"One left," the halfling said.
"Yes," Twilight said, shivering. "One left."
Twilight held her breath as Liet came in. She had been dreading this, but she knew it had to be done. Of course she knew Liet was innocent, but she had to ask. It had to look convincing.
The youth gave her that familiar smile, as much to reassure Twilight as himself.
"A private audience." He eyed both Slip and Twilight. "Can I be of aid, lovelies?"
His comfortable manner-increasingly suave, she noted, and fancied she had something to do with that-put her at ease, but Twilight hesitated to show it. Her investment was likely common knowledge by now-their kiss had made that obvious-but it would not do to show favoritism.
"Just questions," she finally said.
"Pity," Liet said. He sat down, none too comfortable on the strange chair. It had nearly cooled since Davoren had heated the metal, for which Twilight was glad. A seat made answering thinly concealed accusations much easier.
"Are you Liet Sagrin, son of Harrowdale, and sometime swordsman?"
"And are you Fox-at-Twilight, daughter of mystery, and sometime thief?"
"This is no game," Twilight said. "You must answer my questions. Billfora has cast a spell that detects lies, and so she must hear your truths-and falsehoods."
Liet's eyes widened and his mouth trembled, pained. "You doubt m-" he paused, then finished the question another way. "You doubt your own ears?"
"Let us simply say," Twilight replied, "that I need a second opinion."
Liet's shoulders slumped. He was defeated. "Very well. Ask."
"Are you a loyal member of our band?" She raised a hand to cut off his objection. "Loyal to our well-being, and to the success of our venture."
"As best I'm able." She frowned. "Aye. I serve."
"But serve who, Liet?" She took a step toward him.
"But surely I serve you, Twilight," said Liet, rising toward her, "if I'm loyal to our well-being and the success of this venture of ours."
"Unless you think me mad or wrong." She stepped up to him.
"Unless that." He faltered for a heartbeat. "Though I don't think either."
They stared at each other, eyes not a pace apart. Theirs was a battle of will, rather than of words or swords. The world fell silent around them and they existed alone.
"Ahem?"
Twilight tore her eyes from Liet and looked at Slip. The halfling fidgeted.
"I…" Twilight trailed off. Asking the question should have been a simple matter, and yet it was not.
"Ask, Twilight," Liet said, and her eyes snapped back to him. He caught up her hand, and she could feel the warmth pass into her like a spark of power. The youth brought her fingers up to his lips. His next words were a whisper. "I'm not afraid."
Twilight could not say the same.
"Very well," she said. "Are you, Liet Sagrin, a spy?"
"Nay." He was telling the truth, as Slip confirmed with a nod. Twilight looked back, locking Liet's mismatched eyes-one blue, one green-with her own stare. She wondered what color her eyes seemed. They changed like her face-like herself.
"Are you in league with our enemy?"
"Davoren? Nay."
"The force that is attempting to slay us," Twilight said. "That Mad Sharn, perhaps, or whatever dark lord is responsible for the deaths of our friends-the murderers of Asson and Taslin… whoever our enemy is. Are you a servant of our foe?"
Liet's eyes searched her own. "Nay," he said.
Not a lie. Did she detect the hint of a smile? Just her imagination.
"Are you our enemy?" Twilight asked, inspiration striking. "Have you deceived us all this time, hiding your true identity in an effort to slay us and drive us mad?"
Liet stared, perfectly calm. "I suppose…" He shrugged. "Aye."
Twilight's eyes widened. His voice had not wavered; his heart had not palpitated. All the subconscious signs were absent. Her senses had not found any falsehood. Liet stared at her with absolute sincerity and, she thought, contempt.
"Lady Doom!" Twilight leaped back and snapping out Betrayal. How…?
Liet's mismatched eyes blazed, and she knew it was true.
"Oh!" Slip screamed. "Oh, gods! 'Twas a lie!"
Twilight flicked her eyes to the halfling, who was panting, terrified. Liet grinned.
"What?" Twilight asked.
" 'Twas a lie, of course." He gave an awkward, insufferable smile. "I've been taking your lessons."
"Slip?"
The little woman stared at her intently. "I swear, by all the gods I know, that he tells a lie," she said. "I mean, that's the truth-that 'tis a lie… I mean… he…"
"No." Twilight let out a sigh and turned back.
" 'Light-" the Dalesman started, but her slap cut him off.
"You think this is a game, boy?" she snarled. "Get out of my sight."
"But-" Liet started. He stopped when Twilight half-drew Betrayal and gave him a look no yet-living foe had ever seen on her delicate features. Liet stiffened and suppressed a sound that was much like a strangled cough. The mirth had gone out of his eyes, replaced by sheer horror. "Oh, 'Light, I'm so-"
"I won't say it again," Twilight said, her voice flat.
The young swordsman's face went ashen and his eyes gleamed with tears. "Sorry!" he cried, and fled.
A long while passed, the silence filled with heavy, angry breathing. Twilight was hardly aware of Slip's searching gaze, her frightened features.
All she could see were those horrible eyes, Liet's eyes, laughing at her-mocking her hard-trained abilities, her confidence to tell truth from falsehood by ear. Laughing… always laughing… what was he doing, trying to drive her mad?
From behind her, Slip shifted nervously-loud enough for Twilight to hear. "Ah," she said. "Are-are you well?"
"Oh, indeed." Twilight closed her eyes and forced an easy smile onto her pale face. "Friend." She turned and favored the halfling with her most dazzling grin. "How sure are you that none of them is a spy?"
Slip brightened considerably, smiling back as though nothing were the matter. "Absolutely certain," she replied. "Why?"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When the screech came from the Forge, Liet bolted up from where he had slumped, his hands on his knees, against the wall of the alley. Gargan similarly unfolded himself from the shadows and laid his hand on his sword. Even Davoren paused where he had been pacing.
The rear door flew open and Slip staggered out. The halfling immediately whirled and drew her little dagger, but a dusky blade sent it whirling from her hand with a deft flick. The gray-white point of Betrayal hissed under Slip's chin.
"Help me!" Slip cried. "She's gone mad!"
"What's going on?" Liet asked, hand going to his sword.
"Back," was all Twilight said, but the fire in her pale eyes- almost red in the ruby light of Davoren's pulsing energies-told him much more.
"Do you not see?" The warlock sneered. "She has eliminated the options-me, you, the giant-and has but one left. The only one who could have lied-the half-witch." Darkness passed over his eyes and his arms pulsed with flame.
Slip, with Twilight distracted, stammered out the words to a spell, but Davoren chanted along with her, invoking harsh and vile names and deeds better spoken of in a tongue of pure evil. The halflings magic faltered, defeated by the warlock's voracious powers, and tears ran down her cheeks. Twilight dealt Slip a savage kick to the stomach, stifling further magic. She pulled Betrayal back, lining it up with the little one's back.
Hissing black steel knocked it aside when she thrust. Gargan was there, sword drawn, and he and the elf locked blades and stares, waging a private battle. Their swords sparked against each other, bubbling acid hissing on the hot steel. The light flickering above her, like a hissing sun, plunged her face into light and shadow.
Liet shivered. From their stares, it was clear a life would be lost should it come to blows, and knowing Gargan's strength, it would likely be hers. The goliath
didn't try to break her parry, only hold her sword back. If he attacked, maybe she could dodge, then riposte, perhaps, and…
What was he thinking? Had the world gone mad?
"Please!" Slip moaned. "Don't let this happen! Please!"
"Silence, traitor," hissed Twilight without taking her eyes off Gargan.
"Come, Twilight," said Davoren. As he spoke, he inched his way toward Slip, lying huddled and helpless. "Together we can slay them. We no longer need their aid."
The elf should have retorted but she did not, causing Liet to gape. Was she considering it?
Liet looked at Davoren. Lightning crackled around the warlock's scepter and flames licked his hands. Liet realized that if he did nothing, one of his friends would die.
And with that realization, something snapped inside him.
All the times he had watched Twilight confront the warlock fearlessly, all the wry smiles, throwing herself over Slip, all the memories of Twilight's courage came back to him in a single white-hot moment of bravery, and swelled into something inside that Liet had never imagined.
"No," he commanded. He stepped in Davoren's way.
All other sound in the cavern withered into silence. Twilight stared at him.
The warlock snickered, but Liet stayed firm. "I won't say it again."
"I see." Davoren slit his eyes. "The boy thinks he's pretty enough and wily enough to split our fearsome leader, so that makes him worthwhile, eh? Allow me to explain how that isn't-"
"Enough talk," said Liet. He drew his battered, chipped sword and pointed it at Davoren's face. "You want to kill us, do you? Then do it now."
"Suddenly he's become brave," Davoren said, irritation in his eyes.
"Only braver than a coward," said Liet.
The warlock's eyes burned at him and his face contorted. Flames licked about fingers curled into talons. Davoren's face promised swift death and-
And went pale. The warlock's eyes widened, he backed away, and his gaze slid from Liet, as though he saw something that genuinely frightened him. He backed away and those red eyes showed real terror, and… something else. Pain. Hurt.
Liet felt a tingle in the back of his mind. Was this ability to frighten the warlock, whose unholy power dwarfed Liet's mediocre swordsmanship, a manifestation of that potential Twilight saw in him? Did he have a sorcerer's potential? Was he a hero?
He realized it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had stood between Davoren and Slip, and the warlock backed down. Now he posed no threat to…
"Twilight!" Liet said suddenly. She spun where she stood, facing both halfling and goliath with sword drawn, murderous fury in her eyes. "Don't do this! Slip's innocent! We all are! There's no spy! You're being ridiculous!"
"Lies," Twilight growled. "You all passed the test. She's the only one who could have escaped-the only one whose word wasn't tested. She's a liar and a traitor! She's the only one it could be! The only one!"
No, Twilight, she's not, Liet thought suddenly. She's the only one except-
"Except yourself, filliken," Davoren said. Liet glared and the warlock receded as before, but he kept a hand on the scepter at his waist.
A trifle unnerved but more worried for Twilight, Liet turned back only to see that the damage had been done. Twilight had gone paler than usual and her lip trembled, fighting against a cruel thought-a grave doubt. Liet felt his heart clench in his chest, torn between love and not a little fear that maybe, just maybe, the warlock was right.
Perhaps she saw it in Liet's eyes, or perhaps she thought the same. Her shoulders slumped and all emotion vanished from her face. She appraised Liet more as a dull blade than a companion, or even a living thing, and his stomach knotted.
"Very well," she said slowly. "The halfling may indeed be innocent, but-"
"Thank you, Mistress!" Slip threw herself down and kissed Twilight's ragged boots. "Thank-"
Twilight shoved the halfling away with a foot, eyeing her. "But I won't trust her."
"I'll watch her," Liet volunteered.
"No." Twilight shook her head.
"I," Gargan rumbled, drawing gazes from the other four. "I watch."
The silence lasted a long breath before Twilight finally nodded. "Very well," she said. "But you will watch her close, blade to hand."
"Blade to hand," Gargan repeated.
She turned away, casting Liet an angry glare, and slipped into the smithy. That gaze both thanked and warned him.
Unable to stand it, he looked away and thought he saw another of those black hands-with the eye in its palm-reaching out of a wall opposite the smithy. When he looked hard, it was gone.
Liet suppressed a chill.
The length of a candle later, Twilight sat naked, alone, and crying.
They had moved from the Forge into a larger complex, nearer the center of the city. With Twilight's talents at stealth leading them, they had evaded the bees who came to investigate the shouts. This new building-a mansion, by comparison-might well have belonged to Nega himself, the high arcanist. Twilight didn't really care. It may as well have been hers now. Its wards and defenses had failed (clearly not the mythallar's priorities) and possession of the manse, as in all things, passed to the strong and alive.
Twilight had found an ancient bedchamber for herself-complete with an eerie floating bed of withered velvet, powered by the mythallar. She had stripped off her worn, ochre-stained garments, feeling filthy in them, and flung herself on the blankets, daring them to crack and disintegrate. They had not, and there she remained.
Though the room was far from the others, she did not mind. In fact, it suited her, for here she could scream and curse in privacy, without any of them thinking her mad.
Not that she did so. The day was more one for weeping than for expressions of fury.
Her tears had formed a damp spot on the bed cover nearly the size of a buckler when the door opened of its own accord-magic, of course. She wondered what manner of monster had come to slay her. Fiendish lizards, perhaps, or one of the bees. Maybe even the troll, though she imagined she would have smelled Tlork's approach. Perhaps even whatever beast had attacked her in the night, unless that had been a nightmare. She didn't know-she didn't know anything anymore.
" 'Light?" came a soft, hurt voice.
A sigh. It was far worse than any of the possibilities she had considered.
"Why do you frown, love?" Liet stepped forward, undeterred by her discontent-yet another aspect of him she loved and loathed. "It makes you too pretty."
She wouldn't take the bait. Twilight just looked away. He stepped closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed. She let him disrobe, stripping to his smallclothes, and his shirt, of course. He reached to embrace her.
"Surely this incident has told you-"
Twilight shoved him and he tumbled out of the free-floating bed. Liet landed on his bottom with an unceremonious thump. He looked so adorable-and pounceable-but she ignored that observation.
"There are three possibilities," said Twilight, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "One, that it is Slip."
"That's out," said Liet. He rose, winced, and dusted himself off. The stone must have been cold under his bare feet. Twilight couldn't say she objected to the view, and for that reason she cursed him again.
"Two," she continued. "One among us can defeat her spell and my sense."
"Certainly not," Liet said. "No one can tell lies from truths better than you, love."
Twilight didn't bother to correct him. "And the third…"
"That there is no spy," the youth said.
Twilight bit her lip, then her eyes narrowed. "Have I been acting strangely of late?"
Liet gaped. "You can't be serious," he said. His surprise was a lie.
"It could be me," said Twilight. Her voice came out calm, a lie to the turmoil within. "How long was I unconscious without the Shroud? Any of my foes could have done this. I could be acting under magical compulsion-a spell I'm not even-"
Liet caught the shadowdancer by the shoulders and shook her. "Nonsense!"
No one did that to her. No one.
She formed a rebuke, but he laid two fingers across her lips. "This has been hard on us all-you especially, as our leader."
With effort, Twilight calmed herself. She'd hurt him without steel. "I have seen you lie once, well enough to deceive me."
Liet grinned. "I've watched you with open eyes and ears." He climbed onto the bed on hands and knees, aiming for her lips. "I lie in your bed. I don't lie in it."
"I'm no stranger to enemies lying to me," she said. "In my bed, to my face, or otherwise." Twilight stared at him levelly. "You're just one more."
She watched his face fall, then a surge of anger. "Like your Uncle Nemesis, eh?"
Twilight felt cold. "Fair even, Liet." She dismissed him with a wave.
The youth's face went pale. He realized once again that he had just said the wrong thing. "I–I didn't mean it," he said, suddenly sad. "It just-ah-"
Twilight slapped him. "Aren't you angry? Do you have a spine, or do you just apologize for everything?" She fended off his damnably comforting hands.
"Why don't you scream at me, or beat me if you want-at least something. Aren't you going to fight for me?" She shoved him off the bed. "Why don't you say something, damn you?"
Liet stared at her, shocked. "I–I'm sorry, I…"
Twilight sighed, the fire in her blood dying down. It was pathetic, but it was endearing. A soft smile came over her face, and she hated herself for it.
"I know," she said. "I'm the one who should be sorry." She felt that way, too.
She reached down to help him up, and her fingers scraped his wrist. Liet gave a shiver but didn't pull away. He looked at her, his eyes so sad and longing…
She pulled away. "I just-" she said. She was shivering. "I just can't do this."
The youth looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded. "I understand." He gave a knight's bow. "Fair eve, for a fair maid."
"Sweet water," she whispered, "and light laughter."
Then he walked away, and Twilight turned to weep as quietly as she could against the wall. No tears came-her eyes were dry.
Depths of Madness td-1 Page 20
