Thyra arches an eyebrow. “You’ve done something very similar, Ansa. Just not as . . . big.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Sig tilt his head as Halina translates, and I turn to see that a cold curiosity has stripped the blankness from his stare. He whispers something, his voice just a hiss. Halina swallows. “He says he’d like to see that.”
The flames of the torch nearest to him flare.
“Sig,” barks Kauko.
Sig’s mouth snaps shut and the flames bank, but I’m left staring at them, my heart pounding. “How did you escape, if the flames trapped you? Is that how you were burned?” I ask Nisse.
“No. For a short while the Valtia seemed to be controlling it,” says Thyra. “She raised her arms and the flames went higher. But then . . .” She stares down at her hands and shakes her head.
“The fire turned on her, Ansa,” Nisse says. “It arched over the platform and slammed down upon her, devouring her. We ran for our lives.” He touches his singed beard. “It nearly ate us, too.”
Sig chuckles softly from his corner. Nearly everyone at the table looks at him with wary dislike as he laughs at the thought of their peril, but Kauko merely gives him a chiding glance before launching into a speech. “Kauko says he has been in the service of the magic of the Valtia for longer than he can remember,” Halina translates. “And—”
Sig begins to giggle, his whole body shaking with mirth. A tear runs down the side of his scarred face. He mutters a question, a strange light flickering in his brown eyes. “He wants Kauko to tell us exactly how long it’s been,” Halina says with a frown.
Kauko rises slowly from his chair, addressing Nisse while Halina renders his words understandable. “And now he’s saying, ‘I am afraid my apprentice has been undone by what happened.’ He wonders if you could summon your guards to bring him to his room. Preferably one made only of stone. Apparently he’s a danger to himself.”
Kauko walks over to Sig as the torches in the room flare and takes the young man by the arms. Through gritted teeth, he mutters to his apprentice, round trilling words that sound wrong when uttered in such a low, menacing tone.
Halina’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t translate as Kauko releases his apprentice and gives him a little shove toward the door. Sig skulks away, stopping only to give me one final, curious glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the corridor, surrounded by warriors with drawn blades.
Thyra looks worried as she stares at the place he had been standing. “He seems troubled. And dangerous to more than just himself.”
“Kauko here reassures me he’ll be kept under control,” Nisse says.
Jaspar arches an eyebrow. “I guess they don’t have the same rule we do about banishing unstable warriors.”
“You give them too much credit,” Nisse says. “But let’s allow the priest to tell us his story.” He smiles and speaks loudly. “Please. Tell us what happened after the fire destroyed your Valtia.”
“He can hear just fine,” Halina says quietly, before translating Nisse’s words. Kauko nods and begins to speak, and Halina reveals the story:
“Our true queen perished in the storm she created to defeat your navy. And after her death, her heir, the Saadella, was supposed to inherit her magic. But the Saadella could not wield the magic at all, and she ran from the castle before we could help extract it from her.”
Thyra shudders. “Do I even want to know how they were going to do that?”
“Quiet,” Nisse says. He looks rapt as Halina translates the elder’s words:
“We searched the whole of our kingdom for the new Valtia, but the girl had gone into hiding—with a band of criminals, some of whom were outlaws who wield magic to hurt and terrorize innocent citizens. Without a queen to provide for them, the Kupari people were in a bad state. Starving. Freezing. They needed their queen. And when the elders received the message from the Krigere inquiring about the Valtia, we felt we had no choice but to assemble a ruse to protect the kingdom. We dressed a servant girl as the Valtia and used our own magic to create the illusion of her power. But someone . . .” Halina trails off as rage distorts the elder’s voice. He takes a deep breath and loosens his clenched fists. “Someone sabotaged it and caused the tragedy that nearly killed you honorable warriors. The next day, the criminals stormed the temple and took it over, chasing away or brutally killing all the loyal elders, priests, apprentices, and acolytes, some of whom were mere children. The survivors have scattered into the Loputon Forest. My apprentice was gravely injured in the attack, and I only barely escaped with him, on a boat.”