They were fetched some time after that. How long after, Arthur didn't know. He'd been drifting in and out of sleep and he was no longer certain if days or hours had passed. Guards led them down the stairs they had climbed when they were brought here and then Arthur found himself in a hall that at first reminded him of an ancient cathedral. Columns of stone soared into the air supporting a roof impossibly high above them. The pillars should have been crushed under their own weight alone, but Arthur had seen impossibilities in Verd before. This was another place built with magic.
Magic, always magic instead of engineering. He wondered which was most efficient. Memories of roads and towns outside of Keen made him decide in favor of engineering. He didn't care if he was unfair. Hell, he wasn't bloody obliged to care. He was hungry and afraid, and being transported from place to place without a single word of explanation made him angry as well.
Arthur didn't even know why they were being held prisoners. Well, that wasn't really true, but they hadn't been told the real reason. Unless of course Gring wasn't some kind of traitor to the Khraga, but Arthur was more and more certain that the one named Kharg played a game of his own.
They were led across the grand hall, and as they walked it opened up even wider at the far end. Someone waited for them there, someone who looked human. They were still too far away for Arthur to see any distinct features. He grinned. Maybe now they would meet someone sensible. At least they'd get to know why they were here. Knowledge was one form of comfort, small as it may be, but Arthur desperately grasped for anything making their situation look a little brighter. He knew he was clinging to straws of hope, but he didn't care any longer.
The march over the floor lasted for an eternity, or so his tired legs tried to tell him as he sluggishly forced himself forward. He was so very tired, and now he slowly felt the last remains of dignity slipping away. Maybe that was what their captors had wanted all along. He was soon brought out of his indifference though. Struggling forward like an automaton he caught sight of the face watching them. Arthur stopped dead in shock. The man had yellow eyes like a cat, and there were lines in his face, silvery, like spider webbing, and strangely inhuman.
He bowed and spoke. "My name is Vailinin ad Rhigrat. I am a truth seer and a judge."
"I am Gring ghara Khat and I would know why we have been brought here." Gring took up position beside Arthur.
"You will, as will the one you follow and the other following him."
"He is Arthur Wallman, halfman taleweaver, and he's been treated dishonorably by Kharg dhara Braugdi, our captor."
Vailinin shot Kharg a quizzical look. "Is that so?"
"That's what she claims. I say the oath breaker is a mage and a trickster who's blinded her with his lies."
"You know that is not so. He Wove when you were present," Gring bristled, defiance radiating from her like an extra layer of donned armor.
"He played some pretty tricks, yes, but I don't know that he did indeed Weave," Kharg shot back.
"Have you no honor? You know that's not true."
"Interesting and disturbing. A lying Khraga. I didn't think that was possible," Vailinin interrupted.
Hell, does he never show an expression? He's not human, that's for certain.
"Kharg is the dishonorable one," Gring spat.
"That is beyond my knowledge. What I do know, however, is that you, Gring ghara Khat, is a renegade and a traitor," Vailinin responded.
Gring took a step forward as if to attack, but at the last moment she restrained herself. "I am not."
"But you are. Mindwalker, search your own mind for once. Use the powers given to you on yourself and you will find that what I say is true."
Uncertainty spread over her face, and in the end something that could only be a mixture of shock and despair.
"But he's a taleweaver. They are sacred to us. There can be nothing wrong in protecting one."
"Whether he is a taleweaver or not remains to be seen. Kharg claims he is not and you that he is. That is irrelevant though. If he is, you are right in what you say, but you are not merely protecting him."
"In order to protect him I had to..."
"No, you chose to. For a different reason as well. You had no right to follow him. He is not of us but of Keen, our shared enemy, no matter where he originally comes from."
Gring lowered her head in shame when Vailinin finished. There was no doubt whatever the yellow-eyed man had said somehow rang true to her. Arthur couldn't let it pass.
He coughed loudly to get the attention of all present. "If you excuse, but I'm not from Keen. I'm a visitor there as well as I am here."
"That is not true. Here you are a prisoner, not a visitor. As for Keen you ceased being a visitor when you decided to embark upon this journey of yours. If you search yourself do you not admit that returning to the world you claim as your own hasn't been of great importance to you."
Arthur could feel those eyes seeing straight through him.
"The caravan is a matter of importance to Keen, and your involvement in it makes you a matter of importance to Keen as well. Do you deny that?" Vailinin continued.
Arthur was silent. Technically Vailinin was right. Damn it, more than technically Arthur admitted to himself. He could hardly deny he understood there would have been no caravan at all if it hadn't been for his gold.
"My interest is economical. I'm an investor," he offered.
Vailinin smiled. "Now that is false as well as true. You may be an investor, but you have no interest at all in the money. Isn't that so?"
Arthur bit back a heated retort, but he realized there was no keeping the truth from the man he faced. It wasn't as if he knew what Arthur was thinking, only if what he said was true or not.
"My reasons are still personal. I don't care for Keen," Arthur sulked.
"That is true, but personal or not your reasons for your deeds don't make those deeds less a part of what Keen wants, and that makes you one of Keen. At least for now."
Arthur shivered involuntarily. A bloody politician who knew what he was talking about. This man was dangerous. Not in the way Kharg was. The Khraga was muscles, but this one was brains only. At least Arthur hoped it was brains only. Anything else would be too much.
"I'm a taleweaver though," he protested sullenly.
"Now, that is true."
Kharg protested, but Vailinin silenced him with an angry glare.
Vailinin turned his attention to Gring. "The punishment for treason is death, but as you never intended treachery you will not be stripped of honor."
"I thank you for your mercy," Gring answered, head still hanging in shame.
Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing, but as he was about to cry out a protest Vailinin continued as if he had never noted Arthur's outrage. "As for you two things are more delicate. The woman is of little concern and will suffer the same fate as Gring, but you pose a problem."
Chaijrild sobbed loudly at the death sentence but Vailinin continued mercilessly. "No one may lay hands on a taleweaver," Arthur could hear Kharg growl in protest. "but it's Gring who's been proved a traitor, and thus I am forced to rule that she is the liar," Vailinin continued.
"I said so!" Kharg exclaimed jubilantly.
Vailinin whirled, rage streaming from his face like an icy wind. "Silence you dirty creature! Something foul covers your entire being. Nothing but great danger can come from threatening the taleweaver, and you know that as well as I do. He speaks the truth when he claims to be what he is, and yet the scent of rottenness that covers you prevents me from putting the lie to your filthy words!"
Kharg didn't answer. He radiated triumph. He wouldn't take any chances now when he had got what he wanted.
Gring spoke, and suddenly Arthur no longer understood what she said. He cursed inwardly, but there was no way he could force her to use her powers. He could only stand there and listen to an argument concerning him. Frustration at not knowing what it was about filled him until he forgot the graveness of their situation.
"If you talk about me you bloody well let me in on it!" he yelled.
It was like shouting at a wall, and Vailinin, Kharg and Gring continued their own shouting match as if he didn't even exist.
Eventually Gring fell silent with a grin that could almost have been a smug smile, and they were led away. Behind them Vailinin and Kharg continued shouting at each other. There was a feeling of finality to it, especially as Gring had withdrawn her magic during the end of the yelling. Maybe she was trying to spare him, or maybe it was for the benefit of Chaijrild. Arthur guessed the latter.
He could hear loud shouts in the distance, as if people were cheering. It was getting warmer as well. Unasked, visions of Earth came to his mind. A darker Earth, over a thousand years ago, when cruelty was still a tool in the hands of rulers. They had feared magic then, and hunted practitioners of the art. Witch hunts and fires. Somehow he knew he wasn't to die, but thoughts of watching Gring and Chaijrild in flames was almost worse than the prospect of sharing their fate.