Ashok sighed. His entire body was numb, and he was weary from speaking while only drawing half breaths. He needed pain, something intense to focus his thoughts. He hadn’t felt so desperate in a long time. “I know what you want me to say,” he said. “You want me to say that it was Tempus’s will. It wasn’t.”
“Then why?” Uwan said, and for the first time anger broke through his carefully restrained tone.
“Because I had never known trust, or what it meant to fight with comrades who would defend me to the death, until I came here,” Ashok cried. “I didn’t want to lose that, so I attacked my own people. I used the nightmare to slaughter them.” He’d done no better than Reltnar. He’d acted out of the same desperate need to feel alive.
“You rescued Ilvani,” Uwan said. He seemed to be speaking to himself. “But that isn’t enough for the Beshabans. They want you executed, so they can prove the fallibility of Tempus.”
“By Ikemmu’s law, I should be executed,” Ashok said.
“We await the evidence,” Uwan replied.
“I’ve offered my confession,” said Ashok.
“Enough!” Uwan cried. Something metal-his sword perhaps-slammed against the cell bars and rang loudly in the quiet chamber. “I’ve heard nothing.”
“You can’t deny what you know,” Ashok said. “It betrays everything you believe. You’ll go mad.”
“Not for this,” Uwan declared. “You had a choice, and you made it. You chose the way of Ikemmu.”
“You may forgive me,” Ashok said. “But the shadar-kai cannot afford to forgive.”
Uwan laughed bitterly. “Is that why you do this? To taunt me with my own words? You’d throw your life away to prove that I was wrong about Chanoch?”
“You’re wrong about many things,” Ashok said. “Chanoch was one casualty. Vedoran was another. You’ve done him and others like him a great wrong.”
“And now I’m paying for it,” Uwan said. He sighed. “I know. Tempus aid me, I know that I’ve brought this upon myself. He tried to warn me. My god tried to tell me what you would mean to this city, but I didn’t understand. Now it’s too late.” He was silent for a breath then said, “Natan is dead.”
Ashok had thought he had no emotion left in him, but when he heard that he sagged against the chains.
“It will destroy her,” Ashok said.
“It may already have,” Uwan said bleakly. “She disappeared as soon as she returned to Ikemmu, when they brought you back in chains.”
“What happened?” Ashok said.
“Natan was murdered in the chapel,” Uwan said. “We discovered his body hidden in an antechamber soon after you left the city with Tatigan. Vedoran claims you are responsible. He accuses you of killing Natan when he had a vision of your treachery. He says that you planned to escape to the surface.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Ashok said.
“I thought not,” Uwan said as he began to pace again. “But the damage is done.”
Ashok closed his eyes. He wished he could sleep. He’d never desired oblivion more. “So it was all for nothing,” he said. The one good thing he’d tried to do in getting Ilvani out of that nightmare place, all undone.
“You’ll spend one more night here,” Uwan said. “Tomorrow at the Monril bell you’ll be taken to the top of Tower Makthar, and Vedoran and the Beshabans will present their evidence against you. They’ve rallied a large number of supporters to their cause, more than I thought possible. However I rule, it will divide the city. But if I judge you guilty, you’ll be brought back here to await your death by the shadows.”
He started to walk away. Ashok called after him, “You can’t ignore the evidence. If you act according to your emotions, you’ll lose the peoples’ faith. Then the Beshabans will be able to act, with the full support of the discontent shadar-kai.”
Ashok heard Uwan stop at the door. He knocked on it for the guards to let him out. “You’ve a tactical mind equal to your father’s,” he said. “I say this as a compliment, though I know it gives you little comfort.”
The door closed, and Ashok was alone in the dark again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ashok slept in fits, dreaming of hounds and running across the Shadowfell plains. His muscles woke him screaming with cramps. He broke out in a cold sweat until the pain and tightness subsided. Invigorated, he could not sleep again for a long time.
When he hovered again at the threshold of peace, he heard the door to the chamber open, and soft footfalls came toward his cell. It was not the guards, nor Uwan’s purposeful stride. It was much lighter, faster, like an animal avoiding prey.
He waited for the creature to identify itself by sound or smell. Maybe one of the hounds had escaped from its pen and come looking for a meal. Ashok was not afraid. He’d been chained in the dark too long. His heart beat sluggishly, and he could not bring himself to turn his head when the creature approached the bars.
“Wake, little toad,” said a familiar voice, one that made Ashok jerk his head around, though he couldn’t see her face.
“Ilvani?” he said. Hope may have made him delirious. “Is that you?”
The witch whispered a word, and Ashok heard his cell door swing open. Her footsteps approached, and Ashok felt her small fingers touch his chest.
“Where have you been?” Ashok said. “Uwan … Everyone’s been looking for you.”
“It speaks,” Ilvani said. Her palm grew warm, penetrating the deep cold that had spread over Ashok’s body. Hotter and hotter, her hand began to burn him. “It should know when to be silent.”
Her other hand touched his face. She pulled the hood off him. Ashok blinked at the sudden light. When he could focus again, he saw that Ilvani looked paler and thinner than ever. Her face was streaked with dirt. Her hand where she touched his chest glowed gold and scorched his flesh.
Ashok writhed in pain. He was alive again, but he pushed aside that feeling and forced himself to breathe, to speak through the pain. “Are you all right?” he asked. “What happened to you?”
“I’ve made a box,” Ilvani said. “A box for Ashok. To keep all his lies safe. Do you know what’s in that box?”
Ashok could smell his own flesh burning. He tried not to gag when he answered. “The maps … the notes. I did lie to all of you. I-”
“It admits what it did wrong,” Ilvani said, in a tone of mocking surprise. “But I’m still going to put your ashes in the box. You’ll stand in for all the others.”
“You mean your companions. The ones who didn’t come home,” Ashok said. He gritted his teeth as she moved her hand, crept it up toward his neck. “I’m sorry for what was done to you and your people. If I could have stopped it, I would have.”
“Would your lies have stopped it?” Ilvani demanded. “Would your pictures? You were going to kill us, just like you killed them.”
“No,” Ashok said. “Your companions-I swear they didn’t die by my hand.”
“Swear on your flesh!” Ilvani screamed, and she ground her hand against his chest. Ashok cried out in agony, but he didn’t try to pull away. He leaned into her touch, endured the pain, and waited until he’d composed himself enough to speak again.
“I was … a different person … when I wrote those things,” Ashok said. “I didn’t know you and Uwan, Skagi, or Cree. I never knew a city like this existed. I wanted it to be … my home. So I lied. I tried to bury my past, but it didn’t work.” The searing in his chest made it impossible to concentrate. “I never meant harm … to you.”
Abruptly, Ilvani removed her hand. The intense heat disappeared, but his chest burned with every breath he drew.
“What was Natan?” she said in a cold, dead voice. “He was the only one left. No boxes, no bad memories. You told me I should see him.”
“I wanted you to,” Ashok said. “Ilvani, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t kill him. I swear on my soul.”
“You put him in a box,” Ilvani said. Her body trembled. Ashok thought she hadn’t been so close to breaking
