“I’ve declared him and his family of my line,” the Fyrst said. He glanced at Ilenaewyn, a faint smile on his face. “Including the human king.”
“What?” Now my da cast a wild look at Moraina. “What do you mean—” He broke off and stared at Suiden—or rather at who was dangling from Suiden’s grip.
“Well, now,” Uncle Havram said, also staring. “Would you look at that. Sro Kenalt, and”—he turned his head to the dais—”Gherat. In the flesh.”
“Obruesk is in the corner, sir,” I said, pointing. “It was Commander Eorl Pellan who helped him escape.”
“Obruesk? Here?” Brother Paedrig rose and hurried towards the dais—to come to an abrupt halt as he ran into the glory sphere still hanging midair. He took a step backwards. “Who made this abomination?”
Fingers, claws and other appendages were pointed at the warded and frozen Magus, and Brother Paedrig’s eyes narrowed. “You dare!”
“He created it to control Rabbit, honored Paedrig,” Laurel said, splinting Esclaur’s leg, “and so to control us through Rabbit.”
“What the hell did you get yourself into?” Uncle Havram whispered, as my da looked at me, his face horrified.
“Everything,” I whispered back.
“What is it?” Falkin asked, his eyes fixed on the sphere.
“Evil,” Moraina replied, “and forbidden.” She shifted her gaze between Wyln and Laurel. “Who handled it? Are they still recognizable?”
“Pellan was one,” Wyln said, “though he was smart enough to have it put into a pouch.”
“We will gather all that it touched to burn, and deal with the sorcerer’s other effects,” the Fyrst said. “In the meantime, I would like to speak with you, honored Moraina—”
“A sorcerer?” Falkin came to himself with a start. “You mean Slevoic?” He looked around the hall, found Havram and hurried over to him. “That’s what I came to tell you, sir. I saw Slevoic in town, with Commander Pellan.”
Wyln had started to frown at Falkin interrupting His Grace, but his face changed. “Slevoic ibn Dru?” He turned to look at the commander. “With Pellan?” His Grace rose and light glinted on his sword as he hurried down the steps. “You brought another sorcerer and murderer into my city?”
“A murderer—” Pellan began.
“He killed the White Stag,” Laurel said. “He slit his throat and spilled his sacred blood on the ground.”
The cat’s ears went back. “Even his own call him Vicious.”
“He is beyond Vicious, Sro Cat,” Suiden said. He turned to Falkin. “Did you see where he was headed?”
“Uh—” Falkin went back to goggling, this time at Suiden’s voice coming from the Very large, very fiery black and gold dragon next to Moraina.
Uncle Havram went very still beside me. “Turalian dragon,” he whispered.
“And besides the commander, was he alone?” Javes asked, trotting up to Falkin.
“Uh—” The first officer turned his gaping face down to the wolf with a black eye patch standing before him.
“Yes, yes. I’m a wolf. So’s Esclaur.”
Esclaur dropped his muzzle in a tongue-lolling grin as he dipped his head in an elegant bow despite having a splinted leg. “Grace to you, Lieutenant Falkin.”
“Answer Dragon Prince Suiden,” the Fyrst said, “and Javes Wolf Merchant’son.”
Falkin’s voice was reduced to a mere thread. “He and Commander Eorl Pellan were ahorse, Your Grace, and looked as though they were coming from the docks and heading here. I tried to get through earlier, but the city guard were sweeping all the crew up and forcing them back on the ships.”
“ ‘Heading here’?” Wyln repeated, his brows crooking. He stepped quickly to his nephew, all humor gone. “Where is he?” Unable to move, Pellan still managed to give the impression of shrinking back from the expression on his uncle’s face. He then caught himself and gave a defiant glower, saying nothing.
“My sister’s son,” Molyu said as she walked over to the commander. “Where have you taken the other sorcerer—” Her Grace broke off, staring. “Pellan, what’s on your hand?” Wyln’s eyes shifted to where Pellan held his sword upraised. The next moment he grabbed Molyu, yanking her with him as he quickly backed away to where the Fyrst stood, and a wall of flame suddenly encircled all three.
“The Lady preserve us! He’s been touched by the glory sphere.” Laurel, who had moved to check on my bruises, spun around, the hair on his ruff standing straight up. “Everyone away from him. Now!” Immediately there was a wide ring around the commander. Pellan’s face drained of color as the Watch that had been frozen around him also strained to move away, terrified.
“The Magus promised it was safe,” Pellan whispered, his chest heaving in his fright. “He said he’d placed protections on it.” I could make out a discoloration on the back of Pellan’s hand. As I watched, the spot spread, creeping up his arm into his sleeve.
“The Magus lied,” the Fyrst said.
The rot appeared on Pellan’s other hand, sliding down around his fingers.
“My sister’s only child,” Molyu said, distressed, “being eaten alive. Shall I lose what remains of her?” She looked at Laurel through the flames. “Help him, Faena. Please.”
“No, Your Grace,” Harbormaster Lin said, before Laurel could respond. “It’s sorry I am that your nephew has been corrupted, but the law is clear that those who willingly give themselves to sorcery shall not be rescued from its effects.” Lin looked over the audience hall. “We need to close this off, quarantine those who’ve come in contact with the abomination.”
“You forget yourself, Harbormaster,” Molyu said, her eyes molten in the fire around her.
The corruption had spread up Pellan’s other arm and a spot appeared on his neck. I caught a sudden whiff of the sweetish stink of rotting flesh.
“I am the harbormaster, true, and as such am answerable to Your Grace and the Fyrst,” Lin said as she curtsied. She then straightened. “But I am also”—she shot the frozen-inflight faerie a glance—”Queen Mab’s newly appointed representative to the Council, and it is as such that I am saying that you cannot.”
One of the City Watch guards near Pellan screamed; his eyes rolled down as he stared in horror at the spot on his wrist.
“It spreads,” Moraina said.
“My city,” Loran the Fyrst said. “My people.” He turned to the guards, speaking through the flames. “Have the black flag raised on the front tower and shut the gate to the castle. Now.” The two guards started to run out the door, but one staggered and fell.
“I say,” Javes said, his voice faint. “He must’ve taken a sword from one of the infected ones.” There was a silent moment as everyone contemplated that. Then one of the keep’s servants cried out, holding her hand away from her.
“Not just the guards,” Moraina observed. She turned her head to the Magus. “It appears, Kareste, that whatever you had planned, it has gotten away from you.” She cocked her head to one side. “Or is this what you wanted? Everyone dead by pestilence?” The Magus remained silent, his ice shard eyes glittering at us. I caught a movement and frowned, as it seemed his fingers had just twitched.
Pellan laughed. “The servants said the humans called Kareste ‘Maggot.’ Such impertinence, they said.” He laughed again, and I could see his gums bleeding. “Such truth.” I thought I saw Kareste’s fingers twitch again. I turned to my da to ask him if he’d seen the same and terror filled me. There was a faint mottling on his hand. “Oh, sweet merciful heavens.”
“What’s wrong, Rabbit?” Da asked, staring at me.
I reached out and grabbed his arm. I had been chained, beaten and otherwise handled by the City Watch. Then my da and uncle arrived and touched me. I looked over at Uncle Havram and he too had dark spots on his skin. My eyes dropped back to my da’s hand and saw the mottling had crawled up his wrist. I reached out my own hand.