Traitor's Moon

stand.”
    â€œWe’re off to see the place where he was found. Care to come along?”
    â€œPerhaps I should.”
    The sun had cleared the tallest of Sarikali’s towers by the time they reached the sacred pool. To Seregil’s dismay, a small crowd of gawkers had gathered outside the ring of stones. Inside, old Brythir í Nien stood next to the Cup with Lhaär ä Iriel and Ulan í Sathil. Of these, the Virésse looked the most visibly shaken.
    Here to test the wind, now that your principal advocate is gone?
thought Seregil.
    â€œStay here a moment, please,” he told Adzriel and Thero. “There have already been enough people trampling around.”
    Using the pedestal and Ulan’s house as reference points, he went slowly over the area Torsin had most likely crossed, starting near the stone statues and working in.
    There’d been a heavy dew the night before, and the grass was still moist. Here and there Seregil found the marks of what appeared to be Skalan shoes, overlaid with dew. The heels made a deeper im pressionthan the flat boots favored by the ’faie. The uneven spacing and occasional small gouge or dent in the turf spoke of a man already unsteady on his feet.
    He might have found more distinct signs near the water’s edge if his well-meaning predecessors had not in their zeal trampled over the area. Even Micum would have been hard-pressed to make sense of this mess, he fumed silently.
    His persistence was repaid in part, however. At the water’s edge he found four long marks scored by grasping fingers. A flattened patch of ground showed where the body had lain, a nexus for various sets of footprints. Here were a few uneven steps—Torsin’s last. Parallel marks of Aurënfaie boots were most likely those of the Bry’khans who’d borne him away. At some point, someone had knelt by the body. These tracks had been crossed by the Bry’khans. All of them crossed Torsin’s prints.
    Straightening, he waved Thero and his sister over.
    â€œWe grieve for your loss,” Brythir told him, his wizened face somber. “No one has touched the Cup since I arrived.”
    â€œYou imagined it poisoned, I suppose,” Lhaär said acidly. “You have lived too long among the Tír. No Aurënfaie would poison the Cup of Aura.”
    â€œI spoke in haste, Khirnari,” Seregil replied, bowing. “When I heard that the Cup had been found by the body, I wished to chance no mishap. Having looked the ground over, however, I’m reasonably certain that Torsin met his end alone, and that he was dying before he reached the water.”
    â€œMay I examine the Cup, Khirnari?” asked Thero. “It might be possible to learn something of his state of mind if he touched it before he died.”
    â€œAurënfaie law forbids the touching of minds,” the Khatme replied tersely.
    Brythir placed a hand on her arm. “A guest has died while under our protection, Lhaär ä Iriel. It is only right for his people to pursue their own manner of inquiry to satisfy themselves as to the nature of that death. Besides, the mind of Torsin has gone with his departed khi. Thero í Procepios seeks only memories in stone. You may proceed, young wizard. What can you learn from this mute object?”
    Thero examined the alabaster bowl closely, even going so far as to dip up a little water and taste it.
    â€œYou let him dishonor us with his suspicions,” the Khatme muttered.
    â€œThe truth dishonors no one,” said Ulan í Sathil.
    Undeterred, Thero pressed the cup to his brow and mouthed a silent incantation. After several minutes he replaced it on its rough pedestal and shook his head. “This vessel has known only reverence until Torsin came here. He alone touched it with a discordant mind, and that was due to the extremity of his illness.”
    â€œYou can feel his illness?” asked Adzriel.
    Thero pressed a hand to his chest. “I felt some of what Torsin felt as he held it—a burning pain here, under the breastbone.”
    â€œWhat of his last thoughts?” challenged the Khatme.
    â€œI do not possess such magic as that would take,” Thero replied.
    â€œThank you for your patience, Khirnari, said Seregil. “There’s nothing to be done now but await Klia’s return.”
    Brythir shook his head sadly. “What a pity to spoil her fine day with such news.”

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