”
“How did Ilmarec make the Tower vanish?”
“You would have to ask him.”
“I would love to. Sadly he is not available for questioning. Witnesses claim the entire tower rose into the sky.”
“That it did.”
“Asea was attacked by a Nerghul while you were in Morven.”
“Yes, she was.”
“Do you know who sent it?”
“Why should I?”
“Perhaps she mentioned her suspicions to you. It is the product of the darkest sort of necromancy.”
“I am willing to believe that.”
“Very kind of you to say so.” For the first time a hint of annoyance appeared in Joran’s voice, and with it a measure of threat. Rik wondered if he was going to call for his henchmen and order him dragged off to the cellars.
If that were the case, Joran himself would be dead in a very few heartbeats. As soon as he made the decision, Rik relaxed. He was committed to a course of action now. He was not powerless; whatever happened here he would share his suffering with this arrogant fop who had under-estimated him.
Joran’s head tilted to one side as if he had noticed the change come over Rik. Perhaps he had. The Inquisitor probably had several centuries of experience interrogating humans. He pushed his chair back a little, as if he was the one who felt threatened. He took a deep breath and steepled his fingers, the very picture of a Terrarch in control of himself and the situation. Rik wondered what magic Joran knew and whether it could protect him. He could not help but feel that the Inquisitor had made a mistake by agreeing to talk to him alone. Perhaps Joran had begun to realise it too.
“Yes,” said Joran, after a long pause. “The darkest sort of necromancy, a sort they are most familiar with in Sardea.”