“Maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. What with everything else I’m beginning to hear, what am I to believe? People say that according to no less an authority than Head Prosecutor Lothain, Baraccus had secret meetings with people who might very well be enemy agents. The prosecutor has said publicly that he suspects that Baraccus might have been part of a plot, and that he may have convinced you to go along with the scheme.”
Merritt clasped his hands behind his back as he paced before her, going on without pause.
“Worse, many people both up in the Keep and down here in the city of Aydindril wonder openly if Baraccus is responsible for the war going so badly. They wonder if he wrongly took us into war in the first place and lied about the reasons. They say that if he really had our best interest at heart, we wouldn’t be losing the war. They say that Baraccus must have finally committed suicide because of his sense of guilt over dooming his own people.”
Magda shot to her feet. “But Baraccus didn’t take us into war. We were invaded!”
Merritt shrugged. “People say otherwise. They say we weren’t invaded at all, that our side started it. They say that you, Lord Rahl, and Baraccus plotted all along to start a war and use it as an excuse so that Lord Rahl could seize rule of the Midlands and take it over as part of D’Hara.”
“But you know that the dream walkers—”
“Yes, yes, I know that dream walkers are real, but am I to believe the preposterous story that they are already here, on the loose in the Keep, just because you say they are, when there is no proof except your own self-serving stories of how they attacked you and sent monsters to kill Isidore when you were alone with her? Am I to discount the credible charges against you and Baraccus brought by no less an authority than our eminent prosecutor and some members of the council, all saying that your wild stories of plots against our people and traitors in our midst are really meant to distract people from your own guilt? How can I be expected to disregard such serious accusations?”
He opened his arms before her. “So you tell me. Are you a traitor to the Midlands, as so many people say?”
Magda swallowed. She was sure that her face was bright red.
“For not living up at the Keep any longer, you certainly seem to have heard some of the ugliest gossip.”
He arched an eyebrow in a way that would have made her back up a step if the couch hadn’t been at her heels.
“Gossip? Not merely gossip, but the suspicions of even high officials. People say that since the charges are so serious there must be something to them. So, you tell me, Magda. Are they true? I need to know if I’m talking to a traitor. I think I have a right to know before I answer any of your questions.”
Her hands fisted as she glared at him. “None of it is true. It’s all lies. Hateful, despicable lies.” Her gaze fell away. “But I admit that I have no way of revealing the truth to you. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
He did the oddest thing, then. He smiled. “And I would wish for a way to reveal the truth to you as well. But the truth can seem awfully small and insignificant when compared to a mountain of lies.”
Magda was angry. She hated to hear such terrible things said about Baraccus. She knew that some people believed those very lies while the truth was that he had given his life to protect the people of the Midlands. She didn’t know why, yet, but she knew that was why Baraccus had died.
Merritt spread his hands. “Do the accusations make Baraccus guilty? Make you guilty?”
“No.”
“Ah, but you worry that similar accusations make me guilty. You worry that, because the accusations are so serious, they must be true.”
“I see your point.” She looked away from his eyes as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Merritt, for being so unfair. I’m sorry to come to you out of the blue, without invitation, and dare to question you about things I’ve heard.
“But this is about our very survival. If I make a mistake, and trust the wrong person, we could all pay with our lives.”
“At least you had the courtesy to come and ask me for the truth instead of simply accepting the lies.” Sadness haunted his smile. “It’s ironic that so much of my life’s work has been devoted to being able to find a way to ensure that we know the truth when it’s important enough, when lives are at stake, and now lies are used against me and that work.”
“I see what you mean,” Magda said, “I really do. I feel like I need to prove my innocence to you, and at the same time I feel helpless because I can’t.”
His smile was reassuring. “Baraccus was quite a remarkable man and no fool. I’ve always thought that there had to be a good reason why he considered you worthy to stand beside him. Baraccus believed in you. That says a great deal to me.”
Magda felt conflicted. She didn’t want to ask him about the things she’d heard, didn’t want to give the accusations credibility, but at the same time she needed to put the issues to rest and so far they hadn’t been.
“I can tell by the look on your face how troubled you are. You don’t know me, so it’s understandable that you don’t know what to believe. Why don’t you go ahead and ask the things you need to know about.”
Magda nodded as she took a seat once more, hoping that by sitting it might take some of the hostility out of her question.
“I’ve heard accusations from wizards who were there that men died because you had abandoned your duty to them. I need to know why they think you are responsible for the deaths. I need to know if you are the kind of man who would walk away and let other men die. I realize that it isn’t fair of me to repeat such charges from others, or to expect you to answer them. You certainly don’t owe me the truth.”
She looked up into his eyes. “But please, Merritt, I’m trying to find answers to what is really going on. I believe that the Keep, all of our lives, are in grave danger. I need to find out what is really going on before it’s too late. Would you please not take offense at my asking these questions and simply tell me the truth?”
“And how will I prove to you that I’m telling you the truth?”
She smiled a bit. “As it so happens, the truth has always mattered a great deal to me. Baraccus often said that I was the bane of liars. I’d like to think that I’m a person who can recognize the truth when it’s told to me, or detect a lie, and often I can, but I guess that in the end I have no real way of knowing truth from lies.
“I’d still like to hear your side of it.”
Chapter 48
Merritt nodded as he pulled a footstool closer and sat facing her on the wicker couch.
“There are people who want things,” he said, “but they aren’t willing to listen to the truth about the things they want.”
“That’s true enough in a general sense, but what does it have to do with people saying that men died because of you?”
“If you want to know the truth, then it takes some explaining so that you can understand. Bear with me?”
Magda conceded with a nod for him to go on.
“There are those at the Keep who want a specific kind of magic invested in an object. They want me to do it.”
Magda glanced around the room at all the strange objects lying about everywhere. There were things of every size and shape. Some were recognizable, some weren’t. Some of the objects looked innocent enough, while others looked like they would snap shut and take off a finger if she were to touch them.
“What kind of object?”
He rubbed his palms on his knees as he searched for words. “Well, it’s a kind of key to unlocking repositories of great power.”
“A key? These people want you to make a key?”
Merritt waved a hand as if to minimize the impression. “I use the word ‘key’ loosely. It’s only a key in the sense that it works to unlock the power. I’m trying to make it as simple as possible.”
“Sorry I’m so dense.”
His face turned red. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way. It came out wrong. It’s just that it can get awfully complicated to explain.”
“So help me understand so that I can know the truth.”
He took a deep breath before going on. “You see, it’s not the specific key—the object itself—that really matters. The key, the object portion of it, could actually be a lot of different things. What matters is the specific magic invested in that object. The magic is what makes it a key that functions to unlock the power.”
She didn’t think that sounded all that complicated.
He was choosing his words carefully. It wasn’t uncommon for wizards not to want to reveal details. Baraccus had sometimes done the same thing, even with her.
It could also be that Merritt was being evasive for some reason. After all, she had asked about men who died because of him. At least, that was what she’d heard. It could be hearsay. On the other hand, he might be trying to shift blame.
Magda decided to let him explain it in his own way and to be open-minded about what she heard.
“I’ve worked on this key, as it were, for years. It’s a project that has long been close to my heart. These people, who have only recently come to be aware of the existence of this power, believe that it’s very important that I go forward and complete the key, but for reasons of their own.
“The thing is, I can’t complete the key because it’s impossible to complete. More importantly, though, it’s unnecessary.”
Magda couldn’t let that go. “If it’s the key to opening great power, why is it unnecessary? Especially now, when we’re at war? Couldn’t this power maybe help us?”
“No, it can’t.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because,” he said, “I learned that the chests—”
“Chests?”
“Yes, the chests are the repositories of this power that these people want to be able to unlock. It’s not actually the chests that the key unlocks, but the power contained within them. Like I said, I’m trying to make something extremely complex understandable.”
Magda nodded for him to go on, but her mind was already reeling with worries. She reminded herself not to jump to conclusions.
“Anyway,” he said, “I learned that the chests were taken away to the Temple of the Winds by the Temple team. I don’t know if they were supposed to be taken there or not, but the simple fact remains that they were. Some on the team did say that they wanted to protect mankind from the tyranny of magic. Perhaps that’s what they meant and why they did it. In any event, they’re safe there, sealed away out of reach in the underworld.”
Magda’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. Her skin went icy cold with goose bumps.
Merritt frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Magda swallowed. “Nothing.”
“Your face just turned white.”
“It’s nothing. Probably the heat.”
But it was something. The whole world felt as if it was crushing in on her. She knew that once a new First Wizard was named, she had to tell him what she knew.
She reminded herself that she might be jumping to conclusions. She wished she could slow her racing heart.
Merritt sprang up and went to a side table. He hurriedly poured a glass of water. He handed her the glass and then sat again on the stool in front of her, watching her with great concern.
“Take a drink. It will help.”
“Thanks.” Magda took a sip. “I’m fine. Please, go on with what you were telling me.”
Merritt watched to make sure she took a few more sips before continuing the story. “Well, since the chests are safely locked away in the Temple of the Winds, there is no longer any point in me attempting to complete the investment of magic in the key to unlock their power. But even more importantly, even if I wanted to, it can’t be done.”
Magda needed time to think. She couldn’t be sure, after all, that he was talking about the same thing. There were a great many things, important things, all dangerous, that had been sealed away in the Temple of the Winds.
“You mean it can’t be done because of the rare rift calculations for creating a seventh-level breach that Baraccus couldn’t give you?”
Merritt leaned back and blinked in surprise. “You know about that?”
Magda worked to keep her voice under control. “Baraccus told me about it some time back when you went to see him. I remember him saying that you had wanted the rift calculations for such a breach. Apparently, he thought a lot of you because he told me that he wished he could have given you what you needed, but he couldn’t because the formulas were sealed away in the Temple of the Winds and no one could get to them.”
Merritt was staring at her, so she knew that she had to say something.
“So, is that why you can’t complete the magic for this key?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Magda was struck by the sincerity of his frustration. She watched his eyes look away as he went on, almost as if talking to himself, opening again the wound of his disappointment.
“I’ve spent years working on the details of the conjured structure. No one else understands it the way I do. They don’t understand its true purpose.” He looked up. “You see, I don’t believe that it was ever supposed to be just a key.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
He leaned in more intently. “I’ve come to believe that what is contained in these receptacles, these chests, is the only form of power known to exist that predates the star shift.”
“You really believe that’s what in the chests?”
“Yes. That’s why I was so sure in the first place that there have to be formulas for a seventh-level breach. Baraccus confirmed their existence when he told me that they were locked away in the Temple of the Winds.”
Merritt’s gaze was locked on her eyes. “If I’m right, which I am, then this power is an order of magnitude beyond what anyone understands. If I’m right, it contains enough power to destroy the world of life.”
Magda took a sip of water for the chance to look away from the intensity of his hazel eyes. She couldn’t make her fingers stop trembling.
“Dear spirits... is that really even possible? Do you actually think such a thing could be true, that something could have that much power?”
“I do. I think the key was originally intended to contain the seventh-level-breach code in order to harness that power. That’s why the breach code exists. It has no other purpose. Same with the rift calculations.”
“You mean, as in a rift in the world of life? And the breach code cracks the egg?”
He betrayed what he thought of her analogy with a small smile before he went on.
“After years of tracking down everything I could about the origins of the power and what it really is, I think I have come to understand it as no one else does.”
“And what have you come to understand?”
“Well, first and foremost, I know enough not to fool myself into thinking I know everything. But from what I do know, I believe that any number of people would have enough knowledge or ability to misuse it and cause great harm. What they likely don’t understand, though, is that in pursuing their own ends, they could inadvertently annihilate all life.
“But that’s if it’s misused. I’m convinced that this power needs more than a simple key if it is to function properly. I’ve found bits and pieces in ancient texts that give me cause to believe that the key, in a way, also has to be a caretaker of the power, a kind of protector.”
Chapter 49
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Magda said, absently, as she tried to corral her galloping thoughts.
She had never felt so lonely. She didn’t know what to do, who she could turn to. Merritt seemed the obvious choice, but there was too much she didn’t know about him. If anything she’d heard turned out to be true, telling him could very well turn out to be the worst decision she could make.
Her only hope was if the new First Wizard was named soon. The new First Wizard would need to know what she knew. He would know what to do.
“After a great deal of research and work, I finally have every aspect of my theory worked out and in place,” Merritt was saying. “I’m convinced that I know how to create this unique power for the key if only I could get my hands on the rift calculations and breach formulas. If I could, I could then make a key that would function as it should.
“This magic I would create with the help of the formulas, would at the same time function for something else of great importance that I came up with along the way.”
That caught her attention.
He lifted an arm in a gesture of frustration, then sighed as it dropped back to rest on his leg. “But without all the parts, the magic can’t be formatted and thus initiated.”
“Are there no substitutes that would work well enough?”
“No. It needs the correct parts, and all the parts, simple as that.”
Magda steered him back to the thing that had caught her attention. “So is this unique magic also what would allow you to create in a person the ability to pull truth from lies? Is that the other thing of great importance you wanted to create?”
He looked surprised. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is.”
“So then the key these people want that you know how to make and the person you described to the council that you wanted to alter to be able to pull truth from lies, are linked with common elements and share some base form of this magic?”
“That’s right—at inception, anyway. They differ as they develop, and in the end of course, but they do need to have certain base elements from the rift calculations in common.”
“You mean they both need yeast to make the dough rise?”
Merritt frowned suspiciously. “For someone ungifted, you seem to have a knack for grasping the inherent logic in the nature of magic. And for someone who described herself as a nobody, you also seem to know a great deal about some of the most secret projects in the Keep.”
Magda tilted her head, peering at him from under her brow. “You may think that they’re secret, but Isidore knew about the person you want to alter with this magic. If she knew, then the dream walkers know. If the dream walkers know, that means Emperor Sulachan knows. If they know about the person, then they very well may know about the key you’re trying to make. If they know about the key, they know what it is meant to unlock.”
Merritt let out a troubled sigh. “I suppose that’s all possible, but it can’t do them any good. It would be impossible for them to reconstruct my work, and without those occulted calculations that are locked away in the Temple of the Winds, the magic that I was working on can’t be completed.
“Besides, the key would do them no good because the power itself is sealed away and inaccessible.”
Magda had to force herself to hold her tongue. She instead asked a question. “Why would these repositories containing this great power not have a key in the first place? What would be the purpose of creating something without a way to make it work?”
“Good question. Unfortunately I don’t have a good answer. People take history at face value and assume it’s accurate, but often it really isn’t. Accounts of past events differ. You don’t know the honesty or the motives of the person who wrote the chronicle. Accounts from antiquity may have been lost over time, leaving critical gaps that would change the picture. Some of what we do have may actually have been rumor or even false charges that over time were wrongly assumed to be true. Some historical accounts are biased or distorted viewpoints, while others were embellished along the way. It’s a mistake to indiscriminately assume historical accounts are true.
“All that is meant to say that I don’t know the truth about an original key. The repositories holding this power were a relatively recent creation intended to safeguard the power in its resting state. The key doesn’t actually open them, it’s actually meant to unlock the ancient power contained within them. For all I know, it may be that when the power was created it had a key. All I know for sure is that the power itself still survives today and there is no known key for it.
“That creates a problem because while the key doesn’t exist, the power does and even without the key this power is still profoundly dangerous.
“That’s one reason I’ve been working so hard to complete the key. Everyone else thinks the key is supposed to simply unlock the power, but from bits of surviving books and scrolls from before the star shift, I’ve come to believe that the key was an object intended to protect the power, not merely unlock it.”
The word “protect” stuck out to her. He said it with a kind of natural ease. She remembered what the men down in the lower reaches of the Keep had been working on when they were killed.
Her gaze went to the object on the table.
“Protect. Like a sword,” she said.
“Yes,” he finally admitted. “The existing references and formulas we still have led people to believe that the key must be made in the form of a sword. So, those trying to make the key try to make it in the form of a sword.
“They don’t know why, and they don’t really care. They simply try to make the key in the form of a sword as is implied in the reference material in order that it might work to unlock the power.”
“And you think,” she guessed, “that there is meaning to the prescription that the key take the form of a sword.”
“I do. That the magic is supposed to be invested in a sword implies its purpose, does it not? Besides working to unlock what it protects, I believe it was intended to have the power to prevent the wrong person from meddling with the power.”
“So, if there’s no key, and the power is that incredibly dangerous, that’s why the chests containing the power were shut away in the Temple of the Winds in the first place?”
“Very likely so,” he said. “The problem is, if anything should go wrong, the key would be the only chance to bring us all back from the brink of annihilation.”
He leaned in and lowered his voice, even though there was no one who could possibly overhear him. “You see, the key I would create isn’t simply coded to the power, it’s coded to work with the person using it. It has to be the right person, for the right reasons, or it won’t work. The magic can read not only the key, but the intentions of the one holding the key.”
Magda knew from Baraccus that dangerous magic often had multiple layers of protection. Books of magic usually had wards and safeguards to protect them. According to Isidore, Merritt made just such bindings for books of magic. He was apparently employing that principle in his design for the key to the power.
“But all of this is only theoretical, since you can’t make the key and prove your theories.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. The problem is,” he said, “there are those here in the Keep—”
“You mean the council.”
His mouth twisted as he finally gave in. “Good guess.”
She was getting tired of dancing with shadows. “Not all that difficult.”
He flashed a brief smile before turning serious again. “The council wants it done anyway. They want the key to be made.”
Magda had to take another drink of water to compose her voice. “Why? If everyone knows that the power is locked in the Temple, why would the council want the key made?”
“They’ve given me a long list of reasons, none of which make a lot of sense to me, but they’re very insistent. They wish it to be done, period. Ultimately, they don’t need to explain themselves. They wish it to be done so they command that it be done. But wishing and commanding doesn’t mean that it can be done and they won’t listen to reason.”
“I’m well aware of how inflexible the council can be.”
“They certainly are in this case.”
Magda’s mind was racing. “Which councilmen want it done?”
“All of them, but Weston and Guymer seem to be the ones forcing the issue most of the time.”
“Weston and Guymer. It would be them,” Magda murmured to herself. She looked up again. “I thought the council didn’t want you to use this same basic conjuring to create this, this person who could pull truth from lies.”
His hazel eyes again locked on her.
“The Confessor,” he said.
Chapter 50
“Confessor?” Magda asked.
“That’s right.”
She leaned forward, puzzled by the name. “Confessor?”
“Yes, that’s what I call the person I would create because with the power I would invest in them, they could make anyone—anyone—confess the truth, no matter how abhorrent the truth may be, no matter how desperately they previously may have wanted to conceal it, no matter the lies they’ve told or hidden behind. The touch of a Confessor’s power would change all that.”
“So, the council wants you to make the key, for which there would be no use, but not this Confessor for which there could possibly be great use?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“To say the least.” She wondered if something more than irony was involved. “I still don’t understand why both the key and this Confessor could require the same base elements.”
“Because at their core they both serve the cause of truth.”
“How can the key serve the cause of truth? I get the Confessor, but not the key.”
“At their root, the key and the Confessor both authenticate truth. The Confessor’s power would force the subject to reveal the truth, while all of the coded alignments of the key involve proofing it against reality. Reality is truth. Therefore, both the Confessor and the key need the same formulas to initiate their ultimate function.
“In much the same way that a verification web authenticates a spell, the base elements of this new form of magic I’m trying to create gauges, or measures, matters at hand against reality. In the case of the Confessor, the subject is left unable to speak anything other than the truth.
“The key, as well, follows a verification sequence. By building in authentication routines, it prevents a person from using it, for example, if they are lying about their reason for unlocking the power.”
“Maybe the council doesn’t want you to create the Confessor because they fear the truth,” Magda said.
“You may have just arrived at the heart of it.”
“But they still want the key.”
“Right,” he said. “They want a simple key to make the power work, but I didn’t think I could trust anyone with a key to that much power, even the council, so I intended to make the more complex key. That has been a great deal harder to devise, but if I ever get the chance to finally ignite the web, it will be worth the years of extra work.
“Yet neither the one I envision nor the simple one the council wants can be created because they both would need the information that is out of reach in the Temple of the Winds. Without those formulas, I can’t make the key, or the Confessor. At least it doesn’t matter about the key because the power, like the formulas, is safely out of reach.”
Magda thought she might be sick. She gulped a drink of water. She wondered why the council would fear the truth. But more immediate questions sprang to mind as she stalled for time to think it through.
“How would this person, this Confessor, be able to force someone to speak only the truth?”
He looked uncomfortable as he searched for the words. “You have to understand, Magda, that a Confessor would be a last resort to get at the truth. For example, to get a killer to confess to murders he committed so that we would know the extent of his victims, know beyond a doubt his guilt. Or imagine if a man had snatched a child for ransom, or worse. A Confessor could pull the truth from his lies and deception.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Or a traitor could be made to give a true confession?”
“Without question or hesitation.”
Magda touched her fingers to her forehead, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was telling her.
“But how would this Confessor actually get the person to confess?”
“Basically,” he said, “the magic I would invest in them, much like the key, would contain elements of both Subtractive and Additive Magic.”
“So you would need a gifted person to create a Confessor.”
“Actually, no, not at all. The person would be the vessel into which I would place this ability, this unique form of power.”
“But if they aren’t gifted—”
“Everyone has at least a small spark of the gift. It’s part of our life force. Magic is merely a matter of degree. You are said to be ungifted, but that’s not technically accurate.
“Life connects us all to magic, as illustrated through the design of the Grace. So, for a Confessor, I don’t need a gifted person, just a living one.”
Having spent a lot of time around Baraccus and a number of talented wizards, Magda was somewhat familiar with their world and what they considered to be within the working realm of possibility. She might not have fully understood what they did or how they did it, but she did have a general sense of the sphere of their capabilities. This was outside that sphere.
Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. She looked up at him. “You would alter a Grace.”
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