Gail Martin - Dark Lady_s Chosen

"You're certain this is the man?"

The victim nodded. "You don't forget something like that, m'lord."

The other two men gave stories that followed the same tale. Both had been unlucky enough to be in a deserted part of the castle when Crevan sought his victims. Throughout their testimony, Crevan's ghost remained on his knees as he had fallen, with his head bowed, defiantly refusing to show his face to the king. When Malae and Bian came to tell of the poisoned kesthrie cakes, Tris turned his attention for a moment to Crevan. You need to show the witnesses a little more respect. With a flicker of power, Tris jerked Crevan to his feet and tightened his grip on the man's soul, forcing his head up so that his face was visible. Crevan fixed Tris and the ghosts with a hateful glower, but said nothing. One by one, the ghosts testified. The court exclaimed in outrage as Bian told of the poisoned cakes and the herbs Crevan's helper in the kitchen mixed into Kiara's food to bring about miscarriage. Their mood turned even uglier as the young son of the butcher recounted how Crevan had chased him with an axe out onto the treacherous ice until he'd fallen through to his death, and as Ammond and Hothan identified their poisoner and told of Carroway's desperate battle to save Kiara. Macaria, Alle and Cerise all willingly recounted Crevan's attempts to kill Kiara, attempts that the other ghosts corroborated. "I'm the one who got away." The court turned in shock as Lady Eadoin rose to point a trembling finger at Crevan's ghost. "He sent me linens that carried sickness. My healer confirmed it. Half of my household died of the fever, and I came close enough myself to hear the Lady

singing for me." She turned toward Lord Guarov, who seemed to shrink in his chair at the intensity of her anger.

"Guarov and Crevan struck a deal. Crevan would remove me from getting in the way, one less protector for the queen, and Guarov would finally have Lady Nadine's revenge on Bard Carroway." A small silver dagger appeared in Eadoin's hand from beneath her sleeve, and before anyone could move, Eadoin had the point of the blade under Guarov's chin. "You started the rumors about the Queen and Carroway, didn't you?" She jabbed him with the blade, and a thin trickle of blood started down along his throat.

"I and my people," Guarov said in a strangled voice, careful not to move against the knife that pressed against his flesh.

"Tell them that it was all lies." Then in a voice only Tris and Guarov could hear, Eadoin added, "I'm an old lady. My hand trembles, see? If it slipped, I could claim palsy." "The rumors were lies," Guarov said, and repeated it louder as Eadoin prodded him with her blade. "All of it. There was no affair. Neither the Queen nor Carroway betrayed the king." "Tell them why you did it." Tris's voice was harsh and completely without mercy. Guarov's fear was visible in his eyes. "Crevan promised me he would restore the contracts I held with King Jared."

Tris's attention returned to Crevan's ghost, standing in the fiery dome. "Time to make your confession," he said quietly. "Make it good."

Crevan fixed Tris with a disdainful glare. "You want my confession, Your Majesty? Here it is. I was recruited to be King Donelan's court spy. Don't blame him. He didn't realize that Alvior of Brunnfen had put my name out, knowing my sympathies were with the divisionists. Yes, Curane paid me. He had his own reasons to be rid of an heir to the throne. Want the truth? I don't give a damn what happens to Margolan so long as you keep your hands off Isencroft. "I couldn't stop the wedding, but killing the Queen would have eliminated the heir to the joint throne, and it might have made Donelan declare war on Margolan. Only she didn't die easily," Crevan sneered. "So I thought I'd let the court see her the way those of us loyal to Isencroft do: like a prize bitch put out to stud for the highest bidder. "My only regret is that I wasted my dagger on that damn bard instead of skewering the whore and her brat like I intended."

Tris felt himself shaking with anger so overwhelming that his magic coursed through him

like lightning at the peak of a storm. With a crack like thunder and a flash of blue-white mage light, Tris's power shot through Nexus until the warded dome became blindingly bright. Torn between the realm of the living and the Plains of Spirit, Tris felt his power rip through Crevan's spirit, burning him from within with a fire that could consume the soul. An ear-splitting shriek wrenched from Crevan's spirit.

Tris fought for control of his rage. I… will… not… make… Lemuel's… mistake. The light died and the dome became transparent. Crevan's spirit slumped to the floor, released from its torment.

"I don't have to kill you," Tris said raggedly as he struggled for composure. "Did you forget that you invoked the Old Gods when you worked your blood magic? You promised Shanthadura a sacrifice. You'll do."

And with that, Tris stretched out his power, once more completely in control of his magic. Nexus became both athame and shield, guarding him and protecting the others as he opened up the gateway to the Nether. Crevan's spirit screamed in utter terror. What awaited Crevan on the other side bore no relation to the Sacred Lady. Far more ancient, Shanthadura was the roiling chaos in which stars die and from which no light escapes. Tendrils of darkness snaked out from the Nether, stripping Crevan's soul like meat from a carcass. Crevan screamed again, the sound of madness joined with unendurable pain. Shanthadura was in no hurry.

Beyond the wardings, nobles retched and fainted, sliding to the floor from their chairs. No one dared to move. Tris felt the primal terror in his own soul, and knew that even his power was scant protection should Shanthadura turn his way.

Crevan's torment seemed to last forever. No matter how much of his soul Shanthadura consumed, consciousness remained. As the last glowing wisp of Crevan's soul disappeared into the fathomless darkness, Tris's magic confirmed what the others did not know. Within the belly of the monster, Crevan's soul remained conscious.

The gateway to the Nether slammed closed with an abruptness that nearly blacked Tris out. Fighting a sudden, staggering headache, Tris dismissed the wardings and warily returned Nexus to its sheath. With a word of thanks, he dismissed the ghostly witnesses, too spent just now to see them to their rest. Instead, he turned toward the Council of Nobles. "To those who showed their loyalty to the crown at great risk to themselves, you have my thanks. Dame Nuray and Count Suphie: You are banished from this court and removed from the

Council of Nobles. Lord Guarov. For treason against the crown, you are condemned to hang from the gallows you constructed." He looked out over the silenced audience. "Justice is served. This court is adjourned."

From his tower cell, Carroway watched the king's return with a churning mix of emotions. Maybe he can save Kiara and the baby. The heir's what matters. A bard's life means nothing to history.

Candlemarks passed. Carroway found that he was too nervous even to pace. He sat in a chair watching the fire in the fireplace, his stomach knotted. How will it be? A soldier sent to escort me beyond the city walls, or beyond the kingdom's borders? One of the Sisterhood, to take me into custody? Or maybe a brace of guards to lead me to the gallows. He could feel the blade of Harrtuck's dagger against the small of his back where he had hidden it in his belt. He looked to the parchment and ink, sent by Lord Guarov for his confession. If I make the confession Guarov wants, maybe I can save Kiara and Macaria. I won't care what people believe of me after I'm dead. There's still time to cheat the hangman. The door opened, and Carroway jumped from his chair, his heart pounding. A lone guardsman entered. "The king sent me. You're to pack your things." Carroway was shaking so badly he didn't trust his voice for a moment. "So that's to be it, then," he said. It took him less than half a candlemark to gather his belongings and secure his two trunks. He slipped his lute into its leather case and carefully fastened the shoulder strap. "Shall I get my boots and cloak?"