Thanks for all the reviews! Glad you're enjoying it! Oh, and to Lady Sandrilene, who asked about the truthsayers-Saché and I already have that plotted out. You'll see. And Saché says kudos-it's nice to have readers that keep us on our toes. ;-) Also, I am supposed to note that I wrote a tiny part of this chapter, although most of the genius in it is Saché's. -Qwi-Xux

:-:-:

CHAPTER THREE

by Sache8

Briar had sought his solace in the grain fields several miles outside the walls of Winding Circle. Here the mages of Earth Temple grew a great portion of the mages' food supply. Much of it was sold in the Summersea markets too. Grain grown by Earth mages fetched a healthy price.

The quiet rows of half-grown corn were an ideal place for someone who wanted to get lost in thought. Briar wandered listlessly up and down, reaching out an occasional hand to brush the leaves and stalks of corn, taking comfort in their simplicity. If only the rest of life was as easy to figure out as his plants were. They never wanted much. They never made him confused.

But now he was steadily making his way to Summersea…and Sandry. Her urgent mental request had set him on edge, and he was getting more and more nervous as he imagined things that could be wrong, each more terrible than the last. She said something was wrong with the Duke…

The sun finally peaked over the horizon. He was heading west, on the Summersea road. The road followed the shoreline of the bay, and the sunlight striking the water in the early morning haze would have ordinarily made him stop to admire, but he was too preoccupied.

He ran into more and more traffic as the morning progressed, and as he got closer to the city. He searched peoples' faces for possible recent gossip regarding Duke Vedris, but nothing seemed promising. The first sign that anything was amiss did not come until the city walls were actually in sight.

It was not from the city, however, that the sign occurred, but from behind him. The frantic sound of galloping hooves and rattling wheels caused him to turn. He was not altogether surprised to see Rosethorn coming up behind him, perched atop the same wagon they'd arrived in, and accompanied by a handful of the Citadel guard.

"Climb in," instructed Rosethorn. The wagon and its escort slowed and stopped, allowing Briar a moment to scramble up.

"Sure, now they decide to pick it up," he said grumpily, indicating the mules with a wave of his hand.

Rosethorn chose not to comment on this. "Here," she said instead, handing him a bundle wrapped in cloth, which proved to contain some bread and cheese from the pantry. She frowned at his bedraggled appearance. "Don't you even have shoes?"

"I wasn't planning on a walk to Summersea, Rosethorn."

The mules began to pick up the pace again as Rosethorn urged them on.

"What were you doing out so late anyway?"

"Thinking," he mumbled. He very carefully did not look at her when she said this.

Rosethorn clucked her tongue and said nothing.

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

:-:-:

Sandry had seen many a gruesome sight in her short life. She thought of the demise of the murderers that she and Pasco had captured together. That had not been a pretty sight, and it was one she would just as soon forget.

But it was nothing, nothing to what she was looking at now.

The Duke's sleeping chamber was a forest of thorns.

They trailed down from the ceiling and the cracks between the wooden planks of the floor. She followed them with her eyes to where they met in the middle of the bed, where they had twisted, choked, and overcome the body of her uncle.

It's a good thing the bedclothes are already red.

Sandry closed her eyes. She felt dizzy…

Her escort looked on nervously as Sandry ran hurriedly to the nearby washbasin.

It's like they think a lady isn't allowed to throw up or something. She thought, noting the expression on their faces as she finally raised her head. She swallowed, and fought the tears that now wanted to follow the nausea.

As delicately as possible, Sandry took a drink from the pitcher at her elbow and tried to clean the bitter taste out of her mouth. Then she straightened, and with a shuddering sigh, she turned back around.

"When did you find him?" she asked as calmly as possible. Her voice was still wavering, however.

Pasco's uncle stepped forward. "About an hour ago, my lady. The maidservant who comes to light the fire. My lady…" he trailed off.

"What is it?"

The man looked downright uncomfortable. "No one heard anything," he finally said. "No screaming, nothing. Whoever did this managed it with a great deal of finesse."

"And power," she added with a sigh.

She somehow worked up the nerve to walk closer to the bed. Erdogun leaned forward as if in protest, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand.

Reaching the foot of the bed, and careful to not look directly at the revolting sight in its center, Sandry reached up a small hand to the bedpost. A vine of thorns had wound its way around it, cutting deep scratches in the beautiful dark cherry. It had ripped the bed curtains on its way down toward its victim.

Sandry gingerly reached out her finger and ran it along the smooth side of a thorn, careful to keep away from its wicked sharp point.

Something in her finger began to tingle with familiarity. She knew that feeling…it was a part of her, and yet not completely her. In fact, she'd felt it very recently. When, heart pounding, she'd picked up Briar's hand in hers not so very long ago.

Sandry recoiled as if bitten and stepped back away from the bed, her face going pale. "Briar?" she whispered in shock. Confused, she stepped forward, and touched the vine again, this time with many fingers.

She gulped. There was no denying it.

This was Briar's magic.

:-:-:

When Briar and Rosethorn reached the Duke's Citadel, they found another group of the Duke's honor guard ready and waiting to escort them to the scene of the crime.

"I'm glad you're here," the captain, a man named Penmic told them frankly. "Her eminence is very distraught about something, but refuses to tell us what's wrong. Perhaps you might persuade her to be more forthcoming."

"Her eminence?" Briar asked, confused.

The guard threw him a curious sidelong glance as they walked briskly through the stone courtyard.

"My Lady Sandrilene," he prompted, "the Duchess of Emelan."

Briar hissed quietly through his teeth, feeling stupid. Of course that was what the guard had meant. How could he have forgotten? He'd been thinking about that very possibility only half the day yesterday.

"How do you know she's not just grieving for her uncle and just wants you to leave her alone?" snapped Rosethorn.

Penmic seemed a little taken aback, but much to his credit he did not back down. "Dedicate," he said, "I've known the lady for a few months now. And I've known her uncle for longer. She's not just grieving, trust me. She's hiding something."

With the quick pace the guard set, it did not take long for them to reach the Duke's quarters. In the antechamber, they found Sandry, a few nobles, some more guards, and a few harriers all meandering around talking in low voices. There was a hazy, dismal atmosphere about the place, that even the morning sunshine streaming through the window could not seem to dispel.

Briar and Rosethorn lurked in the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene. Sandry was wearing a plain dress. She had a shawl on and her hair was down, covered over by one of Tris's trademark scarves. Briar also noted that she still hadn't taken off her shoes.

"When do we tell the city?" An older, harried looking gentleman was asking her.

Sandry, who was turned slightly away from the newcomers, shook her head woefully. "I don't know. I just don't know. I assume," she added, "that you mean an official announcement. Because I have no doubt that half the city actually knows by now. I estimate that everyone will know by noon at least." She put her hands on her temples and rubbed. Her eyes were weary. She looked as if she'd aged ten years in seven hours.

Sandry finally looked over at them. Relief, panic, and sorrow filled her eyes, and she rushed over with as much dignity as she could muster. She almost seemed as if she wanted to give him an embrace, but she stopped short with hesitation at the last second and did not.

Of course, he thought bitterly, that wouldn't be appropriate, given the present company.

"There's something I want you to see," she said softly. "It's…not…but I found something… You have to tell me what you think."

Her demeanor puzzled Briar. She was almost nervous about something, and he realized that this is what Penmic had been referring to. The man had been right. Something was up.

He exchanged a knowing glance with Rosethorn, who nodded slightly. She sensed it too.

"Lead on," he said to Sandry, waving his hand.

When they entered the Duke's sleeping chamber Briar stopped short, mouth gaping at the sight that greeted him. He knew instantly what was troubling Sandry.

The room was teeming with remnants of his power. He didn't even need to think twice about it. Since the day he'd first successfully meditated, he'd known the signature of his magic better than anything else in his life.

Rosethorn knew it too. She pressed her lips into a tight line, and her brow wrinkled worriedly. He looked at her and made no effort to hide his bewilderment, although he did give her a small nod of confirmation to assure her that she was not imagining things.

"Well?"

Briar jumped a little. He hadn't realized one of the harriers had followed them into the room.

"Well, what?" snapped Rosethorn.

"Aren't you going to run a test? See whose magic this is?"

Briar opened his mouth to speak, and was stopped short by a small hand on his arm. He looked to see Sandry standing beside him, eyes imploring.

Don't say it, she asked him silently, pleading. Don't say it Briar, he might take you away.

Briar bit his lip. It would be so easy. He was very good at lying. He'd done it all his life. Lies had been his stock in trade when he was Roach, and he hadn't entirely been able to let it go, even as Briar Moss.

What am I supposed to say, Little Weaver? he replied. He glanced at Rosethorn, who nodded knowingly, and then back at Sandry. There's no denying the facts. Rosethorn and I are not the only mages who will notice. They'll pinpoint me sooner or later. Better to be sooner. If I lie and run away…how will it look?

Sandry's lip quivered, and her blue eyes clouded over. She closed them for a moment, gathering herself, and then nodded. She opened her eyes, gazing at him sadly and longingly.

Why, why does she have to look at me like that? He felt as though someone was stabbing him repeatedly inside.

The harrier was still waiting expectantly. There was a moment's pause as the three mages hesitated one moment more. Who wanted to say the condemning words?

It was up to him, he knew.

Briar sighed audibly. "No need," he said. "We already know whose magic this is."

The harrier looked quite visibly relieved, and a light of retribution flamed behind his eyes. "Who?" he said slowly and carefully.

"It's mine," Briar said quietly. He waved his hands at the vicious ropes of thorns. "This is my magic."

"Guards!" called the harrier, without missing a beat. Briar cringed.

A contingent of Duke's Honor Guard filed promptly in, while Sandry and Rosethorn eased closer to Briar. He wondered if they were even aware of it. It made him feel good that they wanted to protect him.

"Arrest the boy," the harrier commanded, pointing an accusing finger at Briar. "He has been identified as the culprit."

Sandry gave a small outcry and her grip on Briar's arm tightened.

"Now just a minute!" said Rosethorn sternly, halting everyone in their tracks. Briar noted Captain Penmic easing his way through the line of his men to stand in the front.

Everyone's attention was still on Rosethorn. "A little civility, please," she said, with a disapproving look on the harrier in question, "You cannot just go shouting accusations at the drop of a hat. We have a system of law in Emelan, do we not?"

"What seems to be the trouble, Dedicate Rosethorn?" asked Penmic. Obviously, he hadn't been quick enough to know what was going on with Briar.

"A lack of due process," said Rosethorn imperiously, glaring at the harrier again. The man looked a little uncomfortable. "He was about to arrest Briar without the proper procedures."

Penmic frowned, and looked curiously at Briar. "And why would Harrier Berrinith wish to arrest Mage Briar?"

"Because Briar's magic was identified as part of this crime," Rosethorn said coolly. "Master…Berrinith here was treating it as a full-blown confession. Which of course, it's not."

Penmic looked at Sandry in amazement. "Is this true?" he asked her. Briar scowled. Wasn't Rosethorn's word good enough? Sandry nodded solemnly.

Penmic seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mistress Rosethorn, but it does mean I must take him into custody."

"I know that," said Rosethorn. "So does he. But until heads are a little cooler around here I won't have frenzied mobs at the Citadel's gate demanding his head before we get a proper trial."

Sandry had gone pale. Her hand, still on Briar's arm, finally relaxed and rested at her side. She was staring blankly ahead of her, seemingly not even listening to what else was going on.

Alarmed, Briar reached along their bond, and was met with a sea of panic and strife, roiling around inside of Sandry like a turbulent thunderstorm.

"I understand your concerns, Dedicate," said Penmic, still speaking to Rosethorn. "I assure you that Mage Briar will be treated as respectfully as possible until we get to the bottom of this." He nodded sagely at two of his guards, who moved to Briar's side and took either arm.

Briar scowled a little. "Lay off a little, okay? I'm coming willingly." He shrugged off their hands and put on a blank expression, immediately regretting the slight lapse in his conduct. He strengthened his resolve to keep his cool about this.

He tried to meet Sandry's eye as Berrinith began the statement of arrest, but she was still just staring, unmoving.

:-:-:

Sandry couldn't think. She couldn't move, she couldn't do anything. Vaguely, she remembered seeing people in this condition before...shock. That was it, she was in shock. She felt the panic swimming around inside of her mind, but it felt trapped. All of the resolve she had built up to be strong came crashing around like one of Tris's storms.

She couldn't move as she watched the harriers taking Briar away. How could this be happening? No! It couldn't! He had only said it was his magic that had killed her uncle-he had never said that he was the one who had done it.

But what other possible explanation is there? Sandry asked herself. He was gone all night...this is his magic. For one long moment, as she watched the harrier, Berrinith, still speaking, she wondered if Briar really was guilty.

No! she told herself fiercely. Briar wouldn't do this...Briar couldn't do this. I know he couldn't. He's as much a part of me as I am. I would know if he had done this. Still...it was Briar's magic...

It was only then that she was able to focus on what Berrinith was telling Briar. "...until you can have a proper trial. Do you understand what I have told you?"

"Yes," Briar said. Sandry could tell he was trying to stay calm.

"We're going to have to take you in now," Berrinith said.

"I understand," Briar replied impassively. His gaze fixed on Sandry, who looked back uncertainly.

Could Briar have done this?

Sandry, listen to me. I didn't do this. You know I would never hurt you. I would never kill the Duke. You know that, Briar's thoughts were a little more desperate than his calm words to Berrinith.

Sandry studied him, looked into his deep green eyes, trying to see into his very soul. Berrinith and several other harriers were leading Briar out of the room now.

Sandry! I didn't do this!

Not knowing how to respond, Sandry sent him an impression of vague reassurance as she watched the guards take him away.

Now only Rosethorn, Penmic and herself remained in the room. Sandry swallowed hard and found her voice. She looked at Penmic. "No time is to be wasted getting to the bottom of this. I want the trial set for no later than tomorrow, do you understand? Who is the best truthsayer in Summersea?" She desperately wished that Niko were here. Niko was the best truthsayer she knew, but he and Tris were still somewhere off to the south.

"Haman of Lightsbridge lives in the city," said Penmic promptly. "He is highly respected and influential."

"Send for him immediately."

"Yes, milady."

After he had gone, Sandry sank to the floor. Hot tears welled up in her eyes.

I can't do this. I can't. Not alone...I'm not ready to be the Duchess of Emelan. I'm not ready for Uncle Vedris to be dead...I need Briar, and Daja, and Tris.

But Daja was still several days away, and Tris was who-knew-where.

And Briar…suddenly Briar seemed more removed than anyone.

:-:-:

When Evvy awoke that morning, she was surprised to find Discipline much less crowded than when she'd drifted off to sleep the previous night. Sandry was nowhere to be found in the bedroom. A quick survey of all the bedrooms revealed that the live-in students were not there either. Neither were Briar and Rosethorn. The resulting silence, therefore, made it very easy for her to detect a conversation taking place in the front garden.

Evvy eased up to the front window, and peeked up over the sill to see outside. There she saw Lark talking with a stout man wearing some sort of uniform. She quickly ducked back out of sight. If her aversion of nobility was significant, then her aversion of authorities was worse. But she still wanted to know what was going on.

Concentrating carefully, she reached out with her magic and smiled with satisfaction. The lower trim of Discipline was lined with fitted granite stones for decoration. Channeling her magic through the cool granite turned them into amplifiers for Evvy, and the outside conversation filtered through as though she were standing on the other side.

For half a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the type of thing Briar would ask her not to try. She knew it was rude of course, but laying that fact aside… was the skill involved beyond her control?

Evvy's curiousity helped her decide that she could handle this. She turned her attention wholly on what Lark and the stout man were saying.

"I would not expect Dedicate Rosethorn to return today," said the man. "She has expressed a wish to be present at the trial."

"When is the trial?" Lark asked. Her voice was very sober and very controlled.

"Tomorrow morning. The Duchess has requested the services of a truthsayer. He is probably preparing his investigation now."

Duchess? Evvy thought, confused. I thought Briar said the Duke wasn't married.

Maybe he'd married since Briar had been here, although surely Pahan Sandry would have written about something so important. Probably she'd just heard wrong.

She was disappointed to note that Lark's conversation with the official was drawing to a close. She fidgeted with frustration. What she really needed was to hear the beginning of the conversation.

Evvy remembered Rosethorn once telling her about how ambient mages could use their magic to help them see into the past. Could she try that? Well, she didn't really need to see the past per se, only to hear it… Knowing perfectly well that this was definitely not something she should be trying, Evvy opened her magic further, imagining herself as the granite itself.

She found it surprisingly difficult to convince the stones to show her the past. These pieces of granite had existed for millennia, and did not think of time in the same way Evvy did. When she requested they show her the recent past, she got impressions of younger landscapes from a time long forgotten. She tried to clarify, but the granite did not seem to understand. It got frustrated, its desire to please Evvy struggling against its inability to do so.

The result was that a moment later a very dazed Evvy found herself sprawled on the floor with a pounding headache. She had been pushed away from the wall by a rouge surge of her own power. With a groan, she managed to hoist herself to her feet and stumble outside.

She was not surprised to see Lark on her way up the garden path, a look of alarm on her face. Upon seeing Evvy standing unharmed in the doorway, Lark breathed a sigh of relief and swiftly switched to scolding mode.

"What were you up to?" she chided disapprovingly. She asked the question very calmly, but somehow it was worse than Rosethorn's sharp tongue. It made Evvy feel more ashamed.

"Um…" she began, but quickly stopped. It only took her a moment to decide that the whole truth would probably be the most appropriate course of action right now. She told Lark about the granite stones.

A quick survey of the right-side front wall of Discipline revealed the stones to be full of deep, splitting cracks.

"Well, you didn't try to hold back the tide," Lark commented blithely, surveying the damage, "but I imagine the lesson is about the same."

"Sorry?" Evvy asked, confused.

Lark exhaled with a chuckle. "Briar and Sandry's friend Tris. A weather mage. She once tried to control the tide. The attempt nearly killed her."

Evvy's eyes were wide. "How…" she began, a little frightened, "How does that the same as this?" She waved her hand toward the granite slabs, which were really granite fragments now.

"Magic will follow the patterns of nature," said Lark. "I don't know much about your kind of magic, but I imagine granite is not the type of stone that is at all applicable to anything short-term. But maybe someday you will find a stone that works better with that spell."

Evvy's mind raced over her lessons of the past year. "Obsidian," she suggested eagerly. "It was once lava, which is very…um…" She paused, not sure what word to use to describe what she was thinking of. "Lava moves fast and changes a lot," she said instead, taking a different approach. And obsidian is very young, as far as stones go.

Lark was smiling approvingly. "Perhaps you're right," she said.

"Um, Pahan Lark?" Evvy spoke up hesitantly, as the twosome headed back into Discipline.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Can you tell me what you were talking about with that man? Who was he?"

Lark walked to the dining table, which Evvy noticed for the first time was laid with simple breakfast fare. She began filling a plate for Evvy with bread and fruit. "He was a member of the Duke's personal courier service. He was delivering a message to me from Sandry and Rosethorn."

"What kind of message?" Evvy asked again, taking her place at the table.

"Go wash your hands Evvy." Evvy scowled a little, but got up again. Lark continued. "I'm afraid Briar's usual penchant for trouble did not wait long to find him. Unfortunately this time, it's of a very serious and alarming nature."

In the middle of scrubbing soap onto her hands, Evvy turned with concern. "What's wrong with him? Where is he?"

"At the Duke's Citadel."

"Why is he there? What's happened?"

Lark sighed. She looked very sad. "Duke Vedris has been murdered," she finally said. "And Briar's magic has been identified as part of the murder. Briar is now under arrest and being held for trial."

Evvy forgot about hand-washing. "What!" she exclaimed. "That's ridiculous! How did this happen? When did it happen? Everything was fine when I went to sleep!"

Lark carefully explained the events that had transpired over the course of the very long night and morning. When she was finished, Evvy became a maelstrom of impatient energy.

"We have to go there," she declared. "We have to go help him. He needs us there."

Lark put a restraining hand on Evvy's shoulder. "No, child. Briar is perfectly taken care of right now. He has both Rosethorn and Sandry to look after him. I know you might not believe this, but both of them know Briar even better than you do. The time may come when we will go, yes. But right now our best choice is to wait here and see what comes of his trial."

"Tomorrow morning," Evvy pronounced, remembering what she'd overheard outside. "And the Duchess…" Evvy paused, now understanding what that statement had meant, "Sandry has requested a truthsayer."

"I'm sure everything will be fine. Briar's magic on the scene is nothing conclusive, and none of his acquaintances believe him capable. I'm sure he'll be back home within the week. Don't forget, Sandry is the Duchess now. She can affect much that happens to him."

That thought was very comforting to Evvy. "Okay," she said. "I'll stay…for now." She made sure she put the appropriate warning note in her tone, which made Lark smile.

"So," Evvy spoke up confidently, trying to make herself more cheerful than she felt. "What are we going to do today? Where are your other students?"

"Ivren is off with his teacher, and Comas left to go visit his home for a few weeks." Then Lark smiled again and raised her eyebrows. " As for the two of us, I don't know what we will be doing, but I know what you'll be doing. You need to go find me some more granite for my cottage wall."

Evvy groaned. She should have seen that one coming.