The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

There was, predictably, a lot of shouting when they presented their case to Parliament. It took about forty-five seconds, by Leo's estimate, for him to be clapped in irons and escorted to their dingiest dungeon. The irons were no difficulty. The cell, however, proved a more difficult matter. The bars and lock were threaded through with silver, and no magic would work against it. With a shudder, Leo sat carefully in the very center of the cell, careful not to touch anything. Although he couldn't remember, he knew. This was one of the cages where the sorcerers had been kept in the last days of the war. Eventually, someone came down to talk to him. To his surprise, it was Sister Karina. She had brought food, which she passed through a slot in the door. Settling her habit around her, she sat on the other side of the bars. "The vote has been counted," she said finally. "You are to be executed in the morning." Leo paused, a spoon halfway to his mouth. "What?" "For the good of the nation," she explained. "If Michael Alden really is the heir of the Witch-Kings, we cannot allow both you and the crown to fall into his hands." "But Michael doesn't have the crown," Leo protested. "And without it, he doesn't have me. I'm on your side. I could be a valuable ally if it comes to...to war." "I know," the nun said, and sighed. "Believe me, I argued about it at length. But there are some who doubt your account of the illusion. They fear that Michael is crowned already, and you under his control." "You saw the broken sigil. You know that isn't true." "Nobody knows what is or is not possible with magic these days. Perhaps there is a new one somewhere you didn't show us. Perhaps he can still control you through the broken one. Perhaps there is no need of a sigil at all." "And the druids? They're going along with this madness?" She hesitated. Leo leaned closer, inching as close to the bars as he dared. "Let me talk to them," he said. "Let me plead my own case." She shook her head. "It's too late. The matter has been decided." "Just like that?" he was aghast. "Just like that." "I am to die in the morning?" "Yes." "How?" She winced. "Fire." "Fire," he repeated, dumbfounded. "I came here willingly, sister. You promised me protection." "I promised you no such thing." Heat crept into her voice. "In fact, I specifically said that I could not protect you. This is a democracy now." Leo sat back carefully and picked at the bread she'd given him. "Leo," Sister Karina said gently. "Where is the crown?" He looked up, startled. "You think I'm going to tell you now?" "I do," she said. "Because I believe everything you said on that mountain. You did come here to try and help us, and you don't want to see the country destroyed. You have nothing left to gain by withholding it, and nothing to lose by handing it over. Do the right thing, let us see that this one danger is put to an end." "And by proving my honesty, perhaps I can persuade parliament to change their minds about my execution?" "No." She shook her head. "They made it very clear that they would not." "So then why are you even here? Come to absolve me before I meet my final end?" "I can't do that, I'm not a priest." "Then what are you even for, sister?" he shouted, standing up and approaching the bars. "What good is all your prayer and piety? I know who you are, you know. I may have lost my memories but I can still read. I know you gave up your position as chancellor to take holy orders, to "pray for the soul of the city," you said in your farewell speech. And what good have you done? In what way have you stood up for the poor and the marginalized? In two decades in that abbey, what have you learned that can help me, help us?" He grasped the bars and there was a sizzle as the they burned. He hissed in pain and dropped back to the floor, crouching over his hands with a whimper. "Silver?" Sister Karina guessed, giving the bars an appraising look. He didn't answer. Hot tears were leaking from his eyes, and he didn't trust himself to look at her. He was going to die. He was going to die. Michael had betrayed him, and he was going to die. And what did he have to show for his life, after all? There was a rustle of fabric as the nun stood up. "I'll have a priest sent to you," she offered. "If that's what you want." He didn't answer. She hesitated a while longer, and then soft, departing footsteps told him she was gone. ** By the time Karina made it to the guest room in the palace, she was crying. She couldn't go home to the abbey, not now, not when everything the sorcerer had said was true. She was a fraud, worse than that, she was a coward. She had run away from her responsibilities, abandoning the people she had sworn to protect, and now she was going to let an innocent man die. There was a knock at her door and she hastily wiped at her face, wondering if it was a late night summons to a strategy meeting. "Who is it?" "It's me," Daryl said. "Can I come in?" She flung the door open, and threw herself into his arm.