Well, I care, Aric thought. I care a very great deal.
He looked about for a way to escape, giving thought once again to trying to flee these soldiers rather than face whatever awaited him at the temple.
But the streets were busy, and he the subject of many curious stares. If he tried to break away, he wouldn’t get three steps before someone, trying to curry favor with the Shadow King, would block his flight. The soldiers might even react by killing him on the spot.
Better to take his chances with Nibenay, he decided. He was curious about what he might have done to attract the sorcerer-king’s attention, if only to make sure—assuming he survived—that he never did it again.
So much, he thought as they approached the tall gray building, steps flanking it on every side leading to doors high enough for even the goliaths in their big hats to pass beneath easily, for remaining beneath anyone’s notice.
Why do I care about murders?” the Shadow King asked. He was back in the far corner of the room, where no lanterns or torches reached. Aric could barely see him, except for the faintest glimmer of light reflecting off his crown and his yellow eyes. But when the sorcerer-king moved, Aric was aware of a considerable presence.
A templar in a long skirt, her hair loose against her naked back, stood before the five high consorts. Although Nibenay had addressed her directly, she answered as if Djena had asked the question.
“As you are aware, High Consort, there have now been three similar crimes. A human man and an elf woman, often a prostitute—”
“Was the victim a prostitute, in this case?” Djena asked.
“We believe so. She had a single silver piece in her purse. The man had several, of similar vintage, in his.”
“They both had silver on them? They were killed in the Hill District, or near it, and were not robbed by their killer or anyone else? I am surprised.”
“Perhaps anyone who happened upon the bodies, before they were reported to us, was too disturbed by their condition to search them,” the templar speculated.
If the condition of the bodies had been described in detail, it was before the soldiers had brought Aric into the chamber. He had managed to get one of them to explain that he was being taken before the Council of Templars, and that Nibenay himself would be in attendance. But Aric was not the first item of business.
“That may be,” Djena said.
“Besides these killings,” the more junior templar added, “we can’t forget the murder of sixteen Sky Singers. That’s still got the elf community roiled up.”
“Elves,” Nibenay said. The dismissive tone of the single word couldn’t be ignored.
“Just the same, High Consort, people may not like elves but they like the goods elves can provide. Nibenay is known far and wide as a place where anything can be obtained. If the elves shut down their market, refuse to trade here, then that reputation will be in danger. We’ll lose that prestige.”
“Would the caravans stop coming to Nibenay?” the Shadow King asked. “Stop spending their coins here?”
“Some might, High Consort,” the templar said, still not answering the king directly. The question made sense to Aric, and was probably the most pertinent fact yet raised about the murders. Nibenay’s economic slide was widely known around the city-state, as if Tyr’s upheaval had caused people elsewhere to stop spending as freely as they once had. “This is my fear,” the templar went on, “and why I recommend posting guards around the elven market for a time.”
“Do that,” Nibenay said. “And keep this council apprised of any further developments.”
“Thank you, sister templar,” the High Consort of the King’s Law said with a forward curl of her hand. “You may take your leave.”
The templar bowed once and left the room. As she passed Aric and his escort, she gave him a curious glance. He offered a smile, which was not returned. Then she was gone, and Nibenay’s gurgling voice boomed out. “Is the smith here yet?”
Aric didn’t know how to respond. The templar had directed her words toward the High Consort of the Law. But she had been reporting about a crime, which would fall under that high consort’s purview. If Aric did the same, would he draw attention from the wrong high consort? He had committed no crimes that he knew of.
But one of the soldiers nudged him, hard, so he knew he was expected to say something. He took a half step forward, propelled by the force of that nudge. “I am Aric, the smith,” he said.
“Come forward, smith,” the High Consort of Thought said. Siemhouk’s voice was high, girlish.
He obeyed, walking as quickly as he could without falling down, his legs unsteady, knees locking.
“That’s far enough,” she said after a few moments. Aric stood before the five high consorts, arrayed in a half-circle about him, all seated in grand chairs.
“I have heard,” Nibenay himself said, “from Tunsall of Thrace, that you, smith, have a powerful psionic connection to metals. Is this true? You may address me directly.”
Yes or no? Aric wondered. Which answer will get me out of here fastest?
He decided the truth was his best bet, in case Nibenay was already convinced of it or was reading it in his mind at this moment. “It is true.”
“You have no objection to being tested?”
“Tested?” What could he mean by that? “No, I guess not.”
“Very well. Kahalya?”
The high consort seated on the far right rose from her ornately carved chair. Her nude body was taut and firm, with a slim waist, small breasts, and surprisingly long legs. She walked to Aric, and offered him a metal brooch. He took it from her. It was deep blue, with emerald green highlights, in the shape of a bird on the wing. Small gems adorned it. Aric thought it likely the most valuable object he had ever touched.
Aric never knew precisely what metal would say to him. Sometimes he handled metals that didn’t speak at all, that were simply inert objects, as they were to most people. Other times he saw, in his mind’s eye, vivid images of who had last handled the thing, or pictures of where the metal had been before, what it had been part of. But his most powerful connection came when he worked with the stuff, when it “told” him how to shape it, how to combine it with other metals to achieve strength, flexibility, sharpness, or some other attribute.
He closed his hand around the brooch, hoping his psionic ability wouldn’t let him down before such a distinguished audience.
He needn’t have worried.
Images flooded his mind, like water filling a basin. An elf, thin and bedraggled, hanging from a gallows, rope cinched tight around a distended neck, eyes bulging. A human woman, a member of the nobility, wearing fancy clothes; her hand clapped to her shoulder, fingers twitching as if feeling for something that wasn’t there. Another human, an artisan, shaping the bird. Then Aric saw the bird itself, as the artisan had seen it, in full flight, wings pounding against the sky as it gained elevation.
Kahalya yet stood before him. He handed the brooch back to her, and she closed her small fist over it.
“A man saw a bird in flight, and was inspired to create this brooch,” Aric said. “It fetched a high price, from a noblewoman. She wore it to.… I don’t know, a party, some sort of event. It was stolen by an elf. When he was hanged as a thief, it was recovered.”
“Close enough,” another high consort said. Aric recognized Djena, High Consort of the King’s Law. Kahalya returned to her seat as her sister templar spoke. “He was hanged because he tried to sell the brooch, but we had been alerted to its theft and we were looking for it. When we found out about him, we captured him. Apparently you’ve seen the result.”