"Wizard," he murmured to himself. He gestured to the silver coin on the table. "When I asked her if there be a wizard here in Aydindril, she showed me that coin with a building on it."

"The Palace of the Prophets."

The name brought his head up. "Yes, that be what she called it. She said to ask you what it be. How do you know of it? Where did you hear about this Palace of the Prophets?"

Lunetta shrank back into herself and looked away. "Just after you be born. Mamma told me about it. It be a place where sorceresses — "

"Streganicha," he corrected.

She paused a moment. "It be a place where Streganicha train men to be wizards."

"Then it be a house of evil." She stood stooped and stiff as he looked down at the coin. "What would mamma know about such an evil place?"

"Mamma be dead, Tobias, leave her be," she whispered.

He shot her a withering scowl. "We will talk about this later." He straightened his sash of rank and ordered his silver-embroidered gray coat before picking up his crimson cape. "The old woman must have meant that there be a wizard in Aydindril who was trained at this house of evil." He redirected his attention to Galtero. "Fortunately, Ettore is holding her for further questioning. That old woman has a lot more to tell us; I can feel it in my bones."

Galtero nodded. "We better be off for the Confessors' Palace, Lord General."

Brogan flung his cape over his shoulders. "We will stop to see Ettore on our way out."

A fire had been well stoked and was roaring when the three of them entered the small room to check on Ettore and his two charges. Ettore was stripped to the waist, his lean muscles coated with a sheen of sweat. Several razors gleamed from their place atop the mantle, along with an assortment of sharpened spikes. The ends of iron rods were fanned out across the hearth. Their other ends glowed orange in the flames.

The old woman cowered in the far corner, and put a protective arm around the girl, who hid her face in the brown blanket.

"Has she given you any trouble?" Brogan asked.

Ettore flashed his familiar grin. "Her arrogant attitude vanished as soon as she found out we don't suffer insolence. That be the way with banelings; they give way when faced with the Creator's might."

"The three of us have to go out for a while. The rest of the fist will remain here at the palace, in case you need assistance." Brogan glanced to the iron rods glowing in the fire. "When I get back I want her confession. I don't care about the girl, but the old woman had better still be alive and anxious to give it."

Ettore touched his fingers to his forehead as he bowed. "By the Creator, it shall be as you command, Lord General. She will confess all the crimes she has performed for the Keeper."

"Good. I have more questions, and I will have the answers."

"I'll answer no more of your questions," the old woman said.

Ettore curled his lip as he scowled over his shoulder. The old woman shrank back farther into the dark comer. "You'll break that oath before this night be over, you old hag. You'll be begging to answer questions when you see what I do to your little evil one. You get to watch her go first, so you can think about what be coming when it be your turn."

The little girl squealed and burrowed deeper into the old woman's blanket.

Lunetta stared at the pair in the corner as she slowly scratched her arm. "Do you wish me to stay and attend Ettore, Lord General? I think it be best if I did."

"No. I want you to come with me tonight," He glanced up at Galtero. "You did well, bringing me this one."

Galtero shook his head. "I never would have noticed her, had she not tried to sell me honey cakes. Something about her made me suspicious."

Brogan shrugged. "That be the way with banelings; they be drawn to the Blood of the Fold like moths to a flame. They be bold because they have faith in their evil master." He glanced again to the woman cringing in the corner. "But they all lose their spines when facing justice from the Blood of the Fold. This one will be a small trophy, but the Creator will be served by it."

CHAPTER 12

Stop it," Tobias growled. "People will think you have fleas."

On a wide street lined with majestic maple trees to each side, their bare thicket of branches laced together overhead, dignitaries and officials from different lands stepped from fancy coaches to meander the remaining distance to the Confessors' Palace. D'Haran troops stood like banks at the edge of the trickling river of arriving guests.

"I cannot help it, Lord General," Lunetta complained as she scratched. "Ever since we arrived in Aydindril my arms be itching. I have never felt it like this before."

People joining the flow stared openly at Lunetta. Her tattered rags made her stand out like a leper at a coronation. She seemed oblivious of the mocking stares. More likely, she thought them looks of admiration. She had, on any number of occasions, begged off donning any of the fine dresses Tobias offered her, saying that none were the match of her pretties. Since they seemed to keep her mind occupied, and off the Keeper's taint, he never went so far as to insist she wear something else, and besides, he thought it blasphemy to make one touched by evil look appealing.

The arriving men were dressed in their finest robes, coats, or furs. Though some wore ornate swords, Tobias was sure they were only decoration and doubted that a one of them had ever been drawn in fear, much less anger. As an occasional wrap billowed open, he could see that the women were attired in elegant, layered gowns, the setting sun glinting off the jewels at their necks, wrists, and fingers. It would appear they were all so excited to be invited to the Confessors' Palace to meet the new Lord Rahl that they had not elicited a threat from the D'Haran soldiers. By their smiles and chatter, they all seem anxious to ingratiate themselves with the new Lord Rahl.

Tobias ground his teeth. "If you don't stop scratching, I'll tie your hands behind your back."

Lunetta dropped her hands to her sides and stopped with a gasp. Tobias and Galtero looked up to see bodies impaled on poles to each side of the promenade ahead. As the three of them approached, he realized they weren't men, but scaled creatures only the Keeper could have conceived. As they proceeded, a stink enveloped them, as thick as a bog mist, making them fear to draw a breath lest it blacken their lungs.

Some of the poles held only heads, some held whole bodies, and others parts of bodies. All appeared to have been killed in a brutal battle. Some of the beasts had been ripped open, and several were cleaved completely in two, their innards hanging frozen from what was left of them.

It was like stepping through a monument to evil, through the gates to the underworld.

The other guests covered their noses as best they could with whatever they had handy. A few of the finely dressed women sank to the ground in a swoon; attendants rushed to their aid, fanning them with handkerchiefs or rubbing a bit of snow on their foreheads. Some of the people stared in astonishment while others shuddered so violently that Tobias could hear their teeth rattling. By the time they had run the gauntlet of sights and smells, everyone around them was in a state of either high anxiety or open alarm. Tobias, having often walked among evil, regarded his fellow guests with disgust.

When a shaken diplomat asked, one of the D'Harans to the side explained that the creatures had attacked the city, and Lord Rahl had slain them. The mood of the guests brightened. As they moved on, their voices became exuberant as they chatted about the honor of meeting such a man as the new Lord Rahl, the Master of all of D'Hara. Effervescent chuckles drifted on the chilling air.