to see Nahil Reji himself a prisoner manhandled by the guards.
No king would ever … no king had ever … set himself to war against the grizanes, who went where they pleased and swore oaths to no lord, spoke little with men and had powers beyond imagining. At least, so the stories went.
Ilbran could answer at least for their foreknowledge. “Whatever choice you make, it will bring you sorrow,” the gray one had said. Sorrow had come, and despair.
But what had brought a grizane to this place? Some doubted that they were men. This one seemed human enough, leaning against the cold stone of the cell wall and drawing great gasping breaths as though to calm himself. They had chained his hands together, but otherwise he was free. The blood was dry on the sides of his face where it had run down from his empty eye sockets.
Outside the cell, the guards talked, trouble and bravado mixing in their speech. “They say they can spell you with a glance,” one said.
“Who cares for that? This one won’t be glancing at anybody anymore!”
“Sure, sure, but how did they take him?”
“While he was asleep. The northern guards did it. Afraid of him, but more afraid of the King.”
“Why a gray one?” the other guard asked. It was Ilbran’s unspoken question, too.
“All sorts of stories. They say that the king was put under a spell, or is afraid of being put under a spell, something like that. The sorcerers and jugglers he’s killing at once, but this one—I suppose they were afraid to go that far—or maybe wanted to question him.”
The other one laughed, as they started to walk away. “When did they ever get anything out of magicians but riddles and tricks? I heard that it began when the girl escaped. That she used witchcraft on him … ” The outer door clanged shut behind them.
Ilbran crossed to where the grizane leaned against the wall. His chains would reach that far. “Come, good father, sit and rest.” The grizane staggered, and Ilbran caught him by the shoulders to steady him as he sat down. For all the bulk of the man in his gray robes, he was as frail and flimsy as a summer-dry leaf.
“They feed us in the evening, a little later,” Ilbran said. “And here is the water jug. Not as foul as you might think. Drink some, it will do you good.”
The grizane took a deep draught of the water, and shuddered. His hood fell forward over his ruined eyes, but he turned toward Ilbran as though he could still see. “What brought you here?”
“My own folly.” He had meant to say no more, but he was unnerved by those sightless eyes turned toward him as though they still could see. “I sheltered the true inheritor of the kingdom, and I can claim no blessing from it, for I did it grudgingly. Yet it brought my family to destruction, and me here.”
“And the one that you sheltered?” the grizane asked.
“I do not know. They have not caught her, or the hunt would not be so high.”
“Tell me of all that happened,” the grizane said. “From the time that you first saw her.”
His voice was hard to disobey. Ilbran began at the beginning, and when he spoke too shortly, the grizane questioned him, drawing out little half-forgotten details. So he told of his doubts and fears, the other grizane’s prophecy, Andiene’s dreams, and Giter’s betraying dreams. They spoke softly; Giter himself was deep in sleep or stupor and did not hear them. The light grew dim. Ilbran peered through the dusk to study the blinded and dreadfully old face of the grizane.
He told of his father and mother, though it wrenched his heart to speak of them. “They were good and brave and honorable. No king could ask for a better epitaph.”
He told of the wild stories that were spreading through the city. The grizane listened intently. “The seashore,” he murmured. “The western shore … ” Suddenly, he leaned toward Ilbran. “You are whole? Your eyes and limbs are whole?”
“Yes. They wanted their entertainment tomorrow.”
“What would you do to gain your freedom?”
“Anything. I have nothing left to lose. No kin, no honor.”
“No honor?”
“Do you see … forgive me … Giter who shares our cell is asleep or unconscious, I think. I lied for revenge, and betrayed him to the king’s men, him and all his family, innocent ones and children. And once being done, how can it be undone? So