The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(38)
Trembling and angry, I let the rune slip away.
“Tea Pahlavi, I hereby arrest you in the king’s name for the attempted murder of His Highness, Prince Kance. Fox Pahlavi, I arrest you in the king’s name for being complicit to the same crime.”
“Are you mad?” Kalen shouted. “They did no such thing!”
The duke lifted his hand, and I saw the pendant I had given Prince Kance dangling from his fingers.
“It is easy to conceal a malevolent spell inside this trinket, and there were witnesses who saw my nephew take sick shortly after receiving your gift. Lady Tea, you are to be confined until your trial. Do not worry. I am not so cruel as to keep you in the dungeons. Your prison will be a warded room at the farthest wing of the palace. Armed guards and Deathseekers will prevent further incidents.
“And as for the Heartforger’s apprentice.” The duke turned to Khalad, who was still pale. “While there are no charges to bring against the former prince, you are to be detained indefinitely for questioning. Your previous royal status will not exempt you, Khalad. You are a practitioner of the Dark arts and must therefore come under scrutiny. Assist us in our investigations and it will be easier on you. You may be my nephew, but that will not save you—I do the same to my own son.”
Behind my back, I sketched Compulsion again, this time directed toward the Duke of Holsrath’s mind. But what I encountered was a thick wall of resistance as strong as steel.
The duke laughed. His heartsglass glittered, and I noticed a lapel pin on his shirt, shining bright gold as the zivar repelled my attempt. “A good try, Lady Tea. But I have not come unarmed. Perhaps I should mention that Lady Mykaela has also been detained and charged.”
I leaped toward him again, heedless of the blade at my neck, my hands curled into claws that were prepared to do what my magic could not, but I was dragged back.
“She’s resting well, given the circumstances. However, her comfort, I think, shall be dependent on your actions. If you are innocent of the charges, as you claim, then you will be released as soon as that is established. Conversely, if you admit your guilt, we can overlook other…unpleasantness necessary for interrogation. What is your answer, milady?”
“I did nothing to Prince Kance,” I snarled.
“As you wish.” The duke turned to the soldiers. “Kindly escort our dear asha to her quarters. Look at any of my men the wrong way, Lady Tea, and it will be Lady Mykaela who suffers the consequences. It’s getting late, and there are many other pressing duties to attend to before the morrow, including your cross-examination.”
The asha talked little that night. While the Heartforger bent over his task, shaping lumps of mud and clay on the strange potter’s wheel, and while the emperor remained unconscious, trussed and bound behind the throne, the girl stared out the window into the city. Her daeva, obedient to a fault, kept a watchful guard. Occasionally, one would draw close to the window and purr, seeking her attention. She would lay a distracted hand on their rough hides and smile, but she never once looked away from the horizon. I wondered what she could see that I could not.
Lord Kalen approached, and her hand sought his. Side by side, they watched the setting sun, and I wondered at their thoughts, at the bond they shared.
I marveled at the Heartforger’s concentration. For two hours, he worked on the dismal lump of clay. No breathtaking design came to life in his hands, no bowls or sculptures deserving of fire or of glaze. I have seen potters craft masterpieces in half the time.
“Name?”
It took me a while to realize he was talking to me.
“Tea never asked for your name.” The Heartforger did not look up from his work. “She wouldn’t.”
“She calls me ‘Bard,’” I said, surprised by how vinegary the words came out.
“Don’t take it personally. This is how she reminds you of your purpose. She has no need for friends—she has lost enough of those over the last year.” He selected a small tool from his collection. “It must be frustrating to see very little results in the time I have spent on this.”
“I have no knowledge of a Heartforger’s art,” I responded, immediately ashamed of myself. “I have had no opportunity to watch one at work before.”
“It’s not worth an audience, as you can see. Unfortunately, I cannot make a living conducting demonstrations in exchange for payment. I remember my own impatience as an apprentice, watching my old master spin for hours without result. I was hot tempered and headstrong, and those are not the best virtues to be found in a forger.” He smiled down at his work. “Patience is the long pause between action and its consequences. Lengthier silences open you up to introspection, and I’ve known a lot of solitude.”
There was no sound, no flaring of light that often accompanied the magic. The pathetic-looking chunk of clay hardened, cracked, and fell away. What remained was not a heartsglass but a strange sliver of a line, a frozen thunderbolt that sparkled like crystal.
“My master called it an urvan, from the old Avestan languages,” the Heartforger said, “one’s ‘soul,’ so to speak.”
“But whose soul is it?”
“Imagine an empty flask. I give it to you, and you fill it with water. I give another to Kalen, and perhaps he would fill it with wine. The flasks are simply vessels that hold the liquid you add to it. It is the same with urvan. It is nothing on its own until I add it to someone’s heartsglass. It serves as a vessel to recreate their souls. I remember every memory that comes through my hands. I can replicate a soul very easily with this.” He stopped for a minute. When he returned to his work, his hands were careful and gentle. “And I thank every god there is that only I know the secrets. There are far too many people who would kill for such an ability, and sometimes, I regret that my master taught me this skill. It makes me a target.”