Evan sat up straighter. Persuasion? Was that the wetland word for torture? “I am not,” he admitted, his mouth dry. “Could you, perhaps, explain?”
“I’ll use magic to ensure that your answers are true,” Bayar said. “Don’t worry,” he added. “It’s not painful, but I would ask you not to do anything to interfere with it.”
“I wouldn’t know how,” Evan said, busily sorting through the secrets he wanted to keep. He should be all right, assuming a partial truth would be enough.
He and the High Wizard sat on either side of a small table and Bayar gripped his hands. Magic flowed from the wizard’s hands to his own. Evan had expected that it might be similar to the sensation of rum or blue ruin running down his throat. Or that it might be painful, despite the high wizard’s assurances. But no. It was more like a cold river running through Evan’s veins that eventually disappeared as it mingled with his blood, leaving no trace behind.
Bayar frowned, looking down at their joined hands. Then said, “Prince Adrian has told us that he met you in Ardenscourt this winter. Why did you go there?”
Evan glanced at the healer, who sat in shadow, fingers laced, his chin resting on his hands. He offered no clues.
“I went there to prevent the empress Celestine from making a deal with the king of Arden.”
“How did you know that such a deal was on the table?”
Evan hesitated. “I had a source in Ardenscourt who sent word to me.”
“So this plan was common knowledge in the Ardenine capital?” Barrett raised an eyebrow. “None of my eyes and ears reported that.”
“It was not well known,” Evan said. “My source is close to the king, and was involved in the negotiations.” He was watching the healer when he said that. Sul’Han straightened, as if he’d finally heard something he didn’t already know. He waited for Bayar to ask who his source was, and the High Wizard didn’t disappoint.
“Who was this source who was close to the king?”
Evan had no intention of giving Destin away. “I would rather not say. It would put this person in grave danger.”
“Don’t worry,” Bayar said. “What is said here stays here. You can speak freely.”
Evan could continue to object, but that would be the same as saying “I don’t trust you,” and that wouldn’t advance his diplomatic agenda. So he found himself lying, and then waiting to be struck dead. Or at least called on it. “It was Queen Marina,” he said. “We met once, when I boarded her ship in the Southern Islands. I must have made a good impression.”
They all looked at each other, faces full of doubt.
“Well,” the queen said, glancing at the healer. “I suppose it’s possible. She is a Tomlin, after all.”
Bayar still looked puzzled. With a faint shake of his head, he tightened his grip so that the pressure was almost painful. “Why didn’t you want this deal to go forward?”
“I did not want the empress’s influence to spread farther than it already has,” Evan said. “Trust me—you don’t want Celestine for a neighbor.”
Bayar abruptly let go of Evan’s hands. “Something’s wrong,” he said flatly.
Barrett leaned forward. “With—? Do you mean that he’s not telling the truth?”
“I have no idea if he’s telling the truth,” Bayar said. “I don’t think it’s working.” He turned back to Evan. “Are you blocking me? Because if you are—”
“I’m not blocking you,” Evan said. “How could I? You took my amulet. Besides, as I already said, I wouldn’t know how.”
“It’s in your best interest to cooperate,” the queen said to Evan.
“I am not trying to interfere with the High Wizard’s magic. The truth serves me as well as you.”
The High Wizard rubbed the back of his neck, his expression making it clear that he didn’t believe him.
“Doesn’t persuasion work on you?” Queen Raisa said.
Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never . . . submitted to this kind of magic before.”
Sul’Han was staring at Evan now, eyes narrowed, as if he’d had some kind of epiphany. He leaned over and whispered something to Shadow Dancer, who nodded.
“Well,” the queen said briskly, “we’ve been at this a good while already. Perhaps we should—”
“Let me try,” Prince Adrian said.
Suddenly, the healer was the center of attention.
Queen Raisa shook her head. “I was about to say that perhaps we should recess for now and review what—”
“I promise I won’t hurt him, Mother,” the healer said, those remarkable blue-green eyes fixed on Evan. “But I believe I can get at the truth.”
“Lord Bayar is as capable as any wizard in the realm when it comes to interrogation,” the queen said, her voice low and furious.
Now the healer looked at Evan. “Do you object?” he said.
Sweat trickled between Evan’s shoulder blades, but he shrugged and said, “Why not?”
The prince swapped places with the High Wizard. Sul’Han sat across the table from Evan, shook back the sleeves of his jacket, reached across, and gripped his hands. The prince’s hands were strong, callused, buzzing with energy. There came that same cold current as before, though perhaps a bit more . . . intuitive. Then the prince said, “What’s that on the back of your neck?”
Evan’s heart plummeted to his toes, and his palms grew slippery with sweat. They stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime.
Outed, Evan thought. But how? He’d made sure to keep his neck under cover. He said nothing aloud.
“Lord Bayar,” Prince Adrian said, his grip tightening on Evan’s hands, pinning them in place. “Could you examine the back of Strangward’s neck and tell us what you see?”
Evan heard the wizard’s robes rustle as he crossed to where he could stand behind him. He could feel Bayar’s fingers brushing his skin, raising gooseflesh as the wizard swept his hair aside. It reminded him of that day in Montaigne’s palace at Ardenscourt, when he’d done the same to Jenna Bandelow in front of an audience of gawkers.
What goes around comes around, he thought. What you cast into the waves often washes up on your own private beach.
He heard Bayar’s dry, amused voice. “It would appear to be a metal-and-stone badge, like an embedded amulet,” he said, his breath warming the back of Evan’s neck. “I assume that it is what we have been calling a magemark.”
Evan heard chairs scraping, the sound of feet padding across the floor as they all had their look. He kept his eyes on the healer, who wore a trace of a smile.
“I think now would be a good time to have a recess,” the healer said.
26
A COMMON CAUSE
When Evan returned to the suite of rooms he shared with his crew, they were boiling with curiosity about the interrogation. Evan kept them in suspense while he retrieved his burner and kettle from the corner, put water on to heat, and set out the tiny cups for the tay ceremony. He knew they would need fortification against this news. Those reborn in blood never lost their desire for it.
When the water was steaming, they watched in avid silence as Evan added the smoky leaves to the brew. While they steeped, he stripped back his sleeve, found a spot on his scarred forearm, and sliced it open, dripping his blood into the common pot.
Evan served each crew member himself. It was the least he could do for people cursed with a thirst that would never be quenched.
When all had been served, Evan slumped into a chair, stirred the fire with a stick, and said, “They know.”
They all looked at one another, as if each hoped that somebody else would ask a question.
“They know . . . what?” Brody said finally.
“They know about the magemark,” Evan said. This was met with a collective groan. Secrets like that didn’t keep. There was no stronghold, no prison strong enough to keep them safe, once Celestine knew where he was. It was all Evan could do to stay in his seat and not stand and begin pacing, which would not help the mood in the room.
“What are we going to do?” Teza said.
“I’m not sure it much matters what we do,” Evan said.