Hennea sent off questioning tendrils of magic, which passed through Bandor like a hot knife through butter, slipping and sliding.
“What does he want?” Hennea asked. “What drives him?”
That was harder. “I don’t know,” Seraph said finally. “Reducing a man to a handful of words is no gift of mine.” She turned to her youngest, who knew him best.
“Rinnie,” she said in Common tongue. “If Uncle Bandor could be, or have, anything in the world what would he want?”
“Children,” said Rinnie promptly, though her voice shook. “He and Aunt Alinath want children more than anything. He also worries that Papa might decide to return to the bakery. Last year when the harvests weren’t good, he was certain Papa would take the bakery. Nothing Papa said could reassure him.”
Seraph remembered that now; it hadn’t seemed important at the time.
One of the tendrils of Hennea’s magic snagged and went taut, like a fisherman’s net. Another slid to the same place and stuck fast as well. A third caught another place.
“More,” said Hennea. “Tell me more about him, child.”
“He loves Aunt Alinath,” Rinnie said with more confidence. “But he worries that she loves Papa better. He wants her to see him as a better man than Papa.”
The rest of the tendrils snapped taut like the strings of a violin and emitted a sound as if an invisible musician plucked at the instrument.
“Envy,” murmured Hennea in the Traveler tongue. “Small darknesses that allow the shadow to take hold and shake him a bit until the small darkness grows like a blot on his soul. You have to ferret them all out, Seraph, and not miss any. Could you have your Hunter see if I’ve missed anything?”
“Lehr,” said Seraph. “Come here and look. Does the net she’s woven encase the taint?”
Lehr examined his Uncle closely. “Missed something,” he said.
“He wants,” murmured Seraph. “He loves. He hates. He fears.”
“He’s afraid of you, Mother,” said Rinnie at last. “He doesn’t much care for Jes either.” She gave her brother’s back an apologetic look. “He doesn’t like to be around people who are odd like Jes is.”
Hennea, lines of strain appearing around her eyes and mouth, sent out more magic.
“Done,” said Lehr.
“Mother,” said Jes.
Seraph turned and saw that Alinath had company in the doorway. Karadoc was with her. He’d managed to take a few steps forward, so he stood several paces in front of the door. But when Jes looked at him, he stilled once more.
“We’ll be done momentarily,” said Hennea. “I wouldn’t try this without one who can see the shadow. Otherwise it’s too easy to fail—and you’ll not know it until the shadowed one kills those nearest to him.”
“Like the Nameless King, the Shadowed,” said Seraph. “When he killed his sons first.”
“He allowed no Travelers within his realm,” said Hennea. “So now we go where we are needed, not where we are wanted.”
“What next?” said Seraph.
Hennea smiled wearily. “The last part is more strength than finesse. I’ll try to burn the shadow from him.”
“Let me help,” said Seraph. “I’m all but done up, but you may freely take what magic I have left.” She followed her words with action, setting the blooded knife on the floor and placing her hands on Hennea’s shoulders.
Hennea thanked her with a nod and then set about destroying the hold the Stalker had taken on Bandor’s soul. It was, Seraph saw, much the same as burning wood with magic, just using a different fuel. If she had to do it herself, she’d know how.
“Done,” said Hennea, but Seraph, feeling the last of the shadowing leave, had already stepped away.
Bandor had long since stopped his struggles, but now he hung limply in the bonds that held him to the wall, his face blank and his mouth drooping on either side. A drop of spittle dripped slowly off his chin.
“Lehr,” she said. “Come help me with Bandor.”
Lehr helped Seraph brace his uncle so that Hennea could release him. Once on his feet, Bandor seemed to recover a bit. At least he could stand on his own and his face started to lose the blankness and adopt some of Bandor’s own personality, like a wineskin refilled with wine.
Lehr still braced him, but Seraph stepped away—remembering what Rinnie had said about his fear of her. She didn’t want to cause him any more distress than she had to.
“All right, Jes,” she said calmly, “You can let them in, now.”
He stared at her a moment, then bowed his head shallowly. She hid her sigh of relief: the next few minutes were bound to be interesting enough without Jes running amok. Alinath slipped around them all without a look and stood in front of Bandor.
“Is it true,” she said, “is he better now? Is he unharmed?”
Seraph raised an eyebrow and looked at Hennea, who had collapsed against the wall. She nodded.
“He’ll be all right,” Seraph said. “Give him a while to recover and he’ll be all right.”
Alinath’s mouth trembled and she took one more step until she stood against her husband, looking small and frail. “Bandor,” she said. “Bandor.”
Karadoc, leaning heavily on his staff, looked closely at Jes. “Ellevanal favors you, boy, though you never come to his temple; that told me there was more to you than it appeared. I didn’t expect quite this much more. Some of your mother’s magic in you, eh, that kept us from coming in?”
“Yes,” agreed Seraph. “Jes is more than he appears.”
“Traveler,” Karadoc said sternly, as if reminded of his duty. “Traveler, what happened here?”
“Shadows and magic, priest,” she said. “Volis and Bandor were shadow-touched. If I had known that the priest could be cured, I would have—” she remembered the satisfaction of stopping him with her knife and stopped, saying merely, “I was ill-informed.”
“How did you know they were shadowed?” The old man, she thought, was playing the stern priest role to the hilt. It was a good sign. If he’d been frightened by all the magic, he wouldn’t be taking the time to perform for his audience; he’d be getting the rest of the Council Elders.
“She found me tonight as Bandor left me,” said Alinath, as she and Lehr helped Bandor sit on the floor. “Bruised and bound. I told her that there was something wrong with him, a bile of jealousy toward my brother after all these years.” There was a pause, then she said, “I don’t know what exactly he did, but he had a hand in my brother’s death.”
She sat beside her husband and raised her chin in a familiar gesture. “I have never approved of the choices my brother has made,” she said. “I have no use for magic or Seraph. You know as much, Karadoc. I would never take her side against my Bandor. But I know that Bandor, if he were himself, would never hit me. He would never have made himself slave to another’s will as he has enslaved himself to that false priest.” She spat out the words. “If Seraph says that he was shadow-taken… well, I for one have to agree with her.”
No one, thought Seraph with secret amusement, could miss how much it bothered Alinath to agree with Seraph.
Karadoc nodded formally. “Accepted.” He grinned at Seraph, transforming in an instant from sour old man to mischievous gnome. “You should know that Alinath came to me several days ago—concerned with the oddities of her husband’s behavior. I told her to keep watch, for as we all know, those of us who live in the lee of Shadow’s Fall have always to be on guard against such.”
He shook his head, “But of course we’ll have to tell a different story to everyone else or Seraph won’t be able to stay here, and no one will really believe that he was cleansed.”
Bandor was huddled against his wife, bowing his forehead to touch the top of her shoulder. Seraph could hear his soft, half-coherent apologies.
Karadoc leaned on his staff. “Let me tell you what happened tonight. Volis is an evil mage, not a real priest. He needed a death to feed some dark magic and chose Rinnie, because he thought she was without protection. Her father is dead—”