feet, his features tight with pain.
Owen took the note from Clark and opened it. As the first words met his eyes, he felt the force of the Fountain again, but this time it was as strong as a river. Before Owen could be swept away by it, he steadied himself. When he looked down at the words again, it was as if he had become a boulder dividing the river. It went around him on both sides, making him a little dizzy from the rushing noise, but it could not budge him.
“How are you doing that?” Tunmore snarled, staring at Owen in amazement.
“Though it is your gift to sway others, you cannot force me to believe something against my will,” Owen said with scorn. “I see it clearly. You wrote the original. Now the information is being copied. The one we found in the king’s tent was a copy of a copy. You’re spreading lies to weaken King Severn just as you attempted to do years ago. This is misprision in the highest degree. Believe me, Deconeus, if you leave this sanctuary, you will not be thrown into a river to judge your guilt. We both know most Fountain-blessed would survive such a test. No, you will be taken to a mountaintop to freeze to death. Yes. I know that too!” Tunmore’s face went wild with disbelief and fear.
“You are guilty of treason, and everyone who has supported you and sent you messages is also guilty. If you wish me to intercede on your behalf with King Severn, there is one piece of information you must give me this very moment. Where will this pretender’s ships land? Where will they strike first? I know about Atabyrion striking the East and Occitania striking the West. Where in the North is the pretender going to land?”
Tunmore’s face was like dripping wax. “Despite what you may think, I have not committed treason. It is not treason to support the true king.”
“I may be young, but I am not a fool,” Owen said sharply. “Do you think I believe any of this rubbish?” he asked, wagging the papers in front of Tunmore’s face.
Tunmore shook his head. “It is not rubbish, you little upstart. I am the one who persuaded the king’s simpering former spymaster, Bletchley, to make the princes disappear. It was always my intent to keep the throne of Ceredigion unstable until the surviving lad was old enough to take the crown himself. I’ve hidden him in Brugia. I’ve hidden him in Legault. He’s been to every kingdom except his own. And he is returning, our true king! When he lands, the people will rise up and throw the tyrant into the river. You cannot stop the destiny of the Fountain, lad. You might as well try and turn a river with your hand!”
“Where is he landing?” Owen demanded.
“Even if I told you, you would not get there quickly enough,” Tunmore snarled.
Blackpool.
Owen heard the whisper in his mind. Tunmore stiffened, indicating he had heard it as well. Blackpool was one of the coastal cities in the north of Westmarch, the largest trading city.
“This explains why the queen dowager hasn’t been eager to leave sanctuary,” Owen said rudely. “I had come with a commission from the king to pardon her. I can see now that she is also behind the plot.”
“The queen is deathly ill ,” Tunmore said roughly. The tone of his voice hinted that the man did not believe the ailment was natural. In light of Owen’s discovery in the tower, he wondered if Mancini was behind it.
Owen nodded to Clark, who was still gripping Tunmore’s wrist. Returning the nod, Clark released the man and shoved him toward the edge of the fountain, causing him to totter and then splash into it. The man sputtered and choked, coming up dripping wet, small beads of water dripping from his short hair.
“It’s considered sacrilegious to bathe in the fountain,” Owen said before turning on his heel and storming out.
The history of Ceredigion and the myths of the Fountain go back for almost a thousand years. Some historians have written that the Fountain myths go back even further, to the very
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