They looked at her with concern, but they obeyed. As she walked down the dimly lit corridor, she reached out with her magic. No, Rucrius was there. She sensed him as she approached, feeling the rippling well of magic seething behind the bars of his cell. He had been sitting on the cot, but he rose and walked to the door, his pale, strong hands encircling the bars and squeezing them. His eyes were full of wrath. They glowed in the darkness, reflecting the torchlight.

“Your eyes glow,” Trynne said as she advanced, keeping well clear of him.

“That is common for my race,” he said disdainfully. “I am not like you.” He still had not changed his clothes either. They stood facing each other, Trynne’s heart quailing in the face of his power. He’d been utterly spent that morning, and now it seemed like his power was filled to the brim. How?

She felt him reach out with his magic and test her, poking and judging her supply. A mocking smile creased his face. “You’re tired, Tryneowy Kiskaddon. Are you afraid to sleep? You have me locked in a cell. Why should you be troubled? These bars don’t make you feel safe?” His eyes flashed in the darkness.

She felt her fear of him deep inside her bones, but she would not let it control her. “If you try to escape, my warriors have orders to kill you.”

He pulled one hand back and examined his fingernails. “We both know that your soldiers cannot stop me from escaping if I choose, just as we both know that my Fountain magic is stronger than yours. I have permitted myself to be your captive. And I am certain you are clever enough to discern why.”

She wished her father were there. He could match wits with Rucrius. She felt young and naive. But she was also determined.

“You know where my father is,” she said.

“And you took my staff and my Tay al-Ard. But even more important, Tryneowy, you are protected from my magic. Just like your father.” His voice was oily and cunning. “I didn’t know that you’d inherited that gift from him. How curious. What Gahalatine would do to know that . . . Do you know how powerful you are, Tryneowy? He has long wished to heave off the yoke of the Mandaryn. Do you even know what they are? I doubt it.”

She felt chills shoot through her. The Wizr was toying with her, manipulating her, saying things to make her desperate for information.

“Where is my father?” she asked, keeping her tone calm and measured.

“You want to barter? How quaint. Give me the Tay al-Ard and I will take you to him.”

“Assuming you have him imprisoned, then your offer to take me to share his prison isn’t acceptable.”