“It was the only way to protect him. The Holy Mother will kill him if he does not do exactly as she wishes.”
“I know the skopos claims that this crown of tumbled stones is all that will save the world from a terrible cataclysm. That our empire must hold the lands where the crown lies. So must we war against the Arethousans who control that territory now!”
“She is a woman obsessed with but one thing,” he agreed.
“Henry is not to be ordered about like a common captain, not even by the skopos! He would have insisted on marching north to Wendar now that our task here is through, now that the Empire is restored. He’s heard the reports of all these Eagles, bearing dire tidings. But if we’d abandoned Aosta before, we would have lost it forever. Now that our work in Aosta is done, we can march north to Wendar safely. The skopos can lead an army herself into Dalmiaka to fight the Arethousans. The chronicles tell us of Holy Mothers who have sent armies to do their bidding. Who have accompanied their soldiers. Why must she force Henry to her will?”
“That’s right.” As Hugh spoke, he moved closer yet to the bed where Henry slept and beautiful Adelheid bent in sorrow. “We must protect him in the only way we can. Now, Your Majesty. I pray you. Just for this hour we must withdraw the one thing that protects him from any harm the skopos might do to him. He’ll never know that his protection lifts. He’ll never know when it is returned into his body, as it will be as soon as I have what I need.”
“So be it,” she murmured.
She drew the sign of the Circle at her breast and with a sigh moved to the foot of the bed. Hugh sat beside Henry’s sleeping form while she watched over them. The way the shadow and lamplight played over the scene made it difficult for Zacharias to see exactly what was going on, only that Hugh had a ribbon wrapped through his fingers. He passed that hand over Henry’s face as he murmured, and the ribbon came alive, writhing in his grip as if it were trying to escape him.
How could a ribbon move of its own will?
Henry’s body relaxed so abruptly, although he still slept, that the emperor appeared oddly different than he had a moment before although his eyes did not flutter, nor did he give any sign of awakening. The young empress gave a gasp, then bit her lip, but she did not move. She was as finely wrought a statue as any Zacharias had ever seen, a lovely woman in the prime of her youth and glorious in her empress’ raiment, golden and splendid. A true queen.
Hugh rose, crossed the room, and knelt beside Zacharias. The red ribbon tangled through his fingers lashed and slithered, but it could not escape. His golden hair shone where the light gilded it. His smile was gentle.
“What do you know of Prince Sanglant, Brother Zacharias?” he asked. “What of the Eagle, Hathui?”
He was too weak to run, but he was strong enough to keep silent. Never would he betray her.
Never.
Hugh touched the ribbon to Zacharias’ lips and in his melodious voice chanted the names of angels, holy creatures, bidding them to come to his aid.
A cool sensation slipped down Zacharias’ throat, insinuated itself in through his nostrils, and clawed its way into his eyes.
There was something inside him.
He struggled, but he could do nothing. An aery presence flooded him, twisting into his skin, into his vitals, into the very hall where he stabled each of his memories, precisely placed and uncannily accurate.
“Can you hear me?” asked Hugh.
“I can,” his voice answered. His tongue formed the words, but he was not the one who spoke.
He fought, but in vain. He was both prisoner and slave.
“Tell me everything you know of Prince Sanglant. Where was he when last you saw him? What are his plans? Where is his daughter? What of the Eagle who escaped me? What does the prince know? What did Hathui see?”
The daimone that infested him brushed through his memories and, one by one, with his voice and his tongue, told his secrets.
Every one.
XXV
A MUTE BEAST
1
“… BROTHER Zacharias.”
He came to himself with a shock: he was free, untainted, unharmed, and alone in his body. The horror of that infestation thrilled along his skin, a million ants crawling, a thousand wasps stinging, too awful to contemplate.
“He cannot lie under the influence of the daimone,” Hugh was saying. “So. The Eagle escaped me, and told Prince Sanglant everything.”
“True,” said Adelheid thoughtfully. “But now we are forewarned and thus armed.”
Tears of shame streamed down Zacharias’ cheeks. The others did not notice. They had turned their backs on him.
