The First Confessor (3 page)

“I stood beside him at the rampart each night as he stared off at the red moon, inconsolable, as one friend after another failed to return from the underworld. Inconsolable that he had sent valuable men, his friends, men who were husbands and fathers, to their death.

“Finally, when no one else had succeeded, my husband undertook the journey himself, and in the end paid for it with his life.”

Lothain let the ringing silence go on for a moment before speaking softly. “Actually, he did not pay for it with his life. He took his own life after returning.”

Magda glared at him. “What is your point?”

Lothain tapped his fingertips together for a moment as he studied her wet eyes. “My point, Lady Searus, is that he took his own life before we learned what had happened on his journey to the Temple of the Winds. Perhaps you can tell us?” He cocked his head. “Did he make it in?”

“I don’t know,” Magda said. But she did know. Baraccus had told her that he had, and told her a lot more. “I was his wife, not a member of the council or—”

“Ah,” Lothain said as he tipped his head back. “His young, exquisitely beautiful, but so very ungifted wife. Of course. So obviously a wizard of such great ability would not discuss matters of profound power with someone who had none.”

Magda swallowed. “That’s right.”

“You know, I’ve always been curious. Why would . . .” His frown returned as his black eyes again fixed on her. “Well, why would a man of such extraordinary ability, a gifted war wizard, a man whose talents included everything from combat to prophecy, why would a man like that marry a woman who had no ability at all? I mean, other than . . .” He let his gaze wander down her body.

He was fishing, accusing her of being nothing but a pretty bauble, the shallow possession of a powerful man. Prosecutor Lothain was making the bold charge that she was simply sexual entertainment and nothing more—repeating what contemptible gossip took for granted—in at attempt to get her to admit that she was indeed more, and that she knew more, than would the mere attractive status symbol of an older man.

Magda didn’t take the bait. She didn’t want to trust this man with anything she knew. Her instincts told her not to tell him what she knew about Baraccus’s journey to the Temple of the Winds.

She felt tears begin to run down her cheek and drip off her chin.

“Because he loved me,” she whispered.

“Ah, yes, of course. Love.”

Magda was not about to explain her relationship with Baraccus to this man. Prosecutor Lothain was too cynical to begin to understand what she and Baraccus had meant to each other. Lothain saw her the way so many men saw her, as an object of desire, not as a person, the way Baraccus had seen her.

One of the council members, a man named Sadler, stepped forward, a scowl growing across his sagging, aged features.

“If you have an important question, then please ask it. Otherwise I think you ought to leave the widow Searus to her grief.”

“Very well.” Lothain clasped his hands behind his back. “What I would like to know, is if you are aware of any clandestine meetings that First Wizard Baraccus might have had?”

Magda frowned at the prosecutor. “Clandestine meetings? What do you mean? What clandestine meetings? With whom?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Are you aware of any secret meetings he had with the enemy?”

Magda could feel her face go red with rage. “Get out.”

Her own voice surprised her with its calm power. He studied her eyes a moment, then turned to leave.

“I do hope that First Wizard Baraccus was the hero so many think he was,” he said back over his shoulder, “and not involved in a conspiracy.”

Taking long strides, Magda closed the distance to the man. “Are you accusing my husband of conspiring with the enemy?”

He turned back at the door and smiled. “Of course not. I merely think it strange that the men Baraccus sent to the Temple of the Winds failed, and that he would then go himself on such a mission when the war burns hot and he is desperately needed here. After all, approaching enemy troops threaten our very existence. It seems a strange priority for him to take, don’t you think?

“And even more curious, when he returned, he rushed to kill himself before anyone could so much as ask him if he made it into the Temple to repair the damage.”

He held up a finger. “Oh, but wait. It just occurs to me that with the moon still red, he must not have gotten in or it would have returned to normal while he was still there.” His frown returned. “Or at least, if he did get in, he must not have repaired the damage. After all, had he done so, the red moons would have ceased. Now, as the red moon slowly wanes, apparently even the Temple has given up hope.”

He was still fishing. Magda said nothing.

His antagonistic smile returned. “You do see my point, I trust. Treason is an offense that can taint even the dead. And, of course, knowingly aiding a person committing treason is treason as well, and would cost such a person their lovely head.”

He started away again, but then again turned back.

“One last thing, Widow Searus. You will make yourself available to answer questions should I deem a formal investigation to be necessary.”

Magda trembled with rage as she glared at the man’s smile. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer before he finally turned and left.

After watching the door close, Councilman Sadler turned back to Magda. “I must apologize, Lady Searus.”

“No need for you to apologize.” Magda arched an eyebrow. “Unless you support Lothain’s accusations against my husband?”

Sadness softened his expression. “Baraccus was a good man. We all miss him. I fear that bitter sorrow over recent events may have clouded Lothain’s better judgment.”

She glanced at the other five. Hambrook and Clay nodded their agreement. Elder Cadell made no show of his feelings. The gazes of the last two men, Weston and Guymer, dropped away.

“He did not seem to me to be a man possessed by sorrow,” she said.

The hunched elder, Cadell, gently touched the back of her shoulder. “There is grave concern in the air, Magda.” His hand left her shoulder to gesture past her and the other councilmen toward the shuttered window overlooking the city of Aydindril. “All of us stand at the brink of annihilation. People are understandably afraid.”

Councilman Sadler let out a troubled sigh. “Added to that, there is great confusion as to what happened with First Wizard Baraccus. It doesn’t make sense to us, so imagine the rumors and gossip spreading through the Keep, much less down in the city. Everyone expected First Wizard Baraccus to always stand with his people, to defend them, to protect them. Many feel that he instead deserted them. They don’t understand why. Prosecutor Lothain is merely giving voice to suspicion and unease, merely speaking aloud what whispers are saying.”

Magda lifted her chin. “So you believe that it is proper for Prosecutor Lothain to give voice to gossip? Do you also believe that such talk from anonymous people who know nothing of the true reasons behind events calls for fabricated accusations from the head prosecutor himself and quick beheadings in order to quell gossip and discontent? Is that your position?”

Councilman Sadler smiled somewhat self-consciously at the way she had framed it. “Not at all, Lady Searus. I am merely suggesting that these are stressful times and perhaps Prosecutor Lothain is feeling those stresses.”

Magda didn’t relent or shy from his gaze. “Since when do we allow fears and misgivings to guide us? I thought we stood for more. I would think that a head prosecutor, of all people, would only be interested in his duty of seeing the truth brought out.”

“And maybe that is exactly his purpose,” Elder Cadell said, speaking softly in an attempt to make what was a sharp point sound less harsh and at the same time bring the disagreement and criticism to an end. “It is the rightful duty of the head prosecutor to question. That is how we discover where the truth lies. Beyond that, the man is not here to speak to his reasons for asking the questions he asked, so it is only right that in his absence we in turn not speculate or fabricate accusations of our own.”

Magda had dealt with Elder Cadell for several years. He was open-minded and fair, but she knew that when he made it clear that he was finished hearing a point of view, he expected it to end there. She turned away to rest a hand on the smooth, rounded edge of the worktable and changed the subject.

“So what would be the purpose of this visit from the council? Have you all come to discuss some of the matters I have pending before you?”

There was a long silence. She knew, of course, that that wasn’t the reason they were there. She turned back around to face all the men watching her.

“Those are matters for another time,” Sadler said.

“And will I be heard when I return to the council chambers at another time? Will the concerns of those I speak for be heard by the council, then, when I am no longer the wife of our First Wizard?”

Sadler’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “It’s complicated.”

She leveled a cutting look at the man. “Maybe to you, but not to me.”

“We have a great many matters before us,” Councilman Weston put in, trying to turn the issue aside.

“Our immediate concern is the need for a man to replace First Wizard Baraccus,” Elder Cadell said. “The war rages on. Aydindril and the Keep itself could soon be under threat of siege. Those matters require our full attention.”

“Alric Rahl has also just arrived from the D’Haran Lands,” Sadler said. “That man has turned the Keep upside down with his own urgent demands. He had been hoping to meet with First Wizard Baraccus. Something to do with some rather startling claims and even more startling remedies. With your husband dead, there are an endless variety of urgent problems that must be attended to.”

“As you can no doubt appreciate,” Councilman Guymer, down at the end of the line, added, “we have any number of pressing issues of rule which require our full attention for now.”

“Ah.” Magda smiled without humor as she looked at each man in turn. “Pressing issues. Matters of state. Great questions of warfare and rule. You must all be terribly busy with such work. I understand.

“So you are here, then, about one of these momentous issues? That is what brings you out of council chambers to see me? Vital business of state? Matters of war and peace?”

To a man, their faces turned red.

Magda strolled past the line of six. “So how may I help with such important issues that require the council’s full attention? Please tell me what urgent matter of state brings you to me this particular day, the same day we all stood by and prayed that the good spirits would take my departed husband, our leader, our First Wizard, into their gentle arms? Speak up, then. What urgent matter takes you away from your vital work and brings you all up here today?”

Their expressions turned dark. They didn’t like being mocked. At that moment, Magda didn’t much care.

“You know why we’re here,” Cadell said in an even tone. “It is a small duty, but an important one that demonstrates our respect for our heritage. It shows people that even in such times, tradition still has meaning to every one of our people, even those in high places. Sometimes, ceremony is essential for the continued cohesion of society.”

Councilman Sadler’s bony fingers fidgeted with the sky blue band of rank sewn on the sleeves of his black robes. “It demonstrates to people that there is continuity of the ways that have been handed down to us, that the customs of our people, that the practices that govern civilization itself, still matter and will not be abandoned.”

Magda glared at the man a moment before turning her back on them and sitting on the chair before the table.

“Do it, then,” she said in a voice finally gone lifeless and empty. “Carry out your critical custom. And then leave me be.”

What did it matter anymore?

Without another word one of the men pulled out a bloodred ribbon and handed it to her over her shoulder. Magda held it a moment, feeling the silken material in her fingers.

“This is not something we take pleasure in doing,” Cadell said quietly from behind her. “I hope you can understand that.”

“You are a good woman, and have always been a proper wife to the First Wizard,” Sadler said, his words rambling on, apparently in an attempt to cover his obvious discomfort. “This is merely an upholding of custom that gives people a sense of order. Because of your high standing as the wife of the First Wizard, they expect us in this case, as the Central Council, to see this done. It’s more for them, really, that they might see that our ways endure, and thus, despite the perils of the times, we will endure as well. Think of it as a formality in which you play an important role.”

Magda hardly heard him. It didn’t really matter. None of it did. An inner voice whispered promises of the loving embrace of the good spirits awaiting her beyond the veil of life. Her husband, too, would be there waiting for her. Those whispers were reassuring, seductive.

She was only distantly aware of her hands gathering her long hair together in the back and tying it tightly with the ribbon near the base of her skull.

“Not that short,” Cadell said as his fingers gently took hers away and slipped the ribbon down until it was just below the tops of her shoulders. “Though you may not have been born noble, you have proven yourself in your own right to be a woman of some standing, and besides, you are, after all, still the widow of the First Wizard.”