Cassandra Clare - City of Ashes

"I doubt the Clave will believe you either."

Alec said hotly, "Jace isn't a liar—"

"Use your brain, Alexander," said the Inquisitor, not taking her eyes off Jace. "Leave aside your loyalty to your friend for a moment. What's the likelihood that Valentine stopped by his son's cell for a paternal chat about the Soul-Sword, and didn't mention what he planned to do with it, or even where he was going?"

" S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse ," Jace said in a language Clary didn't know, " a persona che mai tornasse al mondo …"

"Dante." The Inquisitor looked dryly amused. "The Inferno . You're not in hell yet, Jonathan Morgenstern, though if you insist on lying to the Clave, you'll wish you were." She turned back to the others. "And doesn't it seem odd to anyone that the Soul-Sword should disappear the night before Jonathan Morgenstern is supposed to stand trial by its blade—and that his father is the one who took it?"

Jace looked shocked at that, his lips parting slightly in surprise, as if this had never occurred to him. "My father didn't take the Sword for me. He took it for him . I doubt he even knew about the trial."

"How awfully convenient for you, regardless. And for him. He won't have to worry about you spilling his secrets."

"Yeah," Jace said, "he's terrified I'll tell everyone that he's always really wanted to be a ballerina." The Inquisitor simply stared at him. "I don't know any of my father's secrets," he said, less sharply. "He never told me anything."

The Inquisitor regarded him with something close to boredom. "If your father didn't take the Sword to protect you, then why did he take it?"

"It's a Mortal Instrument," said Clary. "It's powerful. Like the Cup. Valentine likes power."

"The Cup has an immediate use," said the Inquisitor. "He can use it to make an army. The Sword is used in trials. I can't see how that would interest him."

"He might have done it to destabilize the Clave," suggested Maryse. "To sap our morale. To say that there is nothing we can protect from him if he wants it badly enough." It was a surprisingly good argument, Clary thought, but Maryse didn't sound very convinced. "The fact is—"

But they never got to hear what the fact was, because at that moment Jace raised his hand as if he meant to ask a question, looked startled, and sat down on the grass suddenly, as if his legs had given out. Alec knelt down next to him, but Jace waved away his concern. "Leave me alone. I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Clary joined Alec on the grass, Jace watching her with eyes whose pupils were huge and dark, despite the witchlight illuminating the night. She glanced down at his wrist, where Alec had drawn the iratze . The Mark was gone, not even a faint white scar left behind to show that it had worked. Her eyes met Alec's and she saw her own anxiety reflected there. "Something's wrong with him," she said. "Something serious."

"He probably needs a healing rune." The Inquisitor looked as if she were exquisitely annoyed at Jace for being injured during events of such importance. "An iratze , or—"

"We tried that," said Alec. "It isn't working. I think there's something of demonic origin going on here."

"Like demon poison?" Maryse moved as if she meant to go to Jace, but the Inquisitor held her back.

"He's shamming," she said. "He ought to be in the Silent City's cells right now."

Alec rose to his feet at that. "You can't say that— look at him!" He gestured at Jace, who had slumped back on the grass, his eyes closed. "He can't even stand up. He needs doctors, he needs—"

"The Silent Brothers are dead," said the Inquisitor. "Are you suggesting a mundane hospital?"

"No." Alec's voice was tight. "I thought he could go to Magnus."

Isabelle made a sound somewhere between a sneeze and a cough. She turned away as the Inquisitor looked at Alec blankly. "Magnus?"

"He's a warlock," said Alec. "Actually, he's the High Warlock of Brooklyn."

"You mean Magnus Bane," said Maryse. "He has a reputation—"

"He healed me after I fought a Greater Demon," said Alec. "The Silent Brothers couldn't do anything, but Magnus…"

"It's ridiculous," said the Inquisitor. "What you want is to help Jonathan escape."

"He's not well enough to escape," Isabelle said. "Can't you see that?"

"Magnus would never let that happen," Alec said, with a quelling glance at his sister. "He's not interested in crossing the Clave."

"And how would he propose preventing it?" The Inquisitor's voice dripped acid sarcasm. "Jonathan is a Shadowhunter; we're not so easy to keep under lock and key."

"Maybe you should ask him," Alec suggested.

The Inquisitor smiled her razor smile. "By all means. Where is he?"

Alec glanced down at the phone in his hand and then back at the thin gray figure in front of him. "He's here," he said. He raised his voice. "Magnus! Magnus, come on out."

Even the Inquisitor's eyebrows shot up when Magnus strode through the gate. The High Warlock was wearing black leather pants, a belt with a buckle in the shape of a jeweled M, and a cobalt-blue Prussian military jacket open over a white lace shirt. He shimmered with layers of glitter. His gaze rested for a moment on Alec's face with amusement and a hint of something else before moving on to Jace, prone on the grass. "Is he dead?" he inquired. "He looks dead."

"No," snapped Maryse. "He's not dead."

"Have you checked? I could kick him if you want." Magnus moved toward Jace.

"Stop that!" the Inquisitor snapped, sounding like Clary's third-grade teacher demanding that she stop doodling on her desk with a marker. "He's not dead, but he's injured," she added, almost grudgingly. "Your medical skills are required. Jonathan needs to be well enough for the interrogation."

"Fine, but it'll cost you."

"I'll pay it," said Maryse.

The Inquisitor didn't even blink. "Very well. But he can't remain at the Institute. Just because the Sword is gone doesn't mean the interrogation won't proceed as planned. And in the meantime, the boy must be held under observation. He's clearly a flight risk."

"A flight risk?" Isabelle demanded. "You act as if he tried to escape from the Silent City—"

"Well," the Inquisitor said. "He's no longer in his cell now, is he?"

"That's not fair! You couldn't have expected him to stay down there surrounded by dead people!"

"Not fair? Not fair ? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you and your brother were motivated to come to the Bone City because of a distress call, and not because you wanted to free Jonathan from what you clearly consider unnecessary confinement? And do you expect me to believe you won't try to free him again if he's allowed to remain at the Institute? Do you think you can fool me as easily as you fool your parents, Isabelle Lightwood?"

Isabelle turned scarlet. Magnus cut in before she could reply:

"Look, it's not a problem," he said. "I can keep Jace at my place easily enough."

The Inquisitor turned to Alec. "Your warlock does realize," she said, "that Jonathan is a witness of utmost importance to the Clave?"

"He's not my warlock." The tops of Alec's angular cheekbones flared a dark red.

"I've held prisoners for the Clave before," Magnus said. The joking edge had left his voice. "I think you'll find I have an excellent record in that department. My contract is one of the best."

Was it Clary's imagination, or did his eyes seem to linger on Maryse when he said that? She didn't have time to wonder; the Inquisitor made a sharp noise that might have been amusement or disgust, and said, "It's settled, then. Let me know when he's well enough to talk, warlock. I've still got plenty of questions for him."