“Neat trick since you’re locked in here,” Hadrian observed.
“Neat?” Esrahaddon questioned. “Dost thou intend ’twas a clean thing? For I see no filth upon the matter.” The four men responded with looks of confusion. “ ’Tis not a point upon which to dwell. Arista hath in habit graced me with her presence fair for a year and more, though difficult be it to determine the passage of the sun within this darkened hole. A student of the Art she fancies herself, but schools for wizards thy world abides not. A desert of want drove her to seek my counsel. She bade me teach those skills now long forgotten. Within these walls am I locked, as time skips across fingertips untethered, with naught but the sound of mine own voice to pose comfort. So did I acquiesce for pity’s sake. Tidings of the new world thy princess did provide. In return, I imparted gifts upon her—gifts of knowledge.”
“Knowledge?” Alric asked, concerned. “What kind of knowledge?”
“Trifles. Be not long ago thy father suffered ill? A henth bylin did I instruct her to create.” They all looked at him, puzzled. Esrahaddon’s gaze left them. He appeared to search for something. “By another name did she fix it. ’Twas …” His face strained with concentration until at last he scowled and shook his head.
“A healing potion?” Myron asked.
The wizard eyed the monk carefully. “Indeed!”
“You taught her to make a potion to give to my father?”
“Frightening, yes? To have such a devil as I administering potions to thy king. Yet no poison did I render nor death impart. Likeminded was she and did challenge me thus, so each did we drink from the same cup to prove it free of mischief. No horns did we grow nor deaths impart, but thy liege fared well upon the taking.”
“That doesn’t explain why Arista sent me here.”
“Death upon thy house hast come?”
“How do you know that? Yes, my father was murdered,” Alric said.
The wizard sighed and nodded. “I forewarned a curse so dreadful hung above thy family’s fate, but ear thy sister hast not. Still, I beckoned her to send thee forth should death imperil or accident belay the ruling House of Essendon.”
Esrahaddon looked deliberately at Hadrian, Royce, and then Myron. “Innocents accused thy fellows be? For I counseled her thus—trustworthy only are those assigned blame for deeds most foul.”
“So, do you know who killed my father?”
“A name I have not nor clairvoyant am I. Yet clear is the bow from which the arrow flew. Thy father died by the hand of man in league with the adversary that holds me fast.”
“The Nyphron Church,” Myron muttered softly, yet still the wizard heard and his eyes narrowed once more at the monk.
“Why would the Church of Nyphron wish to kill my father?”
“For deaf and blind be the passions of men once scent is sniffed. Watchful are they and listen well these walls, for while act benign and intent charitable my jailors believed my hand did point the way and thy father the Heir of Novron be.”
“Wait a minute,” Alric interrupted, “the church doesn’t want to murder the heir. Their whole existence revolves around restoring him to the throne and creating the New Imperial Era.”
“A thousand years renders not truth from lie. Death called for and death sought for the blood of god. ’Tis reason true that sealed away am I.”
“And why is that?”
“Alone, muzzled and buried deep, chained to a stone-lined grave I am kept. For witness to this counterfeit of the truth I stand, the only lamp in a ceaseless night. The church, that bastion of faith, the wicked serpent whose fangs did wretch the life from the emperor and his family—all save one. Should heir be found, evidence shall I hold and such proof against slander wield. For ’tis I who fought to save our lord.”
“The way we heard the story, you were the one who killed the imperial family and are responsible for the destruction of the entire empire,” Hadrian said.
“From whence did such tale arise? From the adder tongue of mitered serpents? Dost thou truly believe such power resides in one man?”
“What makes you think they killed the emperor?” Alric inquired.
“ ’Tis not a question nor guess. ’Tis no supposition I extol but memory—as clear as yesterday. I know. ’Twas there and ’twas I who delivered the emperor’s only son from death at pious hands.”
“So you are telling us that you lived at the time of the emperor. Do you expect us to believe that you are over nine hundred years old?” Royce asked.
“Thou speak of doubt, but none have I. A question posed and a question answered.”
“That’s just an answer like this is just a prison,” Royce countered.