The Invisible Ring

disgust, Randolf walked over to Jared, plucked the button out of his hand, and tossed it into the bushes beside the road.
    Jared rubbed his hand on his trousers.
    Randolf bared his teeth. “What’s it going to take to convince you that he’s a danger to us?”
    “Leave him alone,” Jared snapped. “He’s not dangerous unless he’s pushed. He can’t help being broken.”
    “He’s not just broken, he’s tainted .”
    Jared’s body tightened until it shook. To call one of the Blood tainted was a vicious insult, because blood was the connection between the body and the psychic strength. Someone who was condemned as being tainted was considered so fouled that his blood would contaminate whatever it was used for. That person’s blood couldn’t be given for an offering, couldn’t be used for any Blood ceremony, couldn’t be used for a healing.
    “You don’t know that,” Jared said, forcing the words out.
    “And you don’t know he’s not. He’s out of sight half of the time, and whenever he’s around the rest of us, he’s always watching.”
    “He’s mind-damaged, Randolf.”
    “Oh, I won’t argue that someone tampered with him, but after seeing him just now. do you still believe he’s as mind-damaged as he seems?”
    Jared said nothing.
    The anger gradually drained out of Randolf. “It’s your decision, Lord Jared. You do what you think is best.” He turned and walked away.
    Jared waited until Randolf was out of sight before he walked over to the knife lying in the road.
    The blade was broken into small pieces. A man’s foot couldn’t break tempered steel like that. Craft could.
    Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
    If Garth wasn’t as damaged as he seemed to be ...
    Jared raised his hand but stopped before he raked his fingers through his hair. His hand still felt slimy, fouled.
    If someone had created a spell around Garth so that he would appear to be mind-damaged, in the same way Sadi had created a spell to hide Blaed’s true nature ... But why ?
    His snarl echoed the wild stranger’s fiercer one.
    “Pet.” A word slaves despised even more than “tainted.”
    The wild stranger circled the thought and snarled again.
    Pet.
    Why had the Gray Lady excluded the adult males from the story time? Because she thought they wouldn’t be interested, or because she didn’t want them to hear a tale about an escape to a land where the Blood still lived with honor?
    Pet.
    Jared started up the road at a fast walk.
    Could a man be a pet without being aware of it?
    Thera would know. Being broken didn’t erase her knowledge or training, merely kept her from using it.
    Jared looked around.
    He couldn’t see the wagon.
    He couldn’t see any sign of Randolf or Garth.
    He started running.
    Thera was the only person in their group who might have the answers he needed; was the only one who understood the Black Widows’ Craft.
    The Gray Lady was the only person in the entire Realm of Terreille who wore the Gray Jewels; was the only Queen and the only free person who outranked Dorothea SaDiablo.
    Both of them were lying in the wagon, feeling unwell enough to be vulnerable to an unexpected attack.
    And until he had some answers, there was no one he could trust to help keep them safe.

    Jared stared at the swift-moving, mud-colored water. On either side of the swollen creek were the remains of the bridge they needed to cross. As he watched, the water seduced another plank of the bridge and took it for a wild ride downstream, abandoning it at the tangle of branches and debris that had piled up at the curve.
    Brock hooked his thumbs into his leather belt, took a deep breath, and blew it out. “Well, that’s inconvenient.”
    “For us,” Jared agreed.
    Brock narrowed his eyes. “I wondered if it could be a marauder ambush, so I took a chance and probed the area. There’s no Blood around here but us. We’ve been visible long enough to have company if it was coming.” He shook his head. “I think one of the trees that had been uprooted in the flood smashed into the bridge and pulled it down.”
    “Maybe.” Jared wished he had insisted on talking to Thera. But when he caught up with the others, Blaed had curtly informed him that both women were sleeping, and there had been an edge to the young Warlord Prince’s voice that had warned him not to push. Since his own anxiety had diminished once he could keep an eye on the women, and he didn’t see any reason to aggravate the aggressive, protective instincts Blaed was fighting to keep leashed,