"Elam and I often disagreed," Landis said quietly, "but I respected her. This is a great loss."
Alaine stood quietly near the fireplace, awaiting Landis's instruction. Taru walked back to where Tris sat and looked at Landis.
"What now?" Tris knew that it was his training, and not the future of the Sisterhood, which was uppermost in Taru's mind.
Landis drew a deep breath. "We will complete what Elam began." Her sharp gaze fixed on Tris. "Before you came to us, I found the stories difficult to believe-that a mage so young and untrained could survive the spirits of the Ruune Videya, let alone dispel them. Elam was correct in sensing the promise-and the danger-in that power."
"How can he train here?" Carina gasped. "He's not safe."
"I wasn't exactly 'safe' here before." Tris let his head rest against the wall; the room swam dangerously if he tried to sit upright. "Continue my training and you'll find your traitor."
"You offer yourself as bait?" Landis asked with a raised brow.
"I have no choice. There isn't time to delay the training. Elam believed that whoever killed her did it to stop me. So train me. The killer will have to strike."
"It's too dangerous," Carina protested. "Bringing down Jared and Arontala are more important-and if you don't survive your training, there's no one else to do it."
"Elam was right," Tris said quietly. "If I can't hold my own here, I won't defeat Arontala, either. And if I can't do that-the Winter Kingdoms are better off with me dead."
Landis looked at Tris in silence for a moment, and he thought he saw approval in her hard gaze. "All right. Say nothing of this to anyone else. If the killer doesn't know we've heard from Elam, she may be overconfident. Let Taru and Carina help you back to your rooms before you need a stretcher. I will see to making Elam's arrangements."
BACK IN THEIR suite of rooms, Tris waved off further assistance, refusing to go to bed.
"I've been flat on my back for half of the last week," he grumbled. "I'm tired of passing out and I'm tired of retching and I'm tired of feeling like shit."
Carina went to the hearth for a pot of hot water, from which she poured both of them each a cup of healing tea. She rummaged through her bag, cajoling Tris to sit forward so that she could bind up the gash on his arm. She was unusually quiet, and Tris knew she was upset.
"You haven't been yourself since we arrived at the Sisterhood," Tris said quietly.
"It's not important."
"It's important to me."
Carina was silent.
"There's something bothering you," Tris ventured, "and I don't think it has to do with my training."
Carina let out a deep breath and nodded. "Do you remember when we were captured as we entered Principality City?" Although it had been little more than a week ago, so much had happened that it seemed like forever.
"Of course."
Carina looked down at her hands. "The general who took us prisoner was the older brother of a man I was engaged to marry, almost seven years ago. Ric and Gregor were mercenaries, running one
of the most successful merc companies in Principality." She bit her lip.
"I was sixteen when Cam and I hired in. The next year, Ric and I fell in love." Carina spoke just above a whisper, and her eyes filled with tears. "Before we could marry, Ric was injured in battle-run through, like Jonmarc was back with the slavers. I didn't have anyone to help me with the healing, and I went too deep, hung on too long. When he died, I couldn't pull back." A tear streaked down her cheek.
"Cam told me later what happened. When he found me, he couldn't get me to wake up. He panicked. He took me to the Sisterhood-here in Principality City-because he didn't know what else to do. They told him to leave me here, that they would find him if I recovered.
"Cam knew we were distantly related to King Donelan. He was so panicked that he rode to Isencroft. Kiara says he practically burst in on the throne room. Donelan took him in, and in a year, the Sisterhood sent for him." Her eyes were dark with old memories. "They brought me back from the arms of the Lady. I don't remember much about what happened, only that Ric was gone." She bowed her head, and Tris reached out to take her hand.
"I never wanted to come back to Principality City," Carina murmured. "I know that what we're doing is more important, but by the Dark Lady! I never wanted to remember those days. It's been on my mind since we crossed the border. In another two months, it will be seven years since Ric died. Being back here just makes it all much harder to forget."
"I'm sorry," Tris said. He had wondered about Cam's skill with weapons and Carina's knowledge of mercs. Now it all made sense. It also explained Carina's skittishness around Vahanian, Tris thought, and why she fought the attraction that was so apparent to everyone else.
Carina wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "It doesn't matter. We have a job to do," she said, swallowing hard. "And you're the one in real danger."
She dug into her bag again, pulling out a small velvet pouch. "I almost forgot." She handed the pouch to Tris, and managed a smile. "Carroway let slip to Kiara that it would be your birthday on the first of the Crone Moon. Kiara wanted me to give that to you."
Tris shook the bag over his palm. A silver pendant on a chain poured like liquid moonlight into his hand. Two stones, one fiery red and the other a shiny black, were set into the symbol of the Lady.
"Berry sent them with a servant yesterday," Carina said as Tris turned the piece in the light. "The note said it was Isencroft silver. The stones are onyx to speed healing and purge poisons, and garnet for safe journey-and love." She pulled out a sealed envelope and passed it to Tris. "That's from Kiara, too," she said with a grin. "I'll let you read it in private."
Tris closed his hand around the talisman. "I never thought I'd be in exile for my twentieth birthday," he said quietly. "Mother wanted me to joust this year at the Winterstide tournaments. Kait was going to fly her falcons. Now everything's turned upside down. And if I don't make it through the
Sisterhood's trials at the end of this week, I won't see Winterstide this year."
"Don't say that. You've got three days to recover. No more training until then-and no wormroot. You'll be back at full power-like you were in the Ruune Videya, only stronger."
"I don't know if it's enough."
Carina laid a hand on his forearm. "You can do this, Tris."
He opened his hand to look at the pendant. "I've got one more reason to make it back, don't I?"
"Kiara's counting on you," Carina replied. "We all are."
ALL TRIS'S PREPARATION could not dispel his nervousness three days later as he and Theron made their way into the lowest levels beneath the citadel. The last traces of wormroot were gone, and a few days' rest had done much to restore his strength. His hand fell to the pommel of his sword. Mageslayer tingled at the edge of his senses, not quite sentient, but no mere steel, imbued with a power of its own. Neither he nor Theron spoke as they descended the steps to the maze of rooms where the trial battle would take place.
If he survived this encounter, Tris's battles would be fought alone against the avatars. Now Theron came with him, and he was grateful for her support. They would face one or more avatars whose motions-and magic-would be controlled by other Sisters outside of the encounter room. Taru promised Tris that this battle was not warded to the death as future trials would be. Those battles would come after Winterstide-if he survived.
They entered the chamber, and Tris stifled a gasp. The chamber's appearance had been magically altered to resemble the great room at his home in the palace Shekerishet, its details exact in every way. The tapestries along the walls, the carving in the mantle of the huge stone fireplace and the inlay in the furniture around the edges of the room were perfect. Tris wondered who among the Sisters was so well acquainted with Shekerishet, and he fought down his emotions at being back in the familiar surroundings of home.
The door closed behind him, and Tris and Theron moved forward slowly.
"Guards!" Theron sh
outed. Tris turned to see soldiers streaming in from two side doors. Six soldiers, coming at a dead run. Tris drew his sword, knowing that Theron was at his back. Tris parried the first soldier's strike, wheeling to deflect a second guard. He heard the clash of steel behind him as Theron engaged her attackers. Tris landed a solid Eastmark kick that sent the third soldier sprawling. He assumed that the soldiers' blades would be tainted with wormroot.
Tris barely deflected the second soldier's press, but his blade caught the first soldier unprepared, and cut him down. The third soldier scrambled to his feet and ran at Tris as the second soldier moved forward. Tris held them off, swinging Mageslayer with a two-handed grip as the soldiers' blows jarred him hard enough that his teeth ached. A moment's inattention was all he needed to get inside the third soldier's guard, and sink his blade deep into the soldier's side.
"Behind you!"
Tris wheeled, his blade sliding down his attacker's sword until they stood nearly guard to guard. Tris heaved the man clear of his sword and palmed the dagger from his belt in his other hand, circling warily.
Theron dispatched two of her attackers, but her third assailant dove toward her relentlessly. Tris took the offensive, surprising his attacker with a loud cry and a head-on run, their blades clashing so hard that it nearly tore the sword from the soldier's grasp. Tris dropped to a crouch, brandishing both knife and sword as Vahanian had taught him. The soldier, taken off guard by Tris's boldness, gave Tris the opening he needed. He struck first with Mageslayer, using the blade to push back the soldier's sword. Then he let his momentum carry him forward, sinking the dagger into the soldier's chest. The soldier groaned and sank to his knees, a look of surprise on his face as he fell.
Tris cried out as a dagger buried itself deep in his left arm. He wheeled, blade raised, as the soldier he had fought slumped to the ground, dead, his objective accomplished. Already, Tris could feel the wormroot tingle as warm blood spilled down his arm. From the initial jolt, he knew the dose was sizeable. He chewed harder on the rope vine wad in his mouth, hoping that the anise-flavored juice would buy him a few precious moments of control.
Winded, Theron joined him. The six "soldiers" lay still on the floor. Tris knew that they were golems animated by magic, but the detail, down to the blood that flowed from their death wounds, made the simulation deathly real.
"Welcome home," a voice said from the shadows of the far corner. A chill went down Tris's spine.
The voice was a flawless imitation of Arontala's. A thin red-robed figure stepped forward, and Tris felt his mage sense tingle a warning.
Something was very wrong, Tris thought as the figure approached. A crystal pendant around the mage's throat burned a bright red, and the fire captured within that small orb seemed to seek Tris, glowing more brightly as it fixed on him. He knew the imprint of the power that radiated from the figure just as surely as he knew the danger of the fire's red glow.
"Theron-shield!" Tris cried out in warning, snapping his own shields up in defense. A blast of red fire streamed from the robed figure's hands, sizzling against Tris's shields and catching Theron unprotected. Before Tris could move in defense, the fire hit Theron squarely in the chest, slamming her back into the wall. Tris heard Theron cry out in pain, smelled the stench of burning flesh, and saw Theron slump to the floor, dead.
Behind him, Tris felt a sudden, wrenching shift in the wardings that protected the training room, and he knew with a sick feeling that a death warding had been set. Tris turned to face an avatar that had suddenly become dangerously real.
“SOMETHING'S WRONG." TARU'S head snapped up abruptly from where she and Carina waited in a parlor near the encounter room.
Carina looked worried as Taru sprinted for the door, and ran to catch up. "What do you mean-wrong?"
"I mean the magic is wrong," said Taru.
"But you said Landis was running the trial-that you trusted Landis," Carina countered, needing to run faster to catch up with Taru.
"I do trust Landis. But it's not Landis's power- not any more."
Taru and Carina burst into the room where the training simulation was controlled. Landis lay in a pool of blood with a dagger in her back.
Carina gasped and dropped to her knees beside the mage. "She's been dosed with almost enough wormroot to kill," Carina diagnosed, "and she's lost a lot of blood. She's barely breathing."
"Can you help her?"
Carina was already digging in her pouch for powdered rope vine. She grabbed a pitcher and a glass from the table nearby, then dissolved the powder in a glassful of water. Taru held Landis upright while Carina carefully dripped the liquid into Landis's mouth so that she would not gag. Carina bandaged the wound to stop the bleeding as Taru carefully set Landis back down on the floor.
"It's all I can do. The knife didn't hit anything vital-thank the Lady. There's no real cure but time for either the wormroot or the blood loss." Carina wiped Landis's blood off her hands and onto her robes. "We can't leave her alone."
"I'll get help," Taru replied, disappearing for a few minutes and returning with one of the other sisters, a plain-faced woman Carina knew was one of the citadel healers. They moved Landis to a couch near the fire, and Carina gave terse instructions to the healer. Once Landis was safely settled, Carina looked back at Taru.
"If Landis isn't running the trial-who is?"
They headed out at a dead run for the encounter room, but at the doors, Taru stopped abruptly. She raised her hands, palms out, and slid them above the doors, a hands' breadth away from the wood, and then swore.
"What's wrong?" Carina asked.
"The wardings are wrong," Taru replied. "Landis promised me she wasn't going to set death wardings. Not yet. But that's what's in place-and they weren't set by Landis." She paused. "This warding is tainted with blood magic."
"Arontala," Carina breathed. "Could he be here-within the citadel?"
Taru shook her head. "Unlikely. The citadel is warded against magical intrusion-we can't just 'pop' in and out, even if such a thing were easily possible." She closed her eyes, stretching out one hand toward the encounter room doors. "There is no avatar. And only two mages are alive inside."
"Theron's the traitor?" Carina asked. Taru began to stride down the corridor.
"Unlikely. Although she had the skill to set the spell that killed Elam, she didn't have an opportunity. She was with me, and went directly to train with Tris-remember? And she was with Tris again just now, when Landis was attacked. Landis couldn't have been stabbed long before we arrived, or she would have been dead." Taru slammed open the doors to a small library, lighting the torches around the room with a word. She strode over to a large crystal basin filled with water that sat on a bronze pedestal.
Carina caught up to Taru, breathless, as the Sister raised her hands over the scrying basin and held them, palms toward the water. Gradually, a mist appeared within the basin. As the mist cleared, an
image emerged, as if from a distance, shrouded in fog. Carina gasped. "It's Alaine."
"It is Alaine's body-but not Alaine's power," Taru said. "We've made a grave mistake."
"What do you mean?" Carina asked, unable to take her eyes off the image unfolding within the scrying basin.
"Alaine was hand-picked by Landis, and her loyalty was absolute," Taru said quietly. "But a few months ago, Landis sent Alaine to one of the other citadels within Margolan, before we understood the extent of Jared's treachery. While Alaine was at that citadel, Jared's troops attacked. She was the only survivor." Taru sighed. "We were relieved that she came back to us-now I see it was a trap. Arontala must have broken her and embedded his own triggers, hoping that she might encounter Tris. Maybe he has spies in each of our citadels, on the chance that you'd seek sanctuary."
"What's that around Alaine's throat?" Carina asked as the image wavered in the scrying bowl.
"That must be the portal for Arontala's power," Taru said. "It's not something easily made."
Carina cried out as fire streamed from
the red gem, blasting against Tris's shielding. "We've got to help him!"
Taru shook her head. "No one can enter or leave until one of the mages within the room is dead. The warding cannot be broken. Tris is on his own."
WITHIN THE ENCOUNTER room, Tris bit down hard on the rope vine, clenching his teeth as he struggled to hold his shielding against the blast of mage fire that burst from the red-robed figure's talisman. The hood fell back, revealing not Arontala's face, but Alaine's, her features twisted in an agonized grimace, her eyes desperate.
Tris knew the power of the red fire, and the searching presence that accompanied it. That fire had nearly killed Kiara in the scrying at Westmarch, and it had sought and found him when he had attempted a scrying with the caravan.
The fire battered his shielding, draining his strength as he struggled to hold his protections in place. Tris felt the presence find him. The glow in the talisman at Alaine's throat pulsed a deep carnelian.
"See your future," a voice rasped from Alaine's throat, contorting her features. Images flooded into Tris's mind, searingly clear. Within Shekerishet's corridors Tris saw Vahanian lying dead in a pool of blood, pierced through the chest by a crossbow bolt. The image flickered, and Tris saw a courtyard of gibbets, and hanging lifeless, Carroway and Carina, their faces blackened, their bodies twisting. Another image replaced that, of a forest of pikes set into the ground. Fixed on the stakes, impaled alive, Tris saw Soterius, Gabriel, and Mikhail, saw the dawn break and saw the agony of the vayash morn as the daylight burned them, saw Soterius writhe in pain that did not end with the light of day. Once more the sending pulsed and the image shifted. This time Tris saw Kiara, battered and drugged, given to Jared for his pleasure.
"This is Margolan's future," the voice hissed, seeming to come from both around him and inside his own head, deafeningly loud, impossible to shut out. The sending shifted once more, and Tris saw the orb Soulcatcher in Arontala's chambers pulsing with the same bright fire, saw the maw of the abyss open and the terrible power of the Obsidian King stream forth, freed from his prison, descending on the red-robed mage who stood with arms upraised, awaiting his possession.
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