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By Root 692 0

that Jill and Rhodry have breakfast with him in his chamber, and when a page came, saying that the gwerbret wanted his cousin to come sit with him, Nevyn sent back the answer that the silver dagger was otherwise occupied. Although he doubted that Alastyr could form a link with a rider in Blaen’s warband—or, indeed, anyone else in the dun—things were too dangerous to take chances. All it would take was one crazed kitchen lass with a cleaver and the unnatural strength of ensorcellment to bring his plans to an abrupt end. As he thought about it, it was strange that the dark master had been able to work on Rhodry’s dreaming mind. He began to think that the enemy he was facing was the same man who’d caused the war in Eldidd the summer before, someone who’d seen Rhodry and had had the chance to study him.

Later that day he had another piece of evidence to feed that suspicion. He was perched on the windowsill and watching Jill and Rhodry dice for a pile of coppers. As soon as either had won the lot, they would divide it in half and start all over again. To distract himself, Nevyn began using his second sight to see which one would win each particular game. He had just prophesied to himself that Rhodry’s luck was turning when Blaen himself came into the chamber.

“Cornyn’s back from the Cwm Pecl pass,” he announced. “They wiped out those bandits, and he’s brought back a prisoner. He might know somewhat of interest.”

“So he might,” Nevyn said. “I think I’ll run the risk of leaving here to watch the interrogation. Come along, silver daggers. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

Out beside the warden’s guardroom stood a small, squat tower that served as a dungeon keep for local criminals awaiting trial or punishment. When they came into a small room, ill lit by one tiny window, they found that the wardens had been busy. Bound to a stone pillar stood a man, naked to the waist. Nearby an assortment of irons and pincers lay on a table. A stout man with arms as muscled as a blacksmith’s, the executioner was laying bits of charcoal into a brazier and blowing on the coals.

“Should be nice and hot in a minute, Your Grace,” he said.

“Good. So this is the rat my terriers dragged in, is it? Rhodry, have you seen him before?”

“I have. He was one of the pack who attacked us, sure enough.”

The bandit laid his head back against the pillar and stared so desperately at the ceiling that Nevyn could guess he was wishing that he were dead with the rest of his band. Although Nevyn disapproved of torture on principle, he knew that nothing he could say would convince the gwerbret against it. Blaen strolled over and slapped the bandit across the face.

“Look at me, swine. You have a choice. You can die mercifully and quickly, or slowly, in pieces.”

The bandit set his lips tightly together. When the executioner set a thin iron into the brazier to heat, the charcoal hissed and exuded the smell of burned flesh. With a yelp the bandit squirmed until Blaen slapped him into silence.

“We know that someone hired you to attack the caravan. Who?”

The executioner took the iron and spat on it. The spit sizzled.

“I don’t know much,” the bandit stammered. “I’ll tell you everything I do know.”

“Good.” Blaen gave him a gentle smile. “Then kindly proceed.”

“Our leader’s name was the Wolf, and he was down in Marcmwr, just seeing what he could see about caravans and suchlike. Well, he comes back and says he has a bit of work for us. This old merchant type wanted us to get the lass who was riding with this caravan. Sounds easy, the Wolf says, so we’ll take the old fart’s coin for it. He had this plan. We’d hit the caravan, and the Wolf and a couple of the lads would grab the lass, and then the rest of us would just pull back, like, before we lost any men. We didn’t know she could fight like the Lord of Hell. ‘Don’t harm her,’ he says. Horseshit! As if any of us could have.” He paused to shoot Jill a venomous look.

“Keeping talking.” Blaen slapped him again.

“And we weren’t supposed to harm the silver dagger, either, if we could help it, anyway.” He looked at Rhodry.