Talal paused, then spread his hands ruefully. “I didn’t realize it, because some people claim they don’t even exist. I’m almost certain the Eyrie’s never had one before, but I think Balendin is an emotion leach.”
The statement sounded dramatic, but Valyn just shook his head in perplexity.
“Meaning what, exactly?” Annick asked.
“He doesn’t draw his power from iron or water or sunlight, or anything like that. His well is emotion, human emotion.”
For a while the five of them sat in silence, trying to make sense of the idea.
“That sounds,” Gwenna said finally, her face screwed into a frown, “like bullshit.”
“Unfortunately not,” Talal said. “Emotion leaches are horribly powerful, and horribly unpredictable. I’ve read some of the old codices, the ones cataloging the known leaches in Annurian history and earlier. The trouble is, an emotion leach doesn’t simply draw from an existing well, he needs to create his well. He has to manipulate people in order to have any power at all.”
“But how do Amie and Ha Lin figure into this?” Valyn asked.
“It’s not just them,” Talal replied. “It’s everyone Balendin has ever come in contact with. He leaches his power from emotion, other people’s emotion. Specifically, emotion that’s directed at him.”
“And that’s why,” Gwenna concluded, punctuating her syllables with a finger stabbed repeatedly into the table, “he was such a ’Kent-kissing bastard all the time.”
Talal nodded. “A leach’s well shapes who he is to a frightening degree. Once you get used to the power, you start to need that power, and you’ll do more and more to get it. When I’m without iron, I feel … nervous, naked. I can only imagine how Balendin feels without emotion.”
“Why not take a more amiable approach?” Laith asked, pursing his lips. “Make a lot of really good friends? Maybe fall in love a few times—a girl in every port, that sort of thing.…”
“A lot easier to evoke hatred than love,” Annick said. “Quicker. More reliable.”
They turned to look at her, but she averted her face from the lantern and seemed to have no more to say.
“Annick’s right,” Talal continued after a moment. “You can’t evoke love on command the way you can hatred, and a leach without a well is vulnerable.”
Valyn shook his head in amazement. “That time in the ring, when he and Yurl beat up on Lin and me—he was taunting her the whole time, making her hate him.”
Talal nodded grimly. “He needed her hatred if they were going to win.”
The horror of it all socked Valyn in the gut like a fist. “That’s why he tortured Amie,” he said slowly. “He needed her fear, her terror, to knock down Manker’s. That’s why they were in that garret—there was a clear line of sight from across the bay.”
“Could you even do that?” Gwenna demanded. “Take down a big building like that?”
“Think about Amie’s fear,” the leach replied leadenly. “He set up the whole thing—the dark room, the ropes hanging from the ceiling, the long slices of the knife beneath her skin—to dredge just about every ounce of her terror.”
“And the attack on Lin,” Laith said, recoiling. “While Yurl was beating her, taunting her, Balendin could have leached off the residual rage, could have used it to change the arrowhead.”
“The tampering would explain why the first two shots flew wide,” Annick confirmed, lips tight. “Those are not shots I would have missed, but a change in arrowhead requires a change in aim.”
“And the knots,” Valyn said, his mind spinning. “Balendin was on the ship. He was one of the people who tossed me over, taunting me the whole time.”
“It would be enough,” Talal replied. “To tangle a basic knot, a quick burst of anger would be enough.”
For a while they just looked at each other, aghast and amazed.
“What about the Trial?” Valyn asked finally. “What about Ha Lin?” He could hear his own voice freighted down with anger and pain. “Why did she have to die?”
Talal spread his hands helplessly. “I’ll bet she didn’t even have anything to do with you. You remember what it was like down there. I was pressed to the limit, and I’m better with my blades than Balendin. I had my well, even if it was only shallow. If he was going to survive, he needed power, which meant he needed emotion. He may have been planning it as far back as the attack on the bluffs—capture Ha Lin, goad her, leach off her, and then kill her.”
“Holy Hull,” Gwenna muttered. “Meshkent, Ananshael, and sweet, holy Hull. And now he’s off the Islands.”
The realization hit Valyn like a bucket of ice. He’d been so busy looking backward, trying to make sense of the past months, that he’d nearly forgotten what started them down the path in the first place. Balendin was not only free; he was also away.
“Who did Shaleel say assigned them their mission?” he demanded, slamming a hand down on the table.
“What does that matter?” Laith asked.
“Who?”
“She assigned it herself,” Annick replied, voice hard.
Valyn’s skin prickled, waves of cold and nausea rolling over him in great, heady swells. “We’ve got to go,” he said. “We’ve got to gear up, get the bird, and go.”
Talal raised a hand to slow him down. “You heard what she said. We’re grounded. We can’t leave the Islands. We so much as touch a flatbow, we’re all traitors.”
“That’s the point!” Valyn erupted. “That’s exactly what Baledin wanted. Shaleel is the commander for operations in northeastern Vash.”
“So?” Laith said, trying to catch up. “What’s in northeastern Vash?”
“Ashk’lan,” Valyn growled. “My brother. Kaden. The Emperor.”