Her mother’s shade seemed to flicker in and out of the room for a moment and a ragged sob broke from it. “They were never supposed to know, Jala. You were safe. I kept you so safe. I kept you from these Jackals. Jala, why are you here? Why are you among them?” The spirit’s voice was filled with agony and the words nearly a wail.
Biting her lower lip harder, Jala stared down at the floor until she once again had mastery of her expression. “I’m going to fix things, mother, but I need you to tell them who I am,” Jala replied, her voice quiet but even, despite the desire to sob that was growing steadily.
“You are nothing,” her mother hissed. “Nothing for them. Nothing to them. They will break you Jala! Run from here! Run now!”
“She lies,” Ash spoke the words with a slight shake of his head and frowned to Jala. “Apparently, I must bind her to get the truth. This will not be pleasant. You may wish to look away,” he warned her and drew a slender dagger from his sleeve. With a practiced flip of his hand he drew a small gash across his hand and flicked the blood to the floor below the spirit. “I bind thee by my blood, Magdelyn Glendry. I bind thee to speak only the truth and to stand thy ground until my will does release thee.” His voice was low and rang with power. The spirit twisted and writhed in response to his words. A low moan filled the air as her mother settled to the floor where the blood drops were drying. With another twist of Ash’s hand the spirit writhed once more as if on fire. “To thy true form, Magdelyn. Show me thy true face.” The shadowy form twisted and shrank at his words and let out a feral scream as the shadows were ripped from it.
“Wait, stop!” Jala called, unable to take the sound of agony any longer. “Just make her speak the truth please that is all I ask,” she pleaded, feeling her eyes begin to go glassy despite how desperately she was fighting back the tears.
The spirit dropped, bent to the floor, and knelt, head bowed over the drops of the Soulreaver’s blood. The departure of the shadows had granted faint color to the dead woman. Jala stared at the long dark curls concealing her mother’s face and wondered idly how she had never known her mother’s hair had the same curl as hers. She had never seen it down before she supposed. It had always been braided and tidy. “Jala my child is the last remaining Merrodin. Born of rape and raised with love, I kept her hidden and safe,” The voice was her mother’s. There was no question, but it seemed weak and broken as she spoke the words. “Never would I have told you this, Jala,” she said as she slowly raised her head to Jala. “I would know who has told you this secret,” she demanded quietly her eyes locked on Jala’s pale violet eyes, Jala realized with a start. Her mother’s eyes had been hazel in every memory she had of the woman.
“Your eyes,” Jala stammered dumbly.
“Were always hidden as yours should have been,” her mother replied, her expression filled with grief. “Who has fed your soul to these monsters?” her mother asked, once more in a choked whisper.
“Anthe of Goswin told me who I was, in truth. She has fed my soul to no one though. I sought her out to ask her. Mother, I would have found out, and better sooner than later, I think,” Jala replied, unsure what she could say to bring the spirit peace.
“Better that you had died with me than become what they are,” the spirit hissed.
“I think that is quite enough,” Ash said and clenched his cut hand. The spirit jerked as if on strings and fell silent. “Her words name you Merrodin. Do you still wish to question your father’s spirit? I sense a great deal more rage in that one.”
“If the council is still not convinced, then we must,” Jala replied and slowly pushed herself straighter in her chair. She stared at her mother’s spirit for a long moment and then turned her gaze to the council. “Are you unconvinced?” she asked, her voice level despite the unshed tears in her eyes.
“It truly doesn’t matter if they are convinced. I’m here and you have your votes,” A familiar voice called from the doorway. Stepping forward through the gloom, Lord Han’shy paused beside her chair and looked down at her. “Interesting method of proof, however.” His clothes were torn around the edges and faint rust colored smudges dotted the pale yellow linen. “My apologies for my tardiness. I had some issues to deal with in my quarter,” he said with a smirk, his gaze lingering on the council table.
“Is that blood on you?” Lady Nerathane sniffed in disgust.
“I thought I washed most of it off,” Lord Han’shy grumbled, looking down at his tunic. With a shrug of his massive shoulders, he looked back toward the council table. “Shall we call a vote then?” he asked.
“I’m done with this farce. Justice is blind in this hall,” Lord Avanti stood quickly and gathered his cloak from the back of the chair, drawing looks from most in the room. “I will be in touch with you Morcaillo.” He gave his fellow lord a curt nod and spun on his heels toward the door.
“Hmph, never thought my company was quite that offensive,” Han’shy said quietly looking down to her with a grin.
“If the dead are no longer needed, could you please send them back to rest Lord Zachary?” Ash said, his gaze locked on the silently sobbing form of Jala’s mother.
“Please,” Jala echoed, quietly knowing she wouldn’t be able to get the image of her dead mother out of her mind for months.
“As you like,” Lord Zachary agreed, and flicked his hand toward the spirits. With a rush of cold air the forms dissipated back into shadow and the room brightened once more.
“Interesting council,” General Troyelle muttered as he watched the remaining opposition leave the room looking rather indignant. “So what kept you, Han’shy?” he demanded.
“A libraries worth of complaints and paperwork when I arrived in my quarter,” Jin Han’shy replied.