Tyrus gazed at her. “I do not, Stoern. How did you find me?”
Palmanter held up his hand to prevent her answering. “Annon—it is good to see you as well. You wear the cassock of the Rikes now. Has your allegiance shifted? I see your talisman still?”
Annon folded his arms. “I am a Druidecht. These clothes do not change that.”
“Why are you here?” Tyrus pressed, stepped forward.
His step caused Palmanter to flinch. Great beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He was clearly nervous.
“Why do you fear me?” Tyrus asked. “I am no threat to you.”
“Truly?” Palmanter asked, his voice thick with distrust.
“You did not grant me sanctuary, but I do not resent it. The Thirteen have a truce with Kenatos, but we are not enemies. I respect Canton Vaud.”
“Your actions in Silvandom would say otherwise,” the woman, Stoern, said archly.
“What actions do you speak of?” Tyrus pressed.
Palmanter held up one of his meaty hands. “We wish you to come to Canton Vaud, Tyrus. To answer…some questions.”
Phae felt Shion’s arm brush against hers. His eyes were pointed like daggers at the two arrivals, his jaw set in a scowl. He seemed ready to attack them. Something was not right. This was not an introduction of allies.
“This conversation does not inspire trust,” Tyrus said. “What actions do you mean? Speak plainly.”
Phae noticed that the Bhikhu were slowly detaching from the two Druidecht, slowly positioning themselves on each flank, their weapons ready. Her throat went dry. She could feel the tension bubbling up.
“It would be better if we spoke at Canton Vaud,” Palmanter said evasively. “Will you come with us?”
Tyrus chuckled darkly, his visage grim. “I am harried on all sides it seems.”
Annon stepped forward, Nizeera at his heels. “The spirits say what you refuse to. Speak it openly, Palmanter. We are not your enemies as you fear.”
Palmanter looked at Annon coldly. “You owe your obedience to Canton Vaud, Annon. If this comes to blows, you will not intervene. Your participation in this requires an inquest.”
“You may command me,” Annon said. “That is your right. But we must speak openly. Your words and actions make this feel as if we’re walking into a trap if we come with you.”
“It is for our own safety that we do this,” Stoern said. “After what happened to the Arch-Rike’s emissaries. Your attire only confirms suspicion.”
Annon stared with composure. “I know how this must appear. But we should not dissemble, not with each other. I am a loyal Druidecht. I will speak openly if you will not. What I have come to learn is that the Arch-Rike has been imprisoning spirits from Mirrowen to harness their powers. It is the craft of the Paracelsus.” He put his hand on Tyrus’s shoulder. “They are conflicted because of the Arch-Rike’s explanation of the confrontation in Prince Aran’s manor. It contradicts ours rather decisively.”
Stoern’s expression contorted with anger. “You were told to be silent!” she snapped at Annon. Her face was mottled with fury. “Will you come peacefully, Tyrus? Or must we compel you? There is much you must answer for.”
Phae swallowed, shrinking from the hostility in Stoern’s voice. She did not want to go anywhere with that woman.
“Your meaning is clear, Madame,” Tyrus said. “You have been given reports that concern the Thirteen. Naturally you wish us to submit to your questions to ascertain the truth of the matter. But you are predisposed to find me guilty. What would you do if you were in my place?”
“If I were innocent,” Stoern said, “I would come to Canton Vaud and seek to clear my name. If I were guilty, I would slay the ones who knew the truth.”
“Your thinking is limited,” Tyrus replied. “But I see your intentions now. Let me speak plainly, since you will not. We were attacked by the Arch-Rike’s minions in Prince Aransetis’s manor in Silvandom. We fought for our lives and we prevailed.”
“So you say,” Palmanter said. “Allow us the opportunity to challenge your version of the events.”
“Or confirm it?” Tyrus asked mockingly.
“We have witnesses,” Stoern said.
“As do I. Believe me, nothing I say will satisfy you. You have witnesses right here. Annon was there. Khiara Shaliah was there. Prince Aransetis was there. So were these two—Lukias is a Provost-Rike and helped lead the assault against us.”
“And that man over there,” Stoern said, pointing to Kishion. “His presence here is highly suspect. We all know who he is. Will you turn him loose on us, Tyrus?”
A cold smile came to her father’s mouth. “You were brave to face me, fearing me as you do. We will come with you peacefully. I have nothing to hide. I will plead my cause before the Thirteen. But first, you must answer my question. How did you find me?”