Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(64)

“What do you know about Captain Gray?” Barrett said.

“Just a guess,” Evan said disarmingly. “At the reception, Queen Raisa mentioned that a Captain Gray was at Chalk Cliffs, and expressed concerns about his safety. And now, it seems, all your worst fears have come true.”

From the looks on their faces, he’d struck a vein.

Who is this Captain Gray, and why is he so important?

“So,” Byrne said, breaking the silence, “going back to Lady Barrett’s earlier question . . . ?”

“She might very well take prisoners to Celesgarde,” Evan said. “On the other hand, she controls most of the Desert Coast, now, so it’s difficult to say. It would depend on how she intends to . . . use them. Most of her prisoners go directly into her bloodsworn army.”

“What does that mean, bloodsworn?” Talbot wore an expression of sick dread.

“They are bound to the empress in a blood ritual,” Evan said.

This was met with a collective shudder. Sul’Han ran a finger over his forearm, as if tracing a memory. He exchanged glances with the queen.

“Have you heard of an order of bloodthirsty priests called the Darian Brothers?” Queen Raisa asked abruptly. “Is there a connection?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Evan said. “I’ve not heard of them.”

That, at least, seemed to be the right answer.

“Your crewman Brody says that he was bloodsworn, and you ‘freed’ him,” Bayar said, speaking up for the first time. “Does that mean there is a way to undo the blood-magic charm once it’s cast?”

Evan struggled to come up with an answer. “I don’t know that you can undo it. Celestine doesn’t let go of anything easily. But it seems that you can replace it with something else. That’s what I did with the Stormborn. That is why their auras are red instead of purple.”

“So you are a blood mage also,” Bayar said, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Apparently, yes.”

They all looked at one another. After a moment, Barrett cleared her throat and made a show of consulting her notes. “Why is the empress interested in the magemarked, as you call them?”

The questioning continued, covering much of the same ground as in his earlier meeting with them. Didn’t anyone take notes? He supposed that now they had more reason to be interested in what he had to say. Or maybe this repeat was for Talbot’s and the healer’s benefit. Talbot asked a few questions, but the healer remained silent. Evan kept looking at him, waiting for him to weigh in, make a face, dispute something he said, or provide additional information, but he didn’t.

That’s when Evan realized—the queen must have told sul’Han to keep quiet. Was it because she was angry with her son? Or was the intent to—what was the expression?—give Evan enough rope to hang himself?

“How is it that you are the only holdout along the Desert Coast?”

Evan wrenched himself back to the interrogation, realizing that Barrett had just asked him a question.

“I have built a fortified stronghold,” Evan said. “And I am one of only a few gifted ship’s masters that are left. That gives me an advantage. But I am under no illusion that we can hold out forever. I have to go to sea in order to make a living.”

“By attacking our ships and stealing our goods,” the queen said.

“It’s nothing personal,” Evan said. “We steal from everyone, northerner and southerner, Desert Coast and wetland coast. We are equal opportunity brigands in that regard.”

This was met with stony silence, finally broken by the queen.

“For the next series of questions, I’ve asked Lord Bayar to take over the questioning, and use persuasion. Are you familiar with that?”

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.”