"Are they all here to testify against me?" he asked the bailiff in a stage whisper.

The officer shrugged. "Only a dozen or so. The rest are here to beg the Lord High Magistrate for your death, on account of the injuries you wreaked on their loved ones, property, and acquaintances."

"Oh," Jack replied. He turned to face the Magistrate as the last witness filed down from the stand. "My lord, is it truly necessary to hear anymore evidence of this sort? It is clear to me that the city has built a flimsy case out of hearsay and circumstantial evidence. I beg you, let us end this farce before we exhaust one more moment of your undoubtedly important time. I am feeling quite magnanimous and shall generously forgive my slanderers for any misstatements or untruths they spoke, in the interest of speeding along these proceedings."

"It is ironic that you should speak of truth," Tordon Sureblade said grimly. He held up one hand-a glint of gold encircled one thick finger. "I wear upon my left hand a ring of truth, which prevents me from speaking any falsehood. It also makes clear to me the falsehoods of others. You, sir, have twisted and wormed your way through the entire hearing, mixing lies and falsehoods with glimmers of a false earnestness. Never in my years of serving this city on the bench of high justice have I encountered such a morally dissolute and utterly despicable person as yourself!"

"I didn't lie about the Lady Milyth's testimony! Or about the sausage vendor's wife, or the whoremaster's tale!"

"Rare exceptions over the course of the last three hours," the magistrate said. He threw a stern look at the gallery, where Lady Milyth Leorduin sat in a noble's box with a small retinue. The noblewoman's face was set in a look of utter serenity, as if she deemed the proceedings completely beneath her notice. "And I will look into these anomalous testimonies. But the fact remains that you are guilty of burglary on at least two accounts, conspiracy, and most seriously of all, high treason by way of your association with the Warlord's agent in the city. Can you present any evidence or testimony to contradict these findings?"

Jack nodded vigorously. "Yes, I can, Lord High Magistrate. I require several days of liberty-escorted by city officers, of course!-to build the case for my defense. I can contest each and every one of these very serious charges."

The magistrate held up his hand, on which gleamed the ring of truth. "I didn't think so," he said in a tired voice. "Bailiff, remove the prisoner. He is to be incarcerated in the fortress of Ill-Water for a period of one tenday, during which time I intend to open an investigation into the affair of the Game of Masks and Lady Milyth's role therein, as well as the other charges of which the defendant was truly ignorant. Then he is to be hanged by the neck until dead unless the circumstances of the investigation warrant a stay of execution."

The courtroom buzzed with excitement over the verdict, including one or two strong remarks suggesting that it would be much better to put Jack to death on the spot and then investigate the other allegations. Jack looked up at the various witnesses who had spoken against him; the Kuldaths glowed with triumph, the Master Crafter Randall Morran seemed disappointed, the commoners ranged from whoops of glee to smug nods of satisfaction. The bailiff and the guards escorted Jack out of the room and back to a holding cell in another part of the castle, hooding him again.

He found himself sitting on a hard wooden bench in a small wagon, doubtless locked and barred and enchanted against any possible escape, with a pair of guards sharing the cramped space.

"So it's back to Ill-Water?" Jack asked through the hood.

"Silence," one guard grated.

Jack shrugged as best he could given his bonds. The wagon trundled off over the cobblestones, rattling and swaying. He listened closely for any signs of business or activity in the city; the roads from Ravendark Castle to the boat landings wound through the busiest parts of Raven's Bluff, and he strained for the sounds of conversation and commerce from the streets beyond the wagon's walls. He heard nothing but the creaking of the wheels.

After a surprisingly short ride, the wagon halted. The door squeaked open, and the two guards climbed out, the wagon shifting with their weight. Someone else climbed in and sat beside him; a soft feminine hand grasped his.

"Oh, Jack," said Illyth in a small voice. "I just heard the verdict."

"Illyth? What are you doing here?"

"I arranged a short visit before you're to be returned to prison. I've been trying to see you all week, Jack, but they won't let anyone go out to Ill-Water." She laughed softly, a sound that almost ended in a sob. "I bribed the guards to allow me to see you before you reached the landing. Jack… is there anything I can do? There must be some way to reverse the magistrate's judgment!"

"I do not know," he answered. "The only thing I can think of is to call in whatever favors you can to delay the execution for as long as possible. The magistrate said he would order an investigation into Milyth Leorduin's involvement in the Game (she's Lady Mantis, apparently) so you might work with the investigators to clear me of that charge, at least."

"Done," said Illyth. "What of the other charges, Jack?"

He remained silent for a long moment. "I don't think there is much you can do, Illyth. Most of them are true. I'm pretty much what they say I am."

"Oh, Jack," she whispered. "You helped Myrkyssa Jelan?"

"I didn't know that I was helping her at the time," he said. "I thought it was simply another job. I'm a burglar, a thief, a scoundrel, but I am not a traitor, not wittingly, at least. And I've never killed anybody other than Iphegor's mouse, and that was an accident!"

Illyth was silent for a long time. He could hear her sobbing quietly. The door at the back of the wagon opened again, and the guards reentered.

"Sorry, m'lady, but we cannot delay any longer. We're expected at the landing, and questions will be asked if we're late."

"A moment more," Illyth said. She returned her attention to Jack. "Jack, there must be something we can do!" she said urgently. "You don't deserve to be put to death for what you've done!"

He leaned back against the wagon's wooden interior, his shackles clinking together. Given the fact that he would probably not get a chance to escape, what could be done? He thought hard and fast.

"The only thing I can think of is this: approach Marcus and Ashwillow, and let them know that I'd be willing to cooperate with them in locating Jelan and her agents. I've seen several of them, so I might be able to find them or testify against them, if need be. I might have some value as a means of unmasking the Warlord's plot."

"It's time to go, my lady," the guard repeated.

Jack felt the wagon shift again as Illyth retreated. "I know," she said to the guard. She paused. "Jack, I'll do what I can. Everything has been so strange lately. The Game plot, and now these shadow people are showing up all over the city… I know that the authorities want to find out what's going on. Maybe you can help them."

She suddenly leaned forward and kissed his hand, then clambered out of the wagon. She murmured something to the guards, and Jack detected the unmistakable jingle of coinage changing hands. Then the guards closed the door again, and the driver flicked his reins at the horse drawing the prison wagon. They clattered off through the silent streets.

As far as Jack could tell, the Ravenaar guards returned him to the exact same pitlike cell that he had occupied before. If it was not the same cell, it was identical to the first in every detail that mattered. Freed of the stifling hood, he enjoyed the sense of relative freedom and the ability to stand, sit, or he down as he pleased. But the enchanted fetters on his wrists and ankles still denied him the ability to access any of his magic, and the dull booming of the surf through the fortress's seawalls reminded him that he was interred quite securely in a place he would likely never leave alive.