Dain stepped outside and raised his face to the pale sky. It seemed like weeks since he’d last felt the sun on his skin, and the endless chill and grey skies were starting to wear him down.
He glanced over at Lilia and saw she too was looking up at the low clouds. He wondered if she believed The King Breaker was the cause of the dark days. “Do you think Asher’s right?” he asked.
She sighed. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t listen to everything Asher tells you.” Brand had exited the House of Light and Darkness behind them with Irana at his side. “He’s got a fanciful imagination.”
Dain frowned. Honestly, he preferred Asher to Thrindul—and had found him sincere. Next to Brand, Irana gave a chill smile. “Asher’s got a way with words,” she murmured, by way of explanation. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
Dain shared a glance with Lilia and saw the confusion in her eyes.
Don’t listen to them, he wanted to say. Make your own opinions. However, with Saul standing to his right, and the two enchanters standing within earshot, he said nothing.
The thud of heavy booted feet approaching, the rattle of iron and the creak of leather, caused all of them to turn from their conversation. A group of soldiers climbed the cobbled King’s Way beneath them. They wore leather armor, iron helms and shoulder guards. The company reached the small group standing outside the grim fortress at the top of the incline. They were carrying biers, transporting the injured to the Hall of Healing.
The men hailed them as they headed toward the door to the hall, and Dain saw they bore other soldiers—their limbs bloodied, faces ashen.
“Ho,” Brand called out. “What happened to your men?”
“Hiriel attacked the outer wall last night,” one of the soldiers at the head of the group replied. He was a grizzled older man with a thick scar disfiguring his right cheek.
Brand frowned. “Weren’t there Enchanters of the Light protecting the wall?”
The soldier nodded. “Aye—but one of them collapsed halfway through the night, and let the net slip. A moment later, the Hiriel broke through.”
Brand and Irana shared a look. “Does Asher know of this?” Irana asked.
The soldier nodded. “He’s the one who’s ordered us to bring the seriously injured up to the hall.”
“Come.” Brand put a hand on Irana’s sleeve, drawing her attention. “Let them tend to their wounded. We’re late for the audience.”
Dain was the last to enter the Hall of Charms.
The chatter of excited voices hit him as he followed the others inside. A crowd of around fifty men and women awaited them—the noise easing slightly as Brand and Irana clove a path through their midst.
Like its sister hall on the other side of the building, the Hall of Charms was long and thin with unadorned stone walls and a high beamed ceiling. But unlike the Hall of Healing it was dimly lit—illuminated by only a handful of small cressets on the walls. Long shadows stretched over the waiting crowd.
A raised wooden platform sat at the far end, with two chairs upon it. A small group of enchanters, wearing robes of the Dark, stood waiting behind the chairs. They appeared relieved to see Brand and Irana approach.
The two enchanters stepped up onto the platform and sat down upon the chairs, while Dain, Lilia and Saul moved to stand with the group behind them.
“Big crowd,” Saul murmured to the young dark-haired female enchanter beside him, favoring her with a charming smile.
She gave him an appraising look. “They are of late—folk are growing desperate.”
“They look to us for answers we can’t give,” the man next to her added. “They expect miracles.”
“May the first requester come forward,” Brand called out, breaking the expectant hush that had fallen over the hall.
A heavy-set middle-aged man dressed in work-stained breeches and a woolen tunic approached the platform. A woman hung back behind him. Her face was thin and pinched, although her eyes were hard as she stared into the man’s back.
Brand leaned forward in his chair, meeting the man’s gaze.
Dain studied the enchanter. Brand was an interesting individual. Young to have such a position of authority within the Order, he had the face of a lad but the manner of a man much older. He was a contradiction, and Dain wasn’t sure he trusted him. That didn’t come as a surprise—with the exception of Asher he didn’t trust many of the Order he’d met so far. They’d entered a snake pit and would be lucky if they escaped without getting bitten.
Dain had watched the council discussing Lilia’s fate the night before, and had found it difficult to swallow his fury—he was still angry over it.
He stole a glance at Lilia, to find her attention upon the man who’d just approached the platform.
She’s taking this better than I would.
A surge of protectiveness swept over him. Thrindul had made her a prisoner here, but Dain had to keep her safe.
He’d come on this journey on a whim—yes, it had been to help Lilia but also to get away from the stifled confines of his old life at The Grey Anchor. But the farther he’d traveled with Lilia, the stronger his pull had been to her. He hadn’t meant to kiss her that day while they were collecting wood; it had been an impulse he’d been unable to resist. Yet he didn’t regret it.
He’d not been able to stop thinking about her ever since.
He wanted to kiss her again, to talk to her alone, but Thrindul had ensured that could never happen.
Dain felt useless here, as if his hands had been tied behind his back. How long would it be before Thrindul cast him out?
If that happens, I’m taking Lilia with me.
Exactly how he’d achieve that, Dain didn’t know.
Brand’s voice brought Dain back to the present. “How can we assist you today?”
“Enchanter.” The man dipped his head. “I come to request a charm that will make my wife more biddable.” He straightened up and cast a baleful look at the female standing a few feet behind. “Come forward, wife.”
The woman’s mouth thinned, and she shook her head. The man turned back to the platform. “See what I mean,” he huffed. “She refuses to obey me as a wife should—even when I beat her.”
Brand’s face was blank and non-committal as he listened, although Irana’s jade gaze narrowed. “Why does her lack of obedience vex you so?” she asked.
The man’s expression turned truculent. “She refuses to go out and check on our poultry and livestock after dark. It’s her chore to make sure thieves don’t carry them off, but instead she locks herself indoors.”
“Sounds wise to me,” Irana replied. “You must know it’s dangerous to go out after dark these days?”
“Aye, I know that,” the man growled. “But it’ll also do us no good if we lose our fowl, goats and sheep. How will we survive then?”
Irana leaned forward. “Why don’t you go out and check on your animals yourself, if their welfare worries you?”
“It’s her job, a wife’s job. She can’t cook, she can’t clean. The least she can do is look after our livelihood.”
Irana glanced over at Brand, her mouth pursing. “This one’s yours,” she murmured.
Brand smiled. “It is?”
Irana nodded.
Brand met the man’s eye. “What’s your name?”
“Pavel.”
“And your wife’s?”
The man glowered, irritated by the question. “Thalia.”
Brand’s smile remained. “Your request for a charm is denied, Pavel.”
The man’s face went red. “Why?”
“We don’t cast charms that make folk slaves to others.”
Pavel spat on the ground, while behind him his wife drew herself up, relief suffusing her work-worn face. “A wife should obey her husband.”
“My colleague has the right of it,” Brand continued. “Check your livestock yourself rather than bullying your wife. She has every right to be afraid. You know what stalks the darkness these nights.”
Pavel’s lip curled, his gaze sweeping over the two seated enchanters. “An old woman and a boy barely off his mother’s tit—is that all they could spare this morning? Look at what’s happening to our land—your Order can’t even protect folk anymore.”
The insult quietened the crowd behind him, although Irana and Brand didn’t react. Instead, Brand shifted his focus to Pavel’s wife. “If he ever lays a hand on you again, tell us.”
Thalia nodded.
Brand met Pavel’s eye once more, and when he spoke there was a gentle threat in his voice. “The king permits us to deal out punishment to men like you—remember that.”
Irana stretched her slender arms above her head, as if bored, and beckoned to a young woman standing behind the couple. “Next.”
Pavel, still red-faced and glowering, was forced to stand aside as a pretty girl with thick blonde hair stepped forward.
“How can we assist?” Irana asked.
“I come to request a memory charm.” The girl’s gaze darted about the shadowy hall as she spoke. “Four days ago, a Nightgenga broke into my family home at dusk. My mother and I watched it strangle my father before carrying his body off.” The girl’s words carried in the silence, her eyes glistening. “My Ma has been desperate ever since—almost to the point of madness.” Her voice caught here. “I fear she will do something rash, if she does not forget what she saw … at least for a short while.”
Brand frowned. “Have you not brought her to the Hall of Healing?”
“Aye, but their calming potions do no good. Every day, she grows more desperate, her behavior more extreme. I fear she is losing her wits, that she will do herself harm.”
Brand and Irana’s gazes met for a moment, before Irana gave a brisk nod. Brand turned back to the girl. “Very well … where are you both living now?”
“In the lower town—we left our home in the valley after the attack.”
Brand glanced behind him, beckoning the young woman standing next to Saul. “Bridia will go with you and perform the charm.” He looked back at the girl, meeting her eye. “I warn you though, it will only last a few days—a week at most.”
The girl nodded, her eyes shining. “It will give her some respite, at least.”
The audience lasted until noon. Dain, Saul and Lilia remained there, watching as Brand and Irana dispensed charms, or sent folk away disappointed and angry. They performed some charms then and there—an anti-theft charm on a box owned by a money-lender, and a waterproofing charm for an elderly woman whose only wooden bucket was now full of holes. However, some charms were more complex, and required them to send one of their enchanters out to the subject’s home, as they had done with the girl.
Even though he had seen Ryana gather the Dark many times, the sight of the shadows and dark corners of the hall coming to life when Brand or Irana beckoned them still awed Dain. He now realized why this hall was so poorly lit—to create as much shadow as possible for the enchanters to work with. He watched as the shadows danced across the hall into Irana’s outstretched hands, or wreathed toward Brand like black smoke blown by a strong wind.
“Did you enjoy that?” Brand asked them as the last of the folk exited the hall, leaving them alone in a suddenly large, echoing space.
“Immensely,” Saul replied, his voice dripping with boredom. “Now I’ll enjoy some lunch.”
“It was interesting,” Lilia added, casting an irritated look in Saul’s direction. “How often do you hold an audience?”
“Once a week—although folk would wish it more often.”
“Don’t you have to be careful,” Dain asked. “There’s a fine line between helping and interfering.”
“There is,” Brand agreed with a smile. “That’s why there’s always two of us. It’s a responsibility we don’t take lightly.”
“And the king doesn’t mind?” Saul asked.
“As long as we don’t interfere with royal matters, no,” Irana replied, meeting Saul’s eye. “Why—are things different in Anthor?”
Saul’s mouth quirked. “The House of Light and Darkness at Mirrar Rock dwells within my father’s keep. He decides whom they help … if it’s to his benefit.”
Irana’s mouth thinned. “As you can see. Things are different here.”
They returned to the House of Light and Darkness, to the great feasting hall where they had eaten at dawn. There, they sat upon the dais once more with Thrindul, Asher, Irana and Brand, as they had done that morning, and ate a meal of venison stew, coarse bread and boiled onions. It was simple, peasant food, which surprised Dain for he would have thought the Order could afford better.
The rumble of conversation in the hall echoed off the cold stone walls, providing a barrier of sound that gave the feasters relative privacy. Half-way through his bowl of stew, Dain turned to Lilia. He’d made a point of sitting next to her, although this time he made sure he didn’t accidently touch her—for he’d noted how she’d shifted away from him that morning.
Lilia often avoided his gaze, and he wondered if his nearness made her uncomfortable.
“What do you want to do?” he murmured to her, keeping his voice low, barely above a whisper lest anyone else hear.
Her gaze flicked to him. “What do you mean?”
“If you want to leave, tell me.”
Her eyes widened, although she managed to keep her face composed. “But how?” she whispered.
Frankly, Dain had no idea—however, if Lilia wanted to escape he’d find away.
“Leave that to me and Saul.” As much as he hated to admit it, he’d need Saul’s help if Lilia wanted to run. They’d never make it out of the capital without his help. “Just say the word.”
He watched her swallow before she gave a quick nod.
“What are you two whispering about?” Brand asked. The young man sat opposite, next to Saul. He was watching them.
“Just having a private conversation,” Dain growled.
Across the table, Saul smirked. “Still trying to woo her, Dain?”
Dain forced a smile, although in truth he felt like throwing his bowl of soup at Saul’s grinning face. Still, Saul provided a welcome excuse for their whispering. He shrugged. “A man can still hope.”
“Shadows,” Lilia muttered. “Would you two shut up?”
Brand chuckled. “Ah, so the both of you are vying for lovely Lilia’s attention. But what if she’s not interested in either of you?”
Dain gave him a hard look. “Why—do you think you have a chance?”
“Stop it!” Lilia snapped. Her brown eyes had darkened in a rare burst of temper, and she was glaring at Dain as if she wanted to lash out at him. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not even here.”
“Sorry, Lily,” Dain murmured, realizing Lilia hadn’t understood he’d pursued this topic in order to draw Brand’s attention away from their talk of escaping. “No offence was meant.”
However, she’d looked away from him. She stared down at her stew, shoulders tense; her face a delightful shade of pink. Irritated, Dain reached for another piece of bread. He’d never had as much trouble communicating with women as he did with Lilia—every time he opened his mouth he offended her. It had been that way since their first meeting in The Grey Anchor.
The time was coming for them to speak plainly, instead of trying to ignore the attraction between them.
Feeling someone watching him, Dain glanced up. Across the table, Saul was smiling at him.