forced into taking a vote, whether they like it or not.”
Rubbing his chin, Rafe glanced around the circle of august men and women. When he looked back at Tristan, there was a skeptical expression on his face.
“What troubles you?” Tristan asked. “The elders have their proof. I should think that considering all that I’m offering, the vote would be a mere formality.”
Rafe sighed. “In your world, that might be the case,” he answered. “But highlander logic can be strange. You are asking a great deal of the elders. Despite your magnificent offer, I believe the vote will be close.”
As Gunther ordered the elders to stand, Tristan guessed that the vote was drawing near. “Is there anything more that I can do to influence the outcome?” he whispered to Rafe.
“If you could find another last-minute way to help the clan, it might sway some of the undecided elders to your cause,” Rafe answered. “But given your limited freedom, I don’t know what that would be.”
Tristan gave Rafe a sly smile. “I do,” he answered.
Without consulting the chieftain, Tristan stood and faced the elders. He was about to make a bold move, but he was willing to risk it.
“Before you vote, I wish to be heard!” Tristan shouted brazenly.
A hush came over the crowd. The dangois either very stupid or very brave to speak to the elders without first having been addressed! he could almost hear them saying. What could possibly be important enough to make him invite the council’s wrath?
Gunther wheeled around angrily. “How dare you?” he growled. “Even though Arwydd has validated your claims, you’re in no position to give orders!”
“It is about Arwydd that I wish to speak!” Tristan answered. “I mean the council no disrespect. Even so, I fear that your soothsayer is more than she claims to be. I believe she practices the craft’s dark side!”
The crowd gasped. Tristan turned to look at the old woman. Her gaze toward the prince turned even more hateful. Gunther gave Tristan a skeptical look.
“How dare you?” he demanded. “You have been in our midst for less than a day, yet you claim to know more about her than we do!”
Walking closer, Tristan held out his hands in a display of friendship. “Allow me to prove it to you,” he said. “If I am right, I will have removed a terrible danger from your midst. You have long known that she is treacherous. But I fear that you greatly underestimate her talents, and her resolve to hurt your clan further. I am told that she has already killed Rafe’s parents. Don’t let her kill again! If I am wrong about her, then you have lost nothing. But if I am right, I will have done Clan Kilbourne yet another service.”
Glowering at Tristan, Gunther thought it over. He finally let go a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “But we still believe that she is an asset to the clan. Before I let you prove your charges, I must know what it is you will do.”
Tristan smiled. “The answer is simple,” he said. “I need only take one drop of her blood.”
Screaming with rage, Arwydd pointed an accusatory finger at Tristan.
“Blasphemer!” she shouted. “It is not I, but you who are the deceiver!” Going to her knees, she looked into Gunther’s face. “Please don’t let thedango touch me!” she begged. “He will kill me sure!”
Tristan looked at Gunther. “I don’t need to touch her, if that worries you,” he said. “Select two clansmen whom you trust, and I will tell them what to do.”
Gunther rubbed his chin, thinking. “Very well,” he answered. “Rafe and Balthazar, come here.” The two highlanders hurried to stand before the head elder. “What would you have them do?” Gunther asked Tristan.
Walking over to where his weapons lay, Tristan retrieved one of his dirks. He returned to hand it to Rafe. The look in Rafe’s eyes said that he thought Tristan had just gone mad. Tristan gave Rafe his best look of reassurance. He turned back to Gunther.
“We will also need a piece of blank parchment,” he said.
Gunther ordered that a parchment be provided. A highlander quickly brought one. Knowing that it would only strengthen his case if he did not touch it, Tristan asked that it be placed into Gunther’s hands. He looked over at Balthazar.
“Bring her,” he said.
Grabbing Arwydd by the shoulders, the giant started manhandling her over to where the others stood. She kicked and scratched at Balthazar, and spat in his face. Finally hoisting her over one shoulder, he took no notice as she pounded her fists against his back. Balthazar dropped the soothsayer before the others like she was a sack of grain.
“Hold her by the wrists,” Tristan said. He gave Arwydd a harsh look. “If I’m right about you, you know full well what is about to be done. I suggest you hold still, lest they mistakenly cut you more than need be.”
Arwydd glared hatefully at the prince. “When this is over, I will kill you,” she breathed.
Tristan gave her a sly look. “When this is over, your days of killing will be forever done,” he answered.
As Balthazar tightened his grip on her, Tristan looked at Rafe. “Cut as small an incision into her arm as possible,” he said. “There is no need to be abusive. Then collect a little bit of her blood on my knife blade.”
After nodding at Tristan, Rafe did as he had been asked. A rivulet of Arwydd’s blood ran onto the knife.
“Now,” Tristan said, “allow but one blood drop to fall onto the parchment that Gunther holds. If I am right, you will see something you never dreamed possible.”
Positioning the bloody knife over the parchment, Rafe carefully tilted the blade. One drop fell onto the paper. As the elders gathered around to watch, Tristan smiled.
As he had guessed, a partial blood signature started to form. Twisting and turning with a life of its own, it soon showed a series of sharply angled, intersecting lines. Then the blood died, and stopped moving about the page.
Rafe looked at Tristan like he had just seen a ghost. He and the other highlanders had heard strange stories about the blood of those who commanded the craft. But to see a clan member’s blood do the same thing was shocking. Amazed into speechlessness, the elders simply stood and stared. Tristan looked over at Arwydd.
“You’re a partial adept,” he said. “Your father was a man of fully endowed blood, and trained in the craft. You practice the Vagaries, don’t you, Arwydd?”
Arwydd kicked and cursed, but she could not break Balthazar’s iron grip.
“Bastard!” she breathed. “I cast a pox on your royal house, and all those who practice the Vigors!” Undaunted by her threat, Tristan laughed.
“I don’t understand,” Gunther breathed. “If this means she is your enemy, why would she validate your tales?”
“That’s simple,” Tristan answered. “She had no choice. Like Rafe said, if what she told you didn’t come true, she would be killed. Had the tools of her trade been available to her when she was unsupervised, my guess is that she would have killed many of you before making her escape. That’s what you dream of, isn’t it, Arwydd?”
Taking a step closer, Tristan looked into her eyes. “You made your first mistake when you killed Rafe’s parents,” he said. “Had you not done so, the clan would have come to trust you, and you might not have been bound. In time you could have gathered all the herbs and oils you needed to practice your arts freely. But your craving for vengeance got the better of you, and you killed the previous chieftain and his wife. Then I arrived to unmask you and seal your fate.”
Gunther stepped forward. He again stared down at the newly formed blood signature. “This strange-looking pattern,” he said. “That means that she practices the craft?”
Tristan nodded.
“How is it that no other Kilbourne clan member’s blood exhibits these strange ways?” Gunther asked.
“One must be trained in the ways of the craft first,” Tristan answered. “None of you claim that advantage. You yourself told me that Arwydd was born a Zorian. Clearly, there are parts of her history about which you still do not know.”
“Even so, how do you know that she practices the dark side?” Gunther asked.
“Because no Vigors practitioner commits unneeded murder,” Tristan said. “But my wizards have other ways of telling, should you want further proof. If you bring her to the palace, we will show you how it is done.”
“How did you guess who she was?” Rafe asked Tristan.
“Her use of herbs and oils reminded me of another partial adept I know,” Tristan answered. “She serves on the Conclave. Even so, that wasn’t proof enough. When Arwydd asked me her two questions, I felt dizzy, and I
