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but you’re still wrong!” She huffed again, pulling her grimoire from her
pack.
    Smiling, Kale slapped her knee
and then shifted in his seat to gaze at Almeria. As the wagon bounced along the
road, Kali’s voice droned on, regaling Edric and Pancras with stories about
Honeywater.
     
    * * *
     
    Gisella adjusted her grip on her
spear as she pushed her prisoner forward. Like most Watchfolk, she possessed a
sword, an heirloom from her father, but she preferred to keep her quarry at
length. He stumbled, but he remained upright, defiant. With the butt of her
spear, she whacked him on the back of his knees, causing him to fall prone. In
the Court of Wizardry, defiance was not tolerated from any prisoners when
facing the archmage. Gisella sighed. Archmage. What a pompous git. The
court’s guards stood at attention, hands resting on their swords, ready to leap
into action if the prisoner showed any signs of aggression.
    The Archmage, Vilkan Icebreaker,
The Manless, was a hulking man of great girth and vicious temperament. He
tugged at his beard as he stood, and then he swept the wrinkled folds of his
gold-trimmed blue robe to the side with a wide motion of his arms. The high wizards
of the court looked on as he descended the steps, their masked faces concealing
their contempt. Only the body language of those clothed in colored robes belied
their silent approval. Their attitude was a matter of great debate among the
lesser peoples of the court. Many said their disapproval was for The Manless
himself, though Gisella believed they were disdainful of all who were not high
wizards, but especially of The Manless since he ascended to the position of
archmage and was not himself a high wizard.
    Politics of court did not concern
Gisella, however. As one of the court’s slayers, she was tasked with glorious
purpose: to track down and bring to justice those branded renegades by the
court, such as the man she brought before them today. Alik Ironstaff was a
mewling worm in the best of times, in her opinion. Nevertheless, seeing him
receive his due and likely being the one to carry out his punishment brought no
pleasure.
    Alik prostrated himself before
Archmage Vilkan. “Great merciful one, I beg you. This”—he cast a glance over
his shoulder at Gisella—“this golden harpy has accused me unjustly. I’ve done
nothing wrong.”
    “Nothing? Ha!” The archmage
grabbed Alik by his throat and lifted the man to his feet. “Who do you think
sent her after you? The slayers do nothing without my leave. Especially the
Golden Slayer.”
    Gisella observed in stony
silence. Oh, what you do not know, Manless.
    “I am—innocent—” Alik’s protest
turned into a choking cough as the archmage tightened his grip.
    He threw the squirming man to the
floor. “Innocent? Not one among us is innocent. And you”—he thrust his pudgy
finger into Alik’s face—“you left my sister with a child. A child who killed
her from within!”
    Alik splayed his hands on the
floor, spreading his arms as far as his shackles would allow. “It is no crime
to love!”
    Gisella’s eyes flicked toward the
archmage and then down at Alik. She was not aware of Alik’s exact crime until
this moment, though it made little difference to her. She was bound to obey the
court’s edicts, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter.
    For now.
    Archmage Vilkan eyed Gisella and
drew his finger across his throat. He spun, the hem of his robe sweeping over
Alik’s prone form. Frowning, Gisella stepped forward. She lunged and thrust her
spear into Alik’s back, twisting it as she pushed forward, stopping only when
she felt the tip of her spear hit the stone floor. Alik cried out and squirmed,
but she held fast, planting her boot on his backside for support. She yanked,
and, with a spray of blood, pulled the broad tip out. He twitched for a moment
on the floor. Then he lay still.
    Taking his seat, the archmage
regarded his dour-faced comrades and then nodded at Gisella.