The clouds ripped away from her, scattering into wispy tatters.
“A sound strategy,” she said. “No talismans would protect me from breathing in poisonous vapors, but you chose the medium poorly, for air is mine. You should try enfolding my clothes in flame, turning the ground underneath me to acid, collapsing the roof on top of me. Mayhap you would have better luck.”
“I will stop you,” Therin hissed.
“No,” Khaeriel said, “and truth be told, your heart does not want you to. Do you know that you are the grandson of usurped King Terindel, of the Kirpis vané? It is true. Your father Pedron’s—”
“He was not my father…”
She dismissed his protest with a wave. “Yes, he was. We both know it. Your vané blood betrays your lineage. For Pedron’s mother was Princess Valrashar, King Terindel’s daughter. She was gaeshed and sold to the D’Mons by my father, King Kelindel. My father usurped the Kirpis vané crown. So your father Pedron—and your aunt Tishar—were by all rights the true rulers of the Kirpis vané. Since both are dead now … that leaves you. You are now heir to a throne that seemed so distant, that no one could have imagined you would claim it. Leave behind your human shackles, Therin. Shed them and join me.”
He didn’t answer her. Instead he concentrated.
Khaeriel screamed as blood streamed from the corners of her eyes. She fell down to her knees.
“I’m sorry,” Therin said. “Your eyes will heal, but I can’t let you do this.” He walked toward her, steps unsteady from the damage he had taken when she had thrown him. “We’ll hide you until you heal, help you somehow. I won’t let the Council—”
Therin dropped to the ground, twitching, his eyes locked open in shock.
Khaeriel stood. She wiped the blood away from her eyes.
“I have targeted several specific nerve clusters. Painless, but you cannot move or organize your thoughts enough to channel magic. Lorgrin taught me that,” she said. “Oh but I shall miss him. His was a most puissant skill with matters of medicine and anatomy.” She bent down next to the shuddering High Lord. “I do not need you to protect me, Therin. And the Council will be the ones hiding from me before I have finished with them.”
She reached out and stroked his hair. “I give to you this gift: the one thing you have always wanted, the one thing you have never been brave enough to admit is your true heart’s desire.” She straightened. “I shall free you of the D’Mons.”
She turned back to the crowd.
Some fought. Others begged. Many did both, running or trying to hide, but the result was the same.
Finally, only two people remained alive in the hall.
Khaeriel returned to him when she was finished, stepping over the body of Bavrin D’Mon’s youngest son, Thallis. His eyes stared forward, open but unseeing.
“I know you think you shall never forgive me for this, but in time you will.” Khaeriel raised her hand, and Therin’s body floated upward. “You shall never blame me even a quarter as much as you blame yourself. A part of you, and not a small part, believes you deserve to be punished for your crimes.” Khaeriel smiled. “And when have I ever refused your commands, my lord?”
Therin couldn’t struggle. He couldn’t scream, or cry, or whisper. He was trapped inside his own body, a prisoner. All he could do was watch, impotent, as the former queen of the vané opened a portal, and ushered them both through.
89: PARTING
Kihrin would have laughed, shouted, danced a little on Gadrith’s corpse, but there was the matter of Thurvishar drowning in a gaesh loop. He yanked Urthaenriel free from Gadrith’s body and turned back to Thurvishar, unsure what he could do to help.
But Thurvishar was fine.
The wizard was standing up, out of breath and massaging his throat, but with no other sign of distress. He wasn’t in fact dying.
Thurvishar gazed at Gadrith’s body, really Sandus’s body, with an unreadable expression.
“I—” Kihrin exhaled. “I’m sorry. I killed your father. Well, okay, I’m not exactly sorry—”
“You didn’t kill my father,” Thurvishar corrected. “You killed my father’s murderer. For that I’m in your debt.” He turned back toward Teraeth, still unconscious and wrapped in the remnants of tree roots that had pulled free when they were all expelled.
Kihrin gazed fondly at the unconscious vané. “I shouldn’t rub this in,” Kihrin said, “but where would be the fun in that?” He walked over and then frowned.
“You can’t be affected by magic,” Thurvishar said, “but neither can you perceive it or cast it.” He stared over at the unconscious assassin and concentrated.
Teraeth opened his eyes and leapt to his feet, blades in each hand.
“You missed the excitement,” Kihrin said. “We won.”
Teraeth looked around, his gaze stopping at the body of the dead necromancer. “We won?”
Kihrin clapped Thurvishar on the shoulder. “You were gaeshed, and by Quuros law the man who holds your gaesh is responsible for your crimes. That man is dead. I’m sure once I explain the situation to the High General—”
Thurvishar pulled himself away from Kihrin. “No. No, I’ll explain matters to the High General. I’ll throw myself at his mercy. He will use magic, and the truth will come out. As you said, they will not hold me to account for Gadrith’s crimes. You, however, must leave. Leave the City and leave immediately.”
Kihrin blinked. “What? Why?”
Thurvishar scowled. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”
Kihrin pointed to the corpse. “Yeah, I saved everyone, that’s what I’ve done.”
Thurvishar gave Teraeth an exasperated look.
“What did he do?” Teraeth asked, his tone more cautious.
Thurvishar swept the scene with his arm. “He killed the Emperor—”
“That wasn’t the real Emperor!” Kihrin protested.
Thurvishar glared at Kihrin. “Gadrith was wearing the Crown and Scepter. He was wearing my father’s body. He was the Emperor.” Thurvishar returned his focus to Teraeth. “Kihrin killed the Emperor. Kihrin claimed Urthaenriel. And now … now he’s destroyed—shattered—the Stone of Shackles.”
Teraeth’s expression froze in shock.
“Wait. Wait, why—” Kihrin paused. “I admit it wasn’t ideal, but it was the only way I could kill him without our souls switching places—”
“And that was a clever solution to the problem,” Thurvishar admitted. “If you hadn’t, he would have ended up in your body, holding Urthaenriel. But…” He licked his lips and winced. “All the eight artifact Cornerstones have a sympathetic relationship to the element to which they are attuned. The Stone of Shackles is connected to gaeshe.”
Kihrin felt lightheaded. “That’s why you didn’t die. That’s why you didn’t die, even though you never obeyed Gadrith’s last command. You’re not gaeshed anymore.”
“No one is gaeshed anymore,” Thurvishar agreed. “No one in the whole world is gaeshed anymore. You’ve freed them.”