Flamecaster (Shattered Realms, #1)(54)

“So,” Destin said, “let’s begin.” Without waiting for an answer, he reached across the table and seized both of Lyle’s hands, careful not to let any flash penetrate his skin.

If the boy’s a mage, I can’t sense it in him, Destin thought. And usually there’s something . . .

Now Destin released the magic into him, let it flow as if to fill him up, then reached through it to find the boy’s mind. And couldn’t. He tried again, and it was like searching an empty room.

It was odd, this feeling that the power was flooding into a void, an empty place, not accumulating, but dissipating somehow. Channeling through. He’d tried to charm trained mages in the past, but that was different. In that case, he’d run right into a barrier, a shield that prevented entry altogether. Yet when he looked into the boy’s eyes, there was a vacancy there, and his face had relaxed and his breathing slowed. The boy looked spelled. He must be. Most people never even knew they’d been had.

“Lyle?” he said softly, experimentally.

“Yes, sir?” His eyes were half-closed, and his head lolled a bit.

“Lyle, what is your real name?”

“Lyle Talbot, sir.”

“Not Truthteller?”

“No, sir.”

“How long have you been reading the cards?”

“A year, sir.”

“I’m looking for something, Lyle. Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it?”

“A girl.”

“And how do you know that, Lyle?”

“Because you’re bringing all the women in and looking at them. There’s something you’re looking for. It’s not plague, sir.”

“Do you know where the girl is?”

“No, sir.”

“Will we find what we’re looking for?”

Lyle frowned. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Is there magic in you, Lyle?”

Long pause. “No, sir.”

“Is there magic in the cards?”

Another long pause. “No, sir. But people like to think so.”

Destin blew out his breath, exasperated. “How did you do what you did with Garren and his girlfriend?”

Lyle shifted uncomfortably. His hands became slippery with perspiration. “They . . . I talked to them before, and they agreed to act it out. Sometimes rich people think it’s fun to playact. I did it for the crowd. It brings in business. I didn’t think you would come and listen.”

“So it was an act, Truthteller?” Destin’s voice was harsh with disappointment.

“Yes, sir. I’m an entertainer. I don’t mean any harm.”

Had he really hoped this boy had the gift? Was he really so eager to hear the truth? Destin sat silent for a moment. “What’s my mother’s given name, Lyle?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know, sir.” The boy shook his head quickly. Too quickly.

“What’s your mother’s name?” Destin snapped.

“My mother?” the boy said, seeming flummoxed somehow. “It’s Frances. Frances was her name.”

“What do you see when you look at me, boy?”

“I—I don’t know, I—”

Destin tightened his grip, twisting until Lyle’s face went sheet-white and he cried out in pain. “What do you see?”

“I—I see a ship, my lord. You are climbing in the rigging. And a beach. And you’re walking on the beach, holding hands with—with—”

“That’s enough!” Destin all but shouted. He stopped the flow of power and released Lyle’s hands. The boy sat, eyes closed, trembling. Destin regarded him thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, turning over what he’d learned.

“Sir? Did you want to ask me something else? Did I answer any questions?” Lyle seemed agitated, upset, as if afraid he’d made a fatal mistake.

“You did fine, Truthteller. I am satisfied. Go back to your patrons.”

Lyle sat for a moment, staring at Destin, looking as if he wanted to say something else.

“I said get out!”

The fortuneteller rose and half-stumbled from the room. Destin watched him go, drumming his fingers on the table.

I spelled him, so he should have been telling the truth. Yet he lied, with bits of truth mingled in.

The truthteller claimed he didn’t know Destin’s mother’s name. But when asked what his own mother’s name was, he’d stumbled and said Frances.

Destin’s mother’s name had been Frances.

He debated. The boy was frightened as it was, and he did respond to pain. He could bring him back in, and lock the door, and it wouldn’t take much persuasion to get the truth out of him, if there was more to know.

I see a ship. And a beach . . .

A cold rivulet of fear trickled down Destin’s spine. He had his own secrets, after all, and there was no telling what the truthteller would reveal, if pressed. There were some truths Destin didn’t want told. He didn’t want to have to kill the boy.

The boy wasn’t going anywhere, so he had plenty of time to make a decision before he returned to Ardenscourt. Maybe he’d just leave the boy be, let him keep whatever secrets he was holding close.