Could there really be two? Corwin had seen enough of the gold-order houses from the outside to guess that escape wouldn’t be easy. The golds were like highly trained soldiers, fervent in their handling of wilders, and once collared, the wilders couldn’t use their magic, as he’d seen with that boy in Andreas. Even the boy’s mother had failed to harm the other magists when she attacked them. Kate’s chances of escape seemed impossible.
Then how had those others done it? Corwin opened the desk drawer where he’d stowed the letter from the golds in Andreas. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it, useless as it was, but now he read over it again, carefully studying it. It didn’t tell him anything new, except, when he examined the golds’ official seal, he saw it bore the outline of the grand master’s profile.
The arrogance. There could be no doubt Storr was the champion behind the Inquisition. Was there no limit to the man’s ambition? Did he think himself a king?
Yes, Corwin thought, answering his own question. Then a terrible truth dawned in his mind—perhaps Ralph Marcel and the others hadn’t escaped the golds at all. What if instead, the golds—led by the grand master—were using their powers for their own gain? Controlling the daydrakes . . .
The idea seemed absurd at first, but then Corwin saw the brilliance of it. Everything that had happened since the appearance of the daydrakes and the attack on the Gregors’ manor had only served to increase the League’s power. It had given Storr more and more leverage in high council meetings and had surely fattened the League’s coffers. Corwin examined the map of the attacks. The League’s involvement would explain how widespread they’d been, as well.
Corwin crumpled up the letter, venting his frustration. Something had to be done, but he was stuck in here. A prisoner—all thanks to Storr.
The sound of a key rattling pulled Corwin out of his angry reverie. He turned in time to see the door swing open and Edwin step inside.
“Edwin, thank the gods you’re here.” Corwin rose from the desk, his anger at his brother momentarily forgotten in his need for answers. “I think—” He broke off at one look at Edwin’s cold expression. Only then did he remember how close his brother had become with the grand master. They were confidants. Friends.
He won’t believe me without proof. Especially now that he thinks I’m a traitor. Anger surged inside Corwin. He ought to believe me first, though. We’re brothers.
And yet they weren’t. Thanks to the uror. Dal was more a brother to him.
Wordlessly, Edwin crossed the room to the table where the remnants of Corwin’s meal sat mostly uneaten. He poured a fresh cup of wine and took a deep drink before facing Corwin once more.
“Do you remember what it sounded like? Every time she took a breath?”
At once, Corwin’s anger went cold inside him, knowing exactly which she his brother referred to. Of course he remembered. It was a sound he would never forget, each in and out of her lungs a strained, wheezing rattle. For days after the trampling his mother lingered, fighting to live, to breathe.
“I remember.”
Edwin set down the cup hard, some of the wine sloshing over the side. “Do you truly? I find it hard to believe when you dishonor her memory so easily.”
Corwin glanced out the window, guilt prickling down his skin. His brother had always been good at making him feel wrong, even when he wasn’t. He pictured his mother’s face. The people had called her Queen Imogen the Gentle. He blamed himself for her death, but he also knew deep inside that she would’ve forgiven him for what happened. To let Edwin use her as a weapon against him now seemed the true dishonoring of her memory.
Corwin turned back to his brother. “My business with Kate has nothing to do with what happened to Mother.”
“She’s a wilder,” Edwin said. “And you knew. You’ve probably always known.”
Corwin fought to remain calm. “So what if I did? Kate hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Perhaps not yet. But what happens when she does? What excuses will you give the innocents harmed by her powers?”
“Kate would never—”
Edwin cut him off with a raised hand. “She is still dangerous. All wilders are. Their magic has been outlawed these last two hundred years. We can’t make exceptions now.”
Two hundred years is a long time, Corwin thought. He saw Kate as she’d looked when she told him the truth about her magic at last, her wariness, her hope. It’s simply a part of me, she had said. She’d been born with this ability. Condemned at birth. All because of the law.
“Kate is not dangerous, wilder or no,” Corwin said, resolute. “She doesn’t deserve to be condemned for something she’s never done.”
Scorn twisted Edwin’s features. “And will you make the same exception for all the wilders?”
Corwin didn’t answer. He didn’t know. It was like the Sevan soldier he’d let go free. If Dal was right, the boy had simply fled, embracing his freedom. Corwin couldn’t be certain of what he hadn’t witnessed. But he also couldn’t deny that the version he believed was equally possible. It was the same with the other wilders. They did pose a danger; they might cause harm. He shook his head, incapable of knowing the right answer to such a complicated problem. In the end all he knew for certain was that he loved Kate, no matter what she was.
And Storr must be stopped. The League held too much power, just as Kate had claimed that night in Jade Forest.
“The wilders we condemn,” Corwin said, “they are born citizens of Rime, same as you and me.”
Edwin swore. “I hope you lose the uror, Corwin. You don’t deserve to win. Not if you believe that.” Hatred black as coal and hot as fire sizzled in his words, and Corwin took an involuntary step backward, stunned by the depth of it.
“How can you hate so . . . so expansively?” Corwin said on a gasp.
“How can you not?”
All the ways Corwin could respond, all the arguments he could make, came and went through his mind. There was no arguing with this sort of belief. It was a battle that could only be fought from within. He’d learned it firsthand, in the months after his mother died as his own hate raged inside him until he finally realized he had to let it go or it would consume him forever. Pity rose up in Corwin at what it must be like for his brother to have lived with such hate for so long, to let it burn him up from the inside out.
He sighed in defeat. “Why are you here, Edwin?”
Scowling, Edwin swore again, then said through clenched teeth, “You have been granted a reprieve. It seems that despite your actions, you are bound by the goddess to complete the uror.” He paused, a cold smile passing quickly over his face now. “I suppose it’s for the best. When you fail, then the whole kingdom will know for certain which of us deserves to be king.”
Corwin didn’t reply, refusing to take the bait.
“You are allowed to resume your normal duties,” Edwin continued, assuming a civil tone, the kind he reserved for speaking to the public or the high council. “But you’ve been assigned a gold-robe guard. He’s waiting outside. He’s to stay with you wherever you go to make sure you don’t conspire further with any more wilders.”
Corwin balled his hands into fists, despising the idea of a guard, as if he were a child in need of a nanny. “I didn’t conspire to do anything.”
“It’s too late for your lies, Corwin. Besides, I should probably thank you for the damage you’ve done. The courtiers are already cursing your name.”
“What? Why?”
That cold smile flashed again. “Because with the discovery of the high prince aiding a wilder, the gold robes have been conducting an extensive search for more guilty parties here in the castle.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Maestra Vikas has exposed Bonner as a wilder as well. He’s been wearing the same diamond magestone we found on Kate to disguise the fact that he’s an earthist.”
Corwin gaped, disbelief pounding in his temple. No, it couldn’t be.
A smug look rose in Edwin’s gaze. “Apparently, his power allows him to manipulate metals. That’s how he’s been making the revolvers.”
The truth struck Corwin like a fist to the gut. It made too much sense, explained why only the revolvers he’d forged personally had worked in the beginning. “I didn’t know Bonner was a wilder.”
“I suppose you didn’t know that Kate is a part of the Rising either?” Edwin bared his teeth in a sneer. “Yes, that’s right. They’ve been headquartered right here in Norgard all this time, in the basement of a brothel, of all places. The golds arrested more than twenty yesterday and killed several more during the raid.”
Corwin’s mind spun at this news, his insides stinging at the betrayal of it. He couldn’t believe it. No wonder Kate had been bound to secrecy over what she’d discovered there. He didn’t have to ask the name of the brothel to know it was the Sacred Sword. And yet Raith must have been the one to cast that spell, which meant he was a part of the Rising, too.
“Although, ironically, we have you to thank for the discovery,” Edwin said. “If you hadn’t asked the guard-tower captain to record Kate’s comings and goings, the golds might never have found them.”
What have I done? Corwin’s stomach clenched.
“Did you plan it?” Edwin said, his narrowed gaze sharp as a knife. “Did you and your wilder friends create the daydrake threat just to give you the opportunity to solve it with your conjured revolvers? Was it all a ruse to win the uror?”
Corwin would’ve laughed at his brother’s insecurity even now, but there was nothing funny about the accusation. Despite the absurdity that he would ever do such a thing, the notion of an heir trying to win the uror by earning the adoration of the people wasn’t farfetched. There were several texts that made the claim that it was this very force—the will of the people—that mattered most in determining the winner. But there was nothing he could say to convince Edwin of his innocence. Not now, not yet. Corwin needed answers, and although the sting of learning Kate was part of the Rising still lanced through him, he refused to give in to it until he learned her reasons. He trusted Kate. Loved her. There had to be an explanation for all of this.
Clearing his throat, Corwin said, “You’ve delivered your message. We have nothing more to discuss.” He motioned to the door, holding his arm out until Edwin left.
Once alone, Corwin took a moment to decide what to do next. He needed to find Master Raith. The man was a magist, which meant he might be loyal to Storr, but he also was connected to the Rising. Either way, he would have some of the answers Corwin needed.
33
Corwin
TO CORWIN’S RELIEF, THE GOLD-ROBE guard assigned to him was just a journeyman. He might stand a chance of overpowering him, if it came to it. But first, he needed to find out about Kate. To do that, he would need help from someone he could trust, perhaps the only person he could trust right now.
Doubtful of his chances of finding Dal in his quarters at this time of day, Corwin nevertheless decided to check there first. To his surprise, though, Dal was inside—with Master Raith. The magist wore his blue robe but not his mask.
“Corwin,” Dal said, opening the door. “Thank the gods they finally let you free.”
“Not exactly.” Corwin stepped into the room and the gold made to follow.
“No you don’t.” Dal held up his hand to the man. “These are my quarters, and you’re not welcome.”
The gold glared at him through the mask that covered only half his face. “I’m under orders to stay with his highness at all times.”
“I don’t care if you’re the incarnation of the goddess herself, you’re not coming in here.”
“Lord Dallin,” Raith said, approaching the door, “it’s all right. Let him in.”
Dal’s teeth clacked together in disapproval, but he stepped aside and permitted the gold entry. Corwin crossed the room to the window, putting as much distance between himself and the gold as the space allowed.
Dal yanked the door closed and faced Master Raith. “I don’t see how we’re—”
Raith spoke an incantation and a flash of magic erupted from out of his drawn mace. The spell soared outward and struck the gold in the chest. With a gasp of surprise the man slumped to the ground.
“Oh, well, never mind then.” Dal grinned and brushed off his hands. “That’s one problem solved.”
“What did you do to him?” Corwin said, too leery of Raith to be relieved. The magist was both dangerous and unpredictable.
“He’s just asleep.” Raith bent toward the gold, grabbed the man by the shoulder, and pulled him onto his back. “He’ll wake in a few hours.” Rising, Raith turned to Corwin. “We’ve much to tell you, your highness, and little time.”
“Where’s Kate?” Corwin said, hands on hips.
“As far as we know she’s still alive. That’s part of what we need to discuss, if you’ll just listen.”
Reluctantly, Corwin pressed his lips together.
Raith reached into his robes and withdrew a sapphire magestone. “Before I can tell you anything, I must bind you to secrecy.”
Corwin took a step backward, his fisted hands rising up. “So it’s true. You are part of the Rising.” He glared at Raith, then at Dal. “Are you a part of this, too?”
Dal returned his glare. “I’m playing catch-up here, same as you. I’m just a step or two ahead is all.”
Corwin started to respond, but Raith cut him off.
“You have many questions and doubts, and I can give you answers, but only if you agree to this.” Raith held out the sapphire. “There are more lives than Kate’s at stake here, your highness, and I have vowed to protect as many as I can.”
Corwin glanced at Dal again. He stood leaning against a sofa in an attitude of boredom, but Corwin could see the tension running through his friend from the crease in his brow to the way his toe tapped slowly against the floor. “Did you take this vow?”
Dal nodded. “With no hesitation, especially not after the questioning the golds put me through. They are out for blood. It’s not just Kate and Bonner. I think they’ve taken Signe, too. She’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“Your highness,” Raith said with a hint of impatience in his voice. “The answers lie here.” He held up the sapphire once more.
Corwin regarded the magist, the weight of this decision pressing down on him. It was one thing to accept Kate as a wilder, but quite another to condone the Rising. Those wilders had caused destruction and death, like the Gregor family, massacred in their home. Kate trusts him, though, a voice argued in his mind.
“All right. I agree to keep the secret, but that does not mean I agree with the Rising’s actions.”
“Yes, understood.” Raith took a step toward him. “All we ever ask is a chance to explain ourselves.”
Corwin held out his hand and remained silent as Raith engaged the spell.
“Now that’s done,” Raith said, returning the ruined gem to his pocket, “it will be easiest if I start at the beginning.”
He launched into the tale, and Corwin listened, both rapt and incredulous as the master magist told him about his part in the Rising, and about Kate’s half brother, the very reason why Hale had attempted to stop Orwin from enacting the Inquisition that night. He described the way Kiran had grown up, hidden in the basement of the Sacred Sword. Hearing the story, it didn’t take long for Corwin to understand Kate’s reasons for all she’d done. She has a brother. She would’ve done anything to protect him.
Finally, Raith claimed that someone else had been making it look as if the Rising were behind the daydrakes. “But we’re not, your highness. Faking our sun lion symbol is an easy thing.”
Corwin remembered the variations in the drawings. Was this the reason for them?
“I swear it’s true. On my life, I swear it.” Raith placed a hand over his heart. “I knew Marcus Gregor personally. He was a wilder and a member of the Rising. All of his family had magic
. That is why he withdrew support for your father once King Orwin enacted the Inquisition. We never would’ve attacked one of our own.”
This truth stunned Corwin, but it also made sense. He slowly nodded, remembering his suspicions about Storr and the Inquisition. “I believe you. On this point at least.” Despite Raith’s words that the Rising worked to keep rogue wilders from causing harm, they were still guilty of some violence.
But there were more pressing concerns just now. “Kate claimed that Storr was responsible for what happened to Hale,” Corwin said. “That he’d laid some kind of magical trap inside my father to catch him. But I wonder if Storr’s not responsible for even more.” He quickly told them about the conclusions he’d drawn earlier.
Raith listened, without speaking, until Corwin finished. “I don’t want to believe it’s true,” Raith said, his expression troubled, “that such corruption exists in the League, but I can’t deny it’s possible. I was unable to identify the man controlling the drakes at Thornewall on my trip to Penlocke, but I already knew he’d been caught by the Inquisition. Kate heard it in his thoughts before he died.”
A thrill of unease slid through Corwin at this revelation. What a power it was, to read men’s minds.
He shook the feeling off. “That makes three wilders involved who’d been caught by the League—that is, if we count what that woman in Tyvald told Dal. That’s too many to be a coincidence.”
“You’re right,” said Raith. “Though I don’t believe all the orders are involved. The blues most certainly aren’t. But the golds must be. Storr created the order himself at the start of the Inquisition. He would’ve picked magists loyal to him. And Kate and Bonner aren’t at their order house. I stole a look at the ledger yesterday. There are a few of the wilders captured during the raid on the Sacred Sword being held there, but not all of them.”
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