"He said he'd see you, but Travin, be careful." Laynin's face was pale. Her hand, gripped in his, was cold. He wanted to reassure her, but her fingers wound neatly into his and he found himself not wanting to let go.
"I will," he assured her, "but what's the worst than can happen?" He tried to keep his voice light, but the answer weighed on them both. "I've seen public hangings before, they're usually quick."
They stepped slowly through the early morning sea mist, toward the general's makeshift headquarters. Travin's gaze found the gallows erected in the centre of Tsaisa. Although no one hung from it now, it hinted at recent use. The worn ground beneath it, the dangling noose tied in a careful knot. It was ready at a moment's notice. Doubtless it served to remind townsfolk and visitor alike to stay in line, and what the consequences would be of not doing so.
"He'd make it slow if he'd get anything out of it," Laynin replied sourly. She kicked at a rock, jerking Travin to the side with her.
He squeezed her hand and eased her back over. "Doing that would only make him look bad," Travin said, trying to reassure her. "With any luck, it won't come to that. He wouldn't be a general if he paid no attention to his advisors, and the mood of people around him."
He assumed.
"He's ruthless."
Travin sighed his agreement to that. "I can't run forever. I'd rather face him and whatever is to come, than scurry back to my hole like a rabbit."
Risper must have told her where to look for Travin, but as soon as he'd heard them trudging through the trees, he'd hurried up out of his cave. He trusted Laynin with its location, but he didn't want that knowledge used against her in some way. She had already involved herself more than she should. Guilt at dragging her back into his troubles gnawed at him. He should have faced the general himself, rather than hiding behind her and her dragon.
Truthfully, as much as he might make light of it, he really wasn't ready to die. He no longer put any stock in what might come afterward. The only thing which mattered was living today as best he could.
"You could still run," she replied. "We could jump on Risper and go anywhere."
"Then you'd be complicit in my status as a fugitive."
"At least you're not the most wanted man in Dargyn," she said.
"Second most wanted," he said wryly. He drew them both to a stop and pulled her lightly to him. "You've done a lot for me. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I've never met anyone so caring and giving; so willing to risk everything for the people around you. You're the most selfless person I know."
"That's ironic," she said, leaning her shoulder against his chest. "Sandvaal would have said selfish."
Sharing a child would bind them together, even if Laynin loathed the man, but every time she mentioned him in a way that reminded Travin of her past with him, it made his skin crawl. He hated the idea of them, that the general had touched her. Held her. Anyone else on the face of Dargyn would be easier to stomach.
He forced a smile onto his lips. "Clearly he is lacking in good judgement," he declared. "And decency." With her so close, he wanted to forget whose child grew inside her. Part of him wished it was his. Although, that would only further complicate an already difficult situation. If that were possible.
"I might be lacking those too," she said softly. Her other hand went to her belly.
"Something I might be guilty of myself." Travin had been taken in by Kial, his warm smile and reassurances. The man had been touchy and moody at times, but Travin had ignored all the signs and followed him to places neither of them should have gone.
"We're a pair aren't we?" She laughed softly.
"Yes we are. A pair of wonderfully flawed people, who have made mistakes, but we're trying to make them right."
"Yes we are. Come on, let's get this over with." She dropped his hand and moved away.
While they'd stood there, the sea mist had cleared, leaving a blue sky and what looked to be a lovely day. If he believed in omens, it might be a good one.
Or nature's cruel joke.
"Thank you, Laynin, you may go." Travin had expected the general to look at him like something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. So far, he'd been cordial, but guarded.
Laynin scowled. "I won't be far away," she said to them both. She seemed to be warning Sandvaal of something, but the man was unruffled. He merely lowered his eyebrows and waved her out with a flick of his fingertips.
"I'm not going to eat him," the general said. A mug sat on the desk in front of him, steam rising in front of his face like smoke. It danced with each word and gesture, like a parody of dragonfire.
Laynin's expression suggested she wouldn't be surprised if he did make a meal of him. She hesitated, but then gave a curt nod.
"Be sure you don't," she said coldly. "Don't hang him either." Her eyes looked upward, as though looking for a beam a rope might go around.
"That depends on him," Sandvaal said. "If he's the man you say he is, then there will be no need."
Laynin flashed an uneasy smile at Travin and stepped out the door before closing it behind her.
"It looks like you have a champion," Sandvaal remarked. He picked up his mug and sipped, his eyes on Travin as though trying to get his measure while he drank his tea.
"I'd happily do the same if she needed one," Travin replied. He noticed no one in the cottage had offered him tea, or anything to eat. Under the circumstances, he supposed he couldn't expect hospitality.
"Does it?" Sandvaal looked disinterested in his own question, so Travin didn't respond. "Why should I not have you killed right now?"
"Because you know I've done nothing wrong." Well, almost nothing. What he had done, he'd done because he was desperate. Even a general should understand that sentiment.
Especially a general.
"Assuming I believe everything I'm told," Sandvaal replied. "And assuming I'm asking all of Dargyn to believe it. I wasn't the only man in the tent that night. Dozens saw what happened. They had no choice but to watch, frozen as they were by magic." His lips thinned. "Your lover's magic."
"His magic," Travin agreed, "not mine."
"Not yours," Sandvaal echoed. "Did you use your magic to stop him?"
Travin frowned. He found himself toying with the fingers on his opposite hand and forced himself to be still. He could feign calm, his life might depend upon it. "I was frozen along with everyone else. I had no idea what he planned, or I would have… "
"Yes?" The general prompted.
"I don't know," Travin admitted. He dropped his gaze for a moment before looking back up.
"I suppose I would have tried to talk him out of it. To insist he leave Tsaisa with me. I had been trying to do that. I'd had enough of war, death…"
His eyes unfocused. He hadn't intended to confide in this man, but the words came.
"I thought, for me, he was going to walk away. We were going to go north, the get away from war and…" Travin shook his head. "He seemed—willing, albeit reluctant. But then he asked me for a favour. He wanted me to play one last song before we left. It seemed like such a small thing. One more tune. No one else was listening, but he was. I thought I was doing it for him."
Travin licked his lips.
"And then he got up, started to sing and made us all stand and watch." He'd pictured the moment over and over again in his head. Kial stalking forward, knife in hand, killing one king and then the other. Blood made his blade shine, slick with death. No one could move, or do anything but be horrified. He'd called them all fools and they'd had to listen.
He'd kept them under his thrall long enough for him to run.
Travin blinked, cleared his eyes, then his throat which he found choked with emotion.
Sandvaal looked disinterested. He gestured for Travin to take the seat opposite him. "Had you known what he planned, and that he wouldn't be talked out of it, what could you have done? With your magic I mean."
Travin's jaw worked for a moment. "I could have restrained him. I could have made him hand over the knife." He rubbed the stubble on his cheek with his palm, the hair rough against his skin.
"I could have made him admit to planning to assassinate them. I suppose I could have made him walk to the gallows and put his head in a noose, but…"
"Really? You can do all of that? Impressive." Sandvaal's raised eyebrows and intense gaze was more calculating than interested. He set his mug down. "Can you make people say things which aren't true?"
Travin shifted in his chair. "I've only done it once, when I was five or six, but yes."
"So you could make Laynin say you've done nothing wrong, when in fact you have."
Travin was taken aback, but then gave a short laugh. "No. It doesn't work like that. The minute I stopped touching her, she'd regain all of her free will. We both know she's not short of that."
"Indeed she is not," Sandvaal agreed wryly. "So the effect of your influence doesn't last?"
"Not unless I'm very persuasive while I'm touching someone." Travin tapped his fingertips on his knee. "All I can do is make them stop and think. After that, well, they're on their own."
"What happens if you touch a toucher?" Sandvaal asked. "Who influences whom?"
"Whoever asserts their magic first, I suppose. I've only even tried that once, with a friend of mine."
"You seem to have some interesting friends," Sandvaal remarked.
"I suppose you might say that." Travin wondered where in haze this conversation was going.
"Where is the man who murdered the kings?" The general asked.
Travin had expected that question. He looked Sandvaal unflinchingly in the eyes and said, "I have no idea. I haven't seen him since he left the tent. I thought he must have gone back to Rosharias, but if you didn't capture him, or kill him, then he could be anywhere by now."
Sandvaal pressed his palms together and laced his fingers. "You had no prearranged rendezvous? No, hideout? No temple?"
Travin shook his head and replied slowly. "Prearranged? No. If I was supposed to meet him anywhere, he didn't tell me. I don't think he planned on us meeting again. It's possible he returned to Fledros, but not unless Rosharias told him to."
"What do you think happened to him?"
Travin licked his lips. "I think maybe he's dead. He worshipped Rosharias. He would have gone right back to him. Or tried to. If you didn't find him with him, then he might have died trying." That was preferable to thinking Kial was still out there, plotting some sort of revenge on him and the draakin. His sneer as he tossed the bloodied knife at Travin's feet was a bad enough memory. He didn't want to make new ones.
"We didn't see him," the general said candidly. "If we had, he would indeed be dead. We wouldn't have stopped for a trial."
"That's wise, sir." Travin nodded. "I can't imagine him letting himself be captured. He would have killed anyone who tried."
"Magin are indeed problematic." Sandvaal rose and started to pace across the space behind his desk. "It's not entirely surprising they attempted to seize control of Dargyn. It was only a matter of time before someone got ambitious. The question is, how do we prevent a reoccurrence?"
"Well, Rosharias is dead," Travin ventured. "He certainly can't try again."
Sandvaal paused and shot him an amused look before resuming his pacing. "Is that what Laynin sees in you? Your humour?"
"You'll have to ask her that," Travin replied, "but she does seem to appreciate it somewhat."
"In dark times, people often turn to laughter to help them," the general said, "even at inappropriate times. What Dargyn needs now is a firm hand and strong guidance. Power," he added suddenly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Hmmm?" Sandvaal paused and glanced questioningly at him. "Oh, what drew Laynin to me. I assume you were wondering."
"Maybe a little bit," Travin admitted. "You think it was your authority? I don't think you know her at all then." The Laynin he knew wasn't that shallow. Impulsive and stubborn, yes, but she acted on her feelings.
"Do I not?" Sandvaal appeared amused.
"No," Travin said firmly. "She must have seen some good in you."
Sandvaal laughed. "And you see none, I suppose?" His eyes flashed with amusement.
"Well…" Travin wasn't backing down, but neither was he going to speak out too much and damn himself.
The general placed his hands on the desk and leaned over it. "You might be right." His eyes bored into Travin's. "Let me lay this out for you. You have two choices. You can work with me and do as I say, or you can hang."
Travin tried to hold his gaze, but looked away first. "That depends what you want me to do."
Sandvaal was silent for a moment, until Travin forced himself to look back.
"I want you to help interrogate some magin. And help me to find others like you. I want to help you prevent a war from happening again. Some would consider than an honour." Sandvaal lowered himself back into his chair.
"What's your decision?"