skidded when she dragged them. Anxious terror and horrific visions of Chanter trapped and tortured again clogged her mind. There had to be something she could do to stop it, but her mind was a void when it came to clever plans. Nothing would stop Chanter from coming to her aid, yet how did they plan to trap him? Would they use gold, as her father had, or violence like the thugs in Horran?
The guards stopped in a bright, sun-warmed room with a domed quartz roof and grey-streaked white marble walls. Formal gardens, where clipped hedges lined stone paths and flowering trees shaded beds of bright flowers, were visible between a convex row of fluted marble pillars. A velvet-covered couch and a low, glass-topped table furnished it, and white roses twined a trellis outside, filling the air with sweet scent. Two shaven-pated servants, clad in blue and yellow livery, stood like statues in shallow alcoves at the back of the room, their hands folded and faces blank. Yusan beckoned to one, who broke his immobile stance to hurry over and bow. From the servant's demeanour, Talsy deduced that Yusan was a high-ranking noble.
Yusan said, 'Inform the King that we're ready when he is.'
Talsy racked her brains for a way to warn Chanter. Birds sang outside, mocking her despair. She turned to the advisor, glimpsing a flicker of regret in Yusan's eyes before he looked away.
'Why do you want to hurt him? He's never done anything to harm anyone,' she said.
'He blackmailed the King.'
Talsy shook her head. 'He'd never do that. He told me he made a bargain, begged a favour and granted a Wish in return. That's not blackmail.'
A muscle twitched in Yusan's jaw. 'The King wishes it. He doesn't like to be beholden to a Mujar.'
'You know it isn't true. Just let me go.'
Yusan frowned. 'I obey my king.'
'Your king is about to hurt a harmless being. It's like squashing a butterfly.'
'Mujar aren't butterflies. If allowed to roam free, they brainwash young people like you into thinking they're some kind of gods. Eventually they would have had the entire race of Truemen worshipping them.'
'That would have been a good thing. Instead, the Hashon Jahar are wiping out Truemen.'
Yusan turned to her, his brow furrowed. 'What did you say?'
'You heard me. The only beings strong enough to stop the Black Riders are Mujar, but they're all in the Pits.'
'Mujar won't help us.'
Yusan's uneasiness made Talsy smile. Had no one ever thought of this before? 'Why should they? What have we ever done for them?'
Yusan shook his head, recovering his poise. 'That's an insane idea. Mujar wouldn't do it, and besides, Truemen are in no danger of being wiped out, as you so nicely put it. The Hashon Jahar are merely a savage tribe, and we'll stop them eventually.'
'Wrong again, smart boy. The Hashon Jahar are of this world, and, like Mujar, they're undying.'
Yusan crossed the floor to grip her shoulders. 'Shut up! You know nothing! It's Mujar lies! He told you this, didn't he?'
She nodded. 'But I've seen them, and they're not men.'
A group of well-dressed men entered, forcing the advisor to release her and bow to his king. The guards dragged Talsy down with them, although she would rather have spat in the monarch's face. When she straightened, she studied the group. King Garsh stood out by virtue of his bearded blond bulk and the gold circlet. Gold brocade patterned the collar and cuffs of his indigo jacket, which he wore over a white silk shirt tucked into matching trousers. Beside him, a frail boy of about five strutted in pale blue, silver-edged finery that almost matched his father's outfit. Three black-clad advisors and a stocky, handsome man with curly brown hair and bright green eyes followed them. He wore brown leather studded with silver, which made Talsy think that he must be a huntsman or executioner.
King Garsh approached her. 'So this is she? A pretty little thing, but common.' He gestured to the green-eyed man. 'This is Darron. He's going to make sure the Mujar behaves himself.'
Darron smiled.
'Well, let's get on with it,” Garsh said, “I don't have all day. Move the couch so I can see.'
The servants dragged the couch to a better vantage, turning it to face the garden. The King settled on it, the Prince beside him. Darron approached Talsy, drew a long dagger from his belt and held it up, hoping, no doubt, to frighten her. She raised her chin and glared at him. He pressed the cold blade to the hollow of her throat, where her pulse beat.
'Call the Mujar, bitch.'
'No.'
The weapon pricked her skin. 'I'll cut you if you don't.'
'Go ahead, kill me, then he'll never come.'
Darron shook his head. 'I'm not going to kill you yet.'
'And I'm not going to call him.'
Yusan said, 'She doesn't have to call him, the danger will.'
Darron's dagger dug deeper, and blood oozed from the cut. Talsy bit her tongue to stifle a cry.
The Prince pointed and crowed, 'Look, Papa, she's bleeding!'
King Garsh smiled as the Prince bounced and giggled, standing on the couch to peer at Talsy. Judging by their expressions, everyone except the King found the Prince's ghoulish inclinations shocking. The senior advisors shot him sideways glances of distaste, Yusan grimaced and kept his eyes on Talsy, who struggled to remain calm.
Talsy wished she knew what warned Chanter when she was in danger. Perhaps it was her fear, and if she could control it, he would not come. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the pain and stifle her fear. They would not kill her while they needed her. The dagger sliced a burning wound down her chest, severed her jacket's thongs and came to rest over her heart.
Darron whispered, 'You've got spirit, girl, I'll give you that.'
The blade's point pricked her as he dug it in, making her gasp and open her eyes.
'All I have to do is push, and you're dead,' he murmured.
Talsy spat in his face, making him recoil with a grunt. The dagger whipped up to press against her throat, poised over the throbbing artery.
'Don't make me angry, little girl,' he said, wiping his cheek.
'Do it, and the Mujar goes free.'
'I know.'
Talsy swallowed a scream as the dagger dug into her shoulder. The Prince crowed and clapped, urging Darron to cut more. Talsy closed her eyes again, praying that Chanter would not come to her aid this time.
The daltar eagle drifted over the city, pinions rippling and tail steering as he scanned the crowds below for a familiar figure. He had searched all morning, taking on the eagle form for easier flying. He wondered if she was locked up somewhere, but what reason could they have to imprison a young girl? Surely, even if she had transgressed, they would soon release her. He did not like to leave Arrin trapped in the woods for too long.
Folding his wings slightly, Chanter glided down to hover over the houses. In the street below, a kitchen boy threw a bucket of scraps into the gutter. Several stray dogs, a few crows and two vultures descended upon the pile of offal and crusts. The sight of their feasting reminded him of his hunger, and he considered joining them. He lowered his feet to the rooftop – and almost leapt into the air again. The deep clang of Dolana's urgent warning pounded through the roof, coming from the palace. With a mighty downbeat, Chanter sprang into the air, his wings powering him towards the King's domicile. Now that he had heard the warning, he knew whence it came. A pillared sun room came into sight, and he glided down, checked his speed with a backstroke and dropped to the floor.
Talsy shouted, 'Get out of here! It's a trap!'
The man who menaced her slapped her. 'Shut up!'
The wind whipped the advisors’ black robes as Chanter transformed. He glanced around at the regal audience, his eyes settling upon Talsy and her tormentor. As he was about to invoke Crayash, Yusan stepped forward.
'Use the Powers, and she dies.'
Chanter hesitated, considering the situation. The blade pressed to Talsy's throat would kill her with one cut, and the man who held it looked tough and determined, as did the soldiers who gripped her arms. His powers would
