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Remoerdis family graveyard behind the castle. You’ll find him buried in Jalazar’s plot.” He took a deep breath and howled, “What is a
Herald
doing
here
with a
child
?”
    The Herald’s eyes went momentarily dark.
This,
Ferrin realized.
This is where I twist the knife in.
    â€œDo you know what Lord Dark will do if he discovers her?” Ferrin whispered. “Break every bone in her body. He’ll make you watch. He’ll—”
    The Herald put his hand over Ferrin’s mouth. “We are leaving my daughter out of this,” he said quietly. “Let me ask you about Queen Selenay now. You don’t actually believe she’s insane, do you?”
    The hand over his mouth pulled back, and the truth spilled out. “No. Of course not. She isn’t mad. She’s
soft
and
gullible
. Too kind,
too
forgiving. She doesn’t even have a dungeon!” He took a deep breath, tried again. “Your little girl—”
    â€œThe Highjorune people whose grief you’ve been exploiting, your audience. What of them?”
    The Bard laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Pawns. Lord Dark
wants
them to die. The more blood shed, the more groundswell we build. The goal is to undermine, not overthrow. And we are just the beginning.”
    The Herald nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”
    He grabbed Ferrin and forced him to his feet, half-dragging the Bard across dusty gray stones.
    â€œLet me go!” he screamed, putting the full force of his Bardic Gift behind the effort, attempting to compel the Herald as thoroughly as the Truth Spell compelled
him
.
    The Herald chuckled. “Keep trying. Wear yourself out. This Bard I knew . . . she taught me a thing or two about shielding against her own kind.”
    When Ferrin realized
where
the Herald was dragging him, his shrieks turned high-pitched and strangled.
    The moldering oaken doors of Lineas Castle opened out on the stone landing. Light blazed down as fifty or more pairs of eyes turned to watch Ferrin stumble out before them.
    â€œNow,” the Herald said in his ear, grimly cheerful, “we’ll start with Queen Selenay, then move on to the bit about them all being your pawns.”
    And the Truth Spell left Ferrin no option but to tell the crowd exactly what he thought.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    In the end, the presence of the Queen’s agents was all that spared the Bard’s life. The Companions stopped the mob from tearing Ferrin to pieces, and Amelie used her Bardic Gift to amplify Wil’s orders for everyone to
calm down
.
    The Herald found a bitter irony in that.
    Today was the first day he’d had time to bathe since breaking up the Highjorune Masque. Ferrin languished alone in a narrow cell, his guards under strict orders to stop their ears if they entered, one of the Companions posted outside. Eel and Sharlot had likewise been arrested, though they were being housed elsewhere until he could pass judgment on them.
    Standing now in one of the Crown’s better suites, facing a small polished glass mirror, Wil finally attended to something he’d been itching to do for months now—shaving his beard.
    :And then sleep tonight?:
Vehs asked.
    :Sleep tonight,:
Wil agreed.
:And tomorrow . . . Forst Reach.:
    He’d escort Ferrin that far. A pair of Heralds and another Master Bard would meet them there to take the traitor the rest of the way to Haven. Selenay herself would pass judgment on that one.
    Cheeks smarting from the razor, he walked over to a pair of saddlebags and flipped open one, pulling out a compact, red-bound book. He’d retrieved Vehs and Aubryn’s tack from a nearby farm, owned by a friend from the war whom he knew he could trust with his life—and Lelia’s life’s work. Runes covered the page, incomprehensible without their cipher. He’d memorized it in the last three months, and could now read it with