"Ettore, bring in the next witness."

Brogan glared at Lunetta as she faded back against the wall. She had done well, but then she had spoiled it by provoking him. Though he knew it was the evil in her that bubbled up whenever she did right, it galled him that she didn't try harder to suppress its influence. Maybe he had been too kind to her of late; in a weak moment, wanting to share his joy, he had given her a pretty. Perhaps she look that to mean that he would let her get away with insolence. He would not.

Tobias ordered himself in his chair and folded his hands on the table, thinking again about his triumph, thinking about the prize of prizes. There was no need to.force a smile this time.

He was a bit startled to look up and see a young girl glide into the room ahead of the two guards. The old coat she wore dragged the ground. Behind the girl, between the guards, a squat old woman in a tattered wrap of brown blanket limped along with a rolling gait.

When the group came to a halt before the table, the girl smiled at him. "You've a very nice warm home, m'lord. We've enjoyed our day here. May we return your hospitality?"

The old woman added a smile of her own.

"I'm pleased you have had a chance to get warm, and would be grateful if you and your…" He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"Grandmamma," the girl said.

"Yes, grandmamma. I would be grateful if you and your grandmamma would answer a few questions, that's all."

"Ann," the old woman said. "Questions, is it? Questions can be dangerous, m'lord."

"Dangerous?" Tobias rubbed two fingers over the furrows on his forehead. "I seek only the truth, madam. If you answer honestly, no harm will come to you. You have my word."

She grinned, showing the gaps where teeth were missing. "I meant for you, m'lord." She cackled softly to herself, then leaned toward him with a grim expression. "You might not like the answers, or pay heed to them."

Tobias waved off her concern. "You let me worry about that."

She straightened, smiling again. "If you wish, m'lord." She scratched the side of her nose. "What are your questions, then?"

Tobias leaned back, studying the woman's waiting eyes. "The Midlands has been in turmoil, of late, and we want to know if (he Keeper's minions have a hand in the strife shadowing the lands. Have you heard any of the council members speak against the Creator?"

"Councilors rarely come down to the market to discuss theology with old ladies, m'lord, nor would I suppose any would be so foolish as to publicly reveal any underworld connections, had they any."

"Well, what have you heard about what they have had to say?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "You wish to hear rumors from Stentor Street, m'lord? State which sort of rumor it is you would like to hear, and I can tell you one to fit your needs."

Tobias drummed his fingers on the table. "I am not interested in rumor, madam, simply the truth."

She nodded. "Of course you are, m'lord, and you shall have it. Sometimes, people can be interested in the most foolish of things."

He cleared his throat in annoyance. "I've heard any number of rumors already, and don't need any more. I need to know the truth of what has been going on in Aydindril. Why, I've even heard that the council has been executed, as well as the Mother Confessor.

Her narrow-eyed smile returned. "Then why wouldn't a man of your high status simply stop by the palace as he rode in, and ask to see the council? That would make more sense than dragging in all sort of people who would have no direct knowledge, and asking them. The truth would be better discerned with your own eyes, m'lord."

Brogan pressed his lips together. "I wasn't here when the rumors say the Mother Confessor was executed."

"Ahh, so it's the Mother Confessor you're interested in, then. Why didn't you simply say so, instead of going all round about? I heard dial she was beheaded, but I didn't see it. My granddaughter saw it though, didn't you my dear?"

The little girl nodded. "Yes, m'lord, saw it myself, I did. Chopped her head right off, they did."

Brogan made a show of sighing. "That was what I feared. She is dead, then."

The girl shook her head. "Didn't say that, m'lord. I said I saw them chop off her head." She looked right into his eyes and smiled.

"What do you mean by that?" Brogan shot a glare up at the old woman. "What does she mean by that?"

"What she says, m'lord. Aydindril has always been a city with a strong undercurrent of magic, but it has been fairly crackling with it, of late. Where magic is involved, you can't always trust your eyes alone. Though she is young, this one is smart enough to know that much. A man of your profession would know it, too."

"Crackling with magic? That portends evil. What do you know about the Keeper's minions?"

"Terrible, they are, m'lord. But magic is, in itself, not evil; it exists without guile of its own."

Brogan's fists tightened. "Magic is the Keeper's taint."

She cackled again. “That would be like saying that the shiny silver knife at your belt is the Keeper's taint. If used to menace or harm an innocent, then the holder of the knife is evil. But if, for instance, it is used to defend life against a fanatical lunatic, no matter his high standing, then the holder of the knife is good. The knife is neither, because each can use it."

Her eyes seemed to go out of focus, and her voice lowered to a hiss. "But if used for retribution, magic is vengeance incarnate."

"Well then, in your view, is this magic you say is about in the city being used for good, or evil?"

"For both, m'lord. This is, after all, the home of the Wizard's Keep, and a seat of power. Confessors have ruled here for thousands of years, as well as wizards. Power draws power. Conflict is afoot. Scaled creatures, called mriswith, have begun to appear out of the very air, and gut any innocent in their way. An ominous omen, if ever there was one. Other magic lurks to snatch the rash, or unwary. Why, the very night is alive with magic carried on the gossamer wings of dreams."

She peered at him with one faded blue eye as she went on. "A child who is fascinated with fire could easily be incinerated here. Such a child would be well advised to be very careful, and leave at the first opportunity, before he inadvertently puts his hand into a flame.

"Why, people are even pulled off the street, to have their words filtered through a sieve of magic."

Brogan leaned forward with a smoldering expression. "And what do you know about magic, madam?"

"An equivocal question, m'lord. Could you be more explicit?"

Tobias paused for a moment, trying to pick the nettles out of her ramblings. He had dealt with her kind before, and he realized she was gulling him off the subject, off the trail.

He brought back his polite smile. "Well, for instance, your granddaughter says she saw the Mother Confessor beheaded, but that that doesn't mean she be dead. You say magic can make it so. I'm intrigued by such a statement. While it's true that I know magic can occasionally fool people, I've only heard of it working small deceptions. Could you explain how death could be revoked?"

"Revoke death? The Keeper has such power."

Brogan pressed forward against the table. "Are you saying the Keeper himself brought her back to life?"

She cackled. "No, m'lord. You are so persistent in what you want that you do not pay attention, and hear only what you want to hear. You specifically asked how death could be revoked. The Keeper can revoke death. At least, I'm assuming he can because he is the ruler of the dead, holds power over life and death, so it's only natural to believe that — "

"Is she alive or not!"

The old woman blinked at him. "How would I know that, m'lord?"

Brogan ground his teeth. "You said that just because people saw her beheaded, that doesn't mean she be dead."