Dudley went from red to pale in an instant, though his father apparently was not bright enough to figure out that someone who demanded a Truth Spell was probably innocent. “This is nonsense. My son has been injured. I demand—”

But the Artificer cut him off. “She’s within her rights,” he agreed and motioned to the Guard. “Go find me a Herald that can—”

“Actually, sir, there is at least one, and possibly two of them on the way now,” the Guard said apologetically. “You sent Greer after them. They’re her parents.” And within moments after he finished that sentence, Mags turned up at the door.

“I’m Herald Mags. Abidela is my daughter,” he said, wearing that expression that Abi knew so well, the one that made him look amiable, but stupid. “What’s all this about her being in trouble?”

At first, Remp the Elder protested that having the accused’s father implementing the Truth Spell was—

Well, he wasn’t allowed to continue. Master Ketnar frostily asked him if he was actually questioning the impartiality of a Herald. At that point Remp finally realized how dangerous the ground he was treading on was and shut up. Explanations were given which Abi didn’t pay any attention to and didn’t contribute to. What she was concentrating on were Dudley and his father.

Dudley’s hair had started to clump as he sweated nervously. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through at all.

Neither had his father, who had expected that money would buy him what he wanted, since it always had before. The difference between them, however, was that the father was concentrating on punishing Abi for hurting his son, regardless of his son’s innocence or guilt. Whereas Dudley already knew he was guilty, and realized he was about to be caught red-handed.

Mags nodded when the Artificer had finished. “Well, then,” he said. “Best that we get all the truth out at once, eh? Coercive Truth Spell it is. And just to be fair, I’ll put it on Abi first.”

Dudley, strangely, looked relieved at that. For a moment, Abi was puzzled as to why—but then she realized that he thought that what her father would do was ask “Did you break Dudley’s finger?” and of course she’d be forced to admit she had, and Dudley would get what he wanted. She came very near to laughing at that moment, as she felt the Truth Spell settle about her. She faced her father, fearless and relaxed.

Because, of course, her father was a master at asking exactly the right questions. The very ones Dudley didn’t want asked.

And that was precisely what he did.

“What happened this morning as you left Master Morell’s class?” he asked calmly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dudley start as if someone had stuck him with a pin and start to sweat again.