Boclar looked like a patchwork of a human, used up. “I doubted,” he said. Screaming had reduced his voice to a croak.
I waited, but he seemed to think his explanation sufficient. “What doubt led you into the forest?”
“I’ve been to Bunard,” he said, scraping the words across his throat. “Years ago I visited Laidir. Bunard was smaller than I expected, but I thought the way the engineers had diverted the river to divide the city and defend it ingenious.”
He paused, and I wondered if Boclar’s mind had broken under the unique strain he bore. I looked to Erendella, who signaled me to be patient.
“I remember thinking the tor was magnificent, the way the tower of rock soared toward the heavens. I had a carriage, of course, but I wanted to feel the height, so I ordered my captain and his men accompanying me to dismount. We ascended the road.” His laughter came out as a soft bark. “When we finally got to the top, the view took my breath away and refused for the longest time to give it back. The men and women of Caisel live their entire lives on the plain, Lord Dura. We are unaccustomed to the extremity of height.”
“Your Majesty,” I interrupted, the weight of time pressing on me. “The forest?”
But he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Most of my guard recoiled from the sight our lofty vantage point offered, but it drew me onward to the edge of the parapet, Lord Dura. I stood there with my head as close to the clouds as it had ever been and wanted nothing more in the moment but to jump and fly.” His eyes lost their abstracted look and focused on mine. “That’s what happened in the forest, Lord Dura.”
I shook my head. “You knew what would happen.”
“The threat of the forest is less real to us in the far south than to those in Collum,” Boclar said. “The reality you experience daily is an abstraction to us. I didn’t view the forest as evil but as a sickness.”
“What did you do?”
Boclar nodded toward Helioma. “I surmised that if darkness was the means by which the forest infected its victims, then light would be the means by which the disease could be prevented. I went into the forest equipped with enough solas powder to last the duration of my stay.”
Boclar’s gaze bored into mine, and the tenor of his voice carried accusation. “If a soldier of Collum could survive the forest, then surely a man with phos-fire and the gift of kings could. I expected to learn the means by which to conquer its disease.”
I gaped. “You dared the forest because of me?” I put my hands on my head, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t order my thoughts. “You . . . Your Majesty . . . how could you do anything so stupid?” Rage I couldn’t contain worked its way up my chest and into my throat. “You didn’t think to ask? I would have told you how I survived the forest!”
The king stiffened at my tone, but he managed to smile. “Foolish, yes. Perhaps even as foolish as Cesla, but I believe in the mercy of Aer, Lord Dura. It may surprise you, but I have faith that He offers second chances to everyone.” His nod was deep enough to be considered a bow. “Hasn’t He brought you to me? You’ve been to the forest. Pellin and the Chief of Servants have testified to it, and though I have no means to test them in this, I believe them.”
“My daughter brought you out of darkness and walked you through lightless halls.” He smiled, his teeth wet and shining by the light of the solas powder. “Yet no hint of madness came upon you.” He nodded to the guards, and they drew weapons. “You are Aer’s second chance for me,” he said. “I am king of Caisel. I cannot continue to rule in this manner, Lord Dura. You will tell me the secret to your survival.”
Chapter 53
I gaped at the king. Under different circumstances I would have accused him of jesting in poor taste and at my expense. “What have you done?” I asked. My voice rebounded from the rock of the citadel and came back to me, hollow and desperate. “You dared the forest because I survived?”
Any trace of humor disappeared from Boclar’s face, and his expression grew stiff and haughty. “I hold the gift of kings, Lord Dura. When you survived the forest, you were just a man. Now, release me from this disease.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “I was and still am just a man. It wasn’t me at all. He must have seen you, but he was too weak to prevent it.”
“Who?”
“Oh, Aer,” I wanted to weep. “Ealdor. You’ve destroyed yourself for nothing.”
The king pointed, and one of the guards closed with me, the point of his dagger working through the cloth of my tunic. “If this Ealdor saved you, Lord Dura, he will save me. Bring him.”
“Don’t you understand?” But of course, Boclar couldn’t possibly understand. “Ealdor’s gone, dead, because he broke his vow in order to save me.”
My arguments had no effect on the king or his daughter. They looked at me, implacable and merciless as iron. “Then bring another like this Ealdor.”
A desperate laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Ealdor was one of the Fayit.”
“The Fayit?” The king gaped at me, his expression caught between mocking and incredulous. He nodded to the brazier. Half the solas powder had burned away, leaving streaks of soot to mark its passing. “Lord Dura, my patience and time are limited. If you wish to be believed, then summon the proof of the Fayit and have them release me.”
“I can’t. Not without a perfect circle,” I said.
Boclar pointed to the brazier. “Lord Dura, there was a flaw in the last shipment of solas powder. The brazier holds the last of our supply. My body is bruised
