“Do you know, then, who killed my father?”

“I do not have a name, if that is what thou ask. I am not a fortune-teller, nor am I clairvoyant. I merely know how things work. Thy father was killed by a man to be sure, but that man is in league with an organization. I suspect it is the same one which holds me captive.”

“The Nyphron Church,” Myron muttered softly, yet still the wizard heard and his eyes narrowed once more at the monk.

“Why would the Church of Nyphron wish to kill my father?”

“Sadly, ’twas nothing more than a foolish case of mistaken identity. ’Twas merely a potion exercise for Arista and a remedy for thy sick father, but the Church, well, they listen to me day and night. Overhearing mine instructions to thy sinlist—sis-ter, they must have assumed thy father wert the Heir of Novron.”

“Wait a minute,” Alric interrupted, “the Church doesn’t want to murder the heir. Their whole existence revolves around restoring him to the throne and creating a new Imperial Era.”

“’Tis what they want thee to thinketh. In truth, they wish him dead. They desire the bloodline erased. ’Tis the true reason why they seeketh the heir even after all this time. And why they have imprisoned me for all these years.”

“Why?”

“Because I know it was the Church who betrayed the Emperor, who murdered him and every member of his family save one. If the heir is found, it wilt prove my innocence and their treachery.”

“The way we heard the story you were the one who killed the imperial family. You are responsible for the destruction of the entire Empire,” Hadrian said.

“And where didst ye learn that, the Church? Dost thou really think one man could do so much? Dost thou hast any idea just how ludicrous that sounds?”

“What makes you think they killed the Emperor?” Alric inquired.

“I do not think. I know. I was there, and ’twas I who saved the Emperor’s only son from death at their hands. I helped him escape in those last desperate hours of the Empire.”

“So you are telling us that you lived at the time of the Emperor. Do you expect us to believe that you are over nine hundred years old?” Royce asked.

“I do not expect anything. I am merely answering Thy Majesty’s question.”

“That’s just an answer like this is just a prison,” Royce countered.

“I still don’t understand what all this has to do with my father. Why would the Church kill him?”

“’Tis because I showed an interest in him. When the Empire fell, I was not killed like so many others. They kept me alive through powerful enchantments for centuries because I alone know what happened to the Emperor’s son and can find an heir if one still exists. They keep me alive in hope that I wilt lead them to him. As I said they art always listening. When I helped thy sister learn magic and I cured thy father of sickness, they must have thought I deemed it important for him to live. They must have suspected that Arista, thy father, and thou were descendents of the heir. While I thought there might be a danger, I did not think they would be so bloodthirsty in their eagerness to end the Novron line. I warned the princess if something happened to her father, something strange, unexpected, and deadly, that she and thou might be the next targets.”

“And that is why you wanted me brought here? To explain all this to me, to make me understand?”

“No. That is why thy sister asked thou to come. I brought thou here for another reason entirely.”

“And what is that?”

The wizard looked up at them, his expression revealing a hint of amusement. “To help me escape.”

No one said anything. Myron took the moment to sit down on the stone bench behind him and whispered to Hadrian, “You were right. Life outside the abbey is much more exciting than books.”

“You want us to help you to escape?” Royce asked incredulously. He held out his hands and looked around the black stone fortress. “From here?”

“’Tis necessary I am afraid.”

“’Tis also impossible. I have gotten out of a number of difficult situations in my time, but nothing like this.”

“And thou art aware of only a small fraction of the measures used to contain me. All thou sees art the walls, guards, and the abyss. There art also magical forces at work. Magical locks art on all the doors here, just as ’twas on the door through which ye entered the gaol. They disappear upon closing. ’Tis the same enchantment on the bridge ye came across. Go look and ye wilt find it so. ’Tis no longer there. ’Tis not invisible—’tis gone.”

Royce raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Alric, I need your ring.” The prince handed it to the thief, who climbed the steps and disappeared into the tunnel. He returned a few minutes later and gave the ring back to Alric. A slight shake of his head confirmed what Hadrian already suspected.

Hadrian turned his attention back to the wizard, and Esrahaddon continued. “Still, ’tis not the most serious of the barriers in use here. Perhaps ye saw the runes which line these walls? They create a powerful magical force protecting the stone from magic or physical damage. These enchantments create a magical barrier. Inside this field, no new magic can be cast, and the passing of time is suspended. It is why I have lived for so long. None of ye has aged a second since ye entered this cell. Due to the field created by the runes, what ye perceive as a singing noise, ye will not get hungry or thirsty, or at least not more than ye were when ye entered. Ye will not become sleepy. Ye wilt remain just as ye art. ’Tis really quite remarkable all the trouble they went through to contain me.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alric challenged.

“Put a hand to thy chests. Ye wilt find the lack of a beating heart.”

Myron inched his hand across his breast and let out a tiny squeak.

“And with all these obstacles, you expect us to help you escape?” Hadrian said.

“I am counting on it,” the wizard replied with an impish grin.

“Although I am dying to ask how,” Royce said. “I am even more compelled to ask why? If they went through this much effort to seal you here, it seems to me they might have had a good reason. You’ve told us what we came to hear. We’re done. So why would we be foolish enough to try and help you escape?”

“Because ye hast little choice in the matter.”

“We have a great many choices,” Alric countered bravely. “I am king and rule here; it is you who is powerless.”

“Oh, I will not be the one stopping ye. As ye understand rightly, I am helpless, a prisoner with no ability to do much of anything. They were very careful to ensure my subjugation. ’Tis the guards who will stop ye. When thee call for them, they wilt not come. They can hear ye. They hath heard every word we hath spoken. Just as they killed your father, they wilt also kill you, Your Majesty.”

“But if they are listening, they also know I am not the heir,” Alric said, the courage in his voice melting away.

“They cannot be sure if thou art or not. It wilt not matter to them. They wilt not take a chance. Besides, now that I told thee of their secret, they wilt never let thee leave—any of ye. Thee wilt be imprisoned here, just as I am, or they wilt kill thee outright.”

Alric’s concern showed on his face as he looked first to Hadrian and then to Royce. “He may be right,” the thief said quietly.

Concern turned to panic, and the prince began to shout commands for their release. There was no response, no sound of the great door opening nor of approaching protectors to escort them to the exit. Everyone except the wizard looked worried. Alric wrung his hands, and Myron stood and held onto the rail of the balcony, as if letting go would allow the world to spin away from him.

“It was a trap after all,” Alric said. He turned to Royce. “My apologies for doubting your sound paranoia.”