Eye of Truth

by Lindsay Buroker

  Zenia nodded, agreeing fully. She wouldn’t be effective at anything right now.

  “Zyndar Dharrow.” Zenia extended her hand toward one of the doorways on the far side of the hall, one that led to the basement and the dungeon. “This way, please.”

  “Archmage,” he said politely, nodding toward Sazshen before walking away with Zenia.

  She was glad he didn’t say anything to her as they crossed the hall. She already worried Sazshen would think them too familiar, that she should be taken off the case because she’d made friends with the suspect. Maybe that would be easier, but Zenia was reluctant to foist Jev off on someone else, both because she wanted to think nobody else in the temple was as competent at ferreting out truths as she and because… someone else, someone who hadn’t spent a day and night with him, might not treat him fairly.

  They passed a guard on the stairs leading down to the dungeon, and Zenia accepted the keyring from him.

  A single occupant she didn’t recognize snored on a bunk inside the first cell they passed. One of the other inquisitors may have been busy capturing criminals the day before. A little thread of nervous concern knotted in her gut as her subconscious involuntarily brought up the word: competition.

  Archmage Sazshen hadn’t mentioned other inquisitors being considered for her position when she retired, but there were five in the temple, in addition to Zenia. None had quite her reputation for finding ruthless and deadly criminals, but three of them had more years of service to the Water Order. And two had zyndar blood. One was even a distant relative to the Alderoths. Though the temple was fairer about offering common people opportunities than many organizations, Zenia would have to be blind to not see the bias toward the nobility.

  Jev stopped in front of an empty cell. It was one of only two with a window high in the back wall.

  He ticked one of the vertical iron bars. “It’s rather different from an elven prison, in case you were curious. Theirs are less permanent, merely existing where they need them. No iron is involved in their construction. Somehow, they use their magic to convince trees to create cages with their branches. If you don’t have an axe, a stout branch is a formidable obstacle to escape.”

  “I can imagine. Were you imprisoned by them often?”

  “Never in the first five years I served, but three times in the last few, after I was transferred and made the captain of Gryphon Company. That was the army’s intelligence-gathering and analyzing unit. I became a more desirable prisoner to them once I knew some of their secrets. Not to mention a lot of our own secrets.” He turned and met her eyes. “Or maybe my allure simply grew stronger as I aged.”

  He smiled, but now that she had her dragon tear back, she could sense some of his emotions behind the smile. Though he joked on the surface, underneath, he was disturbed by memories of being imprisoned. Haunted by them.

  And she, in locking him up, was bringing those disturbing memories to the front of his mind, memories he thought he’d forgotten.

  “They have a tendency to appreciate age and wisdom over youth,” Jev added. “Of course, they also tend to still be beautiful when they’re two hundred years old. Going by what my father looks like now, I may not be that alluring when I’m two hundred. Or when I’m sixty. If you’re thinking of falling in love with me, you should probably do it now.”

  The first morning sun slanted through the high window and lit up his face through the bars. Zenia opened the gate but paused before waving him in. He gazed at her, as if waiting for her to say something. She told herself she was doing the right thing, obeying the woman she’d worked directly under for the last ten years, the woman who’d hinted that Zenia could become her replacement as archmage over the whole temple. And yet… why did this feel like a betrayal?

  “Are you contemplating my allure?” Jev asked.

  “What?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “Oh.” She caught on belatedly, and her cheeks warmed as she realized how close they were standing. She could have reached up and touched his jaw. Was his trimmed beard, now as freshly cleaned as the rest of him, coarse? Or soft? His dark hair appeared soft, and she had the urge to brush her fingers through it. “Your allure is fine.”

  “That didn’t sound overly heartfelt, but I’ll accept your faint praise, especially since the last time we discussed my allure, you had derogatory words for it.”

  “When was that?” Zenia thought of Rhi’s comments about his body odor, but she didn’t think she’d done more than nod in agreement.

  “When you were puzzled that a woman would want to sleep with me.”

  “A woman? You mean Iridium?”

  “Yes, she is a woman.”

  “I wasn’t being derogatory. I was just confused, given the situation. Why would she find you so irresistible that she’d risk being in a vulnerable position with you?”

  “I trust you’ve never felt so drawn to a man as to put yourself in a vulnerable position.”

  “Of course not. That would be ludicrous.”

  “Men are often ludicrous when it comes to women.”

  “I’ve noticed that during my career. I find it puzzling.”

  “I believe you.” He sighed and stepped into the cell, his shoulder brushing hers as he eased past.

  An unexpected tingle of awareness went through her at the touch. She stepped back, too tired to work through feelings and tingles right now.

  She closed the gate and locked it. Jev clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at her. As weary as she was, she found herself reluctant to leave him here alone, to make him feel abandoned. But what would Archmage Sazshen say if she came down later and found Zenia napping in the next cell?

  “I have to go,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “If you’re truly innocent, you have nothing to fear.”

  He smiled sadly and said nothing.

  “Did you have sex with her?” Zenia blurted. She almost clapped her hand to her mouth, as if she could retract the words if she covered it quickly enough. She hadn’t meant to ask that. What did she care?

  “Iridium?”

  “I’m just wondering if I need to worry whether you two made some kind of agreement that could threaten my quest to retrieve the artifact.”

  Jev arched a single eyebrow, and she felt certain he saw through her scrambled attempt at an explanation.

  “Would it bother you if I had?” he asked.

  “No,” she said far too quickly. Damn it. Why hadn’t she just waved goodnight and left him to rest?

  “Ah, of course not.”

  “Except that she’s a thorn in the Order’s side, and if she were to add a zyndar ally to her stable, it could make her more powerful and harder to thwart.”

  There. That sounded plausible. Didn’t it?

  “I suspect she already has zyndar allies. Many of them.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She had notches in her bedpost and informed me that each one represented a zyndar man she’d slept with. I don’t know how many of them represented frequent dalliances with the same individual, but I suspect there is little that happens amongst the nobility that she doesn’t know about. I regret that I didn’t get a chance to ask her if she knew anything about the demise of the three princes. Perhaps if your people brought her in for questioning, you would learn much.”

  “I’ll suggest it.” Zenia waited for him to say more, to answer the question she’d originally asked. But he seemed to be avoiding answering her. She didn’t know why it mattered, but it did, damn it. “So, she just wanted to add another notch to her bedpost?”

  “I’d like to think she found me more interesting than some of the young fops she said she’d entertained, but perhaps I’m thinking too highly of myself.”

  Zenia wanted to press him and was tempted to draw upon the power of her dragon tear to do so, but she took a deep breath instead, telling herself to drop it. It was unseemly of her to care this much. L
ater, she would help Sazshen question him, they would learn where to find the artifact, and after that, she would likely never see him again.

  “Sleep well, Zyndar Dharrow,” she said and turned toward the stairs.

  “Zenia?” He lifted a finger.

  She paused, and he crooked it, inviting her closer to the bars. He glanced up the stairs, then leaned down, as if he meant to whisper something to her. The guard up there wasn’t in sight, but he was within earshot.

  Zenia didn’t hesitate to step forward and turn her ear toward him. She wondered when she’d stopped worrying he would do something to her if she made herself vulnerable. Another prisoner might grab her neck and force her to drop the keys. But he’d had dozens of chances to escape, and he’d stuck with her, honoring his word. Even if he’d known this would be the result, being locked behind bars in a dungeon cell.

  The thoughts kindled a warmth within her. Appreciation toward him? Gratitude? Pleasure at being surprised to find he was everything the zyndar of old had been reputed to be? But that was so rare to find these days? She wasn’t sure. She only knew she was reluctant to leave him down here alone.

  “I did not have sex with her,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. At the gentle touch, the warmth changed into something far hotter, far more intense, and that earlier tingle returned in force. She realized with the subtlety of a gong being struck that she was attracted to him. When the hells had that happened? “I did not wish to, so I was relieved when Master Grindmor’s diversion arrived in time.”

  “And you felt you had to whisper this so the guards wouldn’t find out?” she asked, though she didn’t lean away from the bars. A part of her that she didn’t want to acknowledge hoped he would bring his lips to her ear again.

  “No.” He sounded amused. “I just had the urge to do this.”

  His lips brushed her ear again, and she froze. This time, they lingered, then opened to nibble on the lobe. A hot tingle of pleasure surged through her body, and her eyes flew open. He let go, and she turned to look him in the eyes.

  That was a mistake. His face was only inches away. Maybe only an inch away.

  And his eyes were warm and… amused, yes, but in a gentle way, an interested way. She had the desire to find out what his lips would feel like against her mouth. She leaned closer, or maybe he did, and parted her lips. They brushed his and—

  “Inquisitor Cham,” a cool voice said from the top of the stairs.

  Zenia jumped back, horrified. It wasn’t the guard.

  “Yes, Archmage Sazshen.” Zenia didn’t make it a question. She didn’t want to invite a lecture. Instead, she hustled for the stairs while avoiding the older woman’s eyes. “The door’s locked, and uhm, here’s the key.”

  “So I see.”

  Zenia thrust it into her hand and rushed past. She felt cowardly for not meeting Sazshen’s gaze, but she couldn’t face the disappointment she knew she would see there.

  What had she been thinking? Until his name was cleared, he was a prisoner. She hadn’t been thinking, damn it. She’d been too busy contemplating tingles.

  “Idiot,” she muttered, almost running through the hall and toward the passage that led to her room.

  Jev lay on the bunk in the back half of his cell, watching the sunbeam that slanted through the window creep from the far wall toward the floor as the morning passed. The tray that had been delivered with food and water remained largely untouched near the gate. He had been too tired to contemplate a meal, but he hadn’t managed to do more than doze fitfully, waking from nightmares each time he drifted off. They alternated between being tortured for information he did not have and images of that archmage scowling down at him and Zenia.

  He winced every time he thought of the way she’d jerked away from what had almost been a kiss, followed by her expression of utter horror. As if she’d realized she’d been about to kiss some mass murderer.

  He didn’t have a gem that allowed him to read minds, so he didn’t know if she was more disturbed that they’d almost kissed or that they’d been caught almost kissing.

  Jev hadn’t meant for either to happen. When Zenia had asked him if he’d had sex with Iridium, he’d gotten the first inkling that she cared, that maybe she wouldn’t like it if he slept with other women. And she hadn’t rushed away after locking him in his cell. It had seemed like she hadn’t wanted to leave him.

  The kiss—the ear nibble—hadn’t been premeditated, at least not for more than a minute, but he admitted it had been an experiment. To see if she would show any interest or not. She hadn’t passionately thrown her arms around him—the bars would have made that difficult—but she hadn’t pulled away. And he was positive that she had been the one to lean in for a kiss. At least he thought so. By that point, he hadn’t been thinking about much except how appealing her lips were and how it would be nice to see her naked again someday, under less invasive circumstances.

  A soft click came from the top of the stairs, followed by a faint creak. Footsteps sounded on the cement steps, and the guard said, “Archmage,” in a polite tone.

  Jev eyed the position of the sunbeam. It wasn’t noon yet. Assuming the archmage would give her inquisitor at least five or six hours to sleep, Jev hadn’t expected visitors until well into the afternoon.

  The archmage—What was her name? Sazshen?—bypassed the other dungeon inmate and stopped in front of Jev’s cell. She wore a blue robe similar to Zenia’s, except braided gold thread lined the hems, and a thick gold chain, rather than a simple silver necklace, held her dragon tear.

  Another woman stepped into view beside her. It wasn’t Zenia.

  Nerves thumped around in Jev’s belly. Had she been taken off the case because of the almost-kiss? He hadn’t intended to get her into trouble.

  Still, maybe this was for the best. He wouldn’t want Zenia to be a part of an interrogation, not when he was the subject of the interrogation. Though he didn’t want to make assumptions, he thought it might distress her to interrogate him, no matter how benign she believed her methods were.

  “Your meal did not agree with you, Zyndar Dharrow?” Sazshen asked.

  Her assistant, a younger woman but still someone with silver threading through her black hair, clasped her hands behind her back and did not speak. She did, however, gaze with intense interest at Jev, and he thought she might be using magic on him, a gentle probing of his thoughts. Gentle for now.

  “I haven’t had time to eat it yet,” Jev said. “I like to relax before I dine so I can truly savor the taste and appreciate the meal.”

  Sazshen looked down at the soggy pile of steamed gort and the hard biscuits on the plate, no sign of jam or butter to improve their flavor. She cocked her eyebrows.

  “I hope you’re not implying those biscuits aren’t palatable,” Jev said. “If so, I’ll be terribly disappointed. Since this is one of the fanciest temples in the capital, I was expecting far better rations than I dined on during the war.” He doubted anything would come out of it but figured it couldn’t hurt to remind her that he’d been a soldier, a soldier who had loyally served the king for many, many years.

  “I find your mouth wearying, and I’ve only just met you,” Sazshen observed. “One wonders what spell you cast to alter Inquisitor Cham’s perception of it.”

  “Well, she saw me naked.”

  If he’d hoped for a smirk or a snort with the comment, he didn’t get it. Odd to think Zenia might be the least repressed inquisitor in the temple.

  “Which unfortunately creates a conflict of interest,” Sazshen said. “Admittedly not one I’ve had to accuse her of having often. She won’t be punished, if it matters to you.”

  “Uh, I’m glad to hear that.” The idea that she might have been punished—had this archmage contemplated that?—for having feelings toward him floored him. He wasn’t a damn criminal. He was an army captain and a zyndar from a long line of men and women who had risked—and sometimes given—their lives for the kingdom. This situation was insufferable.


  “I don’t expect that it does matter to you. I assume you kissed her to win her leniency during the interrogation?”

  Jev thought about pointing out that he’d only sucked on Zenia’s earlobe—far too briefly—and that they hadn’t gotten to the kiss, but he couldn’t see the distinction mattering to the crone. “Assume what you want. You people seem to have decided I was guilty of a crime before I set foot on kingdom land.”

  He stared up at the ceiling. It was possible that being properly respectful and obsequious would get him further with the archmage, but after all he’d been through in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her ass. Or her earlobe.

  “With good reason,” Sazshen said. “Tell us where the artifact is.”

  The back of his skull prickled, and the probe he’d only suspected earlier grew more unmistakable now. It started as an itch, but it quickly grew into a dull ache that throbbed in sync with the ache in his shoulder. It sure would be nice if someone would offer him a salve for that bullet wound.

  “Doesn’t it have a name?” Jev asked, though he already knew it. He hoped that in slipping in a few questions of his own, he might learn some information as they interrogated him. “Maybe people would have an easier time finding it for you if you called it by name and gave out a better description.”

  “You already know it’s called the Eye of Truth, but if you truly need a description…” Sazshen flicked two fingers toward her assistant.

  An image popped unbidden into Jev’s mind. An ivory carving in the shape of a tree, a single eye looking out like an owl from a hole in the side. He had barely glanced at the carving years ago, but he recognized it and knew right away that his guess had been correct. This was one of the charms, or what Jev had taken for charms, that his brother had been wearing on a wrist bracelet when he died.

  And where was it now? Jev still had no idea.

  Really? a sarcastic voice spoke into his mind. Sazshen’s.

  He frowned over at the women, both of whom looked intently at him, their faces cool masks of concentration.