“They were not idle dabblings. They were serious and successful attempts, if ill controlled and ill-advised, that led directly to a state of mind I can only name violent madness. Which also leads me to wonder, for obvious reasons, how long they had been going on. Wen-it is suspected the prince had the aid of an illicit sorcerer at one point or another. Lady Ijada testifies Boleso had some garbled theory that the rites were going to give him an uncanny power over the kin of the Weald. He strangled a leopard the night he tried to rape her, and she killed him trying to defend herself.”
Hetwar glanced worriedly at Biast, who was now sitting up listening with a darkening frown. Hetwar said, “Lady Ijada testifies? I trust you see the problem with that.”
“I saw the leopard, the strangling cord, the paint traces on Boleso's body, and the chamber. Ulkra and several others among the prince's household can confirm this. I believe her without reservation. I believed her from the first, but later, another incident confirmed my conviction.”
Hetwar opened a hand, inviting Ingrey to go on. His expression was anything but happy.
“It became apparent to me…it was revealed that…” This was harder than Ingrey had expected. “Someone, in Easthome or elsewhere, had undertaken a plot to murder my prisoner. It is not clear to me who, or why.” He kept half an eye on Biast as he said this; the prince looked startled. “It became clear how.”
“Me.”
Hetwar blinked. “Ingrey…” he began warningly.
“It was revealed to me, through four failed attempts on my prisoner's life and the help of a Temple sorcerer we met in Red Dike, one Learned Hallana-who was once a pupil of Learned Lewko's, by the by-that a compulsion or geas had been placed upon me by magical means. Hallana says it was not common demon magic, not something related to the white god's powers.”
Hetwar stared his swordsman up and down. “Understand, Ingrey, I do not-yet-accuse you of raving, but I fail to see how anyone, let alone an ordinary young woman, could survive any sort of single combat with you.”
Ingrey grimaced. “It turned out she could swim. Among other talents. The sorceress broke the geas in Red Dike, fortunately for us all.” Close enough to the truth, for his current purposes. “The event was extremely peculiar, from my point of view.”
“Gesca's, too, it seems,” muttered Hetwar.
In a perfectly calm, level voice, Ingrey said, “I am infuriated beyond bearing to have been so used.”
He had meant his tone to convey restrained displeasure; by the heat in his belly and tremble of his hands, he realized just how much truer his words were than he'd intended. Biast snorted at the odd juxtaposition of tone and content, but Hetwar, who was watching his body, went still.
“I wondered if it had been by you, sir,” Ingrey continued in the same deadly cadences.
“No, Ingrey!” said Hetwar. His eyes had gone a little wide; his hands, flat on the desk top, did not reach for the hilt of his court sword. Ingrey could see the strain of that withheld motion. Ingrey had spent four years watching Hetwar spin out truth or lies as the occasion demanded. Which was it now? His head was pounding, and his blood seemed to simmer. Was Hetwar conspirator, tool, blameless? It came to him that he did not have to guess.
“I didn't!”
Silence fell, with the force of an ax blade. Biast was suddenly plastered back in his chair.
Or perhaps I should have bitten my tongue in half.
“That is very good to know, sir,” Ingrey said, in a spuriously tranquil tone, deliberately easing his stance. Scramble out of this, now. “How does the hallow king fare?”
The silence stretched too long, as Hetwar stared at him. Without taking his eyes from Ingrey's mouth, he made a little commanding gesture at the dismayed Biast.
Biast, after a questioning look at the sealmaster, licked his lips. “I visited my father's bedside before I came here. He is worse than I had imagined. He recognized me, but his speech was very slurred, and he is very yellow and weak. He fell back to sleep almost at once.” The prince paused, and his voice fell further. “His skin is like paper. He was always…he was never…” The voice stopped before it broke, Ingrey thought.
“You must,” said Ingrey carefully, “both be giving thought to the risk of an election very soon.”
Hetwar nodded; Biast nodded more reluctantly. The prince-marshal's lidded eyes only half concealed a lingering alarm, and his glance at Hetwar plainly questioned whether Ingrey's eerie revolt was usual behavior for the sealmaster's infamous wolf-swordsman, or not. Hetwar's expression was grimly uninformative.
Ingrey said, “I am more than half-convinced that Boleso's forbidden experiments were aimed at a grasp for the hallow kingship.” “But he is the younger!” objected Biast, then added, “Was.”
Hetwar suddenly looked furiously thoughtful. “It is true,” he murmured, “that more votes have been bought and sold than actually exist. I'd wondered where the sink could be…”
“How much doubt is there of the prince-marshal's succession?” Ingrey asked Hetwar, with a diplomatic nod at Biast. “Should the king chance to die when so many are gathered in Easthome for Boleso's funeral, it seems to me the election could come to a head very quickly.”
Hetwar shrugged. “The Hawkmoors, and their whole eastern faction, have long been preparing for such a moment, as we all know. It has been four generations since their kin lost the kingship, but they still hunger for a return to their old ascendancy. They had not, I judged, secured enough certain votes, but given the uncertain ones…If Boleso had been secretly gathering those, they are now scattered again.”
“Do you see such scatterings returning to his brother's faction?” Ingrey glanced at Biast, who looked as though he was still digesting the intimation of fratricide, without pleasure.
“Perhaps not,” muttered Hetwar, brows drawn deeply down. “The Foxbriar kin, though they know their lord cannot win, surely know they hold a deciding edge if things run too close. If the ordainers were to fail repeatedly to effect a clear outcome, the argument could go to swords.”
Biast's frown was no happier, but his hand drifted resolutely to his hilt at these last words, a gesture Hetwar did not miss; he held up a restraining palm.
“Were Prince Biast removed,” said Ingrey carefully, “indeed, whether he were removed or not, it seems to me that a spell that could compel a murder could as secretly compel a vote.”
Ingrey had thought he'd held all of Hetwar's attention before. He'd been mistaken. “Really,” breathed Hetwar. He could hardly grow more still, but the stillness turned much colder. “And-Ingrey-can you perceive such spells?”
“Hm.” His stare on Ingrey grew freshly appraising.
And so I am saved, in Hetwar's eyes. Maybe.
Hetwar vented a noise between a groan and a sigh, running his hands through his hair once more. “And here I thought bribery, coercion, threats, and double-dealing were enough to contend with.” His eyes rose to Ingrey again, narrowing in new thought. “And whom do you suspect of this illicit magic? If not me,” he added dryly.
Ingrey gave him a polite, apologetic shrug. Apologetic, but unabashed. If you value your life, keep your secrets and mine… “I possess no proof yet sturdy enough to stand on. It's a serious accusation.”
Hetwar grimaced. “Your gift for understatement has not deserted you, I see. This is going to be Temple business, you know.”
Ingrey nodded, briefly and unhappily. He wanted the mage-even in his mind, he yet withheld the too-specific terms sorcerer or shaman -who had laid that evil geas upon him to be brought low. He was not at all sure he wished to be brought down with him. But to know that Hetwar, at least, was one wall that stood squarely at his back was an enormous relief. Ingrey prayed he had not damaged that wall in the testing of it.