Memories of Ash (The Sunbolt Chronicles Book 2) (40 page)

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible,” one of the other mages stammers. “We inspected her cell — the shackles were open, there was no sign of her, and she was
bound
. She could not cast a spell to hide herself.”

“She could still use charms, and she did. That’s all she did.”

Nightblade watches me intently. “What charms?”

“A look-away while she was in the cell. After that — perhaps a smoker or two. And a stinker.” At least, if I had to give my garlic-and-onions charm a name, that one seems relatively self-explanatory.

“What about once you reached the roof? How did you intend to leave the Mekteb? You must have had an ally if you don’t know where she went from there.”

“The phoenix agreed to carry us out,” I admit. They already have his feather; acknowledging his interest in me may actually do more to save my life than anything else.

“The …
phoenix?
” It’s one of the other arch mages, his look of bewilderment mirrored by his colleagues.

Blackflame leans forward. “The phoenix of the Burnt Lands was going to fly you to safety? Or—” He hesitates, though there cannot be that many other phoenixes in the world.

“Yes, that one.”

If I stunned the Council to silence before, now I’ve shaken them out of it.

“That’s absurd,” Blackflame says, just as a mage to his right sputters, “By what right—”

“We have agreements—”

“I demand an explanation of this! The phoenix has never—”

“Perhaps,” Nightblade says, his voice cutting through the rising tide of outrage, “you should start your explanations at the beginning.”

This is precisely the opportunity I’ve been hoping for. “The beginning is a bit further back, Master Nightblade. I’ll have to start a year ago, with the sunbolt I mentioned, if you wish to understand the whole of my connection to Stormwind and what I have done to help her.”

The mages around the table watch me with varying levels of disapproval, but at least they’re listening again. Without even a glance toward Blackflame, Nightblade nods. Ah, he’s not a supporter, then.

“I lived in Karolene until about a year ago, when a warrant for the execution of Lord and Lady Degath was issued.” Val pauses, giving a moment for the words to sink in. Blackflame goes still, staring at me, really and truly looking at my face. I hope he remembers it. “As part of the Shadow League, I volunteered to help the family escape Karolene before the warrant could be carried out. Unfortunately, Arch Mage Blackflame convinced Saira Degath that, if she helped him catch the leader of the Shadow League, he would allow her family to go free, and no doubt win his favor.”

“This has no bearing on the current investigation,” Blackflame says, each word hard and cold.

“I’m under a truth spell, and I say it does,” Val says for me. “Whatever I testify is only what I believe to be true. You’ve nothing to fear if you haven’t done wrong.”

“You will answer only those questions—”

“I will
not.
” The anger in my voice surprises me, not the least because it accurately reflects my own feelings. Val must be able to sense me very well. I go on relaying my story as quickly as I can, before Blackflame truly does stop me. “I was there, in the empty building we took refuge in, when the sultan’s soldiers burst through the doors and cut down Lord and Lady Degath. I used my magic to hide the true Ghost in the shadows, but I could not reach the Degaths in time.”

Blackflame surges to his feet. “Enough!” His face is pale with fury, blue eyes burning with cold.

 
My voice slices through the rising murmurs of the other mages. “I was taken prisoner with the younger Degaths, and
we
were brought to your home.
”

Blackflame slams his fist against the table. “Be silent!” He turns on Nightblade in white-lipped rage, “The truth spell is flawed.”

Nightblade rises from his seat, facing Blackflame calmly. “Is it? Allow me to check.” He gestures to one of the mages across from him, the one who had stammered out an argument against Stormwind’s method of escape. “Bastion, so there is no doubt, I invite you to check the spell with me.”

Arch Mage Bastion acquiesces, and they descend from their respective tables and approach me.

Val, will they be able to sense you?

Possibly.

Not the answer I want.
Should you go?

If they ask you your name, to check the spell, you won’t be able to answer with what you’ve already given them.
Just wait.
The mages come to a stop before us.
And take your body back in the meantime. I’ll hang about at the back of your skull.

With a nearly tangible
snap
I’m back in my body, and it hurts. Pain tingles along my nerves, my body desperately heavy. I have to focus on breathing slowly, steadily. But I shouldn’t hurt this much. Last time Val took me over, the pain I felt was from the muscles I strained in my fight with Osman Bey, and from my wound. This is different.

“Miss Hibachi,” Nightblade says, calling my attention back to him. “We will put our fingers on the sigil on your forehead. It should not hurt.”

I look down at my lap, too afraid to speak with the truth spell pressing upon me. They touch my forehead together. The spell dances through my blood, the sigil on my forehead so icy it feels as though it might cut right through my skin and into bone.

Bastion steps back, Nightblade letting his hand drop barely a moment later.

“Well?” he asks Bastion.

“It’s fine,” he admits gruffly. “Fully formed and well cast. I can find no flaw.”

“There is no flaw in the casting,” Nightblade agrees.

The moment he turns his eyes to the Council, his body still blocking my view, Val murmurs,
Shall I?

Yes. Is everything— all right? It feels different.

Everything is fine,
Val assures me, and by the time the two mages seat themselves, I am back to being a spectator in my own body.

“So far,” Blackflame says, cold blue eyes trained on me, “you have not mentioned any allies. You could not have accomplished so much alone. Who helped you?”

“No,” Nightblade says, his voice measured as always. Yet the word cuts across the space. “Let us finish hearing the previous answer.”

Answer Blackflame’s question,
Val counsels me. I give him the words I need to prove that the truth spell is still forcing answers from me. “I helped myself for as far as I’ve told you. I’m sure you’ll have the rest from me shortly.”

“Such a story has no relevance to the current trial,” Blackflame tells Nightblade, ignoring me.

Nightblade tilts his head, eyelids dropping a fraction. “I was placed in charge of the commission that investigated the charges brought forward by young Lord Degath. Since none of the parties involved consented to a truth spell, and all depended on the words of those involved, the commission was disbanded. It is my duty, now that a witness stands before us under a truth spell, to assure that the story is heard. Especially,” he smiles amiably, “when the witness claims that it relates to the case on which she is being tried as well.”

Over the course of this speech, Blackflame’s face has grown hard as stone, until his features look as if they were cut into his face. “Do you think it your duty to undermine the First Mage of the Council?”

“On the contrary, it is the duty of the First Mage of the Council to assure that no Council member, nor mage sworn to us, misuses their magic or power such that they murder innocent civilians. Nor should our arch mages be involved in political maneuvers for their own or others’ ambition in the Kingdoms they serve.
That
is the true role and purpose of the High Council.” Nightblade gestures toward me with a long-fingered hand. “It is your duty before it is mine to hear out this girl.”

“She knows nothing. The warrant issued on the Degaths was for treason, which should make clear the danger they posed. They armed themselves and fought the sultan’s soldiers — not mine. The soldiers had to defend themselves.
That
is how Lord and Lady Degath died. The sultan had agreed to house them in my residence rather than the city prison as a safeguard for them. We have discussed all this.”

“And we will discuss it again,” Nightblade agrees with a bland smile. “Let us now hear from the girl on the points of contention between yourself and the new Lord Degath, which she may be able to enlighten us on.” He tilts his head, dark hair cascading over his shoulder, and asks me, “What happened after you were taken to Arch Mage Blackflame’s residence?”

If I controlled my body, I would be smiling now. I never thought I’d look forward to speaking to the Council, but I am looking forward to this. I may be about to lose my magic or my mind, but I now have the chance to tell a story that could cost Blackflame dearly. I don’t intend to waste it.

I tell my story with every detail I can recall, from the way the soldiers obeyed Blackflame when they delivered us to his courtyard, to the way he taunted Saira for trusting him, to the imprisonment and execution he promised Tarek. I describe the cages we were locked in, to which Nightblade says, “You are quite sure that the Degaths were not placed under guard in a guest suite?”

“Cages,” I tell him, Val making the word snap through the room. “In the basement, with a torture table at the center of the room and implements on the wall. I have not forgotten any of it.”

“According to the Degaths, a fang lord named Kol visited them there. Arch Mage Blackflame tells us that he had nothing to do with Lord Kol, and that whatever incident they are referring to must have occurred after they escaped his guard.”

Blackflame does not speak, but I see such hatred glittering in his eyes that I know he will find a way to make me pay for all of this. It should be quite easy for him, but that doesn’t stop me. “He lied. He escorted Lord Kol down to the cages himself, and traded me to him to pay a debt. Then he ordered Alia Degath’s cage opened so Lord Kol could mesmerize her and feed from her until she collapsed. The rest of us were made to watch.”

Nightblade nods as if I have offered up some interesting bit of trivia, but there is no mistaking the uncertainty mingled with disbelief on the faces of most of the other mages.

“Lord Kol is not known to have traveled to Karolene at that time,” Nightblade observes. “He did not pass through the portal there, nor was he a traveler on the ships in port. How do you explain his presence, and your departure with him, then?”

Blackflame goes still. Ah, so here’s a secret the High Council hasn’t caught wind of yet.

“Arch Mage Blackflame has a portal in his garden. We went through that.” Val manages to make me sound wholly oblivious to the import of my words.

“That’s impossible.” It’s another arch mage, tall and well built, with dark skin and a slight scar running down his cheek. “Portals are exceptionally difficult to create. One does not simply have a portal enchanted in the garden, as if it were an everyday charm.”

Val shrugs my shoulders. “I don’t know about that. I know what it looked like and I know we went through it. Kol did not have to go into the city at all.”

“That explains quite a bit,” another arch mage says in a quiet voice. She hasn’t spoken before, and it’s only as Blackflame slides her a dark look that I realize she is one of the few who doesn’t support him.

“Interesting,” Nightblade says over the rising murmur. “Go on, then.”

I continue my story. The Council has heard much of it from the Degaths, as well as Blackflame’s version of events, but their knowledge of my story ends with my departure with Kol. They don’t know the role Val played in my escape. This I give them, along with the story of my sunbolt, though I make no mention of our bond. Instead, I focus on the damage I’d sustained, the loss of my memory, and Val’s decision to take me to Stormwind.

“The breather demanded shelter by the Laws of Old from her, and she unwillingly granted it. He asked her to take care of me, help me recover my strength and memories, and train me. She agreed to let me stay, and he left before the three days were through.”

Bastion sits forward. “You mean that Mistress Stormwind took you on as her apprentice?”

“Not precisely. She understood that I must have had some training in order to cast my sunbolt. Without my memories, I couldn’t tell her who trained me. I believe she made some discreet inquiries to try to locate my master or mistress. She found nothing, nor did my memory improve. At first, she merely assessed me and worked to assure I would do neither myself nor others harm. As it became clear that I was trained, she decided to fill in the holes in what I recalled of my training and bring me before the High Council to be assessed and formally apprenticed once I was ready.”

Bastion shakes his head. “She trained a wild Promise beyond the purview of the High Council.”

“Oh, I don’t think you could refer to my magic as wild by any means.
Free
perhaps, but not wild. As far as I can tell, the one thing you could have justly sentenced Stormwind for was for taking too long in reporting both my existence and her work with me, neither of which she intended to keep silent about much longer.”