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“You realize, of course,” Siofra told Dallin quietly, pacing slowly across the floor to stand in front of him, black boots shining as they clicked and clocked across the wooden boards, “that I
will
find him and bring him home.” He crouched down in front of Dallin, smiled, all charm and understanding. “You can’t be blamed entirely.

He’s a very convincing liar.” His chuckle was sad as he shook his head. “I can only imagine what he’s told you.”

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I’ll just bet you can
. Dallin kept his teeth clamped tight, stared straight ahead. Siofra really was a smarmy-looking man. Narrow and pale, he might have been considered decent-looking at one time, but arrogance and calculation had turned fair looks tight and pinched.

Dark hair worn longish in the custom of Ríocht, combed straight and tucked behind his ears; thin lips over straight white teeth that flashed brilliant with a practiced smile that could almost pass for charismatic; too-sharp blue eyes that could either look right through you or look right past you, but Dallin would wager they never actually
saw
anyone.

I see you, though. And far too well. Too bad we didn’t
meet when we were both back in Putnam. Wil wouldn’t
have even had to tell me why he was running from you.

And it wouldn’t have taken me so damned long to decide
to help him.

The man looked far too young for what Dallin assumed to be his years. He had to be at least two decades older than Wil, and yet he looked like he hadn’t yet seen his fortieth birthday.

Right, and I bet I know how you managed that, you
soul-sucking weasel.

“He can’t help himself,” Siofra went on. “You mustn’t blame him. The poor lad can’t tell fantasy from reality most of the time.”

That’ll happen when you’re force-fed mæting all your
life, but you didn’t manage to kill or steal his mind, did
you? I’ll bet the brilliance of it was like a shining gem,
just out of your reach, and that’s just eating you up, isn’t
it? He fought you, and for more than fifty years, you
couldn’t beat him.

Despite himself, Dallin smirked. It made Siofra’s smile slip a bit, made the rage and hatred behind his eyes flash out, just for a second, before he schooled his expression 285

The Aisling Book Two Dream

back to one of charm and concern. He leaned in close, dipped his mouth to Dallin’s ear.

“I know what you are,” he whispered in his thin, silky drawl, like the hiss of a snake. “I know where you’ve sent him.” He pulled back just a little, softened his smile, almost intimate. “I wonder if he’ll think you’ve betrayed him when he finds what’s waiting for him? Ah, but then he won’t make it, you know, so I don’t expect we’ll ever get an answer to that question. Pity.” He sighed. “It’s all been for nothing. He’ll never even get out of the city, and you?” The smile twisted. “I believe the punishment for treason is at least one thing upon which Cynewísan and Ríocht agree.” A wave of a long, pale hand. “Gibbets are the same everywhere, I expect.”

None of it was surprising, none of it would get the rise out of Dallin that Siofra was obviously looking for.

Instead, Dallin leaned in himself, let the smirk curl wide and cocky. “He knows what you’ve done,” he whispered back. “He knows what I am—he knows what
he
is. He knows
everything
.” He mimicked Siofra’s own little performance, pulled back, returned the smile, let it twist smug. “He knows you’re coming,” he told Siofra, “and he’s ready for you this time.”

Dallin was a much better bluff than Siofra was. Siofra’s face darkened. Rage suppressed beneath charm boiled up and flowed over into the glitter of his eyes, the clench of his teeth. He stood, mouth tight, glared at Dallin for a long moment before dragging his gaze away, turning it to Corliss, who was waiting over by the storage cabinet, watching.

“I’m done here, Constable,” Siofra said, clipped and thin. “I’ll want to continue with this one at the Constabulary. Bring him along with your men—I don’t expect he can cause much trouble anymore. Let the local law deal with the other Linder. And after they’ve 286

Carole Cummings

completed the search of the city and found the Chosen, see that these brave soldiers are housed appropriately in one of Chester’s better establishments. On Ríocht’s coin, of course.”

With one last narrow look at Dallin, Siofra left the stable. Dallin watched him go, just barely keeping a smirk under control. That man actually thought he was going to interrogate Dallin? Fine. Let him ask his questions.

They’d just see who got more information than whom.

Dallin turned to Corliss when she made her way over to him. “Taking orders from Dominion scum now?” he asked mildly.

Corliss colored only slightly. “You’re hardly one to talk about what another does for or with ‘Dominion scum,’” she bit back. Her mouth tightened and she shook her head. “You don’t know what’s happened, Brayden.”

She took hold of his elbow, tugged. Dallin got to his feet with only a slight grimace; his knee was bloody
killing
him. “Both sides are massing at the borders again. The talks have fallen apart, and according to the Elders at the Guild, the only thing keeping them from blowing their war horns is the fact that General Wheeler has personally promised that the Commonwealth will find and return their Chosen. Those aren’t just soldiers out there; they’re infantry sharpshooters, hand-picked by Wheeler himself.

You’re damned lucky none of them had to shoot at you—

these lads don’t miss.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Dallin retorted.

Corliss gave him a sharp shake. “Siofra’s word now determines whether or not war is declared. Siofra’s word is all that’s keeping the Guild from foaming at the mouth.

Siofra’s word will hopefully calm the Guild when he tells them that Cynewísan did everything in its power to find their Chosen and return him to them safely, and then—”

She stopped, face screwing up and eyes once again misting over.

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“And then see that the Chosen’s ‘kidnapper’ is properly hanged, I imagine,” Dallin finished for her. He shook his head. “How long have we known each other, Corliss?”

She looked away, didn’t answer.

“Since we were fifteen,” Dallin supplied. “I’ve sat at your table. I watched you bind your hand to Olin’s. Your children have used me for a tree, all six of them, at one time or another.” He leaned in, teeth clenching with an anger he hadn’t even been aware was rising, but now that he was thinking about it—what right did
she
have feel betrayed? “You should’ve known me better than this,”

he told her. “You should’ve known that whatever it might look like, I did what I did because I had to, because the need was greater than the job.”

“And how would I have—?”

“
You should’ve found a way to ask
!”

The bustle in their periphery paused for a moment, the stable workers and Commonwealth troops who’d been trying very hard not to look like they were watching suddenly flicking keen glances their way. Woodrow met Dallin’s eyes squarely for the first time. Dallin was surprised to note there was no judgment there, no anger, no nervous blushing. Dallin narrowed his eyes in interest, but Corliss distracted him when she glanced about, set her jaw then took his arm again and began to lead him from the stable, Woodrow and Creighton falling in behind.

The soldiers stared; two of them spat in the dirt as he passed. Dallin ignored it.

They walked in silence until they were out of the yard, making the turn for the street that led to Chester’s Constabulary. Corliss was tense, brooding, but she leaned up to speak quietly in Dallin’s ear. “What d’you want from me?” she muttered in a voice that was edging on conciliatory.

Dallin breathed a small, silent sigh. “He means to 288

Carole Cummings

question me,” he murmured back. “I want you to listen.

To
all
of it.”

She shook her head. “He’s a close one, and he doesn’t trust women. I doubt he’ll let me.”

“I didn’t say you should ask him,” Dallin told her.

“There’s a book in my pack. Find it and read everything you can find on the legend of the Aisling, then get your arse to wherever they’re taking me and listen.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me, Corliss, and I’ve never asked you for a damned thing.

I’ve been a good superior to you while you’ve been at the Constabulary, and for most of our lives, I’ve been a good friend. You do what I ask now, and whatever happens after, you owe me nothing.”

Corliss gusted a heavy sigh, scowling down at her dusty boots. “As you will,” was all she said.

The Chester Constabulary was newer than Putnam’s, brighter with its great, wide windows and gleaming wooden floors, rather than the bulky stone and stale surroundings that Dallin had always associated with The Law. He’d expected glares and derisive gestures when he was brought in—lawmen didn’t generally take kindly to one of their ranks switching sides, and there was the mess with the gate guard, after all—but he was generally ignored but for the few whose services were required to get him through the door and into an interrogation room. He wasn’t taken to a desk to be processed by a bored minion; he wasn’t formally apprised of the charges against him. He was led straight down into the gas-lit basement of the place, the same stone as the city’s walls, and into a small, dank room with no windows, merely a plain table bolted to the floor and two wooden chairs.

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Stark and dim and dusty; it didn’t exactly inspire the ease of conscience for which Putnam reached. Judging by the representatives of authority Dallin had run into here, he guessed they went more for extraction by force.

He’d thought Siofra would keep him waiting, try to get him anxious and sweating, but he arrived with no fanfare a mere several minutes after Dallin was deposited by a bored bailiff. He sat across from Dallin, no charming smile this time. Good. Perhaps they were to speak plainly, then.

Except Siofra didn’t speak—just stared at Dallin, a pale glimmer in his eyes that was reminiscent of Wil but small and ugly, where Wil’s was… pure? Dynamic? Just solely and simply
Wil
? Siofra was cold arrogance reaching for stolen respect, while Wil was all burning intensity and cool cunning. The difference was marked, and that made Dallin feel rather smug, too.

Even the slender blades of power reeking from Siofra felt… slick, slick and
oily
, as they tried slipping past Dallin’s mind, or maybe past his soul. Dallin didn’t know and didn’t bother defining it. He merely rolled his eyes, said, “Right, that doesn’t work on me. Save your tricks for your own minions.” He tilted his head. “Orman ever recover?”

Siofra’s calm façade slipped the tiniest bit before he caught himself, smiled a little and shrugged. “I regret that our meeting has occurred under such circumstances,” he began.

Trying to be ‘friends’, talk man-to-man. Too bloody
predictable. I just hope to hell you’re out there listening
to this, Corliss. Because I mean for you to get a bloody
earful.

Dallin raised an eyebrow. “I’ve no doubt,” he replied easily, even smiled a little. “Then again, I’ve no doubt you regret we’ve met at all. You did try rather hard to prevent 290

Carole Cummings

the possibility, after all.”

“Ah, delightful, we’re to be blunt, then.” Siofra sat back in his chair. “So, the lad’s been telling tales, has he?”

He shook his head. “Perhaps I put too much trust in the boy.”

“Trust. An interesting choice of words.” Dallin raised both eyebrows this time. “D’you know what it means?”

Siofra chuckled. “As you will, then. Perhaps I should have been more… precise in my aim. Lind was so…” His long nose wrinkled. “…messy.”

Dallin

would not
allow his teeth to clench like they wanted to. “Perhaps you should have been more precise with your questions afterward.” He shrugged. “When you drug a man and trick him into being terrified of the one meant to protect him, then trick him again into making him believe he was responsible for wiping out half a village, you really can’t be surprised when he keeps a secret or two.” He shifted, frowned thoughtfully.

“What I don’t understand is, why did you even think it necessary? I mean, let’s face it—you already had him. He was already petrified of me, and you were going to stage your raid on Lind whether he knew about it or not. Why was it so important that he believe he did it?”

“Ah, that’s right. You are— Oh, I’m so sorry, you
were
a constable. I imagine you’re used to asking the questions.”

The condescending sympathy in the tone almost made Dallin snort. The man really did think he knew what he was doing.

Not so good without your drugs and your stolen magic
now, are you, then?

“I do apologize,” Dallin returned, just as sincerely.

Anyway, he didn’t really need an answer. Siofra had done it to make sure Wil stayed far away from Lind. Why he thought he needed to do it, seeing as how Wil had been 291

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a prisoner all his life and there had been no real hope then of escape, Dallin would certainly like to know, but he doubted Siofra would be terribly forthcoming on the issue. Dallin had asked the question mostly for the benefit of Corliss, so he didn’t pursue an answer he wouldn’t get. Instead, he frowned, tilted his head. “What
was
the question, anyway?”

“I’m not quite certain I’ve asked one yet,” Siofra replied. “But since you’ve asked—I’m very curious to know what you think the lad is about.” He waved a hand.

“It doesn’t really matter, you understand—he’s mad and needs his draughts just to control his violent temper, and nothing he says can be trusted.”

Dallin’s jaw twitched some with that snide little
needs
his draughts
, but he managed to control the snarl and keep his face blank. Siofra leaned into the table, clasped his hands atop it.