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Brenna eyed the captain – Kane Rowse, he’d said his name was – as he left the jail. Brothers! What was going on? The sword and the knife from last night- why had they both glowed when she held them? Kane Rowse had clearly had some idea of what he was looking for when he’d put her hand on his sword, but he’d been surprised by the intensity of the light. And she’d felt that tingle, that warmth, spread through her body, and after she’d felt somehow connected to him through his sword.

  She frowned and shook her head in disgust. The Captain of the Kingsguard was the last person a thief wanted to come to the attention of. She didn’t like it. And he’d been able to see her eyes! No one had ever seen through her mother’s prayer before.

  Brenna eyed the single guard as she paced the small cell. Kane Rowse had said she was under the protection of the Brotherhood, which must be the “Brothers” in her saying. But what did the old saying mean? Who’s throne? What line was to be saved? Although her mother had insisted she learn the phrase, she’d claimed no understanding. Wynne Trewen had been taught it by her mother, who had also claimed ignorance.

  She sighed and sat down on the straw, pulled the blanket over her shoulders and huddled under it, worried. Too many strange things had happened in the last day. The knife and sword lighting up – and then there were her eyes. She quickly muttered her prayer of concealment. If folk could see her witch eyes she’d have a hard time going back to her old life.

  At least from Kane’s comments it sounded like this Brotherhood was going to get her released. As long as they didn’t try to buy her bond and indenture her, she’d let them. She’d do anything to keep from being indentured - her mother had died buying her freedom and she would never betray her sacrifice by submitting to another’s will … ever.

  The rest of the afternoon Brenna puzzled over the knife, sword and verses but she didn’t get any closer to understanding what it all meant. Every so often she’d look up and catch the guard watching her with a look of awe, which set her to scowling. She could not afford to be some sort of pet of the Kingsguard.

  She leaned back against the wall and once again said the prayer for her eyes. She’d been faithfully saying it every day for as long as she could remember. She didn’t know why it had failed now. Could it have something to do with his sword? But Kane Rowse had noted her eyes before she touched his sword. When she was caught last night no one had mentioned them so why could Kane Rowse see her eyes? If it was only him she could go back to her life in Thieves’ Quarter.

  Duke Thorold leaned back. When the High Bishop settled into the chair across from him, his black silk robed whispered as it swept the stone floor. The two most powerful advisors to King Mattias often met here in Thorold’s study. It was a small, square room well furnished with heirlooms from his ducal ancestors as well as expensive gifts from nobles from across Soule, and Langemore to the north. Duke Thorold appreciated his comforts but he also felt it useful to display his wealth, connections, and family history.

  “Lord High Bishop.” Thorold poured a glass of red wine and offered it across the table to Valden. “I am glad that you sought me out.”

  The High Bishop nodded and took the glass. He took a small sip and a blood red drop of wine clung to the corner of his mouth.

  “I fear I must remind you,” Thorold’s voice hardened, “of the need to be discreet. There was no reason to make so much of the thief in front of both the king and the captain.”

  “But it’s an outrage.” High Bishop Valden’s voice rose in anger. “The church and her clerics do the One-God’s work and the law needs to recognize that. The fact that a commoner, a thief, is allowed to defile the holy work being done is intolerable. That girl should be handed over to me so I can ensure she gets the salvation she so obviously needs.”

  Duke Thorold could imagine what kind of ‘salvation’ the thief could expect at the hands of the High Bishop. The man had no desire to spare the bodies of those whose souls he saved and Thorold knew of more than one subject who had been tortured to death while undergoing salvation. No matter, he found the High Bishop’s inclinations very useful. His knowledge of them ensured the High Bishop would remain his staunch ally.

  “I agree that the church and nobility should be above commoners when it comes to the law,” Thorold said. “But we must tread carefully. I hate to admit it but Captain Rowse made some valid points. If the consequences are too severe criminals may decide that it’s better to leave no live witnesses. We must think carefully before we change the laws. In the meantime we have the knife.” Thorold paused and twisted his ducal ring on his finger. The High Bishop had handed the knife in question over to him as soon as the Kingsguard had released it and it was now safe and secure in the study of his Kingsreach estate.

  “As for the thief,” Thorold continued. “There are other ways to ensure she does not go unpunished. Now, I want to review the statement from your priest. He claims he could see the girl as clear as day, which is quite an accomplishment for an elderly man with failing eyesight in a darkened room. How do you interpret this?”

  “Of course there can only be one reason.” The High Bishop leaned back in is chair, a self-satisfied look on his face. “It was truly a gift from the One-God for the good priest to be able to see clearly in his time of need.”

  “Yes, of course.” Thorold kept the contempt he felt from his voice and his face. That was one the many things that he despised about the High Bishop. His hold on his church was admirable, but the man’s faith in the existence of both heavenly and magical powers was at times far too literal.

  Oh, there certainly was magic, but it was not as widespread as people thought, at least outside of Aruntun. Thorold had spent a good part of his life investigating witches and he’d only ever come across one. Even then she hadn’t used her powers for the sixteen years that she’d been in his household and even his bed. But in the end she’d used it to help her brat, his bastard daughter, escape her fate. He’d killed her before she could do him any serious harm, thank the One-God. Perhaps that had been divine intervention.

  If Thorold ever found the girl he’d kill her too, as he should have when he’d had the chance. It was a pity he’d not known about the magic earlier though, when the girl was younger. It would have been easy to make a small girl, his bastard daughter, grateful to him for being generous and kind to her and her mother. He could think of dozens of uses for a pet witch - but it was too late now.

  “While I do understand your request for caution,” High Bishop Valden said. “I still feel we should …”

  “Thank you High Bishop,” Thorold cut him off with a wave. “I do know your position. You’ve been quite clear on that, but you’ll have to excuse me. I must attend to some other duties and no doubt you have your own affairs to conduct.”

  The High Bishop nodded. Then he picked up his wine glass and drained it.

  Thorold smiled when the High Bishop shut the door as he left. He was well pleased with how he was managing the king’s advisors. High Bishop Valden was well in hand. Duchess Avery of Aruntun, who rarely came to Kingsreach, seemed content with the reports he sent her way. Young Duke Ewart of Fallad was acclimating himself to his new roles of duke and husband and Thorold doubted Ewart would be in Kingsreach before the fall.

  That left Kane Rowse. The captain was proving to be more trouble than Thorold had expected. He had hoped that when Feiren Rowse stepped down as captain he’d be able to suggest someone more to his liking, but King Mattias had not listened to reason. There had been a Rowse as Captain of the Kingsguard for generations and Mattias would not be swayed from his choice. The only good thing was that, like his uncle, Kane was careful to limit his influence to issues that concerned the guard and the protection of the king and country. The Duke of Comack smiled to himself. The king’s health was failing more rapidly and when he finally succumbed to his illness there would be a new Captain of the Kingsguard.

  Kane moved to his place near the front of the hall, looked across at his Uncle Feire
n and nodded. He’d just let the last of the expected Brothers in and had made sure all exits were sealed and guarded.

  The hall was in fact a cavern. It sat directly beneath the Rowse property and had been used as the meeting place for the Brotherhood of the Throne for centuries. Long ago, fast-flowing river waters had scoured out the large cave and the various tunnels that fed into it. Water had smoothed and rounded the rock walls and in the time since then, the floors had been polished by generations of Brotherhood feet. To this day some of the tunnels spilled out along the banks of the Seven River which, in early spring, flowed angrily through the center of Kingsreach, filled with runoff from the Seven Sisters mountain range.

  Tonight, as head of the council, Feiren Rowse had gathered as many of the Brotherhood as possible on such short notice. Besides the council of five, who stood behind the high wooden table facing the room, there were some thirty Brothers gathered in clumps, voices low as they exchanged theories of why the meet had been called. Feiren and the council had already discussed the recent events and now they were going to explain it to their membership.

  It was time. Kane stepped over and took a place beside a solemn and serious Andel.