The First Confessor (27 page)

The thought occurred to Magda that the cat had found the way in to Isidore’s room on its own.

Magda wondered if maybe Shadow could find her way out as well.

She didn’t know what else to do and she had no better idea, so she started chasing after Shadow, taking every turn the cat took. With her tail high in the air, the tip hooked forward, Shadow raced through the halls.

Magda glanced back over her shoulder and saw the glowing eyes. He had gained on her and was only two or three strides behind. She would have screamed, but she knew that if she did it would slow her just enough for him to grab her. Instead of screaming, she focused all her effort on running as hard as she could, trying to keep up with the dark streak of the cat.

The cat cut to the right at an intersection, but then abruptly stopped and looked off into the dark. It reversed direction and took to the left instead. Magda hesitated for just an instant, not knowing if she should keep up her momentum to stay out of the reach of the man, or follow Shadow. She chose to follow the cat rather than risk losing her only guide out and again being trapped in a dead end.

That instant was all the man needed. His arms circled around her middle.

Magda spun around before he completely closed his arms around her. She struck hard, slashing the knife across his throat. She saw bits of dried flesh fly off from the deep gash, but no blood. The wound didn’t slow the man.

She slammed the knife into his chest, fist deep, over and over, then dipped her head under his arm when he tried to hook it around her neck.

As Magda slipped through his grasp, she spun around to the side of him. Hard as she could, she kicked the back of his knee. His leg buckled and he started to fall but staggered back and caught his balance before he fell.

Even though he stayed on his feet, it was just long enough for Magda to bolt away, out of his reach. Bellowing a deep growl that echoed through the halls, he charged after her.

As she ran after the cat, trying to keep it within the limited range of the lantern light, Magda couldn’t see well enough and took a turn in the corridor too wide. The man took the inside, shorter line around the corner.

In that instant, he darted ahead of her, blocking her route. The cat stopped and looked back at her. The dark silhouette between them waited to see what she would do, where she would run.

Back beyond the man standing in the center of the corridor blocking her way, back beyond the cat, Magda saw light. She realized that they were at the entrance of the maze.

Despite the welcome light beyond the man that offered the way out, Magda couldn’t get to it. The man started stalking toward her. Magda didn’t want to run back into the dark passageways. She was close to being out of the maze, but with his feet spread and his arms out to the sides, she knew that there would be no getting by him this time.

As she started backing up to keep some space between her and the man, Magda thought she heard people in the distance yelling. She yelled back to them.

Hearing her yell for help, the man started to run toward her. Just then, something dark swooped in, hitting the back of his head. Magda could see the cat in the distance, waiting for her, so she knew it wasn’t the cat.

When she heard the loud cry, she realized that it was a bird. She saw broad, inky wings fluttering and realized that it was a raven.

It must have been one of the birds she had seen earlier that had come in one of the high windows in the large chamber and gotten itself trapped down inside the Keep’s vast network of halls. She knew that it was a relatively common occurrence and that when they became desperate they sometimes panicked.

The raven let out a piercing cry as it attacked the man’s head. He swiped at it, trying to fight it off. The raven withdrew every time he swung, avoiding his arms, only to dive in again and renew the attack.

The man stumbled to the side, careening into the wall as he tried to get the bird away from him.

When Magda saw her opening she didn’t hesitate. She raced past him, toward the light. She no longer needed the cat to show her the way. She simply followed the distant glow of light.

Coming around a corner Magda abruptly encountered a small cluster of men. Some had torches while others had spheres that cast a greenish light. She recognized the gift in their eyes.

“What is it?” one of the men asked. “What’s happened?”

Magda pointed back. “A man—a dead man. He murdered Isidore. He came in and killed her.”

The wizard leaned in and frowned. “A dead man?”

Magda swiped sweaty stray strands of hair back out of her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he was or who he was. But he looked dead and he wasn’t stopped by her magic.” She lifted the bloody knife. “And he wasn’t stopped by this. I stabbed him a dozen times at least. It didn’t even slow him down.”

The men shared looks before peering off down the dark passageways. She thought they would question her, or argue with her. They didn’t.

The raven suddenly burst out of the darkness and flew past them, back toward the lighted corridors.

“Those birds are always getting lost down here,” one of the men grumbled.

“Come on,” the first man said to the others.

As afraid as she was, Magda followed after the men, expecting that at any moment they would encounter the dead man. Despite the men being wizards, she wasn’t entirely confident that they grasped the true danger of the threat. She wasn’t entirely sure, despite their numbers, that they could handle the man who had killed Isidore.

Some of men broke away from the main group to take different routes through the maze to search for the intruder. She followed not far behind the man she took to be the one in charge, the one who had spoken to her at first, until they made it all the way back to the sight of Isidore’s slaughter. In the light of torches and the light spheres it was, if anything, an even more horrific sight than she remembered.

The men didn’t waste any time once they saw that the spiritist was well beyond any help. In grim silence, they quickly searched her quarters before they began retracing their steps through the maze. Along the way they looked in every room and behind every cloth hanging over the entrances to side halls. It was not hard to see how angry the men were as they searched for the one responsible for such a crime.

Eventually they found themselves almost back at the entrance without coming across any sign of the man who had killed Isidore. Guards at the entrance told them that no one had tried to come through. The man in charge told the others that they would keep searching until they found the killer.

As they again made their way off into the dark maze to continue the search, Magda paused. She stood alone after the men had gone, listening to the hiss of her lantern as she considered what she should do. Considering what she dared to do.

She remembered the route at the end when she was being chased. She had counted the turns. She knew the way back. At least back far enough.

She knew what she had to do.

Magda scooped up the cat and started back into the darkness.

Magda stood when the six men filed into the quiet room. A row of small, high windows let in glowing streamers of early sunlight that cut diagonally across the gloomy space.

Elder Cadell gestured without looking up at her before pulling out his own tall-backed chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Magda did as he asked, sitting in the single, simple, and rather uncomfortable wooden chair set before a highly polished mahogany table in the council’s private chambers. Though her chair was simple, the six chairs on the other side with Elder Cadell and Councilmen Sadler, Clay, Hambrook, Weston, and Guymer were quite elaborate, as were the three walls of floor-to-ceiling bookcases packed tightly with faded leather-bound volumes.

The furniture was intended to emphasize to people the difference in status between any of the council and those coming before them. Magda suspected that they had sent word that they would like to see her privately, before they began the day’s session, so as to avoid a repeat of anything like the last time.

A steady stream of people had sought Magda out since that day in the council session, asking her to help them with swearing the oath to Lord Rahl in order to protect themselves against the dream walkers. She had met with hundreds of people who had heard about what she said before the council that day and who were afraid of the dream walkers. With good reason.

While the council had not forbidden such an oath—after all, D’Hara was part of the New World and on the same side in the war—they privately chafed at people giving a devotion to Lord Rahl. Their official position was that while dream walkers were indeed real and presented a danger, the enemy was not yet advanced enough to put such a weapon into use, so while the threat was genuine, it was distant in the future.

Other than the attack against herself, Magda could provide no proof otherwise. But many people didn’t want to take the chance and learn too late that the council was wrong.

“I had been expecting to see you sooner,” Magda said when they were all seated.

“The war grows more desperate by the day,” Elder Cadell said without looking up as he lifted one paper after another from the table before him, glancing over each briefly before setting it aside and going on to the next. “We have been trying to keep from losing the effort.”

Councilman Sadler only briefly glanced her way between selecting specific papers from his own stack and handing them to the elder. Some of the other men were not interested in the papers. They were glaring at her.

“Of course,” Magda said, dipping her head respectfully. With the elder continuing to look through papers, and several of the others staring at her, she felt compelled to say something. “Have you found the . . . person responsible for Isidore’s murder?”

Elder Cadell looked up from under bushy brows. “Some people seem to think that you are responsible.”

“Me?” Magda felt her face flush. “And have these people managed to explain how I could rip a person apart like that with my bare hands?”

The elder grunted before returning his attention to a paper that Sadler handed to him.

“That’s true,” Councilman Clay said. “She isn’t gifted, after all.”

“She had a knife,” Councilman Guymer reminded him. “A bloody knife.”

“Isidore’s skull was torn in half,” Magda said. “An axe could do such damage, but not a mere knife, especially not one wielded by me.”

“I didn’t say that we believed you are responsible,” Elder Cadell intoned. He looked up and lifted an eyebrow. “I said some people think you are.”

Magda didn’t know what he was getting at.

“People often believe a lot of things that aren’t true,” she said. “I wish I had a way to reveal the truth for you, but I don’t.”

“The spiritist was doing valuable work for the war effort,” Guymer said. “And now, while you were alone with her, we lost her rare talents.”

Magda came up out of her chair. “If you are suggesting—”

“What were you doing down there?” Councilman Sadler asked in a quiet voice meant to override Guymer’s accusation. “What business did you have with a spiritist?”

Magda sank back down into her chair. “What do you think I was doing seeing a spiritist?”

Sadler shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I had what business anyone going to see a spiritist would have. I wanted to contact the spirits.”

Councilman Weston lifted an eyebrow. “Contact spirits? For what purpose?”

“I miss my husband,” Magda said. “What other purpose would there be to see a spiritist? I wanted to know that he is safe in the arms of the good spirits, to know that he is at peace. Perhaps none of you miss Baraccus, or worry and pray for his soul, but I do.”

Looking rather uncomfortable for the first time, some of the men leaned back.

“You are not the only one who misses him,” Sadler said.

Magda thought that he sounded sincere.

“And was the spiritist able to help you?” Weston asked. “Did you find out what you needed in order to put your mind at ease about Baraccus?”

“No. She was killed before . . .” Magda turned away and swallowed at the terrible memory. She cleared her throat and looked back to the men watching her.

“So, has the murderer been found?” she asked.

Elder Cadell swished a hand back and forth just above the table, as if he wished he could brush the problem away. “The lower reaches of the Keep have been searched extensively. Nothing has been found. There is no trace of the killer.”

Magda looked from one face to the next. “But how is that possible? How could he have gotten away?”

“This dead man?” Guymer asked in a mocking tone. “The one you say killed our spiritist?”

“I reported what I saw,” Magda said. “Are you suggesting that I lied?”

“No,” Guymer said with a smirk, “only that in the heat of panic you may have imagined him to be more fearsome than he actually was, imagined that a killer would have had to be a monster. Your description was hardly useful. How would anyone searching know what he really looked like so as to know who to look for?”

Magda returned the glare in kind. “I told you what I saw.”

Councilman Clay leaned forward. “And what you say you saw was not of any help in identifying the person responsible so that we could find him, now was it? There have been several such murders in the lower Keep. You are the only one who has actually seen the killer. Or, should I say, you are the only one who has survived the encounter.”

“It was an invaluable opportunity to help us catch the killer,” Guymer said. “We need to stop him before he kills again. But because you didn’t keep your head and imagined a monster, we have lost the chance to identify the attacker and capture him. Because of your emotional reaction, we still have a killer loose in the Keep and we don’t know his identity, much less what he looks like. He is undoubtedly a traitor or an infiltrator sent to kill important people. We might have had him if you could have kept your wits about you so that you could tell us what he looked like. Because you couldn’t do that simple thing, we missed our chance and as a result we don’t have a clue who it could be.”