by Unknown
“The truth,” Ascaros whispered back. “Voraic murdered my aunt as revenge for his mother’s death. She allowed him to learn the spell that he used to kill her. He attacked us when we confronted him, and we killed him in self-defense. The mirror is useless to anyone not of its creator’s line, so there is nothing for them to gain by taking it.”
“That isn’t the truth,” Isiem protested.
Another knock struck their door. This one sounded like it had been delivered by a mailed fist, not a bare hand. “Open.”
“It is,” Ascaros hissed back. He yanked his arm free and hurried to the door, making a noisy show of struggling with the locks. Several had been damaged by the fiery blast, so his efforts were not entirely feigned. “It is true enough to pass the clerics’ spells, and true enough to keep us safe. What greater truth could you want?”
Unable to find an answer quickly, Isiem changed tacks. “What of the mirror? Silence? Do you still intend to offer him a term of ten years?”
Ascaros hesitated. He turned back halfway, his expression caught somewhere between desperate hope and desperate terror. He gripped the misshapen knob of the bottom lock as tightly as a drowning man clinging to a final frayed strand of rope.
Then the practiced mask of stoicism slid back over his face, and he forced the last lock free.
“It’s not your burden, Isiem,” he said, standing aside for the Over-Diocesan’s agents to open their door. “Silence is mine.”
Coming Next Week: A quick trip inside an ancient tomb with veteran Pathfinder author Mike Kortes in “The Twelve-Hour Statue.”
For More of Isiem’s adventures, check out Nightglass, available now!
