"I have need of your counsel, jordain," the king said, his voice faint and scratchy from overuse.
Matteo nodded, waiting for him to continue.
"Before we discuss this matter, a question. Near battle's end, before the skeletons arose, you were about to give me advice that you thought I would not like to hear."
"There is no need for it now," Matteo said, frowning. "For that matter, there was no need for it then! You saw what was needed and took action without waiting for my counsel. It is grim work to raise skeleton warriors, and all Halruaa is grateful that you took this task upon yourself."
"Did you observe me cast that spell?"
The jordain hesitated. "No, but none of your necromancers have come forth to take credit for it, so I assume it was a prepared spell, unleashed from some magical device."
Zalathorm did not offer comment on this observation. "This celebration will last a tenday. After that, the queen will come to trial. If she is condemned, she will be executed under the light of a gibbous moon. You have twenty days to prove her innocence."
With great difficulty, Matteo kept his face impassive. "Forgive me my presumption, sire, but I know what it is to lose a loved one. The two best friends I ever knew are lost to me, and I cannot yet accept the reality of it."
"What would you do to save those friends?"
Matteo envisioned the veil between the worlds, and the glowing eyes of the dark fairies beyond. "If I could, I would follow them through hell."
"I thought as much. That is why I give you a seemingly impossible task."
He blew out a long breath. "We heard Kiva commend the queen for creating a clockwork army. What could negate this?"
"There are other circumstances, surely, that will sway the council's decision."
"I will not color the facts to save the queen," Matteo said quietly.
The king nodded as if he had expected this. "You hold the good of Halruaa foremost in your heart. That is why I require your services. Nonetheless, keep in mind that even an honest man can convince himself of a dubious truth, and the most zealous of paladins may learn to his horror that his holy end does not justify his every bloody mean."
"I will remember this, sire. In all candor, however, I do not understand your point."
Zalathorm rose and looked deep into the young jordain's eyes. "I have learned many things since the battle's end. I cannot yet tell you how this knowledge came to me. This much I can say: Queen Beatrix was once known as Keturah, the woman your friend Tzigone sought so desperately. No one alive knows this but me, not even the queen herself. So tell me now, jordain, what will you do now?"
The ground shifted under Matteo's feet, and his head hummed like a swarm of captive bees. He swallowed hard. "The same, sire."
"And if I tell you that Keturah could open that door for you, so that you could march into hell after your friend? Would you be tempted to save them both at any cost, or would you cling to truth even then?"
"Even then," he said in an anguished whisper.
The king nodded slowly. "Well, perhaps you have a chance at success. You have twenty days."
Zalathorm turned and strode swiftly away, no longer able to meet the young man's burning eyes. He understood all too well the pain written there.
Keturah's daughter. He closed his eyes and brought to mind the image of the girl with the shorn brown locks and impish grin whom he had seen at Basel Indoulur's side. It was she who had brought the magic mouth device into the queen's workroom, thus getting the evidence that would condemn her own mother for treason. Would she have done this, had she known? Or would she cling to principle as firmly as did Matteo?
With a sigh, Zalathorm made his way down a hidden stairwell into the deepest and most secret part of the palace. As he walked, he cast a powerful magical disguise over himself. He never approached this hidden chamber without this disguise, though it had been many years since he'd worn this face outside the palace. The lines of necromancers who stood like sentries outside the door knew him only by his assumed face and nodded to him as he passed.
Zalathorm shut and warded the door, then turned to the enormous gem that floated precisely in the center of the room. It was vaguely star-shaped, redder than garnet, with hundreds of smooth, glittering sides. Light pulsed within its heart.
The king bowed his head before the sentient gem, more in apology than supplication, and whispered, "The Heart of Halruaa seeks your counsel."
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