Tomas Kyriel's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

By morning, Reginald had found a new voice. He could not speak, so he wrote. Elara had given him a scrap of paper and charcoal to answer their questions. Instead he filled the page with threats. *You will both burn.* *The curse will rot your bones.* Tomas took the paper and read it twice. The old man watched him with flat, patient eyes. Elara crouched beside their captive. She had traded her throne for a garden long ago, but she questioned Reginald like a judge. "The fox sealed your mouth," she said. "You want us to break the seal. So help us." Reginald wrote fast. *There is a spring that washes away curses. Bring me to it and my voice returns. Then I free the soldier.* He pushed the paper toward Tomas. Tomas did not trust it. This was the man who ordered Elara killed, who held a knife to his own throat to trap them. "He wants us to carry him somewhere," Tomas said. "To open a door for his guards. Or worse." "Maybe," Elara said. "Or maybe he tells the truth and we ignore it." She stood. "I can't read his heart. Neither can you." Tomas felt the curse hum in his chest. He was born to end this man. Now he could not, and could not tell a lie from a mercy. He looked at the den's dark mouth. The white fox still watched from inside, its red marks faint in the shadow. It sensed hate. It had punished Reginald for his. An idea took hold. "He can't lie to the fox," Tomas said. He grabbed Reginald under the arm and dragged him toward the den. "If the spring is a trap, the fox will feel it." Reginald thrashed. He wrote nothing now. He could not. Tomas pushed the old man's bound hands toward the fox's nose. The animal leaned in and sniffed. Its marks flared once, soft and green, not red. No burning. No scream. The fox pulled back and lay down, calm. Elara watched the light fade. "It didn't punish him," she said. "He's not lying about the spring." Tomas let go. Reginald slumped, breathing hard, glaring. He snatched the charcoal and scrawled one line. *The spring is real. Getting there will kill you.* He underlined it twice. Tomas read it and felt the weight settle. The threats had been noise. This last line was fact. Somewhere a green spring could wash the seal from Reginald's mouth. But the road to it was the true blade. "Then we go," Tomas said. He hauled Reginald to his feet. "Where is it?" Reginald wrote a direction. His hand shook, but the letters were clear. Elara read them and went pale. "You know the place," Tomas said. "I know it," she said. "My uncle's guards hold it. All of them."