Chapter Six

Ryuan woke to find his wrists bound in silver. It was foolish, but he immediately tried to shift, and failed. There was a flare of pain that eased away once he resigned himself to his man-shape.

He could tell little about where he was being held except that it was dark and he was lying on hard-packed dirt. There was a rich smell to it, like earth just turned. Had they dug out a cell just for him?

Then he remembered the earth opening beneath him. It was sorcery, of course.

He rose to the rattle of metal. They had looped a chain around his manacles and then affixed it to the wall, with just enough length to allow him to stand facing the corner.

Testing the strength of the chains only chafed his wrists. The men who had put them on him were surely more feeble than he was, but he hadn’t even had the chance to fight them. He understood now the mistrust people held for sorcery, for power that could overwhelm without recourse. And it hadn’t even been used on him, only the ground beneath his feet.

Regrets crowded the small, dark space he was in. He shouldn’t have shifted into man-shape at that last moment. He shouldn’t have trusted Nerav. He shouldn’t have left the village with such haste. He shouldn’t have plucked that flower in his mother’s garden…

He shouldn’t have loved Calanthe.

A light intruded. Ryuan looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes against the glare. There were two silhouettes, a man and a woman. The latter, he thought, was the one who had identified him. The other…

“I am Tamel,” he said. The light was balanced on his fingertips with no visible source.

“Sorcerer,” Ryuan snarled.

“Like all who live in this city. And like your master.”

Kaen had never used his gift beyond sensing the winds he could not help but know the paths of. “Sorcerer-murderer then.”

Tamel flinched. Then he said, “You’re one to speak.”

The woman added quietly, “Three men were killed today by one of the wolf-born.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Ryuan said, letting the chains clank in sharp reminder of exactly where he had been and what he had been capable of doing, all this time.

“It was at your master’s command, I know,” Tamel said, impatient. “How many of you did he bring?”

“I hunt alone,” he said flatly. Then he thought of Nerav, but the wolf-born had already abandoned him once, apparently to slay the denizens of this city. And they were no power-hungry sorcerers—he had heard their stories at the gate, and the people here had done nothing but seek a place where children would not taunt them and rocks would not be thrown at them. He had to get free and stop the killings. Once Tamel was gone, he was sure, the others would disperse, and Nerav would not have such a dense cluster of targets.

Tamel released a long breath. “You’ll tell the truth, one way or another. Iril, you have the key?”

The woman’s hands went to a leather thong around her neck. Tied onto it was an iron key. “Yes, but—”

“I won’t free him. Give it to me.”

She did, and he unknotted the key and passed it back to her. She looked as uncertain as Ryuan felt.

Tamel began stroking the leather cord between thumb and forefinger. “My arts won’t work on you,” he said to Ryuan. “Your kind was made to be resistant to sorcery, as you must know. It made you a potent threat. But there are more mundane ways to deal with you.”

The leather strip was longer and thinner now, reshaped by Tamel’s sorcery. Ryuan did not fail to notice its resemblance to a whip.

“Since I did not create you,” Tamel said, “I cannot command you. But there are other ways. We’ll begin with the small miseries. Now, who sent you?”

Ryuan saw no reason to lie. “The prince.”

The whip cracked down. “Who sent you?”

A line of fire opened on his back. Ryuan twisted and threw himself against the chains, wanting to snap the sorcerer’s face off. His muscles bunched, striving toward a shift that would not come, and his wrists burned.

“He entered the city with a man,” Iril said. She did not look at Ryuan, but her interjection almost seemed timed to have spared him another blow. “That must have been the sorcerer.”

“Find him.”

“I will,” she said, “and you will take appropriate measures against him instead of his wolf-born.”

Tamel turned to her, clearly caught off-guard. “They were created as warriors, Iril. They can bear far worse than this.”

“He’s being loyal to his master. And he hasn’t actually caused any harm.”

Tamel snorted. “Why else did he trick his way in here? Let him tell me why his master came into my city.”

“Our city.” Her voice was low. “Or because we are weaker than you, perhaps we don’t matter? Is that why you worry about this sorcerer? Do you fear someone who might match your power?”

Tamel threw the whip down and pivoted. “I’ll find him and deal with him myself.” He tossed the light over his shoulder.

Iril barely caught it. “Tamel—” She started after him, then recalled Ryuan and spun on him. “If you tell me of your master, I might be able to find him before Tamel does something reckless to either of you.”

He had no weapons but words. “You’re too kind to a chained man,” he said mockingly, knowing it would be worse for her than open anger.

She flushed. “You sound just like—” She stopped. “Your wounds will be seen to. Can you blame Tamel for his anger, though? People have died.”

“He killed a man.”

“A bandit who tried to kill him!”

“Prince Kaen would have offered him exile. But he fled, coward that he was.”

She began pacing, even in this tight space. “He told me about this. He fled any other sorcerers who might hear of how he broke the Law of Century. When none came, he realized that he must be the last one left who knew the full extent of his powers. So he decided to build this city, where those who have a trace of the gift can learn to use it without endangering others.”

“His motives are so pure, you think?”

She stopped. “You can’t build a wall between us.”

“I wasn’t the one questioning him.”

“Enough of this. Tell me why you’re here.”

“To find Tamel,” he said wearily. “Instead I sat by a gate all day, listening to that fool guard call me a dog, before getting caught by you.”

It was clear she knew whom he spoke of. “He’s good with a sword, though,” she said, then shook her head. “Or he was.”

“He was one of the ones killed?”

“Yes.”

Ryuan leaned against the wall. Despite Iril’s assertion, he had never met anyone more harmless. The guard hadn’t been bright, but he hadn’t deserved death.

“Tell me what you know,” she said, “so that I can stop this.”

He thought of telling her about Nerav, but he could not betray his own kind. The wolf-born had left him to this, but unknowingly. If Ryuan had been enslaved by a sorcerer such as Tamel, he would feel the same rage against all such men. And Nerav was the only one who could answer questions about what he was.

Iril waited until it was clear he would say nothing. “Then you must share the blame for these deaths,” she said. “Or perhaps that doesn’t trouble you.” She turned and left.

She was not completely callous. She left the light, so that he could contemplate his dismal cell in its pale glow.