Vincalis the Agitator (46 page)

Beads of sweat dripped down Wraith’s forehead into his eyes, slipped off of his upper lip, ran down the furrow between the
muscles on either side of his spine with an icy and unnerving irregularity.

He looked longingly at the world racing below him; he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the last look he would get of Oel
Artis.

The aircar settled on the flat roof of one of the ancient wings of a building of tremendously ancient design, landing in deep
shadow. Around the roof rose windowless walls three times the height of the tallest man, smooth and featureless and impenetrable.
Only one door punctuated the grim expanse of whiteness, and it was toward that door that Etareiff and Wraith began to walk.
Wraith knew he could fight Etareiff now—the weapons the agent would have with him would be unlikely to do anything at all
to Wraith. But the driver of the aircar would pose a more difficult problem, and there were no other aircars on the roof.
He could make things more difficult for himself in the long run by fighting now. If he maintained his assertion that he was
an innocent man, a stolti due the respect and protection of the law, and not a criminal who deserved its punishment, he still
might be able to walk away from all of this.

“We’re going into one of the interrogation observation rooms,” Etareiff said as the two of them passed through the single
broad door and into a wide, plain hallway. “I’d like for you to hear some things that the Masters of the Inquest—and the Dragons
who asked for our assistance— have found very interesting. You won’t be listening to these confessions live—you’ll simply
be observing copies made of the interrogation procedure. I think you’ll find some of what we’ve learned … well, frankly, fascinating.”

“Learned about whom?” Wraith asked.

“Oh, all sorts of people. You’ll see. It has been one of the most interesting days of my career so far, and I must say I can
only anticipate it getting more interesting. The Inquestor Triad is simply stunned by what we’ve been uncovering.”

Wraith said nothing else. Anything he said might tell them something they didn’t already know. He wouldn’t do that.

He followed Etareiff into a small room in which a semicircle of silk brocade and leather chairs faced a raised dais. Men in
green and gold robes glanced over at him as he entered, and he was shown to one of the chairs and bade to sit. Etareiff did
not take a seat; instead, he retreated to the back of the room and took a position on one side of the door. Another man, clearly
armed with several weapons, leaned against the wall on the other side.

“Master Tomersin,” the oldest of the men said, standing up, “I am Master Omwi. The Dragons of the Council have … yes,
appointed
would be the right word … have appointed me investigator into your activities and those of your associates. Welcome to our
little circle. We regret the necessity of bringing you here, but as you will see in a moment, serious issues have arisen that
require not just your presence, but will eventually demand some form of explanation.”

“Master Omwi,” Wraith said, and rose and bowed deeply. “I’m sure I’ll be able to clear up any questions you might have.”

“That would be almost a miracle,” Omwi said, “but I do look forward to seeing you try.”

Then Master Omwi waved a hand gently through the air, and on the dais in front of the observers Solander Artis appeared, seated
in a chair. A column of light surrounded him, so that his questioners of record remained hidden in shadow—he would not have
been able to see them, but no one could see them now, either.

“Name,” a disembodied voice said.

“Solander Kothern Jans Emanual Artis, stolti, son of Rone Jans—”

“We know your parentage, Artis. It’s part of what makes your betrayal so significant. Your father died a hero. You—”

“Enough,” another voice whispered. “Stay with relevant matters.”

Wraith watched Solander closely. He seemed completely unworried; he sat in a relaxed pose, his hands folded, an expression
of calm acceptance on his face. This was a different Solander than the panicked friend who had come to Wraith for help; who
had falsified data to save his own life and who had planned to leave Oel Artis as soon as he thought he could escape without
drawing any attention to his departure.

Wraith wondered what had changed. Obviously Solander was in trouble. However, he projected an air of such complete confidence
that even Wraith, who knew what he had done and who could at least guess at the possible repercussions of Solander’s actions,
should they be proven, felt himself wondering if perhaps Solander had found a way to prove his innocence.

“You have been brought before the private interrogators because you have refused to agree to cooperate in our investigation.
Do you understand this?”

“I do,” Solander said.

“You have refused to turn over information on others associated with you; you have refused to explain in any form your own
behavior as it has been related to us by our agent; and you have refused to provide us with the complete formulas and background
research to explain your new theory of magic, or the law that you claim to have discovered—”

Solander held up a hand to interrupt. “Excuse me, but I haven’t claimed to have discovered anything. I’ve spent years researching
rewhah
-free magic, but my research, while it has provided many useful side products, has failed in its main objective.”

“Not according to our agent.”

“No. I’m aware that Borlen Haiff has informed you that I was successful in my research. I’m also aware that he has been unable
to duplicate the results he claims I obtained, and that while he is vehement in his claims that I have been successful, he
has no proof of this.”

Wraith heard the long, hostile silence and had to smile. So Solander had figured out who the Inquest’s spy was. Of course,
the fact that he’d brought Borlen with him when he met with Wraith—and that Wraith had offered what could only be seen as
treasonous advice regarding the way in which Solander could prevent the Empire from finding out what he’d been working on—did
not bode well for Wraith’s future freedom, and certainly went far to suggest a reason why he sat with members of the Inquest
watching the interrogation.

Wraith waited, studying the image of his friend. After a moment of silence, the invisible interrogators began again. “Had
you not discovered something that you believed the Hars Ticlarim would find valuable, why would you have acted as you did?”

“How did I act?” Solander asked.

“You fled to a meeting with a suspected traitor to the Empire, Gellas Tomersin, and discussed ways of hiding your discovery
from the Council of Dragons, and further, ways of leaving the empire with this discovery.”

“Nonsense.” Solander actually laughed. “Is that what dear Borlen told you? At least now I know why I’m here. He must have
had a much more interesting night than I did. I took him to meet Gellas, who is both my distant cousin and a friend of mine
from childhood. Borlen had claimed to be a great admirer of Gellas’s work, and seemed to enjoy meeting him. The three of us
walked to dinner at a fine restaurant, ate our meal, engaged in ordinary table talk, and after Gellas bought us our meal,
we left, and Borlen and I went to our separate homes because we needed a good night’s rest; we had to check our equipment
calibrations and present a public test of my theory on the morrow.”

“Borlen Haiff presents an entirely different picture of that evening.”

Solander smiled slowly. “And now you’re admitting that Borlen is your agent. Thank you. So we’re making some progress.” He
sighed. “Borlen is ambitious. He’s also careless, and has, for most of the time he’s been assigned to me, proven astonishingly
lazy.” Solander shrugged. “I made do with his assignment to me because I was told we were short on qualified assistants; I
believe my regular written complaints dating back over two years will be on record, making clear the fact that I did not consider
him competent help and requested an adequate replacement as soon as one might be found.”

“They are. But your complaints about Borlen have nothing to do with your own treasonous activities.”

“I have no treasonous activities. What sort of fantasy world do you live in?” Solander asked. “You think that a two-year complaint
file regarding the general worthlessness of an ambitious assistant—who just happens to also be a spy for the Dragons, or whatever
offshoot of the Dragons you might be—won’t have any repercussions? Borlen Haiff finally decided that the bad references in
his file and the fact that we weren’t making the sort of progress that would make him famous added up to a need for him to
take action on his own. So he concocted this story of his and presented it to you; what’s more, according to you, he made
himself the hero who created some sort of mystical shield that did not lose energy as regular shields do, and that rebounded
both
rewhah
and spell force on the sender, making it the perfect defensive weapon.” Solander shook his head gently. “It makes a lovely
story—who wouldn’t want to have created such a thing? But if it had any truth to it, why couldn’t Borlen show you his brilliant
shield himself? Your questions to me have made it clear that he claimed all along to have created this shield—not even he
blamed that on me. Why did you come to
me
and demand that I was hiding something from you, and that I should show you this thing that only Borlen in all the world
claims exists?”

“You forget that you had dinner with Gellas Tomersin that night. We’ll question him, too.”

“Of course you will. And you’ll discover that his story matches with mine.”

“I’m sure we will. And I’m sure that, when you’ve been subjected to spelled interrogation, your story will match our agent’s.
You cannot lie under spelled interrogation.”

Solander spread his hands wide. “Then interrogate me.”

“We’re giving you a chance to tell us what we want to know without interrogation. You are stolti, and of the highest family.
If you simply agree to tell us what we wish to know, and if you cooperate with our further investigations, we’ll offer you
limited immunity, and you won’t be subject to full prosecution for anything you’ve done. At worst you’ll have to step down
from your position in Research and accept a period of house confinement.”

“I’m innocent,” Solander said. “And the friends that you want me to give you in exchange for this bargain of yours are innocent
as well.”

Wraith felt his stomach knot. They knew Solander was a connection to him—and they suspected Wraith of something much worse
than concealing information. They suspected him of harboring his own private army and planning the overthrow of the Empire.

They were, for the moment, being quite polite about how they dealt with him, considering what they believed to be true about
him. They were about to be less gentle with Solander, however.

“For the record, then, you refuse this last offer of leniency on our part for cooperation on yours?”

“I do,” Solander said. “I have done nothing wrong, my friends have done nothing wrong, and I will not sell anyone to you to
protect myself from your lies. The truth will be my protection.”

Which all sounded very noble, and Wraith had to admire the presentation—but the fact was, Solander
was
lying. He
was
guilty. And spelled interrogation was going to prove that to everyone. Solander was giving up a chance to protect himself,
but he wouldn’t be able to protect Wraith, or Jess, or Velyn, or the Kaan, or the rebels in the Order of Resonance. It would
all come out, and he would be stripped of his citizenship and banished anyway.

And then the image of Solander vanished.

Wraith, who had been prepared to see the spell cast and to see Solander confessing everything that had happened from the day
that Wraith had run through his gate to elude pursuers, instead found himself facing a blank dais.

And the members of the Silent Inquest turned and looked at him.

“You can just imagine what he told us,” Master Omwi said.

Wraith tipped his head and his brow furrowed. “Pardon me, gentlemen, but I thought the purpose of making a live record of
the interrogation was so that viewers wouldn’t have to imagine.” He put his hand to his chin and stared off at nothing. “All
I can imagine,” he said at last, “is that you discovered exactly what he said you would discover—that is, nothing. And that,
hoping I would think you discovered something more, you brought me here, showed me the part of the interrogation that took
place prior to spellcasting and that could therefore only be subjective, and counted on my concern for my friend to put some
sort of pressure on me to tell you whatever it is you want to hear.”

“We have proof of what you’ve been doing from a number of unrelated sources. What you have now is an opportunity. If you are
honest with us, you will save the life of your friend, who otherwise will be stripped of his stolti class, created a parvoi,
and executed for treason along with anyone else we can connect with him.”

Wraith couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “The man is innocent. You couldn’t even get proof of treason with spelled interrogation,
which from everything I’ve heard, and everything everyone else has heard, is completely and perfectly accurate. If you had
proof of his treason, you would have used that part of the interrogation. So why are you telling me that unless I tell you
what you want to hear, you’re going to execute him?”

The Masters looked at each other, and finally Master Omwi said, “Because we have reason to believe that he has found a way
to lie under spelled interrogation. That, in fact, he can do everything our agent told us he could do, and more—and that he
used some of this new magic to subvert the course of our investigation. Though it was never considered a genuine possibility,
the Silent Inquest nonetheless maintained a law in our annals that anyone who lied under spelled interrogation would be executed.”

Wraith stood up. “What you’re telling me now doesn’t make sense. You’re claiming that if I tell you he lied—a thing that you
cannot prove— you’ll spare his life. If, however, I tell you the truth—which is that he told you the truth—you’ll execute
him for treason.”