“Yet neither the one I envision nor the simple one the council wants can be created because they both would need the information that is out of reach in the Temple of the Winds. Without those formulas, I can’t make the key, or the Confessor. At least it doesn’t matter about the key because the power, like the formulas, is safely out of reach.”

Magda thought she might be sick. She gulped a drink of water. She wondered why the council would fear the truth. But more immediate questions sprang to mind as she stalled for time to think it through.

“How would this person, this Confessor, be able to force someone to speak only the truth?”

He looked uncomfortable as he searched for the words. “You have to understand, Magda, that a Confessor would be a last resort to get at the truth. For example, to get a killer to confess to murders he committed so that we would know the extent of his victims, know beyond a doubt his guilt. Or imagine if a man had snatched a child for ransom, or worse. A Confessor could pull the truth from his lies and deception.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Or a traitor could be made to give a true confession?”

“Without question or hesitation.”

Magda touched her fingers to her forehead, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was telling her.

“But how would this Confessor actually get the person to confess?”

“Basically,” he said, “the magic I would invest in them, much like the key, would contain elements of both Subtractive and Additive Magic.”

“So you would need a gifted person to create a Confessor.”

“Actually, no, not at all. The person would be the vessel into which I would place this ability, this unique form of power.”

“But if they aren’t gifted—”

“Everyone has at least a small spark of the gift. It’s part of our life force. Magic is merely a matter of degree. You are said to be ungifted, but that’s not technically accurate.

“Life connects us all to magic, as illustrated through the design of the Grace. So, for a Confessor, I don’t need a gifted person, just a living one.”

Having spent a lot of time around Baraccus and a number of talented wizards, Magda was somewhat familiar with their world and what they considered to be within the working realm of possibility. She might not have fully understood what they did or how they did it, but she did have a general sense of the sphere of their capabilities. This was outside that sphere.

Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. She looked up at him. “You would alter a Grace.”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were a trivial matter.