The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,162

expected. The charm you used modified your bodily humors in a way that resulted in quite a buildup of harmful toxins. Though the levels have reduced, it’ll take some days yet before we fully clear your system.” He lifted my eyelid with a thumb and peered at my eye. “I’ll have some food brought up, though I warn you, it’ll be nice and bland. None of your Arkennlander spices to shock the system.”

I produced a bright, false smile. “Wouldn’t want to upset the condemned prisoner’s stomach.”

“That’s right,” a new voice said. “You know how we mages are. So picky about having clean floors.” A dark-haired man in a mage’s uniform leaned against the doorframe. His round, smiling face made him look more like a shopkeeper than a mage, and he spoke in a cheerful drawling style notably different than the usual clipped Alathian accent. He straightened and bowed to me from the waist in the Alathian style. “Captain Martennan, Seventh Watch, at your service.”

My nerves frayed further, but for once I managed to hold my tongue. Pevennar continued his examination, poking and prodding me with dispassionate efficiency. I gritted my teeth and tried not to swat his hands away.

Martennan bowed to Cara. “How lovely to see you again, Cara. I trust you have no cause for complaint, now?”

Cara’s back was straight and her blue eyes cool. “Thank you for allowing me to see him.”

Martennan waved a dismissive hand and dropped into the chair by the window. “Dev, I’m sure Cara has made you aware of the situation.” His cheerful face remained easy and open, but the calculating intelligence lurking in his eyes raised all my hackles.

“You mean the Council hearing,” I said flatly.

“Exactly.” He leaned forward in the chair, his expression earnest. “You realize your friend Kiran is in a lot of trouble.”

“Isn’t he always,” I muttered. Pevennar chose that moment to jab me in the arm with a copper needle long as a piton. I yelped and jerked away. “What was that for?”

Pevennar carried his blood-smeared needle over to the rack of vials on the table. “I need to assess the remaining level of toxins in your blood.” He slid the needle into an empty vial and plinked in several drops of a dark liquid.

I rubbed my stinging arm. “Khalmet’s bony hand. And you people think blood mages are bad.”

“You’ll have to admit there’s a slight difference between Pevennar and a blood mage,” said Martennan, with an amused lift of a brow. “In any case, back to your friend. Now that you are awake, the hearing will take place tomorrow. You should be aware that your case will be considered along with his.”

“My case?” My stomach sank. If they’d learned how long and how often I’d been smuggling illegal goods across their borders, I was in for near as bad a time as Kiran.

“In the course of our investigation, we learned you were the one to originally bring Kiran into Alathia,” Martennan said. “You’ll have to explain this to the Council, and they will decide the severity of the offense.” He leaned back in the chair, his eyes holding mine. “I suggest caution in your answers. Pevennar told us you remain weak and easily overtaxed.”

I knew what Martennan meant. The Alathian spell would force me to tell the truth, but only in answer to the specific question asked, and if I played up my weakness, they might not question me as long. But why bother warning me?

No sign of his thoughts showed. His round face was all smiling benevolence again as he stood and bowed.

“I leave you in Pevennar’s capable hands,” he announced, and exited.

Cara and I exchanged a look, but didn’t speak. Eventually Pevennar finished puttering around with his vials and left, after a parting admonition that I needed to get plenty of rest. I rolled my eyes as the door shut behind him. Rest? Yeah, right. Not when I might spend the rest of my days stuck deep in some mine. Or dead, if the Council was in an unforgiving mood.

“What do you make of that?” I asked Cara.

“Martennan?” She looked thoughtful. “He’s pretty relaxed for an Alathian. They’d spent three days stonewalling me about seeing you, and then he showed up and gave me access right away. Maybe he can help you with the Council.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“He hasn’t asked you to,” Cara pointed out.

“He will. I know his kind. He wants something, I’m sure of it.” I’d known men like him in Ninavel. The casual