She took the cloth from him and folded it back up. “I don’t know what I believe.” She lifted the bundle. “But I sleep under this.”
She thought he might laugh at her. He didn’t.
“Good girl,” he murmured as he turned away in thought.
“Merritt, there are too many things happening that make no sense. I fear that something terrible is going to happen before I can figure it out, and no one but me seems to care.”
“I care,” he said quietly.
She was momentarily caught off guard. She hadn’t expected him to say that. It was what she had hoped for, more than she had hoped for, in fact. It was why she had come to see him in the first place. But she hadn’t expected it.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re right that there are too many unexplained things happening. Not only the things you mention, but others as well. In isolation, they each might seem innocent enough, or might be able to be explained away, but when you consider the larger picture, those things together become suspect.”
“Do you know anyone who could help us get answers?”
He ran his hand back and forth along a curved iron piece of a strange, complex metal composition as he considered. It almost looked like a sculptural representation of verification webs she had seen before.
“I might,” he finally said.
Encouraged, Magda stepped closer. “I’m listening.”
He turned to face her. “Do you know about the defector?”
“Defector? No. What defector? What are you talking about?”
“Just within the last day or two, a sorceress from the Old World, a woman who it is rumored was close to Emperor Sulachan, arrived in the Keep seeking refuge. I heard that she told people she wanted to join our cause. If that’s true, she might know something about the enemy’s plans. We know precious little about what is going on under Sulachan’s rule.”
“I never heard of her,” Magda said. “You’re right, we definitely should talk to her. Do you know where we can find her?”
“In the dungeon.”
“The dungeon?” Magda frowned. “If she defected and wants to join our cause, why is she in the dungeon?”
“I heard whispers that she was tried and convicted of being a spy, and that she is going to be executed.”
Magda gaped at him. “I never heard about any such trial.”
He lifted his brow. “Why should you? You’re a nobody, remember?”
Magda’s mouth twisted. “Before Baraccus died I used to know a lot more about the goings-on at the Keep than I do now.” She folded her arms. “We need to go see her, find out if she can tell us anything.”
“I already tried. They wouldn’t let me talk to her.”
“There have to be some people around who would be willing to help.” As she considered the problem, Magda went to the table where the Sword of Truth lay, gazing down at it. “Lord Rahl told me that some of the officers had given the devotion to him.”
“Do you know which ones?”
“Officers Rendall and Morgan have,” she said. “I trust them. Either would help me.”
“They’re both with their troops, somewhere outside of Aydindril.”
“General Grundwall of the Home Guard swore the oath as well,” she said. “I know him, although not well. He often came to Baraccus with reports.”
Merritt nodded as he considered. “I’ve only met him once or twice, but commanding the Home Guard he could certainly get in to see a prisoner.” He glanced her way. “Do you know him well enough for him to get me in there to see this sorceress?”
“I think I know him well enough for him to get me in there. I might be able to convince him to let you come along.”
He smiled briefly. It quickly faded. “Let’s hope they haven’t beheaded her already, and that she would be willing to talk to us.”
“We should do that first, then. Do you know anyone else you can trust?”
Merritt rubbed his jaw as he thought it over. “I know lots of trustworthy people but most haven’t sworn the oath to Lord Rahl, so as trustworthy as they might ordinarily be, we can’t trust that a dream walker isn’t watching through their eyes. A lot of people don’t take the threat seriously. That creates an opportunity the enemy can take advantage of.”
“Then we dare not take a chance with any of them.”
“I do know one person I trust, and he has sworn the oath.”
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“He’s assigned to guard the sliph. I trust him, and I know that he’s one of the gifted who believed in Baraccus. Since he is usually with the sliph, he sees a lot of important people coming and going. He also knows a great deal about the wizards at the Keep, who’s doing what, that sort of thing.”
“You mean Quinn?”
Merritt’s brow furrowed. “You know Quinn?”
Magda smiled. “I grew up with him. When I was younger, I would sometimes go for walks with him in the forests around Aydindril out to an isolated pond that was home to loons.”
“You were sweet on him?”
Magda could feel herself blushing. “No, nothing like that. I liked him, but we were just children. He was a couple years older, though, and that alone made him seem quite impressive. But Quinn was more interested in his journals.”
“Ah yes, Quinn’s journals. You certainly do know him, then.”
“He pored through books all the time. He loved to study the past. He used to tell me that history shaped people’s beliefs, and that one day he was going to be the Keep’s historian and write about all the goings-on.”
“He seems to be well on his way,” Merritt said as he lifted the baldric off the chair and slipped it over his head. He placed it over his right shoulder with the scabbard at his left hip. “He has quite the collection of journals that he keeps down there with him as he guards the sliph.”
“It keeps him busy,” Magda said. “It’s probably pretty boring being down there most of the time.”
Merritt picked up the sword and slid it into the beautifully tooled silver and gold scabbard at his left hip.
“Let’s go see if you can convince General Grundwall to take us down to the dungeon.”
“You take the Sword of Truth with you often?”
“I never let it out of my sight. It already has certain conjured elements locked into it in preparation for the final process. I guess that’s not to be now, but even with the powers it has, it’s still a dangerous weapon. I wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.”
She supposed it made sense. Magda scooped the folded bundle off the wicker couch, tucking it under an arm.
On her way past the bookshelf, she paused, pointing at the tiny clay figures of people floating in the air just off the end of a small scroll sticking out from the shelf.
“Merritt, do you mind me asking what in the world this is?”
Merritt pulled the scroll off the shelf. The little figures floated along through the air, staying close to it.
“I call it a gravity well.”
Smiling at the little figures hovering in the air, she turned back to him. “A what?”
“If you toss something in the air, it falls to the ground. In a way, we’re all like these little figures, pulled to the ground by gravity.”
He unfurled the scroll to show her that it had a spell-form drawn on it. She was a bit alarmed to see that part of the spell-form was made up of an altered Grace.
“You created gravity in a spell?”
“Not exactly. I created a spell that attracts specific things. I guess you could say that it only mimics gravity. In this case, I had it attract these clay figures, so they always are compelled to stay near the spell-form, like we must stay on the ground because of gravity. So, I call it a gravity well.”