Liar's Island: A Novel (33 page)

A moment later, the thakur came in through another door, trailed by an old man in robes that Rodrick took for a priest, probably of whatever god of justice adorned the floor he knelt on. The thakur took the central seat, and the priest the seat on his left. Kalika lounged by the wall, off to one side, apparently of high enough status to remain but not high enough to sit in the other empty chair.

“I understand you have a story to tell me,” the thakur said. His face was perfectly expressionless. “Tell it.”

Rodrick took a breath and began. He told the thakur how Nagesh had threatened him with an elemental in his room and demanded that Hrym commit an assassination, or see Rodrick killed. He explained his fear that the thakur might be part of the plot—the man's face didn't change at that, either—and his attempt to find a way to escape. He explained about Hrym's demonic taint, and how his outburst had spoiled his plan, adding profuse apologies for inadvertently putting the thakur in danger. (The thakur showed no response to the explanation about how Hrym had acquired the taint, but Kalika rolled her eyes and shook her head disdainfully.) Rodrick began to warm to the story when he talked about slashing Nagesh in the face and startling or hurting him enough to make him reveal himself as a rakshasa.

He almost glossed over the precise details of his escape, because he didn't want to mention Grimschaw. He couldn't talk about her without admitting the theft from the library, and that was a crime for which he had no excuse at all, apart from avarice. But he quashed his misgivings and told the truth about that, too, getting more disgusted looks from Kalika. Maybe his honestly about the theft would incline the thakur to find the rest of his story more plausible.

Having crossed that hurdle, the rest came out in a rush—being attacked by weretigers bearing the mark of the Knife in the Dark, meeting Lais, Jayin's cleansing of Hrym's taint and his subsequent death, all of it up through the fight in the jungle, finding the location of the treasure, facing the golem, Grimschaw's death, Nagesh's escape … and the discovery of the Scepter of the Arclords.

Kalika laughed openly at that.

“It's true,” he said. “I have it, or rather my friends do, but we want nothing more than to place it into your hands, Thakur. Perhaps it will make a suitable gift for your friend the rajah, as it is even more wondrous than Hrym.”

The priest's eyes widened. “It must be the truth.”

Now the thakur looked annoyed, and at his glare, the priest ducked his head and looked abashed.

The thakur shook his head. “Many have believed the scepter was in their hands over the years, but none of them have ever been correct.” He sighed. “You are kneeling inside a circle of truth, Rodrick. A magical ward created by this priest. No falsehood may be spoken inside that circle.” Another look at the priest. “We don't generally tell people that before we're done taking their testimony. The looks on their faces when they try to lie and cannot is usually quite amusing.”

Rodrick was glad he hadn't decided to embellish his tale or make himself seem more heroic than he was.

“You have spoken no lies today,” the thakur said. Kalika didn't gasp, and so Rodrick didn't let himself look smug. “But the circle is not absolute proof against falsehood. There are counter-magics that can overcome the compulsion to speak truth. Or the mind of the witness can be tricked—the circle knows nothing of
absolute
truth, if there is such a thing, but only judges the speaker's understanding of truth, and so one can speak any falsehood if they merely believe it to be true. The circle also knows nothing of omissions, and you have a reputation, Rodrick, as someone capable of making words dance to the tune you choose. For these reasons, and others, we do not rely on the circle absolutely in order to render judgment. We must investigate your claims against Nagesh. As for these other claims … have you any proof? Any corroboration?”

“I do,” Rodrick said. “Those who helped me fight the Knife in the Dark, Lais and Dhyana, did not join me here today, because I did not want them to be harmed if Nagesh reached me before I could speak to you. But I know how to get a message to them. I can tell you, but let me assure you, even if you deem me guilty of some crime, they are guilty of nothing.”

“These friends have this supposed scepter, you say?” At Rodrick's nod, the thakur sighed. “You will be confined until I know the truth of this to my satisfaction, Rodrick.” He gestured. “Take him away, and question him about how to reach these friends of his.”

The djinn moved aside, and human guards seized him and pulled him away. There was no indication of how long the thakur's investigations, or deliberations, or both would take, or if Rodrick could expect mercy or decapitation at the end of it all. No wonder he'd never fed himself to the maw of justice before. The process was terrifying.

25

In the Cells

They did take him to a dungeon, this time. Rodrick had seen a dungeon or two in his day, and this one was quite pleasant, by those standards. There were no rats. No filthy dung-smeared drifts of hay full of lice for bedding. No skeletons hanging by their wrist bones from shackles on the wall, though he suspected that was something torturers liked to stage for intimidation value rather than something that really happened naturally. The basement was on the dark side, and the cell was bare stone, true, but the walls were clean, with no bloodstains or scratched pleas for the blessed release of death left behind by prior inhabitants. Rodrick sat on the floor in the corner with his back against a wall, looking at the thick steel bars that penned him in. Captivity had never suited him, but he'd brought it on himself.

After an uncountable interval, Rodrick was given a cup of brackish water and a bit of bread—no weevils, this was a lovely dungeon—and a hard-boiled egg. He ate, contemplating the flickering shadows in the light of the single torch in the hallway. He was considering trying to sleep on the stones when Kalika appeared, escorted by a hard-eyed guard with a scimitar big enough to fell a tree hanging at his hip, incongruously carrying a three-legged wooden stool in one hand.

Kalika waved the guard away imperiously, and he sighed like he'd lost an old argument for the thousandth time, then set down the stool before Rodrick's cell and walked off some little distance. Kalika sat, taking her time about arranging her scarves and necklaces just so, then looked in at Rodrick. “I am here unofficially, because, as I said, I've taken an interest in your case. I thought I'd share some of the recent developments.”

“News is welcome, as long as it's welcome news. If I'm going to have my head struck off in the morning, though … Actually, I suppose it's better to know, even if it will fill my final hours with anxiety instead of hope.” His final hours would actually be filled with desperate attempts to escape, in that case, but he wasn't hopeful about his chances for success.

“I understand a message was left at that horrid tavern in the foreign quarter you mentioned, telling your friends to present themselves at the palace. They will be questioned sharply, if and when they arrive … though if one of them really is a garuda, that helps your case. I suppose it's possible for garudas to lie, but they set great store by their uncompromising honesty. One wonders how a trickster like yourself made an alliance with one of those.”

He shrugged. “At first I lied very well, and then I stopped lying. I can't say Dhyana likes me much—I think she prefers Hrym by a wide margin—but she purely hates the Knife in the Dark, and I helped kill a number of them.” Indirectly, mostly, but it still counted. The cult would certainly hold him responsible, so he might as well take the credit where it did him good.

“On that score … The thakur sent a couple of the court wizards to investigate the site of this supposed temple. This is all secondhand, mind you, from … call them friends of mine … who overheard, but I'm told they found the temple, and the banner of Vasaghati you mentioned, and a great many dead, mostly eaten by creatures from the jungle but identifiable for all that. They also found a second temple with a secret room devoid of treasure, and the remains of several constructs of the sort the Arclords were known to create, including a stone golem…” She shook her head. “A story as outlandish as yours seemed like it
must
be a lie, but it seems at least some of it was true.”

“Ah, but that's the sign you're an amateur liar at best,” Rodrick said. “Professionals often do their best to make their lies simple and clear.” He recalled a couple of elaborate impostures that were more complicated than they needed to be, just because it was more interesting that way, but there was nothing that said his advice about how to lie had to be entirely truthful. “You'll find that, the more complex the lie, the faster it falls apart. No, it's
reality
that's absurd and overcomplicated. What sort of complicated lies is Nagesh telling? How is he explaining away his absence from the palace? I
know
he was gone for some time—he was at the temple. Or can rakshasas teleport, too?”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “He was out searching for you, as he found your attack on the thakur in his presence a source of personal shame. Or so he explained when he returned to the city, which he did rather more quickly than you did—of course, he had access to a flying carpet.”

“See?” Rodrick said. “He told an excellent lie, because almost every word is true, just not in the way you'd expect. He
was
searching for me, after all.”

She adjusted her bracelet. “I probably shouldn't tell you this, but … Nagesh is gone. He vanished soon after you turned yourself in, after a servant loyal to him reported your arrival and my involvement. Nagesh was not seen to leave the palace, but if he is … what you claim … he would be able to escape with relative ease. The powers of rakshasas vary, but even the least of them are capable of great stealth. His flight is taken by many as evidence of guilt, though of course that is not definitive.”

“Better and better,” Rodrick said. “I'd prefer to see him strung up by his feet and beaten with sticks, but running away will do—I'm sure your people will track him down eventually. Given all that's happened, when my friends arrive and confirm my story, as they will, do you think I'll be set free?”

She shook her head. “It's nice to see you so hopeful. You
stole
from the thakur, Rodrick, crept into his library and absconded with a scroll of great antiquity and value.”

Rodrick scowled. “I didn't creep anywhere. A librarian showed me to the shelf! And the scroll may have been old and valuable but no one had looked at it in centuries. No one would have even noticed if it was gone if I hadn't come clean.”

“Ah, but you did confess. The punishment for a common thief is the loss of a hand. But stealing from the thakur … I'm not sure, but it would not surprise me if the loss of your life was deemed a reasonable punishment.”

Rodrick tilted his head back and looked at the dungeon ceiling. This was just marvelous. “The thakur isn't inclined to be merciful because I killed so many of the Knife in the Dark and exposed the treachery of his close advisor?”

“I can't presume to speak for the thakur. I don't sit in on his counsels, I just know people who do. But … News of Nagesh's potential treachery left the thakur shaken. Some of the recognizable corpses at the temple were known to people in the palace, though fortunately none were so highly placed as Nagesh. A teacher at the Conservatory, relatively new, but considered a rising star. A monk at one of the better monasteries, not high-ranking, but still, his presence indicates a troubling potential for deeper blight. A maid employed by one of the oldest families in the city, privy to who knows what secrets spoken unthinkingly in her presence. You may have undone innumerable plots by helping kill those cultists. And what you said, about the cult's attempt to stage a coup and take over the whole island, to make it a machine for pumping the toxin of the Knife in the Dark out into the wider world … that did carry weight. Will it be enough to spare your head? I couldn't say.”

“Hmm. And giving the thakur the Scepter of the Arclords? Does that bring me a little
more
goodwill? Enough to tip the balance toward life and freedom?” Rodrick didn't expect to be given a palace, though in normal circumstances he thought that would be reasonable considering all his service, but a fast ship laden heavily with gold seemed plausible.

She sighed. “You seem so smart, sometimes, and then, at other times … Rodrick, scholars debate whether the Scepter of the Arclords even
exists
. It's a fairy tale the Arclords tell themselves—a great treasure left behind, one that could restore them to primacy in Nex and even allow them to retake Jalmeray, perhaps even a way to call back their beloved old vanished archwizard himself! It's nonsense. I don't doubt you found
something
—perhaps a staff that grants clairvoyance, based on the eyes you say decorated it—but I think wishful thinking led you to believe it was something more.”

“Oh, thank goodness you're here to set me straight,” he said. “I don't have any experience at
all
with wondrous weapons of untold power and deep magic. How would I ever recognize such a thing if it came into my hands?” It was hard to tell in the dim light, with her dark skin, but he thought perhaps she blushed. “If it's real, that would help my case, wouldn't it?”

“Yes, and if you had wings, you could fly.”

The guard grunted, and Kalika turned her head, then widened her eyes, leaping from the stool and stepping back. Rodrick went to the bars and tried to look down the hall, but he saw only shadows from his vantage, and the shape of the guard slumped on the floor.