“The corpse was reported to Captain Traeger, who in turn apprised Magistrate Aarhus. They deemed it an opportune chance to implicate the headmaster. So they purchased a pair of witnesses, and gave me the medallion.”
Meaning Xarius had been bought some time ago, primed for the moment in which he might best be used—all the while continuing to pose as Rohn’s most trusted protector. “You will testify to this at my father’s trial. If you do not…”
Xarius’s hissing laughter stopped him short. “What trial is that? The one in which they would risk a stay of execution to your father’s royal ties? The one in which the magistrate and captain themselves might be exposed? No, boy, they will present the headmaster and their evidence to Governor Tehric, if they’ve not already, and let him pass judgment.”
The knot in Kylac’s stomach tightened. Long hailed a national hero, Tehric had been named chief general of the Parthan West Legion and later governor of Crylag not for jailing Menzoes encountered on the frontlines, but for slaughtering them in droves. None could deny that, under his command, Partha had strengthened its foothold against the northern secessionists. Yet, for all his victories and medals, Tehric was scarcely more than an upjumped warlord, a man of cruelty and vengeance.
He would not take lightly to the slaying of his son, useless as many believed that particular seed to be.
Nor would Aarhus or Traeger be made to suffer the full extent of any backlash. Rohn’s favor with His Majesty, King Galdric, was not that great.
“Where is he?” Kylac asked. “Where is my father being held?”
“The Gilded Cleaver, by common account.”
“It’s your account I’m asking. Not even Aarhus or Tehric would torture a prisoner jailed under the king’s roof. He’ll be where His Majesty can disavow any knowledge or involvement.”
“And if I were to reveal their location? What cause would you have to let me live?”
Kylac shook his head. What cause would there be to kill him? He might still need Xarius as a witness. Of greater value that than a corpse, which could only further impugn his father in the eyes of any judges.
Besides, as Xarius had observed, Kylac was no killer—and in no great haste to claim otherwise. Though Rohn’s teachings held it to be inevitable, the slaying of a man struck Kylac as fundamentally avoidable. Not out of weakness or some vague notion of morality, but because he was so much faster, so much better, so much more skilled, that it would simply be unfair to his opponent.
In essence, too easy.
Not so with Xarius, mayhap. But, for all their differences, Xarius was the nearest he had to an elder brother, the one he’d always looked to match and then best. If a man were to die upon his blade, he would have to do more than Xarius had to earn it.
“I’d sooner leave you to my father’s mercy,” Kylac said. “But tell me where he is, and I’ll tell him how you aided me in his rescue.”
“You would seek to free him? Alone?”
“Would that I could trust you to join me.”
Xarius’s amusement was palpable. “The young sparrow, sniping at the tail feathers of falcons.”
“Name their location, or I’ll sever your useless tongue and find it myself.”
“If you’re so eager to die, seek them in the Cytharian Catacombs.”
“Cytharia? Temple and tombs alike were sealed half a century ago.”
“Were they?” Xarius taunted. “Doubtless I was misinformed.”
Kylac considered. “They would not have strolled in through the temple foyer.”
“Where the Dryslake forks beneath the southern promontory of Harrowridge Cemetery, behind a briar wall at the base of the ravine, lies a shaft of an ancient sulfur mine. Follow the right passage, and you’ll discover the catacombs.”
Mines? Catacombs? A labyrinth. “How will I know their path?”
“Neglected your tracking lessons?” Xarius sneered. “Failing that, follow the screams.”
A pack of possible scenarios crowded forward in Kylac’s mind, each spawning a dozen more. But seeking to untangle them all would mean a further drain of his time. “Should I learn you’ve lied to me—”
“Ply me no more with your threats, boy. If you would become a man, put that blade to its proper use. If not, I’ll pray you survive this night, that we might settle this matter between us.”
Kylac withdrew his weapon, keeping it at the ready. “I’ll return with my father before sunrise. It might be wiser of you to be gone by then.”
He backed toward the bedchamber door. He’d nearly reached it when Xarius’s voice slithered through the darkness. “Mark me, boy. You’ll spill blood this night. If not another’s, then yours.”
As Kylac eased across the threshold into the black corridor beyond, he found himself wondering which would please Xarius more.