worst.”
“Now that I’ve heard some of your story,” the Marshal-General said, “I agree the king made the right decision yesterday in sparing your life, but frankly, I find all magicks distasteful and the power you showed—and told us about—terrifying. It is one thing to face obvious evil, as I know Marshals here did in cleaning out Liart’s lairs, but another to see great power and be uncertain of its source.”
Oktar spoke up. “The Code of Gird, in one revision, allowed for the use of magery for specific reasons, including healing. And the Chronicles of Luap speak of a partnership between a mageborn and a Girdish peasant—”
“But that was overturned in the Edicts of Barlon—”
“I know, Marshal-General, but to my mind the discoveries made in the last few years—the scrolls that the paladin Paksenarrion brought from somewhere in the mountains and the discovery of Luap’s Stronghold in Kolobia—bring those Edicts into question.”
“So you would support removing all strictures on the use of magery?”
Oktar snorted. “No, Marshal-General, I would not, of course, suggest that a magelord be granted dispensation to use magery for any and all purposes, including evil.”
“Good,” the Marshal-General said. “Because I’m not going to take
that
proposal to my Council.” She grinned at him; he chuckled. Dorrin had noticed the Marshal-General’s informality at Kieri’s stronghold but, after her mood the day before, did not expect the almost teasing tone. She turned to Dorrin. “If it’s convenient for you, I’ve got the rest of the day free, and I know Marshal Tamis is at your house now.”
“Certainly,” Dorrin said.
When they arrived at the house, windows and front door stood open, with Eddes, one of Dorrin’s escorts, sitting in the entrance hall polishing his boots. He jumped up, sock-footed as he was, and bowed. “Sorry, m’lord—didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
Dorrin waved a hand. “Go ahead, Eddes. Do you know where Marshal Tamis is?”
“Upstairs. I think the bedrooms.”
“Thank you,” Dorrin said. She would have to find someone else to watch the front door and explain to Eddes that boot-cleaning should be done out back. She led the Marshal-General and Oktar into the house. They found Marshal Tamis just coming out of the room Dorrin was sure had been her uncle’s bedroom.
“If it wouldn’t risk fire in other houses,” he said to Dorrin without preamble, “I’d say burn this place out. Those spells are stubborn—oh! Marshal-General. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I came to help, if I can,” the Marshal-General said. “What’s the problem?”
“Blood magery, and the blood’s soaked into the fabric of the house—into the wood of the floor in this instance. I think someone or something was killed here, under the bed.”
The bed had been moved aside; they all looked at the old brownstain on the floor. The room seemed to darken as Dorrin stared, though the window stood open to the afternoon sunlight.
“What have you tried?” the Marshal-General asked.
“Prayer, of course, and the Relic of our grange.”
Sudden nausea gripped Dorrin’s belly; she gagged and grabbed for a basin on a table to one side. As the others watched, she heaved into it, too sick to be embarrassed for the moment.
“What—?” the Marshal-General said.
“It’s a body,” Dorrin said. “We have to get the floor up. It’s—under there.”
“It?”
“The body—the blood’s coming up, not down.” She saw their faces pale and knew her own must be bloodless as well. “And we must do it now. Quickly.” She stepped to the door of the room and called out. “Bring an ax; there’s one in the stable! Bring it here at once.” Feet thudded in the distance as someone ran through the house.
“What do you think it is?”
“Someone was killed to hide a secret. I don’t know how it was done, but the blood survives until a counterspell removes it.”
“And you
“Now that I’ve heard some of your story,” the Marshal-General said, “I agree the king made the right decision yesterday in sparing your life, but frankly, I find all magicks distasteful and the power you showed—and told us about—terrifying. It is one thing to face obvious evil, as I know Marshals here did in cleaning out Liart’s lairs, but another to see great power and be uncertain of its source.”
Oktar spoke up. “The Code of Gird, in one revision, allowed for the use of magery for specific reasons, including healing. And the Chronicles of Luap speak of a partnership between a mageborn and a Girdish peasant—”
“But that was overturned in the Edicts of Barlon—”
“I know, Marshal-General, but to my mind the discoveries made in the last few years—the scrolls that the paladin Paksenarrion brought from somewhere in the mountains and the discovery of Luap’s Stronghold in Kolobia—bring those Edicts into question.”
“So you would support removing all strictures on the use of magery?”
Oktar snorted. “No, Marshal-General, I would not, of course, suggest that a magelord be granted dispensation to use magery for any and all purposes, including evil.”
“Good,” the Marshal-General said. “Because I’m not going to take
that
proposal to my Council.” She grinned at him; he chuckled. Dorrin had noticed the Marshal-General’s informality at Kieri’s stronghold but, after her mood the day before, did not expect the almost teasing tone. She turned to Dorrin. “If it’s convenient for you, I’ve got the rest of the day free, and I know Marshal Tamis is at your house now.”
“Certainly,” Dorrin said.
When they arrived at the house, windows and front door stood open, with Eddes, one of Dorrin’s escorts, sitting in the entrance hall polishing his boots. He jumped up, sock-footed as he was, and bowed. “Sorry, m’lord—didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
Dorrin waved a hand. “Go ahead, Eddes. Do you know where Marshal Tamis is?”
“Upstairs. I think the bedrooms.”
“Thank you,” Dorrin said. She would have to find someone else to watch the front door and explain to Eddes that boot-cleaning should be done out back. She led the Marshal-General and Oktar into the house. They found Marshal Tamis just coming out of the room Dorrin was sure had been her uncle’s bedroom.
“If it wouldn’t risk fire in other houses,” he said to Dorrin without preamble, “I’d say burn this place out. Those spells are stubborn—oh! Marshal-General. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I came to help, if I can,” the Marshal-General said. “What’s the problem?”
“Blood magery, and the blood’s soaked into the fabric of the house—into the wood of the floor in this instance. I think someone or something was killed here, under the bed.”
The bed had been moved aside; they all looked at the old brownstain on the floor. The room seemed to darken as Dorrin stared, though the window stood open to the afternoon sunlight.
“What have you tried?” the Marshal-General asked.
“Prayer, of course, and the Relic of our grange.”
Sudden nausea gripped Dorrin’s belly; she gagged and grabbed for a basin on a table to one side. As the others watched, she heaved into it, too sick to be embarrassed for the moment.
“What—?” the Marshal-General said.
“It’s a body,” Dorrin said. “We have to get the floor up. It’s—under there.”
“It?”
“The body—the blood’s coming up, not down.” She saw their faces pale and knew her own must be bloodless as well. “And we must do it now. Quickly.” She stepped to the door of the room and called out. “Bring an ax; there’s one in the stable! Bring it here at once.” Feet thudded in the distance as someone ran through the house.
“What do you think it is?”
“Someone was killed to hide a secret. I don’t know how it was done, but the blood survives until a counterspell removes it.”
“And you
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