“I’ve certainly heard enough,” a voice said gruffly, and suddenly a dozen men appeared as if from thin air, armed and armored, plus two women in dark robes. One man with gray in his beard wore a breastplate but no helmet, and held a spear that he used to prod Nagesh in the side of the head. The snake-headed rakshasa gaped and trembled, and when he started to rise, several crossbows moved to point at various vulnerable points on his person. “No need to get up,” Kalika murmured. “Every crossbow bolt pointed in your direction has been blessed, and the weapons wrapped with enough spells to penetrate even the defenses of your kind.” Nagesh sank back down, head lowered.
The graybeard walked over to Kalika, who was tall enough to look him in the eye, and then kissed her on her cheek. Rodrick goggled. Were these more members of the Knife in the Dark? How vast was this conspiracy? Was anyone in the palace not some monstrous beast in disguise?
“Do drop that illusion, daughter,” the man said. “It’s horrible.”
“I think the fur’s very pretty.” She shimmered, and was a human again. “It’s just like that tigerskin rug you used to have in your office, when you were captain of the guard.” She smiled. “See, I told you Nagesh was lurking around somewhere. And I got a confession out of him, as promised.”
Rodrick approached the bars. “Wait. You’re not a weretiger? This was a trick to catch Nagesh? But how? I thought he could read thoughts!”
She sniffed. “We have some experience dealing with such creatures.” She held up her finger and tapped one of the thick rings there. “This ring shields my thoughts from intrusion.”
Rodrick sighed. “I could have used one of those. But I suppose such things are easier to acquire for wealthy nobles.”
The old man looked at him and snarled, “Quiet, thief.”
“Oh, Father, he’s not so bad. A thief, yes, and a liar at times—but it’s not as if we never use trickery to advance our goals. Pretending to be a high priest of the Knife in the Dark is a fairly big lie.”
“You used me as bait,” Rodrick said. “Me! Bait!” He didn’t like that at all. He much preferred using others as bait. “What if Nagesh had killed me?”
“It would have spared me passing a sentence on you,” Kalika’s father—ah, yes, the minister of justice—said. “My daughter was well warded, and he would have had trouble harming you. Besides, you were in a cell.”
“Oh, so iron bars provide proof against death by rakshasa magic? How wonderful, I had no idea.”
“You aren’t helping yourself, Rodrick,” Kalika said. “Silence might be best now.”
The guards hauled Nagesh away, the crossbowmen keeping their weapons aimed at him as they went, making a strange procession. “Where are they taking him?” Rodrick said. “There are plenty of cells right here. Put him in this one. I’m happy to let him take my place.”
“He’s going to some cells that are … less nice,” Kalika said. “These are the ones for prisoners whose spirits we don’t need to break, or for nobles. We have other facilities for those who possess the special skills that rakshasas do.”
“I am glad of my accommodations, then,” Rodrick said. “But will be even gladder when I am set free and given a room with a bed. Who has the key?”
“Your trial is set for tomorrow morning,” the minister of justice said. He turned and walked off, followed by the remaining guards.
Rodrick stared after him, gaping, and Kalika shrugged. “You’re no longer accused of attempting to kill the thakur. But there are still those other crimes.”
“The map?” Rodrick said. “Really? After all my service, after serving as the lure to trap Nagesh, I’m still to be put on trial for theft?”
“We believe in justice,” she said, and left him alone with his thoughts, an absolutely terrible place to be.
* * *
Breakfast was another egg and a lump of bread, and then he was shackled and dragged through the palace, back to the room with the circle of truth, though this time he was shoved onto a stone bench. The room was filled with Vudrani—all eager to watch the show, he supposed. He didn’t see Kalika, nor did he see Dhyana and Lais and Hrym, so it seemed a daring last-minute rescue wouldn’t be forthcoming.
The thakur sat in the central chair, the minister of justice on his right, the priest on his left. “We have heard Rodrick’s testimony,” the minister of justice said. “He admits to stealing from the library, and selling what he stole to our enemies the Arclords.” Murmurs of outrage filled the room, and Rodrick hunched his shoulders.
“We have questions,” the minister of justice said. “Put him in the circle.” A guard grabbed him by the arm and roughly shoved him into position. No djinn guardians, this time. He supposed as an accused thief he didn’t rate as many precautions as an accused assassin.
“Some have suggested that Nagesh coerced you into stealing the map for his own reasons, as he coerced you into other crimes, from which you have been absolved,” the minister of justice said. “Did he?”
It was a pretty lie. They would believe anything of Nagesh today. But he was in a circle that allowed no falsehood to be spoken, and he could think of no circumlocution to suggest that the minister of justice was right without saying it straight out. In a strangled voice, he said, “No.”
“Then you undertook the theft solely because you were hired to do so by a servant of the Arclords of Nex?”
It was more nuanced than that, but he said, “Yes,” hoping he’d be given a chance to explain.
“Very well. Does the accused have anything to say in his own defense?”
He cleared his throat. “I do. I did steal the scroll, in exchange for gold. But I didn’t knowingly sell it to an enemy of the island—I didn’t know she was working for the Arclords, as I believe I mentioned once in this circle before. After I realized she was an agent of the Arclords, I did my best to keep her from getting the scroll.” Technically true. He hadn’t tried to keep it from her because she was associated with the Arclords, but a lot of people heard “after” and mentally replaced it with “because,” so the statement would probably serve.
“Your motives don’t matter, or your later misgivings,” the minister of justice said. “If you were from this island, your conspiracy with an Arclord agent would count as treason, but as an outsider, the crimes don’t rise to that level. For that, you are fortunate.”
Was he? What could they do to traitors that was worse than death? Actually, never mind. He didn’t want to know. There were probably many things. “The scroll was a treasure map, and I have offered to return what we found—”
“Ah, yes, this so-called Scepter of the Arclords.” Another murmur in the crowd, this one surprised, perhaps even a little worried. The minister held up his hand for silence, and was obeyed instantly. “The staff you found is trash, a mere stick enchanted to seem wondrous. One of many such false treasures. Confidence tricksters—much like you, Rodrick—sometimes hide such things away and sell false maps to the treasure. Many fools have been tricked that way.”
Rodrick kept his face impassive, but had to suppress a groan. The map had seemed genuine, certainly very old, and it had fooled Grimschaw, too. How long had people been perpetrating this scam? The scepter had seemed quite eerie and remarkable, but it could have been an illusion. After all, it hadn’t done anything particularly magical. He’d enchanted enough ordinary swords to look like Hrym to know how convincing such illusions could be.
The crowd made sounds of relief. Good for them; Rodrick had lost one of the few bargaining chips he’d expected to have.
“Anything else?” the minister of justice said.
“I exposed Nagesh!” Rodrick said, unable to conceal his irritation. “I helped bring down the Knife in the Dark! I—”
“Not relevant to the charge,” the minister of justice said, cutting him off. “Those actions do not bear on your theft.”
The thakur cleared his throat, and the minister of justice nodded, not taking his eyes off Rodrick. “However, since you brought it up, you may as well know: You are to be awarded a medal for your services to Jalmeray, one of only three foreigners to ever receive such an honor. There will also be a bust of you, cast in gold and placed in a suitable location in the palace, perhaps in the room where you stayed as the thakur’s guest.” His voice was as flat as if he’d just delivered an execution order.
Indeed, his voice was just that flat when he said, “In light of your confession, and your failure to provide any useful mitigating testimony, the situation is clear. You are guilty of stealing from the thakur, and you will be executed at dawn.”
There was no uproar at the sentence, only silence. Rodrick tried not to gape. Dawn. Less than a day away. What could he do in a day? Could there be an appeal? He’d made a point of learning the essentials of the legal systems of Andoran and Absalom and a few other countries where he did business, but he had no idea how things were done here. He’d have to take a leap and hope for the best. “I … Thakur, I request mercy.”
The minister of justice glanced at the thakur, who inclined his head a fraction.
“Mercy is granted,” the minister said. “Your death will be painless.”
Now Rodrick did gape. “I—that’s not the mercy I had—” He took a breath. He didn’t know what he could do to save himself. Maybe nothing. Maybe the bill for everything bad he’d ever done had finally come due. Karma. But he could speak up about one thing. “Thakur … I appreciate your mercy. If I may ask, what will happen to Hrym?”
The thakur just raised an eyebrow, and the minister of justice scowled. Rodrick hurried on before the man could order him hauled away. “I left Hrym with some friends of ours, and he is utterly blameless in all this. He did not join me when I stole the scroll, and in fact he counseled against it. If … if you intend to keep him, I hope you will keep him well, in comfort, and if not, let him go with whomever he chooses as a companion. I know I have no right or standing to make this request, but if a condemned man’s last wishes carry any weight in this land, I want to make mine known.”
The thakur might have nodded, but it was so scant Rodrick could barely see it, and he wondered if it were mere wishful thinking.
“Take him away,” the minister of justice said.
Rodrick wasn’t dragged to the dungeon, but instead taken to what looked like a study, with a writing desk, a shelf of books, and several comfortable chairs. The guard shoved him into one of those chairs and then left the room. Rodrick considered running for it. There was only one door, doubtless guarded, and he was shackled besides, but if he could find something here that might be used as a weapon …
The door opened, and the thakur entered, alone, and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. He waved his hands, and Rodrick’s shackles fell to the carpet with a rattle. Rodrick rubbed his wrists as several very dangerous ideas passed through his mind. None were more dangerous than certain death at dawn, though. “You don’t mind sitting here with a condemned man, Thakur?”
The thakur smiled, and glanced upward. A faint disturbance in the air marked a djinni, and Rodrick dismissed those dangerous ideas. Death by djinni right now was unappealing. Dawn was a long way off, comparatively. A lot of things could happen before dawn. Though he wouldn’t bet on the monkey learning to talk.
The thakur lifted a long wooden box from the floor and set it on the desk, then lifted the lid. The so-called Scepter of the Arclords was inside, its eyes rolling. “Do you know what you’ve brought me?”
“A fake?”
The thakur shook his head. “Oh no. It’s genuine. Only two people besides you and I know that, now, and they only know because I needed my archwizards to authenticate it. This is the true Scepter of the Arclords, sought after for centuries, a relic of such power that it could shift the balance of power between Jalmeray and Nex, and cause ripples throughout the rest of the Inner Sea—perhaps even in the Impossible Kingdoms.”
Rodrick beamed. The scepter was real! Maybe he’d get his freedom and more than his weight in gold.
“You thought you were giving me a gift,” the thakur said mildly, “but this is a nest of vipers.”
Ah. So much for the gold.
“If the Arclords heard we had this in our hands, they would be outraged,” the thakur said. “Even those in Nex opposed to their faction would be unhappy to hear we possess a staff that, by some accounts, belonged to Nex himself. Factions in Nex might join together and attack us in force. Oh, we could fight them off … but it would be bloody, messy, and costly. Nor are the only dangers from the people of Nex. There are those in the Impossible Kingdoms who would see possession of the scepter as an opportunity to gain a further foothold in the Inner Sea—they might want to use the scepter as a pretext to invade Nex itself, to claim it gives them, or even me, the authority of the departed wizard. I am quite happy ruling Jalmeray, Rodrick. I have no desire to be used in some rajah’s territorial ambitions—nor do I wish to be put in a position to refuse to do so, lest my lack of fervor for invasion be perceived as weakness. And those are just some of the potential problems this damnable scepter brings. There are factions you’ve never heard of, on both sides of the ocean that surrounds us, who could make the scepter central to their plans.”
“I take it you won’t be giving it to your friend the rajah,” Rodrick said.
The thakur chuckled, a musical sound. “No. I will, in fact, be burying it somewhere very far away, where, with luck, it will never be found again. I have spent a long time trying to convince people this thing was only a story the Arclords told themselves.” He snapped the lid shut, and Rodrick could understand why. The scepter was certainly watching, and it gave the impression of listening, too.
“So are you planning to give Hrym to your friend instead? I assume Hrym is here, now. If you have the scepter, then Dhyana and Lais came to you.”
“They did. Hrym is here, but I don’t have him. He is a free … person. He will not be forced to go anywhere he does not wish to go. He actually offered himself to me, you know, if I would spare your life.”
Rodrick perked up. Living without Hrym would be dreadful, but it would be better than dying. After all, if he was alive, he could always steal Hrym back.
“I declined his offer,” the thakur said. “Instead, I have acquired a relic I am assured comes from the Silver Mount itself in Numeria, a toothed wheel that sings when you spin it, though not very well. I purchased the wheel from a man in Almas who deals in such trinkets. My friend will be very pleased with it. Not as pleased as he would have been with Hrym, but…” The thakur shrugged. “I was quite impressed that you chose to speak on Hrym’s behalf in court today.”
“I thought I should try to save someone,” he said bitterly.
The thakur nodded. “In fact, you saved many someones. You helped deal a blow to the Knife in the Dark—perhaps even a decisive one, though with that cult, it’s hard to tell. Your friends, and Kalika, too, spoke out strenuously on your behalf. They would all rather see you paraded through the streets like a hero than put to death.”
“I’d prefer that, too, if it’s an option, sir.” Hope was stirring again.
“Ah, but if I let an outsider steal from me without consequence, no matter what other heroic acts he performed, what does that tell my people? My minister of justice is a hard man, but fair, and he believes in the law. He sees no contradiction in putting a medal around your neck and then cutting your head off that same neck. He thinks both are justice.”
“Remind me never to turn myself in again,” Rodrick said.
Another chuckle. “I am a ruler, Rodrick, but I am also a poet. I can rarely afford to be sympathetic in my position, but there are times … You put the Scepter of the Arclords in my hands instead of trying to sell it or trade it to some other faction for favors. Oh, I know you tried to use it, that you thought by giving it to me you might save yourself, but you could have used it in ways that were destructive to me and all I hold dear. You did not. And so … I am inclined to mercy. Even more mercy than a painless death. Here’s what will happen. A rumor will be started that you were executed at dawn, in private, as a kindness in recognition of your service, but no official statement will be made either way. At the same time, a very small note will be made in a file that will be shelved where no one is ever likely to read it, noting that your sentence was commuted by the thakur’s order from death to exile.”
Rodrick nearly fell out of the chair from relief. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He paused. “Though it was a bit cruel to make me think you were going to have me killed all this time.”
The thakur’s voice hardened. “Perhaps that fear will make you think twice before you next decide to steal from a sovereign. Really, Rodrick. There’s such a thing as being too sure of yourself.” His tone eased. “You—and Hrym, since I assume he wants to stay with you—will be put on a ship tomorrow morning and taken to some foreign port, and you will not be allowed back on these shores unless I choose to summon you. I’m afraid the medal you’re being awarded hasn’t been struck yet—I’ll have it sent to Absalom, to the inn where you were staying when we first contacted you. Here.” He tossed a jingling leather bag to Rodrick. “This is payment for bringing me the scepter, and for other services.” The thakur glanced upward, and the disturbance in the air materialized into a djinni. It drifted across the room and opened the door.
Lais came in, all boundless energy and smiles, and Dhyana, too, with Hrym on her hip. Lais leapt at him as he stood and gave him a hug. “I’m to enter the Monastery of Untwisting Iron!” she said. “All my expenses paid! The thakur put in a word for me personally!”
“That’s marvelous,” Rodrick said, hugging her back. Very strange to hug a woman and think thoughts that were truly nothing more than brotherly.
“I am to be made a member of the thakur’s household guard,” Dhyana said severely. “Be glad I did not hold that position when you had your little accident with Hrym, or I would have spitted you on a spear.”
“Dhyana, I’m so pleased for you. And, yes, I’m also pleased you didn’t get the job sooner.”
“And I,” Hrym said grandly, “am stuck with you, I suppose, you scoundrel. I can’t believe you got us exiled. I like it here. The place is full of gold.”
“You may visit with your friends here for a while,” the thakur said. “Then they must be about their business. I have set aside a room for you, in a private part of the palace, where you aren’t likely to be noticed. You will stay there until it is time to leave. Do not think to pick up any further trinkets and take them with you when you depart. Is that understood?”
“My thieving days are over,” Rodrick lied.