“Aye, she is a witch. What of it? Did you not tell us that her father was Hormuze, the greatest magician you’d ever known?”
“Didn’t you tell your Athol that she was a witch and she would be better dead?”
“Nay, I didn’t say that.”
“But it is what you believe, is it not?”
Slowly, Argana turned and looked at Chessa. She was frowning slightly, as if she didn’t understand something that she should understand. There wasn’t particular dislike in her look, but confusion. “Perhaps,” she said, and it was clear to all that she was uncertain, that she didn’t know where Varrick was leading with all this talk. Chessa felt the flesh on her arms rise. She was frightened. Where was Cleve?
“Athol has told me that you ordered him to kill Cleve and all the visitors with him, including the child and Chessa. He has told me it wasn’t his fault. He was only following your wishes, your orders.”
“Nay, I did not. Cleve is your son. Why would I want to have one son kill another?”
“Ah, Argana, then you call your beloved son a liar and you want to see my knife slide between his ribs for his supposed treachery?”
Argana smiled. “That was well done, husband. My only question is why?”
Varrick didn’t answer. “Athol will learn honor. He will come to regret his actions of this day. He will no longer have a mother who incites him to violence, to betrayal.” He drew a long slender knife from his belt and slowly walked to Argana, who just stood there, staring at him, accepting.
Chessa couldn’t believe this. Argana, just standing there, watching him walk toward her, his knife raising, ready to come into her heart. All his talk, it had been to convince everyone that the mother had incited the son to violence. Chessa screamed, “Don’t you dare kill her, Varrick! By all the gods, what are you doing?”
She ran like a madwoman to Argana, shoved her aside, and stood blocking Varrick, whose right arm was raised, the dagger ready to plunge downward.
“I don’t believe you would do this. Listen to me, Varrick. You won’t kill her, damn you. I won’t let you. You will have to kill me first to get to her.”
Athol shouted, “Kill her, Father. Kill them both. Save me from the witch and from a disloyal mother.”
Chessa said to Varrick, her voice low and calm as his, “You see what you fathered? He deserves to die. By all the gods, I wish Cleve hadn’t stopped me. I would have plunged my knife into his black heart. His years don’t matter. He will but become more of a bully, a tyrant, a dishonest fool, as he gains years. And he is of your seed, yet you protect him. You blame the mother. Rather blame yourself, you miserable bastard.”
“Move aside, Chessa.”
“Ah, your soft, persuasive magician’s voice, Varrick. I won’t move. You won’t kill Argana. She has done nothing save call me a witch and what is wrong with that? You believe me a witch, indeed, you pray I am a witch. Place your blame where it deserves to be.”
“Move, Chessa.”
It was Argana, and she was trying to shove Chessa aside, but Chessa was strong, stronger than the woman who was taller and built more powerfully than she. Chessa didn’t move at all. “Nay,” she said, still looking directly at Varrick who was staring down at her, his one golden eye as bright as the most brilliant sun, the one blue eye dark and turbulent as the stormy sea, his body utterly quiet, the knife still held in his hand. “Be quiet, Argana, I won’t let him kill you and that’s that. Just be quiet. You will not die for your son. It isn’t right. I wondered where Cleve was, Varrick. I realize now that you sent him away. You feared if he were here, he would protect his sister. It’s true. He returned Athol to you for punishment, but you seek only to kill Athol’s mother. Why, Varrick?”
“Move aside, Chessa. Argana, wife or no, must pay for her betrayal. Death is her punishment.”
“Why, damn you, Varrick?” This from Merrik, who strode forward to stand beside Chessa. “You touch Argana and I will kill you here and now. Then I will kill that little beast that sprang from your seed.”
“You have nothing to say about anything, Merrik of Malverne. Move aside and take Chessa with you.”
“Tell us why, Varrick?” Chessa said, now grabbing Argana’s wrist to hold her in place.
“Think, Chessa, and you as well, Merrik. It’s because he no longer wants my sister as his wife.”
Chessa whirled again, still keeping her body between Varrick and Argana. “Cleve. You’re here, thank the gods.” She wanted to run to him, but she didn’t dare. She knew in her deepest soul that Varrick would strike the moment she moved.
“Aye, he told me that Kiri had run away from Igmal and I’ve been searching for her. I see that she’s been here all the while, with Laren and Merrik. It’s true, isn’t it, Lord Varrick? We’ve been here but two days and you decided you wanted Argana dead so you could have Chessa, my wife, the daughter of Hormuze the magician. But then what was your plan? Athol could have easily killed Chessa as well as the rest of us. He had a good two score bandits to do the job for him.”
“It is Argana who wanted her dead, not I,” Varrick said. “Doesn’t that convince you, Cleve?”
“Nay,” Cleve said, slowly shaking his head. “I believe Athol went beyond what you wanted. Athol wants us all dead. You would have lost, Father, had Athol won. Who then would you have killed?”
“You’re wrong, Cleve, quite wrong.”
Cleve said, “Let us say that Chessa survived, that I survived. Then what was your plan after you killed Argana? To murder me, your son? Somehow force Chessa to wed you? By all the gods, Father, you don’t know Chessa. She would have you slavering to be free of her within three days if you did that, if, that is, she’d allowed you to live that long.”
