There was a small volcano erupting somewhere behind my eyeballs. While Kalen’s Calming rune alleviated some of the previous night’s celebration, he had been right in warning me of the other aftereffects. The lack of a good night’s sleep made my hangover worse. Warding off Aden and the others infected by the blight had sapped most of my energy, and Delving the rest of the Yadoshans had taken the rest.

First Minister Stefan and the other second ministers were in attendance, all armed to the teeth and looking ferocious, almost eager to have the Drychta escape for the chance at another hunt. There was no love lost between the two kingdoms; wars against the desert people made up a large part of Yadoshan history, and old habits were hard to break.

First Minister Stefan had taken part in the initial interrogations, although his was conducted in the language of fists. By the time the prisoner was brought into my presence, the man sported black eyes and a bleeding lip, and no doubt other bruises I couldn’t see. My current mood gave me no incentive to protest his treatment, and even Khalad was unusually silent about the matter.

“Can’t you finagle the information out of his brain?” Lord Besserly asked me. “Dark asha can do that, right?”

First Minister Stefan coughed. “Lady Tea can most certainly put him in a better frame of mind to talk,” he said, rubbing at his reddened knuckles, “and she can most certainly compel his actions, but she told me the Drychta has blocks in his head that repel her Compulsion, like the Faceless. Unless he chooses to speak, she can do little.”

“And he’s tied up in runic wards, milord,” Kalen reminded him. “It prevents him from attacking your minds, but also stops Tea from compelling his. More importantly, it prevents other minds nearby from gaining access to him, and he to them.”

Lord Besserly swore. “Do you mean there are more of these spies in Thanh?”

“Khalad and Likh are investigating. It’s best to be sure.”

“How frustratingly complicated.”

“I have a few more tricks up my sleeve, Your Excellency.” The runes I used were not of the Dark. Hidden ambushes were planted within the Drychta’s mind, that I knew. Underestimating the Faceless was the reason Aenah took advantage of me. “Is Druj your master?”

I didn’t need to understand Drychta to know the words flying out of the prisoner’s mouth, none of them answers to my question. First Minister Stefan responded to his impertinence with a quick blow across the face. The man sagged backward.

I fashioned another layer of spells, adding them to the glittering runes already revolving around the prisoner. “Is Druj your master?”

Blood dripped down the man’s chin, but he was defiantly silent. Slowly, steadily, I added another coating of spells. Each time, I posed the question again.