Anvar reached out and took her hand. “In that case, you’d better start growing it again,” he said firmly.
Aurian was staring at him as though she could hardly believe her ears, and he was surprised, and shocked, to see tears in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want . . .” she whispered.
It tore Anvar’s heart to see her so vulnerable. She was always so brave, so self-sufficient, that he tended to forget that she needed comfort and support, just like anyone else. He gripped her hand more tightly. “Aurian, what happened was just as much my fault as it was yours,” he told her firmly. “I behaved abominably to you on the ship, and afterward. Let’s put it behind us. We need each other. I’ll make Sara understand somehow.”
She flinched and looked away at the mention of Sara’s name. “I’d better tell you the rest,” she said grimly.
Anvar felt alarm tighten his throat. But she’d said that Sara was safe . . . Seeing the bleak look in the Mage’s eyes, he decided it would be wiser to let her tell the story in her own way.
Aurian spoke of her capture on the outskirts of the city, and how they had used the bracelets to take her powers, and condemned her to fight in the Arena. She had reached the climax of her fight with Shia—now that took some believing— when she was interrupted by a fearsome clamor. They heard shouts from outside, and the sound of weapons clashing.
Aurian spun round. “What the—Xiang!” She was up off the bed and running for her sword, which stood propped in the corner, but even as she moved, the door burst open and several men-at-arms rushed in, bearing loaded crossbows. Anvar’s warning cry froze in his throat. Aurian whirled—and fell, clutching at her shoulder, above her right breast. Blood spurted between her fingers. The bolt, which had torn through her flesh and right out the other side at this short range, clattered off the wall behind her and fell to the floor, leaving a bloody smear. Instantly, the Mage was surrounded by a circle of soldiers, their crossbows cocked and aimed at her. Anvar, who had leapt from his bed regardless of the danger, only had time for a brief glimpse of her motionless form before he was seized and dragged from the room.
27
Revelations — and Betrayal
Anvar’s captors bound his hands tightly behind him, with cords that cut painfully into his wrists. The soldiers were far from gentle, leaving him with a new set of bruises to replace the ones that the Mage had Healed, but Anvar had more to concern him than his growing discomfort. What had they done with Aurian? How badly was she hurt? Were these the Prince’s guards? Had he repented of his hosp’i-tality? Why had he tried to attack them back at the slave camp? The Mage had had no time to explain. Anvar wished she had been able to finish her tale. As it was, he had no idea what was happening. But he had time enough to worry about it. They left him in Aurian’s chambers, guarded by two grim-faced, taciturn soldiers, and there he remained for over an hour, with only his fears for company.
Xiang swept regally into Harihn’s audience chamber, arm in arm with his Khisihn, and surrounded by an entourage of guards. Seating himself in the Prince’s gilded chair, he motioned for someone to fetch a seat for Sara as the captain of his guard approached with a deep bow, and began to make his report. ^
“The palace has been secured, Your Majesty. The Khisal is in our custody, and his sorceress has been disabled by our bowmen. We have her below in the dungeons, unconscious, but under heavy guard.”
“Well done.” Xiang smiled his approval. “You have captured the Demon?”
The captain nodded. “Indeed, Sire. It cost us several men to overcome it, but we have it unharmed as you ordered. It too is imprisoned below, awaiting transport to the Arena.”
“Excellent! And the slave?”
“My men are bringing him now, Your Majesty.”
“Very well. You may bring in the Khisal, also.”
The Khisu settled back in his son’s chair, smiling triumphantly. As soon as the message from his Slavemaster had reached him by carrier bird, he had put his plans into action. Harihn had overplayed his hand this time! What a fool the boy was, to free the sorceress from the bracelets, and allow her to practice her evil arts before witnesses! And all to save the slave who, according to the Khisihn Sara, had kidnapped her from her native land. It had all been part of some plot to overthrow him, Xiang had no doubt. Harihn was in league with the two foreigners, but he had underestimated his father, and now he would pay! For releasing the sorceress, he had put himself under automatic sentence of death. Xiang wondered whether to keep his son alive for a while, to suffer the terror of the threat hanging over him. The sorceress, of course, would be executed as soon as possible. Unfettered, she was too much of a threat to be left alive.
There was a stir at the doors of the chamber, and the guards dragged Harihn into the room and cast him, white-faced and trembling, at the Khisu’s feet. Xiang smiled with cruel enjoyment, savoring the terror in his son’s eyes.
At last the soldiers came for him. Dragging Anvar through a long series of corridors, they thrust him between a pair of huge doors inlaid with bronze. The vast, high-ceilinged room beyond seemed filled with soldiers. The young man that Aurian had identified as Harihn was cowering before a man enthroned on the low platform. If Harihn was the Prince—this could only be the King!
Then all thoughts fled from Anvar’s mind at the sight of the golden-haired figure seated to one side of the throne, regal and resplendent in jewels and fine silken robes. “Sara!” he shouted joyfully. He struggled to reach her, but the guards held him fast. The cold aloofness of Sara’s demeanor did not waver as Anvar was hurled to the floor by the Prince’s side. With his hands bound behind him, he was unable to save himself, and his forehead cracked against the marble floor. As he staggered to his knees, blinking to clear the exploding lights that obscured his vision, the King began to speak, addressing Harihn.
“Well met, my son,” Xiang said, sneering. His eyes gleamed with triumph. “I am informed that you have laid yourself open to a charge^efe treason, by releasing a known sorceress from the bonds that constrained her power, against the laws of this land. What answer do you make to this charge?”
Anvar managed a sidelong glance at the Prince and saw the young man’s face contort with shock and panic. “No!” he howled. “It isn’t true! I did not release her! She escaped from the bonds herself—”
“You lie.” The Khisu’s voice cut through his son’s terrified protestations, and Anvar saw sweat break out on Harihn’s forehead. “Furthermore,” Xiang went on, “you have stolen one of my slaves—a rare specimen from the Northlands. My Khisihn has told me that this creature was responsible for kidnapping her from her home, in league with your sorceress. I can only assume that you are consorting with the Khisihn’s enemies for one reason—to bring about her overthrow, and mine.” He turned to Sara. “Is this the slave, my Queen?”
The words hit Anvar like a death blow. “Queen!” he shouted, too horrified to consider the consequences. One of the guards hit him hard across the mouth. “Silence!” he roared. Anvar went sprawling, tasting blood in his bruised mouth.
Sara’s gaze flicked contemptuously over her former lover. “That’s the one,” she said coolly.
“Very well,” Xiang replied. “What shall we do with him, beloved? The choice of his punishment shall be yours.” Sara shrugged. “Kill him,” she said offhandedly. Anvar went cold all over, numb with shock at her words. He could not, would notjpelieve that she had so callously ordered his death.
“Wait!” Harihn cried. “The slave is mine!” “What did you say?” Xiang’s voice was grating and cold as a knife against stone.
“Your informant lied, Your Majesty,” Harihn said. “I own the slave.” Tearing an arm free from the grip of the guards, he produced a crumpled parchment—the deed of ownership for a slave. “I bought him from your Slavemaster with good gold, not three hours ago—and with good reason.”