“Hold him,” shouted Karon. “Ward him with the strongest bonds you can manage. No one - no one - is to touch his mind. And on your lives let him touch no weapon. Seri, with me!”
He ran from the room, and as I followed him, Ce’Aret and Mem’Tara rushed to Ven’Dar, who fell limp in his warders’ arms.
Men’Thor had been restrained by two warriors. He squirmed and shouted, “Madman! How dare you accuse my son - ?”
With a barked command, Karon called up the portal in the anteroom and vanished through it. I stepped after him, Paulo and Roxanne on my heels. Thunder exploded behind us. Over my shoulder, I glimpsed Men’Thor strike down his captors with a flash of fire.
I cried out a warning, but Karon was far ahead, already disappearing down a long stairway. Through galleries we sped, down wide staircases, past astonished servants, and into the warren of sloping, narrow passageways that looked increasingly familiar… the steel-banded doors… past four fallen warriors… through the iron gate and the second guardroom where other warriors lay still in pools of blood… From the prison chamber ahead came a scream… as if the victim’s heart was being torn out. Gerick.
I stood at the door of the prison chamber gaping in wonder and horror. The walls had vanished, replaced by fathomless darkness, riven by bolts of blue-and-white fire. Hanging in the center of all was a pulsing orb of lurid light, created by a small brass ring, spinning so fast that it swept every mote of light from the room and wove the light into a palm-sized universe of blinding yellow-streaked purple and gold. A particularly potent burst of lightning illuminated Radele’s smiling face. The spinning ring hovered above his palm.
Another burst of blue and white shattered the darkness and struck the orb of light. At the moment of impact, Gerick jerked and screamed again. He knelt on the stone platform in the center of the guardroom, curled in a knot, his pale, trembling fingers interlaced and cradling his head. Silver bands at his neck, wrists, and ankles were chained to the eyebolts at the corners of the platform.
“Come no closer, my lord,” said the smirking Radele. “I require you to stay where you are while we work out a settlement.”
Karon was just inside the door, trying to move closer to the stone platform. But his every forward movement caused another streak of blue lightning and another scream. Finally, with a curse, he stepped back, and the storm was stilled. “I make no settlements with the Lords of Zhev’Na or their servants.”
Gerick collapsed on the platform, shaking, his face buried in his arms.
“Oh, come now, I’m not one of the Lords. This” - Radele pointed to the magical orb spinning in his left hand - “is only a temporary device, made necessary by your infernal stubbornness. It will help us accomplish what is needed, and then… ” He shrugged.
“You think they’ll let you sever your partnership?” said Karon. “Or perhaps you believe you’re more powerful than the Lords? Or more clever? Yes, that’s it, isn’t it? So you’re a fool as well as a traitor.”
“Once the sword of D’Arnath rests in the proper hand, the opinions of those in Zhev’Na will have no more weight than the opinions of a fly… or the opinions of a dead coward of a prince or his demon spawn.”
“And whose hand would be the proper one to hold D’Arnath’s sword?” said a calm, equable voice from behind me. A firm hand moved me aside, and a straight-backed figure in red robes strode into the room. Men’Thor - his legendary composure regained.
Radele smiled triumphantly, straightened his own back, and gave a deep bow. “Yours, of course, my father. And after yours, mine.”
Men’Thor walked slowly past Karon, assuming, correctly it seemed, that Radele would allow him to pass his barriers. When the man in red stood next to his son, he examined the spinning ring for a goodly time.
“You have made alliance with the Lords of Zhev’Na in order to make me the Heir of D’Arnath?” he said at last. He might have been discussing a gift of a new pair of boots or the talents of an untried sweeping girl.
“It was the only way. If you had seen it, Father… the madman Prince brought the boy sneaking across the Bridge in the middle of the night, as if to show his demon spawn the prizes awaiting him! How could I permit it? I was appalled. Furious. It happened that one of the Lords came to me that same night in the guise of a Zhid defector, thinking I was some weak-minded fool who would not recognize one of them. He said the boy was just biding his time, hoping to learn Avonar’s secrets before rejoining the Lords. I could see they feared the boy would supplant them and take the powers of the Heir for himself alone. But for the time our purposes were the same, and I allowed them to think they had deceived me. That’s when I bargained with them and obtained this device.”
“And today you were able, using this Zhev’Na device - this oculus - to displace Ven’Dar’s soul with that of the boy?”
“The Lords own this creature’s mind. They taught me how to use the oculus to reach into his corrupted soul and command him, so that he would not even remember his own deeds. And though he is no longer an immortal Lord, his soul has this ability to move into other bodies. Ask our Prince. He recognized the boy. It was no illusion.”
“But it was you all the time, controlling him, putting the words in his mouth and wielding the weapons in his hand.”
“I could not allow Ven’Dar to be named successor. He’s weak. Just as you said, Father. If the Prince had only named you instead, Ven’Dar would never - ”
“And in the Preceptor Gar’Dena, too, you did this thing?”
“I used the oculus to discover what secrets the Prince told the boy that night and learned of the information cache at the bathhouse. If the Prince had named you to the Preceptorate, as he should have, nothing would ever have happened to it. But we had to control the knowledge of mordemar. If the people thought the Prince could prevent enslavement, it would take them another thousand years to listen to our reasoning. It was unfortunate that Jayereth and Gar’Dena had to die.”
“And the Circle… ”
Although there had been not the slightest change in Men’Thor’s demeanor, Radele’s grin began to fade. “Yes, yes. When Grandfather Ustele told you of the Circle, you said such a flimsy enchantment so close to our borders would ensure the destruction of Avonar. You said they should all be executed for treachery. So I used the oculus to learn the disposition of the Circle from the boy. I pretended to be horrified at the result. The Lords never knew the destruction of the Circle served our own purpose more than theirs. And then Grandfather said that the best thing that could possibly happen would be an attack on the Vales, to make the people wake up to their folly, to make the Prince forget the mundanes and concentrate on our own people. You agreed. So I probed the boy to see what he knew of the Vale Watch and told the Lords of it, too. You said the woman had to be silenced, to free the Prince from his bondage to the mundanes, and I knew there must be no question of the boy’s succession.
“I did everything you wanted, Father, and now we’ve won. The people have seen the Lords in their midst and witnessed the power of evil. They will follow us anywhere we wish to take them. With the mad Prince and his demon son dead, and the puling Ven’Dar out of the way, no one can hold us back. We will lead the host against Zhev’Na and we will prevail. What is it, Father? What’s wrong? Everything is accomplished just as you wish.”
Men’Thor spun on his heels, and with a formality that seemed ridiculously out of place, he bowed to Karon, spreading his hands, palms up. “My lord Prince,” he said softly, “words cannot express my humiliation, my disgust, my dishonor at the despicable deeds of this traitorous fool I have sired. I accept full responsibility for his crimes, and may my actions, in some small part, remedy the damage he has wrought. Ce’na davonet, Giri D’Arnath!”