Instead of taking him to the ballroom of the castle where Luther had been before, Orion and the duke’s spouses convened their interview in a private study. They led him, letting him follow behind them through the corridors. To his surprise, no guard asked him for his weapon. Luther assumed this was either because they were afraid to approach him or because the need to tamper with his weapons had passed. Still, he kept his sword in its sheath, his knives in theirs, and the rod in its holder on his back.
Jowangshin collected their prizes from the dead. As a priestess of the temple, they permitted her to handle the dead and confiscate their belongings. She was on leave, but no one asked, and the attending priests for the funeral rites were not from her temple.
Helena was downstairs in the baths with the healers, seeing to her burns. Luther had already slipped her his ring, and her arcana allowed her to heal herself at a rapid rate, if they had enough magic left. As their levels were low, and Luther had to prove his arcanum, that would have to wait until after the healers undid as much of the damage as they could.
Rhosyn had her injuries from the battle, but her recovery was nowhere near as critical as Helena’s. Otherwise, Jowangshin, Eira, and Luther walked away from the battlefield with minimal bumps, scrapes, and bruises. The healers would see to them, eventually. Eira remained by her sister’s side, waiting for the healers to tell them it was acceptable to depart.
Castle servants bustled everywhere Luther looked, and began the pyres to burn what remained of Branan and Lucas. The duke was escorted to a healer, then to a bedchamber, having evidently taken a sleeping draft by mistake. None of his servants dared whisper the word “poison” for fear someone might launch an inquiry.
The nobility in attendance retired to the ballroom. Musicians and caterers did their best to keep them occupied, with food, spirited conversation, and speculation filling the gaps.
Emily followed Luther, but Orion asked her to wait outside the study while they spoke with Luther in private. The great oak door shut them in, and Luther noticed that the interior room had no windows. Nor did it have many books for a ‘study,’ but there was a desk, writing implements, and two bookshelves against the wall. He hoped the duke’s library contained more than these paltry titles, but held his comments.
Orion stood before the grand fireplace with his back to Luther while the other spouses split themselves, six on one side, and six on the other. Luther didn’t search for Callista among them, but spotted her to his left among the row of faces. She appeared thoughtful, chewing her tongue as her eyes stared beyond the stone floor into the depths of her thoughts.
Otherwise, every eye watched Luther, as if he might suddenly move to kill them in cold blood. Of course, his skin still held specks of Branan and Lucas’s blood, and he hadn’t bothered to wash himself.
He waited for Orion to speak, and relaxed into Criella’s waiting calm. He’d come to appreciate her spirit’s connection to the pool. He and his spouses were well-drained of magic now. The pool was the lowest he’d ever seen it, and he knew they didn’t have much left. Yet, after the display he’d given, he was confident that they’d go unchallenged for a while.
One of the spouses sneezed, then wiped his nose on his sleeve. Luther grimaced, looking away from the tall, lean man with the sickly complexion in disgust. Callista shook her head, and Luther moved his eyes to the back of Orion’s head, waiting for him to speak. Whatever this brooding pose was, with his hand on the mantle, gathering his thoughts, Luther wished he’d hurry. He couldn’t possibly have that many thoughts to gather.
Orion glanced behind him, as if to check that Luther was still there. He was. Orion frowned and turned away. Was he trying to make Luther speak first so that he might seem impatient or nervous in some way? Luther wasn’t nervous. He was calm, and that seemed to annoy people in the room more than if he were hollering at them.
The more time passed, the calmer and more confident he grew. He stole the confidence from those around him, and the unshakable union began to shift with impatience.
Orion’s patience broke first, and he turned to glare at Luther.
Luther met his gaze with calm confidence and nodded for him to speak as if giving him permission.
Orion’s face wrinkled in annoyance. “Well? Do you have an explanation for your underhanded dealings? How did you perpetrate this hoax? Who in the crowd helped you?” Orion asked his questions faster than any archer. He raised his finger and pointed at Luther’s chest, accusing him and thrusting his finger forward with every inquiry.
Luther raised an eyebrow at the implication.
“My arcanum is of a complex nature,” Luther said. He kept his voice calm and bored, as if it were so simple he shouldn’t have to explain it to a group of adults. “It allows me to use the arcana of those to which I have a strong connection,” Luther said. “In effect, I have multiple arcana, not just one.”
The spouses murmured together, simple noises of shock and confusion, their disbelief evident as every eye examined him as if he were insane. To their credit, he’d reacted much the same way when Criella suggested the possibility. He’d been foolish, but it was hard to accept and understand facts beyond the limits of what he considered possible. He couldn’t fault their incredulity.
Luther waited for their shock to fade. “If you’d prefer, I can demonstrate.”
“Yes, show me a display of geomancy, if you please,” Orion said.
Luther cast his spell, then followed it with one of Jowangshin’s. A brick from the fireplace dislodged itself from the cracked mortar and flew to him. It spun around him and hovered at the level of his waist before he gestured and returned it to its place.
Everyone in the room stared at him.
“And physiomancy?” Orion asked.
With Geomancy still active, Luther summoned the stone back to him, catching it in his hand. Then he cast Helena’s spell, and his eyes glowed red as he crushed the stone brick in his hand. He switched back to geomancy, and the dust poured itself through the air into the empty slot and became whole once more at his flowing movements.
“That could have all been done with geomancy,” One of the spouses remarked.
Luther slipped into conjuration and stepped back through space, appearing behind the spouse. “And this?”
The spouse jumped forward, and the people around him scattered with fear in their eyes as they looked at Luther with newfound terror.
“So you really can,” Orion said, shocked. “You’ve somehow stolen people’s magic.”
Luther released a breath of disappointment through his nose. “No, but I do have access to more than one arcanum. As you witnessed for yourself, my wives still have their abilities. I have stolen nothing, only shared.”
“We should kill him where he stands,” a tall, sallow man on the other side of Orion said. “He’s too dangerous to let live. He’s a threat to the empire, and he poisoned the Duke, too.”
The others glanced at the sallow man, then at Luther, as if considering his words and measuring whether they could succeed.
“We’re not murdering anyone,” Callista said. “And you know as well as I do that the duke fell victim to his own poison. The clod drank from the wrong cup.”
Luther raised an eyebrow at Callista’s confession, but she looked to him as though she were bluffing. The duke had drunk his own poison, but she hadn’t known, only guessed as to what happened. Still, her bluff was convincing enough for the other spouse to believe that the duke had confided in her.
It was evident that Luther poisoning the Duke was a stretch of anyone’s imagination. After all, Duke Beaudivere was the one to offer the cups, and Luther had only ever touched his own. It was the duke and the duke’s servants who handled the wine. No one in Luther’s party had even stepped inside his house or had contact with his staff.
Still, that didn’t stop hands from moving inside cloaks, or hovering near hilts. Their nervous eyes remained fixed on Luther, and he stared at Orion.
“I am a loyal citizen of the empire,” Luther said. “If any of you so much as raises a finger to murder me, I’ll remove your head in self-defense. Together, you may end me, but I’ll take some of you with me, and with teleportation, bits of my attackers shall forever remain unburned. I’ll not let my murderers ascend to heaven, on that you have my oath.”
The threat seemed to terrify many of them, especially with the calm sense of absolute certainty on Luther’s part.
If every single one of them acted at the same time, they might overwhelm him, but he’d already demonstrated his ability to move through space, and the blood coating his skin wasn’t his. Several eyes fell to his sword, but others remained on his hands, the memory of Lucas’s dismemberment still fresh in their minds. Visions of Lucas’ death appeared before their eyes, and many of them paled at suffering the same fate.
“Speaking of which, what did you do with Lucas’s body parts? We will need them for burning.” Orion wasn’t asking, but demanding to know—a pity, since Luther didn’t intend to tell him or repeat himself as to their location.
“I fulfilled my oaths,” Luther said. He’d sworn that Lucas’s bones would decorate the arena at his father’s mansion, and his legs, arms, and head were waiting for him there in a pile. “But I’ve given you the torso. The gods can have his heart. A kindness on my part, I pray you do not make me rescind it.”
The others murmured, shocked, scandalized, and offended at the notion that they should honor such a whim.
“And you call yourself a citizen of the empire?” The sallow man accused him. “Such barbarism. You act inhumanely, commit atrocities against your enemies, and the gods below will damn you to them. Besides, we know of your limited tastes in partners as well.”
Luther sighed. “I want to be clear about something, and please communicate this to the duke when he wakes.”
The others hesitated, waiting for him to speak.
“I am a man of peace, at heart,” Luther said, causing a few of them to chuckle. They’d just seen him fight. The blood of his enemies coated his hands, flecked his face, and stained his clothes. It was difficult to imagine such a brutal warrior claiming he desired to be other than what he was.
“I’ve had my share of battle and adventure,” Luther continued. “I returned home to see my father’s rites and claim my inheritance. My plan is to continue his work, and the valley will prosper. If you persist in your discrimination toward me because of my bloodline or my preferences, you make yourselves my enemies. You’ve seen what I do to my enemies. And that’s with what few powers I’ve collected. Imagine how many spouses I might gain after Duke Beaudivere was so kind as to orchestrate this demonstration? So, please, impress upon him my desire to live in peace, watching over the valley that my father cultivated.”
“Is that a threat against your duke?” Orion asked. His back stiffened, but his eyes darted to Luther’s hands, watching them for any sign that he might draw his sword.
“No, sir. It is a polite statement of fact to an impolite man.” Luther’s eyes turned toward the sallow man. “I take it you’re responsible for the duke’s attitudes toward demihumans?”
The man raised his chin and set his shoulders, standing proud. He was older in appearance than many of the others, but Luther didn’t doubt his conclusion. “I was his tutor, yes.”
“Can someone so foolish claim to be wise enough to tutor others?” Luther asked, surprised. “You know then, of Anwyn?”
“Stories,” the man answered. “But you don’t have Anwyn’s arcana. You’re a demi.”
“Finish the word,” Luther said.
“What?” The man asked.
“A demi, what?” Luther prompted.
“A demi…human,” The sallow man answered, but only after several of his spouses turned to glare at him. “Half human, and worth less than half of any of us.”
Luther raised an eyebrow. “Blind as well.” He turned his eyes to the others, many of whom refused to look at the sallow man. Then he looked the sickly gentleman in the eye. “What’s your name?”
“Agnolo,” the man answered, proud as ever.
“Well, Agnolo, I hope you can lay your prejudice to rest and accept the facts as they are. I am not less than any of you. Not only do I have an acaranum, but I have an arcana that makes me more than you could ever hope to be. I have demonstrated and proved it multiple times. As to your other accusations, your husband drank his own poison, for which I am not responsible. Now, if you are willing to lay your enmity aside and permit my spouses and I to live in peace, I shall not pursue justice with the emperor for the duke’s attempt to poison me.”
Orion and several of the others stiffened. They’d clearly not yet put together that such an attempt violated the law, not only of the empire, but of hospitality. The duke’s underhanded methods would have gone unpunished if successful, but now that Luther had survived and had witnesses to the duke’s condition, it was possible he could request that the case be tried before the emperor. That left the duke one inquisitive psychomancer away from execution.
Agnolo swallowed, having followed the logic to its inevitable conclusion. “Or, we kill you here and now, and band together in our excuse and defense.”
“Except that you are not united,” Luther said, gesturing to the other spouses. “Not to mention that I will kill you in self-defense, if not all of you, then most of you, before I run out of magic. And my spouses have joined Emily outside.” Luther tapped his forehead. “My psychomancer wife is listening to my thoughts, and a single summons will bring them to my aid.” A bluff on his part, but a good one. His tone was even, and his face blank, so calm as if he were bored because he’d joined his spirit to Criella’s in preparation for his need to depart. He probably didn't have enough magic to make it far past the door, but a head start was a head start.
Agnolo inhaled, his nostrils flaring. Fury burned in his eyes, but Luther had outmaneuvered him. His defiant grunt and turning away were the only responses Luther received.
“I think it’s best if you and your spouses return home,” Orion said. “You claim to desire peace, go and seek it.”
Luther nodded his agreement. “Of course, thank you for your hospitality.” His tone was dry, but the wit cut sharply through his hosts.
Callista laughed. The others turned to look at her, but she only shrugged. “What? That was funny.”
“What will you do when news spreads of your arcanum?” Orion asked. “You’ll have challengers lining up at the door to test you.”
“Do you think so?” Luther asked. “I think anyone who observed my recent fight will think twice, and hopefully the story of my cleverness, brutality, skill, and power will spread.”
“So humble,” Orion jabbed. “How do your spouses stand to join themselves to such an unassuming man?”
“I may not be the most clever, brutal, skilled, or the most powerful,” Luther said, shrugging. “But I have a measure of experience in each of those categories. Branan brought his doom to himself. He let his prejudices show to those he shouldn’t have, and the Verdells challenged him over it. Next, he thought to exact petty vengeance and succeeded, earning him my personal fury. Now, thanks to our beloved duke, every noble in the region has seen the cost of earning my fury. Thank the gods above, I am a peaceful man. Who knows what a monster I might become if I had but a small measure of ambition.”
That was a threat, and it landed among the duke’s union like a lightning bolt, shocking everyone into rigidity. Even Callista eyed Luther with newfound nervousness, though she did not step away as some others did.
“Point taken,” Orion said, narrowing his eyes. “Go then, we won’t make you stay for the rites.”
Luther bowed, disappearing from the room rather than turning his back on any of them. He appeared in the hallway on the other side of the closed door and sighed. Droplets of power remained in the pool, but it was hardly enough for a spell. He’d have to walk to rejoin his family.
His sigh startled Emily, who lifted her eyes to him in fright. “Oh, forgive me. I didn’t hear the door.”
“I didn’t use it,” Luther said, as if that explained everything.
Emily nodded. “You have Criella’s arcanum.”
“Yes,” Arthur nodded.
“And your wives’ arcana?” Emily asked.
“Yes,” Arthur nodded.
“But not mine?” Emily asked. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with you, near you, have you not absorbed it?”
“I can only connect to those with whom I have a strong connection, like marriage,” Arthur answered.
“Or lifelong friendship?” Emily asked.
Luther nodded, not answering the question to keep the lie from his lips. Emily seemed to have a purpose in asking, though.
“I realize that you’ll soon be swarmed with suitors seeking your attention after that victory,” Emily said. “But I hope I might still count you as a friend? And my host?”
“Of course,” Luther said, nodding his approval.
“And, perhaps, if you are still interested in me despite my cowardice… if you were interested in me for more than friendship, I mean, we might see where such conversations take us?”
Luther grinned. “I did not see it as cowardice that you did not wish to fight your brother, though I appreciate that your love for him did not stop you from telling the truth when the duke questioned the validity of the challenge.”
Emily’s smile turned somewhat sad, but she heartened herself and held her hands in front of her. “It was the right thing to do, and my relationship with my brother is—was, complicated. He believed himself to be my ruler in the absence of my parents, and he could be quite mean-spirited. We had a particularly bad argument after dining with you, and after I refused to marry Branan. He—let us just say that if I could not beat him, I am glad you did.”
Luther contemplated that in silence. “Why did you refuse to join their union?” Luther asked. “Branan might not have been to your tastes, I understand, but there were others in his union that might have caught your eye.”
Emily’s expression told Luther the answer without needing her to speak. “To be honest, I would have married you at that dinner had it not seemed so… desperate.”
Luther chuckled. “It was, I suppose. Though perhaps romance might spring up in the absence of desperation, now that we’ve cleared the field of its obstacles.”
“Perhaps,” Emily agreed. “May I escort you to your spouses?”
Luther offered her his arm. She took it, looping her arm through it and holding onto his upper arm with her other hand.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady,” Luther said, walking with her through the castle hall to reach the stairs.