Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

A LENGTHY SILENCE followed, broken only by Benno Iani’s labored breathing. Finally Raul crumpled Markus Khandarr’s letter into a ball and set it upon the table. “Tell me what happened, Benno. Tell me every detail, even the ones you can’t bear to remember. Especially those.”

“No,” said Emma Theysson, her voice rough with anger. “Benno is too ill to play your games. He ought to be sleeping except—”

“Except he came to give his report,” Raul said softly. “And give it he must.”

Emma Theysson glared at Raul, who met her gaze steadily. “Don’t you see?” he asked. “I’m not the one insisting upon it. Lord Khandarr is the one.”

Iani was nodding. “Raul is right, Emma. I must tell him. I must.” He picked up his coffee cup with trembling hands and drank deeply. Lady Theysson steadied his arm, glancing toward Raul as though to gauge his reaction, but Raul’s face was impassive.

Iani drained his cup, then rinsed his mouth with water. “Officially the king summoned me to court,” he said at last. “But you know it was Lord Khandarr who gave the command. He kept me under close watch the entire time, and ordered me to halt any magic studies except those he approved. In short, he made me a hostage.”

He drew a deep breath, as though to collect himself. Emma Theysson poured spirits into a wine cup, but Iani waved the cup away. His looks had noticeably improved in just moments—his hands were steady, his eyes clear and alert. Ilse’s skin prickled with the realization that Khandarr had bound his magic into Iani’s person, like a poison. Speaking was the antidote.

Iani went on. “And so we lived through the autumn and winter. Then Lord Dedrick arrived. Khandarr set spies on him at once. Of course, he knew that you and Dedrick had broken off, and he knew about Mistress Ilse. I had hoped those together would make him careless, but no.”

“Markus was never careless,” Emma Theysson said bitterly.

Raul made an impatient gesture. “Keep going, Benno. Everything, remember.”

Iani nodded. “Everything. Yes. Well, Lord Dedrick was cautious at first. He visited only those whom his father had selected as appropriate colleagues and mentors. He attended only the unexceptional gatherings. And though he acknowledged me in public, he never tried to write me privately, or visit my rooms.”

“What gave him away?” Emma said.

Iani spread his hands. “Nothing. Everything. Lord Khandarr intercepted all the publi

c letters. I know because he told me. Nothing in them, he railed, but lies and misdirection. But he also knew that you like secrets as much as he does, Raul. So he kept a watch. Who knows what happened next? Perhaps Khandarr’s spies overheard a careless word between Lord Dedrick and his agents. Perhaps Khandarr had him followed every moment, because suspicion is his nature. I only know that they arrested Lord Dedrick with a letter to Raul in his hands.”

Their faces all turned toward him at the same time. “Which letter?” Emma demanded. “Benno, you never told me—”

Iani massaged his throat, looking puzzled. “I could not. Not until I spoke with Lord Kosenmark. But it was because of the letter they arrested him.”

“What did Dedrick say in that letter?” Raul said. His voice sounded thick, almost masculine.

“He wrote …” Iani struggled to speak, as though he fought against an invisible compulsion. Clearly, this was not part of Markus Khandarr’s scripted report. “He wrote about Armand’s plans to charge Lord Kosenmark with treason. Armand intended to send Markus himself to Tiralien with a squad of soldiers. They were to arrest you in secret and search your house for the evidence.”

For Simkov’s book, Ilse thought. For the key to finding Lir’s jewels.

“Once he found the jewels, he knew Dzavek would attack. Then Armand would need no justification for war, because war would come to him. Lord Dedrick forgot all caution, it seems, and hurried straight with his letter to Faulk’s rooms.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Ilse felt a cold sickness in her stomach. Emma was hugging herself. Raul sat stiffly, his face gray. “What else?” he said.

“Just the interrogation.”

“Go on then.”

In short blunt phrases, Iani told how the guards dragged Lord Dedrick to the prison where Markus Khandarr waited. Iani had attended as his witness. The interrogation was brief but painful.

“Khandarr used magic to force the truth from him,” he said with a shudder. “Dedrick tried clamping his mouth shut, but it was like fingers forcing his lips open. Invisible magical fingers that did whatever Markus ordered. And then the words. They … they crawled out of his mouth like worms. All about you. About your work here.”

“Markus knew already,” Raul murmured. “He must have.”

“He suspected. Now he has proof. But not the proof he wanted.”

“What do you mean?” Ilse said.

“Ah, the spell was for truth, you see. And so Dedrick could not invent any treasons. He could only repeat the words you always used whenever Luise or Emma or I urged you to take the crown. I am the duke’s son. I am sworn to loyalty. I cannot and will not act against the king, unless the king himself acts against Veraene. And that he has not done.”

“Ah.” Raul pressed his hands together. “Those words.”