Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

but he'd never seen one in use before.
    Now that he had, he didn't like it at all. The geas seemed like nothing more than a particularly nasty form of slavery. A man in chains can at least dream of escaping some day, but what hope has a man got when his mind and soul are in chains? Roderik, you'd better hope and pray your spell never breaks down, Jordan thought coldly, because if DeGrange ever gets loose, he'll make your death last a hell of a long time.
    'Now then, Brion,' said Roderik pleasantly, 'tell us what's been happening in our absence. How is Prince Viktor?'
    'There's been no real change in his condition,' said DeGrange. 'He's still weak and feverish, though he remains lucid. For the most part. Neither the surgeons nor the magicians can figure out what's wrong with him.'
    'When do I get to see Prince Viktor?' said Jordan suddenly. 'I'm going to have to meet him, and soon, if this impersonation is to work. So far, all I've had are your descriptions of what you think he's like. I need to see the real thing for myself.'
    'He'll be here any minute,' said Roderik. 'Sir Gawaine has gone to fetch him. Brion, what have Lewis and Dominic been up to?'

    'Our spies have been keeping a close watch on them in public,' said DeGrange, 'but in private they're both protected by strong magical shields, just as we are. Their people are still tearing the Castle apart searching for the missing crown and seal, but so far they've had no more luck than our agents. Lewis has been spending a lot of time with the Monk and Ironheart. Dominic and the Lady Elizabeth have been campaigning openly at Court, trying to drum up support among the nobles.'
    'Have they had much success?' said Roderik, frowning.
    'Quite a bit,' said DeGrange. 'The Court's never cared much for Lewis. Princes are supposed to have a taste for duelling, but he takes it too far. And he's always been too devious for his own good. These days, nobody trusts Lewis further than they can throw him, particularly since he became allied with the Monk.'
    'I keep hearing that name,' said Jordan. 'He's a sorcerer, right?'
    'We think so,' said Roderik. 'It's probably best if you meet him for yourself and make up your own mind.
    The Monk is a rather . . . disturbing person. Carry on, Brion. How does the Court feel about Viktor?'
    'Prince Viktor lost most of his support when he was sent into internal exile,' said DeGrange. 'And since his illness, he's been unable to get about and rebuild his influence. There's been a lot of gossip about his absence from Court of late, but nothing we can't handle. However, all this leaves Dominic in a very strong position. With the Lady Elizabeth's help, he's been building his power base practically unopposed.'
    'Wait just a minute,' said Jordan. 'According to Sir Gawaine, Dominic is insane.'
    'I wouldn't argue with that,' said DeGrange, 'but the current attitude at Court seems to be that the Lady Elizabeth is sane and tough enough for both of them. And while Dominic is a little . . . strange, on some subjects, his mind appears to be perfectly clear and lucid when it comes to political matters.'
    The main door swung suddenly open, and the three of them
    looked round sharply. Roderik took one look at the hooded figure in the doorway, and got to his feet and bowed. DeGrange bowed too, and Jordan suddenly realised who the figure must be. The newcomer moved slowly forward into the room, supported on the one side by Sir Gawaine, and on the other by a beautiful young woman. One of the guards outside pulled the door shut behind them. The hooded man raised a shaking hand and pushed back his robe's cowl to reveal Prince Viktor's face. Jordan stared at him. It was the same face he'd first seen in Roderik's mirror, back in Bannerwick. It had the same sardonic features, the same crooked nose and jet-black hair. But this man wore the face differently.
    There was a weak petulance in the mouth and eyes, and deep frownlines clustered together between the scowling eyebrows. His skin was very pale, and slick with a sheen of fresh sweat. The woman at his side helped him into the nearest chair, and Jordan took the chance to study her.
    She was tall for a woman, about five foot nine or ten, with a tight boyish figure that was still openly sensual. She couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty, and was brimming over with life and energy. She had a long mane of light brown hair that fell almost to her belt, pulled back from a sharply etched, intelligent face. She was