“Ischade… Mistress, aren’t you curious?” Haught was rubbing the ring and she
could feel the feedback of magic twisted, a deadly loop fashioned by a brash and
foolish child.
Temptation made her shift from foot to foot. She was stronger, she could feel
it: Niko and his guardian spirit had given her that. She could end them, here
and now-Haught and whatever animated Tasfalen. For, though she hadn’t seen him
yet, she knew he must be here: the rest-place revelation was like a map, a
schematic, a design which fit over human ones. So he was here, reborn, animated
by some power. And Niko had wanted mercy for Roxane….
Two and two fit together with a snap.
Ischade whirled on her heel and fled out the door. For a moment it resisted, but
her strength prevailed.
Haught, behind her, came running down the stairs with a shout.
But she was faster: she wrenched the door open, slipped through, and bolted it
with magic from the farther side.
Then, stepping back, Ischade considered mercy in all its meanings: if Tasfalen
and Roxane were with Haught, in any stage of being whatsoever, mercy could only
take one form.
And with strength loaned her from the rest-place of a mystery she didn’t
understand and under the benediction of the high priest of a god in whom she had
no faith, Ischade began to weave a spell so strong and fast she had no doubt
about it holding.
All about Tasfalen’s house she wove the ward-a special one, one that would keep
the house sealed and keep those within locked up until they learned what mercy
meant.