The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(56)
First Minister Stefan and the other second ministers were in attendance, all armed to the teeth and looking ferocious, almost eager to have the Drychta escape for the chance at another hunt. There was no love lost between the two kingdoms; wars against the desert people made up a large part of Yadoshan history, and old habits were hard to break.
First Minister Stefan had taken part in the initial interrogations, although his was conducted in the language of fists. By the time the prisoner was brought into my presence, the man sported black eyes and a bleeding lip, and no doubt other bruises I couldn’t see. My current mood gave me no incentive to protest his treatment, and even Khalad was unusually silent about the matter.
“Can’t you finagle the information out of his brain?” Lord Besserly asked me. “Dark asha can do that, right?”
First Minister Stefan coughed. “Lady Tea can most certainly put him in a better frame of mind to talk,” he said, rubbing at his reddened knuckles, “and she can most certainly compel his actions, but she told me the Drychta has blocks in his head that repel her Compulsion, like the Faceless. Unless he chooses to speak, she can do little.”
“And he’s tied up in runic wards, milord,” Kalen reminded him. “It prevents him from attacking your minds, but also stops Tea from compelling his. More importantly, it prevents other minds nearby from gaining access to him, and he to them.”
Lord Besserly swore. “Do you mean there are more of these spies in Thanh?”
“Khalad and Likh are investigating. It’s best to be sure.”
“How frustratingly complicated.”
“I have a few more tricks up my sleeve, Your Excellency.” The runes I used were not of the Dark. Hidden ambushes were planted within the Drychta’s mind, that I knew. Underestimating the Faceless was the reason Aenah took advantage of me. “Is Druj your master?”
I didn’t need to understand Drychta to know the words flying out of the prisoner’s mouth, none of them answers to my question. First Minister Stefan responded to his impertinence with a quick blow across the face. The man sagged backward.
I fashioned another layer of spells, adding them to the glittering runes already revolving around the prisoner. “Is Druj your master?”
Blood dripped down the man’s chin, but he was defiantly silent. Slowly, steadily, I added another coating of spells. Each time, I posed the question again.
Kalen stood behind the man, his hands copying my movements, adding to my strength. After five rune tiers, our prisoner began to fidget. At the eighth, he was trembling, beads of perspiration dripping down his forehead and onto his beard. By the fourteenth, he was shaking uncontrollably until, in the middle of my question, he finally blurted out a frantic, explosive, “Yes!”
“How did you do it?” Lord Besserly asked, astounded. “You never even touched him.”
“The wards were customized to prevent destructive spells, milord. But there are passive runes that pose no direct danger to anyone and are easily overlooked because of it. These runes simply increased his desire to talk.” I was right to be cautious. It had taken both Kalen and I together to overcome the man’s resistance, and Eagerness was a minor spell, easy enough to impose. “What is your name?”
“Jareek of the Golden Rod, Third of the Light.”
Lord Stefan sucked in a noisy breath, and Lord Besserly swore again.
“Does his name hold some significance?” Kalen asked.
“Very much so. This man is a ranked soldier and a member of King Aadil’s private bodyguards. How did he come to channel Dark runes? Seems Aadil has been keeping secrets from us. Why have you come to Yadosha, cretin? To attack Lady Tea?”
“My king saw the dreaded three-headed beast flying above us into Yadosha, and so learned of the witch’s presence in the north,” Jareek said. “He sent me, in his infinite wisdom, to sow discord, and prevent you from assisting Odalia.”
“Assisting Odalia?” I demanded.
“We seek the same thing you do, witch. When the mountains fall and we reclaim the forbidden fruit, his Highness, King Aadil—may the heavens forever bless his name—shall hold the key to immortality and rule the eons. Kance, that fool prince of an insipid king, seeks to deny us. We will prevail and crush his army. Already you are too late. We have taken the mountains. Soon, we will take the harvest.”
“And what does Druj have to do with all this?”
“Druj is with us. Druj counsels the king. Druj learned of my skill in the Dark and brought the runes out of me.” The man bared his teeth. “You will not stop us. My life is but a small grain in the sands of a fate you cannot hope to overturn. Drycht will rise as it once had, and there is no stopping the tide.”
The next blow that came was not from Lord Stefan’s hand, but from mine. My fist slammed into the side of his head; the chair he was strapped to wobbled, then overturned. I held his head against the ground with as much force as I could manage.
“If you ever harm Kance,” I said coldly, “I will kill you slowly, and you will relive that nightmare in your head over and over until I snuff out your life as easily as a candle’s flame. Your suffering will last a hundred thousand sunsets.” I strengthened the wards, ensuring that not even a meditation rune could cross the barrier. “Take him away and do what you want to him. I have all the information I need.”