“The ‘Nameless One’ is Shalaman’s brother,” Leyuet began, but Palisar interrupted him with a wave of his hand.
“Half-brother,” the priest corrected. “Shalaman’s mother was King Ibram’s First Consort, and—let us continue to call him Noyoki—this man Noyoki was the last son of the Third Consort, who would be ashamed to have given birth to him were she still alive.”
“She was a good woman,” Leyuet agreed. He rubbed his temples wearily; by now he must have a headache that matched Amberdrake’s. “There is no blame to her for giving birth to a creature without honor. Perhaps if others had the rearing of him—well, it may be that we shall never know. Perhaps he was without honor from the beginning. Perhaps he was born with some lack of understanding of honor.”
Palisar raised a skeptical eyebrow but did not comment upon that observation. “Noyoki was selected as a child as one who had many powers,” Palisar continued. “He was sent to the priest-school, just as others of his kind have been and will be. He then misused his magical powers and supposedly was rendered magically impotent. Somehow this did not take place, and you may be certain we will find out what it was that prevented the removal of his powers, and why it was not discovered that he had been left potent.”
“I should warn you, out of my experience with northern-style magic,” Skan rumbled, “Even if your priests had done their job, it is still possible that with enough will and focus, Noyoki might have been able to use the power released by blood-magic to work some kinds of spells.”
Palisar sat up in alarm. ‘Tell me that this is not true!” he exclaimed.
Amberdrake shook his head. “I wish I could, but that is something that is well known in the north. Even with minimal talent or none, some people can focus their will enough to make use of powers that they cannot now or could never sense, or could sense only dimly. With more refugees coming down from the north, eventually this knowledge will come to the Haighlei. This is one of the many things we would have told you, if circumstances had not gotten so tangled. Sooner or later, an unTalented blood-mage will enter your Empires, and he will teach others.”
“We cannot stop it.” Palisar nodded grimly. “Very well. Then we must work to deal with it when it comes. Together. That will be one of the first items on our agenda.”
“Noyoki,” Skan prompted. “I want to hear all of this.”
“What made this man all the more dangerous was that he had not only possessed the ability to work magic, he also had one other, even rarer ability,” Leyuet said gravely. “One we had not seen in decades, even centuries, in this city.”
“Which the priests were supposed to have blocked before they took away his magic,” Palisar continued. “I recall the day that I saw him demonstrate this very clearly. He was able to move things from one end of the city to the other with the power of his will alone.”
Amberdrake nodded; now he had the whole picture. “I heard something about Noyoki’s story, although my informant would not tell me anything about him, when we were warned that the Haighlei do not permit the use of magic by anyone but the priests. But I would never have guessed this other ability of his. Was that what he had been using to cheat with?”
Palisar nodded grimly. “That was why we priests were so terrified of the idea of a dishonorable man loose with that kind of power. That was why we were to have burnt out that ability first, before we ever blocked away his magic.”
“And of course, that was how he got Hadanelith in and out of at least one locked room without a trace, not even a trace of magic,” Skan put in, with a decisive nod of his own. “And of course, how he was to put Hadanelith in place to kill Shalaman, and get him away again. It begins to make sense, now.”
“We didn’t know at the time that he could move anything larger than—say—a water jug, not for any real distance,” Palisar replied, grimacing with chagrin, as Leyuet toyed with the carving on the arm of his chair. “He didn’t openly use it often, of course. We didn’t know such an ability could be strengthened with practice.”
Amberdrake looked at Skan. “You and Urtho talked about such things, do you remember talking about anything like this ability?”
Skan flexed his talons and flared his nostrils as he thought. “Such things can be strengthened up to a point. I suspect he couldn’t move an object the size of a human very often or for a great distance. That would be why he needed to bring his confederates here, and why he only used it when there was no other way to get at a chosen victim. If it’s any comfort to you, it’s as rare among our people as it is among yours.”
Palisar shrugged. “We’ll find it all out for certain in short order,” he replied, his eyes focused on some point beyond Amberdrake. “We do not lightly use those whose abilities grant them the means to see the thoughts of others, but when we do call upon them, they are dealing with those whose guilt is known, and they employ their skills without mercy or regard for the consequences.”
Amberdrake blinked. Was the priest saying what he thought? Are they prepared to use coercive force to strip their minds away?
“Their minds will be broken like eggs before we meet with Shalaman again,” Leyuet confirmed grimly. “And like eggs, the contents will be extracted, and the empty shells left behind. We will not slay them. We will not need to. They will, all three, live out their lives in a public place as examples of what the ultimate penalties may be. And in sifting through their minds, we may, perhaps, learn what made them what they are and prevent such a monster from appearing among us again.”
Amberdrake shuddered at the ruthlessness in the slender Advisor’s words. He knew what a powerful Mindspeaker could do to someone just by accident, having been on the receiving end of Kechara’s first “shout,” and the edge of the second. He could only imagine the sensation of having one’s mind scraped away, layer by layer, until there was nothing left. On the whole—death might have been more merciful.
Did they warrant mercy? Especially after the way they tortured and murdered people? I—I don’t know, and I’m glad I’m not the one making the decision. The sounds of birds singing in the gardens outside seemed unnaturally loud and cheerful.
“That, I think is all that needs be said for now.” Palisar stood up, then, and gestured to them, a wordless invitation to leave this room and return to the main section of the Palace. Amberdrake was not loath to leave.
I think the strength of fear is wearing off. His joints hurt, his muscles ached with the need to lie down. His mind was in a fog. Later, he would have the strength to think about all of this, but right now—
Right now, he just wanted to fall into Winterhart’s arms and rest.
It’s over. It’s finally over.
The walk back was a long one, and it was accomplished mainly in silence. Both Palisar and Leyuet brooded over their own thoughts, Amberdrake was too tired at the moment to really think of anything to say, and Skan moved haltingly, in no mood to talk. It was only when they reached the door of the Emperor’s portion of the Palace that Palisar stopped them all with a lifted hand.
Hot, brilliant white sunlight beat down on them all, but Palisar seemed immune to its effects. “I have some things I must say. I do not favor change,” he said, still frowning, “And I did not want you foreigners here among us. I was certain when the murders began that you had brought the contamination of your people here, and that you were the cause, witting or unwitting, of all our current troubles. But I am not a fool, or blind; the cause was already here, and your people merely gave birth to the tool. Sooner or later, Noyoki would have found another way to reach for his brother—a man does not recruit a notorious thief to his cause if he is planning to build temples. You tried to be rid of Hadanelith without making the punishment greater than the crimes he committed called for. It was not your fault that he fell into the hands of one who readily used him.”