The Dark-Eyes War bots-3

by DAVID B. COE

  Grinsa threw up his hands. "So you don't trust yourself to do it, but you don't trust me, either."

  "I trust the a'laq."

  "No," Grinsa said, shaking his head. "I don't trust him. He'll bend Besh's words just to spite me."

  "D'Pera, then," Cresenne said. "The n'qlae."

  "I haven't had many dealings with her," Grinsa said, discomfitted by the suggestion. "Do you trust her?"

  "I think so. I don't like her, but I think she'd be fair. And E'Menua is far more likely to be convinced if she wields the magic."

  Grinsa couldn't argue with that. He turned back to Besh. "What do you think?"

  "I'd rather the Fal'Borna simply let us go," the Mettai man said. "But if my choice is between subjecting myself to this magic and being executed as an enemy of the clan, I'll take my chances with the magic."

  "The a'laq will never agree to this," Q'Daer said, shaking his head. "You can't go to him and suggest that the n'qlae use her magic on the Mettai because you don't trust him to deal with you honestly. I'm offended by the idea of it. He'll be outraged."

  "He'll agree," Grinsa said. "And he'll have no right to be angry, since he will have insulted me first."

  Early on, when he and Cresenne first arrived in the sept, Grinsa had felt that the a'laq was always one step ahead of him, anticipating his every attempt to win their freedom. He'd allowed himself to be drawn into the demon's bargain that had almost forced him to remain with the Fal'Borna when his search for Lici failed. A few turns later, he and Cresenne had yet to find a way to leave the sept, but at least now he knew what to expect from E'Menua.

  He started their discussion with an earnest appeal to the a'laq to trust Besh and Sirj. "They saved my life," he told the man, again. "They saved Q'Daer. Why don't you believe they're our allies?"

  "Because," E'Menua said, so predictable it was almost funny, "their kind have marched to war against us. They are no better than the dark-eyes with whom they've allied themselves."

  "With all due respect, A'Laq, I believe you're wrong about them," Grinsa told him. "These other Mettai might have cast their lot with the Eandi, but Besh and Sirj are different. They're our friends. F'Ghara acknowledged as much when he gave them his stone."

  "F'Ghara is a fool. He leads a sept with no Weavers. And even the Mettai admit that he gave them his stone before the war began. The war changes everything."

  "I can prove to you that they can be trusted," Grinsa said. "Let me use mind-bending magic on them. We can ask them whatever you want; they'll have no choice but to tell us the truth."

  E'Menua frowned. Apparently he hadn't expected this. All the better. "No," he said.

  "Why not, A'Laq?"

  "This is a waste of time. I need to be preparing my warriors for battle, not arguing with you about these two dark-eye sorcerers."

  "All the more reason to do what I'm asking of you. Right now you have a dozen warriors posted around their z'kal. Those men should be readying themselves for war. We can settle this in just a few moments, if you'll let me do this."

  E'Menua shook his head.

  Come on! Grinsa pleaded silently. Say it! You know you want to. He kept silent, though, watching the a'laq, an expectant look on his face.

  When E'Menua didn't say anything more, Grinsa tried to give him one last push.

  "Suit yourself then," he finally said, turning as if to leave E'Menua's shelter. "I'll question the men myself. I'll have Q'Daer with me. He can tell you what they said."

  "It won't mean anything," the a'laq told him.

  "Why not?" Grinsa asked, his back still to the man.

  "Because there's nothing to stop you from twisting their words."

  There it was. Grinsa smiled, then quickly schooled his features and faced him again.

  "You think I'd lie to you about this?"

  "Not lie," E'Menua said, seeming to choose his words with care. "But you'll be controlling them. You can make them say whatever suits your needs. You want to save their lives, and you might be inclined to keep them from saying anything that would lead me to execute them."

  "Then what would you suggest?"

  The a'laq grinned, as if he already knew what Grinsa would say. "I could question them using my magic."

  "And how can I be sure that you wouldn't make them say what you want to hear?"

  "What would that be?" E'Menua asked.

  "Whatever it would take to give you an excuse to kill them."

  The a'laq gave a small shrug. "I don't suppose you can be sure. As I said, this is a waste of time."

  He didn't rush to it; he didn't want to give E'Menua any indication that he'd been thinking along these lines from the start. Once more he made as if to leave, going so far as to push aside the piece of rilda skin covering the entrance to the z'kal. But then he stopped himself.

  "What about another Weaver?" he asked, looking at E'Menua again. "What about the n'glae?"

  The Fal'Borna narrowed his eyes. Clearly he hadn't expected this, either. "D'Pera?"

  "We both trust her. She wields the magic. Why not?"

  "When would we do this?" E'Menua asked, suddenly wary.

  Grinsa didn't want to give him time to discuss any of this with the n'qlae. He trusted the woman to a point, but there could be no denying where her loyalties lay. If E'Menua had the opportunity to turn her to his purposes, he would.

  "Now," Grinsa said. "Besh and Sirj are being treated like prisoners and they deserve better. They might even be convinced to help us in this war, but first we have to win their trust."

  E'Menua stared back at him, seeming to have recognized too late that he'd been manipulated. For a moment Grinsa feared that the a'laq would refuse to allow D'Pera to question the men. But then E'Menua stood and nodded once.

  "Very well. We'll find her now."

  Grinsa had been expecting more of a fight, and now he wondered if the a'laq intended to deceive him somehow.

  But E'Menua stepped past Grinsa and led him out of the z'kal. Q'Daer and Cresenne were waiting for them outside the shelter. Seeing them both, the a'laq faltered briefly and shot a dark look back at Grinsa. But he said nothing and started across the sept. Grinsa and the others followed.

  "What happened?" Cresenne asked in a whisper as they walked.

  "The n'qlae will question the Mettai."

  Cresenne looked like she might say more, but Grinsa shook his head.

  They found the n'qlae near the tanning circle, where she was overseeing the shaping of spears. Grinsa had met D'Pera before, but once again he was struck by her appearance. She was beautiful, with thick, long white hair that she wore unbound, and a hard, hawklike gaze that seemed to miss nothing.

  Seeing her husband approach, she stood.

  "Has something happened?" she asked.

  E'Menua shook his head. "No. I need you to speak with the Mettai. I want you to use mind-bending magic on them. Find out what they intend to do to us." He glanced quickly at Grinsa. "I believe this is the only way we're likely to know if they can be trusted."

  D'Pera looked from her husband to Grinsa to Cresenne, and finally back to E'Menua. "All right," she said. "You wish to do this now?"

  The a'laq nodded. "Yes, now."

  D'Pera looked around, seeming unsure as to whether she could just leave what she'd been doing. After a moment, though, she appeared to decide that she could. She and E'Menua began walking in the direction of Besh and Sirj's shelter. Once more, Grinsa, Cresenne, and Q'Daer could only follow.

  "This is too easy," Cresenne said under her breath.

  She was right. E'Menua had agreed to all of this too quickly; he'd been too willing to enlist D'Pera's help and approach the Mettai right away. But Grinsa was at a loss as to what they could do about it.

  "You may be right," he whispered in reply. "But I started this. We have to see it through to the end."

  She nodded, looking tense.

  As they neared Besh and Sirj's shelter, Grinsa saw that the two Mettai were sitting outside, just as they had been
earlier. Two of the Fal'Borna guards stood nearby, watching the men. The guards bowed to E'Menua when they saw him approaching. Besh and Sirj stood.

  "Leave us," the a'laq told the two warriors without breaking stride.

  "Yes, A'Laq."

  The guards bowed again and started to walk toward two of their comrades who stood some distance from the shelter.

  Before they'd gone far, though, E'Menua appeared to reconsider. "Actually, I want you to remain here," he called to the men.

  They stopped, looking confused, but then quickly reassumed the positions they'd been in before.

  E'Menua stopped in front of Besh and Sirj, regarding the two Mettai with obvious mistrust.

  "You know why I'm here?" he asked.

  Besh's eyes flicked toward Grinsa.

  "Don't look at him!" the a'laq said sharply. "When I speak, you look at me!"

  "Yes, A'Laq," Besh said evenly, meeting the Fal'Borna's gaze. "I know why you're here. You want to use magic to determine if we're telling you the truth."

  E'Menua nodded. "Yes, that's right. The n'qlae will be using her magic on you." It was his turn to glance in Grinsa's direction, a thin smile on his feline face. "The Forelander and I don't trust each other enough to do it ourselves."

  "I've never had this magic done to me before," Besh said. He looked pale and small next to the a'laq. The two men were about the same height, but E'Menua was by far the broader and more powerful of the two.

  "You have nothing to fear," D'Pera told him. Grinsa heard nothing comforting in her tone. The woman's expression remained deadly serious. "The a'laq will ask you questions. I'll simply use my magic to ensure that you answer truthfully."

  Besh didn't appear reassured. "I've heard some say that this magic can… can damage a person, leave them permanently addled."

  "That's very rare," Grinsa told him. "And it's most likely to happen when the magic is forced upon a person and he or she tries to resist. You're allowing us to do this, and I'm sure the n'qlae's touch will be gentle. You shouldn't be in any danger."

  The Mettai man nodded and smiled weakly.

  "Are you ready?" D'Pera asked him.

  "Yes."

  There was a brief silence, and then D'Pera looked at her husband and nodded once. Grinsa had never watched another Qirsi use mind-bending magic on someone. He'd done it himself several times, but that was different. He now realized that his perceptions of what the magic did to people had been colored by what he sensed in their thoughts. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened to Besh. He looked exactly the same; his expression hadn't changed at all. Granted, D'Pera wasn't attempting to control him, as some Qirsi did with this power; she was merely making certain that he didn't lie. Nevertheless, seeing the magic in this way reminded him of why mind-bending was viewed by many in the Forelands as the most dangerous and insidious of Qirsi magics. A cunning sorcerer could exert control over the unsuspecting with no one realizing it. A merchant could be coerced into parting with gold; a noble could be tricked into condemning an innocent man; a king could be compelled to lead his people to war.

  "Where do you come from?" E'Menua asked Besh.

  "Kirayde, near the Companion Lakes."

  "Why did you leave your village?"

  "Lici had gone, and then people started getting sick. I believed that she was responsible for the plague and I wanted to stop her before more people died."

  "Where is this Lici now?"

  "I killed her. She attacked me and I had no choice."

  E'Menua glanced at Grinsa, looking slightly disappointed.

  "So you killed this woman," the a'laq went on. "But you stayed here on the plain after she was dead. Why?"

  "To find her baskets. They were cursed and I knew that they'd spread the plague."

  Grinsa chanced a quick look at Q'Daer, who was already eyeing him. The young Weaver held Grinsa's gaze for a moment, and then gave a quick, small nod. Grinsa had to smile. Q'Daer at least was convinced.

  "How did Q'Daer and the Forelander get sick?"

  "The merchant-Torgan-he exposed them to the plague. He used a scrap of basket that we'd found in another sept, one that had been destroyed already.

  "And you were working with him, is that right?"

  "Yes. Sirj and I were going to sicken them ourselves if Torgan hadn't. Then we could heal them and win their trust."

  Grinsa felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He stared at Besh, who looked panicked, his eyes wide and darting from face to face. E'Menua had a harsh, triumphant grin on his face. D'Pera was watching her husband. Grinsa couldn't be certain, but she appeared unnerved.

  "And this spell you created that was supposed to shield us from the plague," the a'laq said. "Will it work?"

  "No. That was a lie. If you're exposed to the plague, all of you will die."

  "Of course. That was part of your plan as well, wasn't it?"

  "Yes," Besh said, even as the look in his dark eyes screamed, No!

  Chapter 11

  At first the sensation had merely been odd. As soon as the n'qlae reached forth with her magic, Besh was aware of her presence in his mind. It wasn't intrusive; as Grinsa had promised, her touch was light. But there could be no mistaking the fact that something alien had stepped into his thoughts. When the a'laq asked him the first question, Besh answered without thinking, without fully intending to speak. One moment he was listening and the next, words were coming out of his mouth. It felt strange, even a bit frightening. But he could hear what he was saying, and he knew that it was the truth, and so he didn't resist.

  So it went for several moments: a question and then his answer. He didn't have to think or struggle to find the right word. Almost as soon as the thoughts formed in his head, he gave them voice. There was something quite comfortable about it; he could see how easy it might be for a Qirsi to take control of another person's thoughts.

  Then, abruptly, it all changed. At first, for just an instant, he thought that the n'qlae had tightened her control over him. Suddenly her touch wasn't light anymore. It felt like a powerful hand had taken hold of his head and thrust him underwater, intent on drowning him. He tried to fight, to shake off the hand. And that was when he realized that it wasn't the woman after all. He still felt her presence. He even sensed her emotions. Confusion, anger, and something else that he couldn't name. But her touch remained as gentle as ever.

  It had to be the a'laq. Or perhaps Q'Daer. He refused to believe that Grinsa would do this to him; he didn't think that the Forelander's wife could. And he thought it unlikely that the guards would dare to interfere.

  All of this occurred to him in the span of a single heartbeat, the time it took him to realize that another had control of his thoughts. Then he heard the things this second sorcerer was making him say, and terror gripped his heart.

  Sir) and I were going to sicken them ourselves… If you're exposed to the plague, all of you will die…

  He'd heard Grinsa's warnings about not fighting the magic, but he didn't care. What did it matter whether his mind remained sound if the Fal'Borna were going to execute him and Sirj? He fought with all his might, though he had no idea how to throw off such magic. He tried to reach for his knife so that he might conjure a spell-any spell-to win his freedom. He tried to scream that these weren't his words.

  But he was utterly helpless. He could no more lift a hand in his own defense than he could fly to the sun.

  He looked from face to face, seeking help from any of them. The guards eyed him with contempt, and perhaps a hint of fear. The a'laq grinned back at him, seeming to relish what he saw on Besh's face. The n'qlae wasn't looking at him at all, but instead had her eyes fixed on her husband. Grinsa, Cresenne, and Sirj appeared horrified, as if they knew just what had happened, but didn't know how to make matters right again.

  And Q'Daer. To Besh's surprise, the young Fal'Borna looked both troubled and confused, as if he didn't want to believe what he'd heard Besh say, but knew he had no choice but to believe it.

&n
bsp; The a'laq had done this for the young Weaver. In that moment Besh was as certain of this as he was of his own name. Neither Grinsa nor Cresenne would ever be convinced that he and Sirj were murderers. But Q'Daer was more than willing to believe this of them. And now he would be certain. He'd tell others in the sept what Besh had said here, and they would share his certainty.

  "Let him go," Grinsa said, stepping forward to stand beside Besh and glaring at E'Menua. It seemed that the Forelander understood exactly what had happened.

  An instant later, that firm hand was gone from his mind. And then the n'qlae withdrew her magic as well.

  Freed from their control, Besh actually staggered forward. Then, righting himself with Grinsa's aid, he fixed the a'laq with as cold a look as he could muster.

  "You bastard!" he said.

  The guards started forward, brandishing their spears. Q'Daer pulled his knife from his belt, and E'Menua practically launched himself at Besh, a wild look on his face.

  But Grinsa put himself between Besh and the a'laq.

  "Out of my way, Forelander!" E'Menua said, the words coming out like a growl. "No one speaks to me like that! Especially not a dark-eye sorcerer!" Grinsa held his ground.

  "I said, get out of my way!"

  The a'laq reared back, his fist clenched. Besh was certain he was going to hit the Forelander, who didn't raise a hand in his own defense.

  Cresenne shouted the Forelander's name in warning.

  But suddenly E'Menua froze, his eyes widening.

  "Step back," Grinsa said calmly, though his eyes glittered dangerously. E'Menua didn't move. He just continued to stare at Grinsa, his hand still raised.

  "I'll do it if I have to, A'Laq. Don't make me."

  Slowly the a'laq lowered his hand and straightened. "You heard what he said. He as much as admitted that they're enemies of our people. And still you protect him?"

  "He said what you made him say."

  "I didn't make him say anything!" the a'laq shot back. But the denial sounded hollow and forced.

  "I think you did."

  E'Menua narrowed his eyes. "Tread carefully, Forelander. You're coming very close to calling me a liar."