The First Confessor (Sword of Truth 0)

He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I would not tell any of them, and I’m sure they would not tell me. I just wanted you to know that if you do come to see me, you can speak your mind without worry of a dream walker hearing it.”

Magda grinned. “Councilman Sadler, you are a devious man.”

He returned the grin. “How do you think I have managed to live this long? Be well, Magda Searus. And be true to yourself.”

“I will. And please, take good care of yourself. You can never tell when the Midlands may have further need of you.”

As Sadler once again started out across the massive stone bridge, mingling into the crowds, Magda felt a breeze kick up. She glanced to the horizon and noticed a black band of clouds. The hot, humid weather had been a harbinger of approaching storms.

Before passing under the iron fangs of the portcullis, she gazed up at the massive, dark walls and towers of the Keep rising up into the darkening sky. The silent Keep seemed to be waiting for her, waiting to swallow her up.

Magda was alone again. Even though she had only just met him, she missed Merritt being with her. There was something about him unlike anyone she had ever met. It felt easy, natural, being with him.

But now she was alone.

Chapter 58

Magda was just closing the heavy mahogany door to her apartment when she heard footsteps and then a knock. She thought it might be Merritt, even though she knew that it was too soon for him to be back—unless he had been unable to help James. She pulled open the door.

Lothain filled the doorway.

He smiled in that private sort of way he had whenever he looked at her. It was a lecherous look that always made her skin crawl.

After taking a quick appraisal of the room dimly lit by a half-dozen lamps, the man’s black eyes again fixed on her. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he was having some kind of private thoughts about her, thoughts she was sure she would not like.

Magda wanted to slam the door in his face, but she thought better of it. She had already pushed him to the edge once before. It would be risky to do it again now, when they were alone and he didn’t have to worry about witnesses. The word of the head prosecutor would be taken at face value if she were to end up dead. Enough people already thought she was disloyal to the Midlands that anything he said would likely be believed.

He smoothed a hand over his short, wiry black hair and down the back of his bull neck. His shoulders and arms were as beefy as his neck.

Though he had more formal, dignified clothes that he often wore when conducting official business, such as during trials, this night he was wearing unadorned brown robes, a simple reminder of his high rank as both prosecutor and wizard. Lavish outfits were all too often worn as a pretense of status, since the poor could not afford fine clothes. Plain, modest robes were meant to be a humble reminder that even those of the highest standing were still mortal. More, though, they were a subtle statement to all that they were of such high rank that they didn’t actually need to prove it with stylish attire. Their rank transcended fashion. Those seeking standing would only look silly should they try to mimic that standing with simple robes, since everyone would know they were pretenders. So they were left the middle ground of finery to scrap for standing.

“Good evening, Magda.”

She didn’t like the arrogance of his informality any more than she liked his greasy smile. She stuck to a proper address.

“Prosecutor Lothain.”

His smile widened into a smug grin. “First Wizard Lothain,” he corrected.

She bowed her head slightly with a single nod. “Congratulations. You come into a difficult role with the heavy burden of a terrible war. The people of the Midlands will wish you well with such responsibility, I’m sure, in the hopes that you might guide us safely through these troubled times.”

She wondered if he was to also remain as head prosecutor. That would allow him to retain his private army, but she didn’t want to ask and prolong the conversation.

“Yes, a grim duty and heavy responsibility has been placed upon my shoulders,” he said in an indifferent tone, his gaze wandering beyond her to the apartment within.

It occurred to her that he was checking to make sure that she was alone.

He started to step past her into the apartment, then stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry, Magda. Where are my manners? Here I was, already thinking of the place as mine. Forgive me. May I come in?”

Magda stepped back, opening the door wider. As she did, she noticed his large contingent of personal guards down the hall.

“Of course. It’s your place, now. Or at least it will be once I am able to have my things moved out. I will try not to delay you any longer than necessary.”

She couldn’t seem to make herself call him First Wizard.

“As a matter of fact, I’m here to discuss that very subject with you.”

Magda didn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he meant. He wasn’t at all a shy man. He liked the sound of his own voice. She knew that he would get around to it in his own good time. He didn’t need her prompting.

He strode into the room, peering about, taking in all the furniture, the gold-fringed draperies, the plush, multicolored carpets, the richly plastered walls, and the layered cornices at the edge of the ceiling. He ran a finger over a sideboard of banded mahogany that was beautifully inlaid with silver stems and leaves. It had been a wedding gift from Baraccus, one of many.

She hadn’t liked the idea of Baraccus getting such opulent furnishings. She didn’t want people to say that he had only been able to win such a beautiful young woman into marriage because as First Wizard he was able to shower her with lavish gifts and provide her with a home like a palace.

He had gotten her the gifts anyway. When people thought what she had feared, he had laughed it off and said that he didn’t care about gossip because he knew better. He had insisted that the place needed the warmth if she was to live there.

Magda had never in her life lived in such splendor. As beautiful as the surroundings were, though, they had never meant all that much to her. In fact, she preferred the small storage room because that was where Baraccus’s workbench was. She had often sat on her throne of an old crate and watched him work.

“Nice,” Lothain said, still looking around. “Very nice. You’ve obviously gone to a great deal of expense and effort adding a woman’s touch to what used to be rather cold quarters.”

“I can’t take credit. It was all Baraccus’s doing.”

He glanced back briefly, looking like he didn’t believe her. He strolled past a wall of books in arched bookcases. “Well, he created quite the comfortable home for you here.”

“It’s not my home. It is the First Wizard’s home.”

She moved to the door, hinting that now that he had seen enough of the place that would soon be his, she expected him to be on his way. She wasn’t going to show him the rest of the apartment. He could see the other rooms once she was gone.

“I really should get to packing my things. The sooner I move out, the sooner you can move in.”

He returned to stand before her. His burly build seemed all the more intimidating standing so close in front of her. She forced herself not to take a step back as she casually moved her hand closer to her knife hidden in the small of her back, beneath her dress. A small slit in the dress provided access to the weapon.

His smile was back as he fixed her in his gaze again. “That isn’t necessary.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Moving out,” he said offhandedly. “It isn’t necessary. You see, I think that it’s time that we came to an arrangement.”

Even though she was truly puzzled at his meaning, she didn’t want to coax him into talking about it. She simply wanted him to leave.

“No arrangement will be necessary. If you will leave me to it, I will pack up my things and move out as quickly as I can so as not to inconvenience you. Y

ou are to be First Wizard, so this place is to be yours as well.”

“No, I mean that we can make an arrangement so that you don’t have to leave.” He gestured briefly around the room. “It’s such a beautiful home. This place really does fit you. I want you to stay.”

“Stay? I don’t need—”

“As my wife.”

Chapter 59

Magda stared, unsure that she had heard what she thought she’d heard.

“What?”

“I have decided that it is socially appropriate for a man of such standing as the First Wizard to have a wife.”

She was beginning to grasp more graphically the nature of the thoughts that had been so evident behind those black eyes.

“What in the world would make you think . . .” She checked herself, rethinking the wisdom of the insult she had been about the make. “What makes you think that I would in any way make an appropriate wife for you?”

His gaze drifted down her curves. “Oh, I think you will do just fine.” When the calculating look finally made it all the way back up to her eyes, his tone turned a bit more serious.

“You see, you have already been the wife to a First Wizard. You know the protocols. You are familiar with the duties. You handled household matters admirably for Baraccus, relieving him of menial tasks, and you will do the same for me.”