by Andrew Rowe
Which, of course, means Liarra Dianis is the primary suspect. She could have altered the poison herself before treating it, which would have removed the vast majority of the evidence of her involvement. As someone from House Dianis and a specialist in poison research, she would also have been familiar enough with the types of sorcery used to investigate poisons to take that kind of precaution.
This also implies that whoever made the second poison was aware of the composition of the first. That could mean there are multiple assassins working together, or it could mean that whoever made the alteration to the poison had an opportunity to investigate Kalsiris’ body and wanted to deflect blame for the second attack onto the original assassin. Interesting.
Jonan rubbed his head. “If you’ll forgive me for interjecting, I think I have a way we might be able to gather some more evidence one way or another, if one of you will help me walk. I’m still feeling a little lightheaded.”
Vorianna took a step closer, but Aladir moved to intercept her. “I think it would be best if you stay out of reach until we can confirm your innocence, Miss ‘Vorianna’.”
“I will assist Jonan.” Lydia slipped an arm under Jonan’s uninjured shoulder. “Let’s see this evidence of yours.”
***
The room was filled with mirrors, but none of them carried Lydia’s reflection.
Glancing from side to side, Lydia marveled at the vast array of images displayed in each of the shining surfaces.
In one, she saw a pair of guards moving with purpose down a hallway.
In another, the last remaining member of House Theas living within the manor, her hands smudged with ink. Nakane scratched at a piece of parchment with a quill, then as Lydia watched, tore the scroll to shreds and tossed the remains into a pile of similarly destroyed documents on the side of her table.
In a third, she saw Baroness Theas’ chamber, now empty. It was to that mirror that Jonan moved, slipping free of Lydia’s grasp. “Thanks for the help. I can take things from here.”
“What is all this?” Aladir watched the mirror in which Nakane was pictured, a look of concern on his face.
“One of our security measures.” Rialla folded her arms. “Maer is usually in here – I think that’s how he found us last night.”
Lydia glanced at Jonan. “I knew you said you were taking some precautions, but this—”
“Another of my many secrets, ruined. Alas. But in this case, it may provide us with a bit of insight.” He ran his finger across several symbols etched on the side of the frame of the mirror that displayed Nedelya’s room, and the image within blurred and shifted. “This might take a while.”
Rialla frowned, tilting her head to the side. “What are you doing? Even I haven’t seen you making changes to these.”
“Finding the right moment. You may want to take a seat.”
At first, Lydia watched in fascination as Jonan touched the symbols and the surface of the mirror. She realized that the image had initially showed the current state of the baroness’ room – like looking through a window – but now, he was somehow shifting the image back to a previous point in time.
Some sort of sight sorcery effect combined with the Dominion of Memory, perhaps?
She had used one of Jonan’s hand mirrors to send him messages for several months, but she never had known he had access to something more sophisticated. This seemed to resemble the World’s Memory, a legendary artifact capable of seeing through time itself.
Perhaps that was his inspiration for all this.
As minutes passed and the image continued to show nothing of interest, Lydia felt her mind wandering to the letter that Aladir had discovered within the room they were watching.
She sat down, motioning for Aladir to sit next to her. “Aladir, can I see the letter you were showing me earlier?”
He frowned, as she had expected – he probably did not want the other two being aware of its existence. But, so long as they did not know the contents of the letter, she didn’t think looking it over would be a problem. “Fine.”
He passed it back to her, and she examined the words again.
Do not mourn me. I am doing what I must do in order to protect what remains of our family. Am I taking the coward’s path, to avoid facing you? No. I wish that I had the time left to see you one last time, but that is not to be. Sometimes fate forces our hand – and for that, I am sorry.
Lydia frowned, glancing at Vorianna nervously and then back to the note - and considered the unusual structure again.
It was one of the simplest forms of hiding a message within a message. All she had to do was take the first letter of each word to form another.
Dianis.
Lydia folded the letter and handed it back to Aladir.
This had been no suicide – at least, not without provocation. With her final words, Nedelya had named her killer’s house.
She had not, however, named her killer.
“Ah!” Jonan pulled his hand away from the mirror. The image on the glass was Nedelya Theas, standing on the windowsill, preparing to jump. There was no one behind her – no other figure to force her out.
The baroness looked back into her room one last time – mouthing something Lydia failed to catch – before turning and stepping into the open air.
“Go back further,” Lydia instructed.
Aladir put a hand to his forehead. “I’m not sure I wanted to see that.”
Jonan complied with Lydia’s request, moving his hand to the sigils again. They watched with fascination as Nedelya reappeared in the room, moving backward until she sat at her writing table – and a figure moved backward into the room.
Torian Dianis, Rialla and Liarra’s father.
Jonan continued to move backward until he found the moment where Torian first entered the room – and then pressed a series of sigils, showing the scene playing forward as if it was occurring in the present time.
Torian Dianis stood near the door to the chamber, folding his hands in front of him. Baroness Theas had been sitting in a chair near the window when he entered – the same chair that she sat in when she watched the games of Crowns that Lydia had observed with her. She had a book sitting unread in her lap.
She did not stand when Torian entered. She simply spoke, showing no sign of concern.
Aladir stood and walked closer to the mirror. “Does your mirror store their voices? I can’t read her lips, and Torian is facing away from our view.”
“No, only an image. I do not have any knowledge of sound sorcery.” Jonan looked down. “I’m sorry; it’s the best I can do.”
Vorianna had backed away to near the entrance to the mirror room and she was clenching her jaw tightly, a look of intense focus on her face.
As the scene played out, Nedelya stood, looking bemused, and then moved to a writing table. Torian walked closer, leaning over her, and waving a hand at the inkwell.
And Lydia watched as Nedelya wrote the letter that Aladir had just shown her, under Torian’s watchful eyes.
She wrote slowly, deliberately, and Torian demonstrated growing frustration as he watched her.
He forced her to write a suicide note – but she took her time, thinking about each line carefully, so that she could implicate him in the only way she could think of.
When she had concluded writing the letter, Torian raised a hand, pointed at Nedelya, and left the room.
“Jonan.” Lydia stood up. “Move the image back to where he is leaning over her while she writes the note – and keep the image there.” She turned her head toward Vorianna. “I’m sorry; it would appear that Torian is at least involved, if not the killer himself.”
Aladir stood next to her. “I believe we have an arrest to make.”
Vorianna’s expression was venomous as she said, “I will accompany you.”
***
Torian Dianis was sitting in the courtyard, playing a game of Crowns against Liarra, when Aladir arrived with the city guard at his heels.
The swarm of guards that arrived to arrest Torian was more than Lydia judged to be strictly necessary, but Aladir always did pride himself on being thorough.
“What’s all this?” The blue-eyed Rethri glanced around briefly as the guards formed a ring around him, and then looked back toward the board on the table. Aladir stepped out of the ring of guards, drawing his sword.
“Torian Dianis, in accordance with the laws of Xerasilis and the people of this city, you are hereby called to the House of Justice to answer to the charges of conspiracy and murder.”
Torian glanced up from the table toward Aladir. “Give me just a moment – we have a few moves left.”
Liarra stood up immediately, looking around with wide eyes as more blades sang free from their scabbards. “What is this? What’s he talking about, father?”
The Rethri man sighed. “You’ve ruined it now.” He casually cast a hand across the table, knocking several pieces to the stone below. “Very well, arrest me. This should provide some brief entertainment, at least.”
“Liarra, please step away from your father.” Aladir took a step closer.
“No, explain yourself!” Liarra stepped in front of her father, raising both of her hands. “My father would never kill someone. And we’re only here because you asked us to be!”
Torian put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’s quite all right, my dear. I’ll be happy to go with these men and provide some clarity to ease their delusions.” He stepped away from Liarra, who lowered her hands, and smiled brightly. “This should give us a chance to get to know each other a bit better, won’t it Master Ta’thyriel?”
“Probably not in the way you’re hoping, Baron Dianis. Come with us.” Aladir waved with his sword and Torian fell into line with him. The circle of guards adjusted, moving to fall into a double-line to escort Aladir and Torian out the gates.
Lydia remained invisible on the sides, continuing to watch Liarra’s reaction. She seemed to be demonstrating legitimate shock. While Lydia might have normally utilized the Dominion of Knowledge to attempt to gather more information from the scene, her analysis spell had taxed her dangerously, and she knew any further spells might incapacitate her entirely.
She knew that Jonan remained nearby, maintaining his own invisibility as well as her’s. He had insisted on seeing this, and she didn’t blame him, given that his grievous injury might have been at Torian’s orders.
Liarra sunk down in the chair on her side of the table as her father walked away, seemingly at a loss. She buried her head in her arms, and Lydia thought she heard the sound of muffled tears.
Rialla approached from the opposite side of the courtyard from where Torian had exited. Liarra did not look up until Rialla spoke.
“Can I sit here?”
Jonan had woven no disguise this time – but Rialla’s eyes were a different color than they had been when Lydia had seen her before. They were the blue-white of ice, the color that rumors had hinted her eyes to be at birth.
“Ri…rialla?” Liarra stammered, looking up.
“It’s me, little sister. I’m home.”
Lydia gestured to the window where she knew Jonan was watching and walked back inside. It was unlikely that the reunion of sisters would be focused on discussing assassins and Rethri cults.
***
Lydia met with Jonan inside. He had slumped back down into the chair that sat near his bed.
“Well, that was touching. Where are we headed next?”
Lydia shook her head. “I’m going to visit Landen and warn him. Even with Torian arrested, other members of that organization might be after him. In fact, Torian’s arrest might make them anxious, which could make them strike even faster.”
“A good point. And we still don’t know why Nedelya walked out that window.”
If Torian shares his daughter’s skill set, he could have talked her into walking out a window with deception sorcery. But it’s also possible he simply was holding something over her – information, threats, or something similar.
“There was a suicide note – the one that she was writing when we watched in the mirror. She managed to conceal the name ‘Dianis’ within it, but that was the only clue I could find.”
Jonan raised an eyebrow. “Nedelya managed to write a coded message in there while she was being watched? That’s…impressive. I don’t think I would have had the presence of mind to do something like that. But I suppose we still don’t know her exact circumstances.”
“Right. All signs point to Torian having some kind of significant leverage over her. Hopefully we can get him to confess, but I’m not counting on it. For now, warning Landen is my highest priority. Aladir will see to the trial.”
“Lovely. When do we leave?”
“There’s no ‘we’ involved right now. You look about three quarters dead, and even if that’s only half true, that’s still three eighths. More than an acceptable margin of dead for this assignment.”
Jonan rolled his eyes. “That’s a very exact measurement.”
“I’m a very exact person, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Right. Well, at a minimum, take the antidotes we’ve been working on. Rialla will know the most recent results – ask her about the ones that worked best. They’ll only work for the poison that was used on Kalsiris, however – not whatever affected me.”
“I’m not sure any traditional antidote would have worked on the poison they used on you – it seemed to be deliberately designed to be difficult to cure. Regardless, I suppose the other assassin is probably still the one out there, which means we might see the first poison again. Can I trust something Rialla has been working on? Just finding out that her father was involved doesn’t mean she’s innocent. In fact, it should make her more of a suspect, not less.”
Jonan shook his head. “You don’t know Rialla like I do. She hates her father. He was going to kill her little brother – Elias – for being born without a dominion bond. There’s no chance she’s working with him, I promise you that. I admit that if her sister had been the one in the mirror, I would have looked at this situation differently, but Torian – no, she wouldn’t work with him.”
“Fair enough. I suppose bringing the antidotes would be a sensible precaution.” Lydia frowned, stepping close to Jonan and giving him an inquisitive look. He stood, giving her a crooked half smile, and she carefully maneuvered her arms around his wounded limb to hug him tightly. “Thank you, Jonan.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I just nearly lost a limb. Not a big deal.” He sighed, pulling her closer against him. He was cold and sweaty, but she didn’t mind. “Be careful out there. Whoever made that poison is going to be extremely dangerous – far more so than those would-be assassins I had to deal with. Don’t get yourself more than three eighths dead.”
“I’ll aspire to keep my fractions manageable.”
“Good.”
They held each other in silence for as long as Lydia could keep the growing paranoia in her mind at bay.
Chapter XXI – Taelien V – War
Taelien limped and stumbled into the dawnfire’s light, still pressing his left hand against the wound on his side. He knew intellectually that the injury wasn’t very severe – he had suffered far more dangerous injuries in the past. Nevertheless, that pain burned brilliantly, distracting him from the milder – but more dangerous – discomfort from overusing his metal sorcery.
The change in light was almost blinding at first, but as his vision cleared, he saw pennants marking the exterior of a large Paladins of Tae’os encampment a few hundred yards distant. There were three large tents – the kind he typically associated with command centers or hospital tents – and at least half a dozen smaller ones. A group of tabard-wearing sentries spotted their bedraggled group immediately and one of them broke off from his group and approached.
The swordsman stood up a little straighter, hoping to preserve at least a fragment of his dignity. Velas walked up to his left side, still leaning on her hilario
us spear-gauntlet combination, and adjusted her posture in the same way that he had.
“Hey!” The approaching sentry waved, giving a friendly grin. Taelien squinted, but he didn’t recognize the man. He was short and a little heavy, but his short sleeves exposed thick muscular arms. Given the enthusiastic greeting, Taelien raised his left hand from his false injury to wave back in return rather than attempting a proper salute. “Wow, made it out of there already? Garrick is going to shit himself.”
He chuckled weakly alongside Velas and Landen, which made his chest ache even more. Asphodel laughed a few seconds later, and the sentry gave her a quizzical look.
“Glad to hear we made good time, Sir…” Velas opened.
“Oh, sorry! I’m Caul. No fancy title, just a newly minted paladin myself. You guys look pretty wrecked! C’mon, let’s get you to camp. We’ve got food. And clothes!”
Until that moment, Taelien had never been particularly exuberant about the idea of clothing, but after the experience in the prison, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Lead the way, Caul.”
The paladin camp was on a grassy plateau on the edge of what looked like a lush forest. Given the size of Velthryn, Taelien couldn’t be sure at a glance if it was wilderness or just a large city park. He didn’t see any civilians about, which gave him a slight leaning toward the former, but that implied they had been transported a long distance in their sleep – which was more than a little disconcerting.
As they approached, Taelien tried to sound casual as he asked the question that had been on his mind since he awoke in a panic. “Hey, Caul. You wouldn’t happen to know where my sword is, would you?”
“Your sword? Oh, all your gear should be with your clothes.” Caul waved a hand dismissively.
Clearly he doesn’t know who I am, or he would have made a bigger deal out of that.
I…think I’m kind of disappointed.
After a moment of confusing self-reflection, Taelien half-heartedly muttered, “Great, thanks.”
I spend my entire life trying to distance myself from my connection with that thing and as soon as anyone else doesn’t acknowledge it, I feel empty. Lydia would have a field day if I told her about this. Which I am absolutely not doing under any circumstances.