The Bone Doll’s Twin. Lynn Flewelling

He couldn’t make out faces at this distance, but he recognized the forked red beard of the man standing closest to the frames.

      ‘That’s Niryn himself!’

      ‘Yes. I didn’t realize there were so many, but I suppose there would have to be … Those prisoners are wizards. See those iron bands? Very powerful magic, that. They cloud the mind.’

      Soldiers pulled the prisoners to their feet and bound them spread-eagled on the frames with silver cables. Now Arkoniel could see the complex spell patterns that covered each man’s chest. Before he could ask Iya what these signified she let out a groan and clutched his hand.

      When the victims were secured the wizards flanked them in two rows and began their incantations. The old man fixed his gaze stoically on the sky, but his companion panicked, screaming and imploring the crowd and Illior to save him.

      ‘Can’t we do –’ Arkoniel staggered as a blinding ache struck him behind the eyes. ‘What is it? Do you feel it?’

      ‘It’s a warding,’ Iya whispered, pressing a hand to her brow. ‘And a warning to any of us who might be watching.’

      The crowd had gone completely silent now. Arkoniel could hear the chanting growing louder and louder. The blur of words was unintelligible, but the throbbing in his head grew stronger and spread to his chest and arms until his heart felt as if it was being squeezed between heavy stones. He slowly slid down to his knees in front of the window, but could not look away.

      Both prisoners began to shake violently, then shrieked as white flames sprang from their flesh to engulf them. There was no smoke. The white fire burned with such intensity that within a few moments nothing was left on the frames but shrivelled black hands and feet dangling from the silver bonds. Iya was whispering hoarsely beside him, and he joined her in the prayer for the dead.

      When it was over, Iya slumped down on the narrow bed and wove a spell of silence around them with shaking fingers. Arkoniel remained where he was under the window, unable to move. For a long time neither could speak.

      At last Iya whispered, ‘There was nothing we could have done. Nothing. I see their power now. They’ve banded together and joined their strength. The rest of us are so scattered …’

      ‘That, and the King’s sanction!’ Arkoniel spat out. ‘He’s his mad mother’s son after all.’

      ‘He’s worse. She was insane, where he is ruthless, and intelligent enough to turn wizards against their own kind.’

      Fear kept them in the tiny room until nightfall, when the tavern keeper shooed them out to make way for a whore and her cully.

      The taverns were open and there were still many people on the street, but none ventured out onto the platform. Torches had been left burning there. Arkoniel could see the bodies on the gibbet swinging in the night breeze. The frames, however, were gone.

      ‘Should we go see if there’s anything to be learned?’

      ‘No.’ Iya drew him hastily away. ‘It’s too dangerous. They might be watching.’

      Slipping out of town by the darkest alleys, they rode back to the grove and gathered their tools. But when Arkoniel reached for the amulets, Iya shook her head. They left them where they lay and rode on without speaking until the town was far behind them.

      ‘Eight wizards could do that, Arkoniel, just eight!’ Iya burst out at last, voice shaking with fury. ‘And there was nothing we could do against them. I begin to see more clearly now. The Third Orëska the Oracle revealed to me in my vision – it was a great confederation of wizards in a shining palace of their own at the heart of a great city. If eight are enough to carry out the evil we witnessed here, what could a hundred accomplish for good? And who could stand against us?’

      ‘Like in the Great War,’ said Arkoniel.

      Iya shook her head. ‘That union lasted only as long as the war, and in the face of the most horrible conflict and upheaval. Think what we could do with peace and time enough to work! Imagine – the knowledge you and I have collected in our travels combined with that of a hundred other wizards? And think of Virishan’s poor children? Imagine them saved sooner and brought up in such a place, with dozens of teachers instead of one, and whole libraries of wisdom to draw from?’

      ‘But instead, that same power is being used to divide us against ourselves.’

      Iya stared into the distance, her face unreadable in the starlight. ‘Famine. Disease. Raiders. Now this. Sometimes, Arkoniel, I see Skala like a sacrificial bull at Sakor-tide. But instead of a clean stroke of the sword to kill it, it’s being stuck over and over with little knives until it weakens and falls to its knees.’ She turned grimly to Arkoniel. ‘And there’s Plenimar just across the water, scenting blood like a wolf.’

      ‘It’s almost as if Niryn has had the same vision, but turned it on its head,’ Arkoniel murmured. ‘Why would the Lightbearer do that?’

      ‘You saw the priest on the gibbet, my boy. Do you really think it’s Illior who guides him?’