tempted to use his legacy to force the man to share what he knew, but he resisted the urge.
“Thorn is protecting children with powerful graal, nurturing them, as we have always done.” Falconer drew himself up straight again, and for a moment he reminded Aron of statues he had seen of the Brother, with one of the god’s more angry and disapproving expressions. “When we became aware that certain traits were reasserting themselves, we contacted all the dynast lords and encouraged them to search their goodfolk more carefully, for treasures that might otherwise be missed.” He stretched out his arms, as if to encompass Aron’s cell. “We provide education and care for these children, not containment. Not imprisonment and threats about using the talents nature saw fit to grant them.”
Aron pushed himself from his cot, gratified that he was tall enough to stand toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with Falconer, even if he didn’t share the older man’s muscle and bulk. “Then it was thanks to your meddling that Lord Brailing grew worried about the security of his position in his own dynast and in Eyrie—since neither he nor his heirs possess strong graal. Is that why he sent unsanctioned assassins after the Mab heirs, too? Was it common knowledge that some of them were showing stronger traces of the old Mab mind-talents?”
“Thorn is not responsible for the Mab murders!” Falconer’s face turned almost as red as his robes. He stepped back from Aron, but the cell’s wall blocked a better retreat. “Nor are we responsible for the Watchline massacre. That was Lord Brailing and Lord Brailing alone, though I understand he might have had assistance from Canus the Bandit and his Brotherless followers. The same base creatures who are even now snatching children from their beds in villages all over Eyrie.”
“Before you can steal them from the same beds?” Aron didn’t move back, crowding Falconer on purpose. “That’s what’s making you angry, not that the children are being taken, but that someone is reaching them before you get there.”
“I won’t listen to such outrage.” Aron noted that Falconer’s condescending tone had deteriorated to anger and defensiveness. Falconer had ceased seeing him as a child and potential quarry, and was now treating him as an adversary with the power to threaten his beliefs.
“What do you know of the carriage and the Guard contingent I encountered when I made my rescue of Nic?” Aron asked, gratified to see Falconer grown even more furious. “Was that the escort that got—what did you say—diverted?”
Falconer didn’t answer, but Aron gathered the truth in all five senses. Falconer well knew about that sinister caravan and the soldiers who had attacked Aron and Iko on their journey into Dyn Cobb.
Once more, the man took on a countenance that reminded Aron of statues of the Brother, and Aron felt himself teeter on the brink of understanding something. Of grasping something of monumental import—but he couldn’t quite reach it. Instinct drove him to reach toward Falconer’s mind with his own, but at the same moment, Aron detected a brilliant flare of red as Falconer made full use of his own graal, closing Aron away from his incidental thoughts and emotions.
“You are a menace and an ingrate,” Falconer growled, and Aron didn’t disagree. At least Falconer was speaking the truth now, as he saw it. Whether or not it was reality, Aron couldn’t say, but Falconer believed it absolutely. He also believed his next statement, which was more persuasive and devastating than any of the rest.
“Your presence here is a liability to Stone. By now Guard forces from Brailing and Altar and likely Mab as well are marching on Triune, intent on taking you for their own use, or killing you so that no one else gains the benefit of your talents.”
Aron stepped back from the man. His legs struck the edge of his cot, and he sat down hard.
“I have no wish to have you in my presence, if you must know—but come with me.” Falconer swooped toward Aron like a bird of prey, his arms wide again, his red robes billowing out like crimson wings. “Come with me and spare the lives of your friends. Relieve Stone of its impossible commitment to you.”
Aron glared up into the man’s face, knowing that his own cheeks must be as red as the man’s clothing. “Leave me alone,” he said, but his voice had lost its sarcasm, its anger, and all its force. “Just leave.”
Falconer bent down, until his face was inches