Page 63 of Tempest

“Iason Ellas,” Lazaros said.

Iason sat across from him. “Did Summer tell you everything?”

“She told me what you used to do for the Archmage, and that you were no longer a threat.” Lazaros’s jaw was tense, and light shone in his black hair as his demon stirred. “I suppose I should have known, when the Old One tried to kill you, that you were on the mage circle’s side.”

“Not anymore, and he attacked me for other reasons.” Iason pulled out the papers and set them down on Lazaros’s desk. “This should tell you what Summer left out. You remember the rumors that the Archmage had a wizard in his pocket?”

Lazaros, who’d been about to reach for the papers, froze. “What is it you want?” His voice was soft, and the fear in it made Iason’s stomach churn. He’d evoked terror in many people before, but now it felt wrong, like he was wearing someone else’s skin.

“More than I probably deserve. I’d like you to read these, and listen.”

Lazaros took the papers. They sat in silence in the dim tent while Lazaros read, and as he shuffled the papers, his demon emerged from his hair to drift over the desk toward Iason.

“My dear friend is troubled,” the Library said, in her chorus of ringing voices. “I would lay a truth spell over the tent, if that’s all right. It won’t compel you to say anything, but it will prevent lies from being spoken.”

“You could do it regardless,” Iason said, trying not to shiver. The thought that Lazaros could have done this at any time was unsettling.

“No,” the Library said. “Asking matters.”

“Did you always ask, before?” Iason looked at Lazaros, who met his gaze for a breath before looking down.

“When the Inquisitor required my services, he didn’t care if the people I interrogated consented or not.”

“Then it’s fine,” Iason said, and Lazaros’s brows rose as the spell settled over the tent.

“It looks like the Archmage also found you when you were young,” Lazaros said, still looking at the papers.

“Yes, but I wasn’t—” Iason paused. He was going to say that he hadn’t been smart enough to catch on, but the spell stopped him, arresting his voice. He tried again. “I fell for his tactics. I believed in him—I thought I loved him like a father.”

“That makes sense, in a sick way.” Lazaros set the papers down. “The Inquisitor used to talk about different ways to indoctrinate people. He was very proud of his methods. This could have come right from one of his lectures.”

“Maybe it did.”

Lazaros sighed, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “You aren’t on his side any longer?”

“No. But it doesn’t take away what I did in his service.”

Lazaros closed his eyes. “It does complicate things, though. It would be easier, wouldn’t it, if we could point to someone and say, ‘There, that’s an enemy, his soul is corrupt.’” He dragged his hands through his hair and looked at Iason. “But we tried that when we fought the light mages. We tried it again with the executions of the mage circle. I suppose someone has to stop it eventually.”

“What would you do,” Iason asked carefully, “if you had an eternity to make things right?”

“An eternity?” Lazaros blew out a gust of air. “Gods, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d trust myself with the big things. I’d want to just… help out how I can, I suppose. Make things a little easier for people. I wouldn’t want to make grand changes. Everyone’s looking to me to lead, you know. They see me as a revolutionary thinker.”

“Maybe not wanting power is revolutionary enough,” Iason said, and Lazaros snorted. “I know I don’t want that kind of power. I’d rather live a quiet life. A peaceful one. I’d like to be someone new.”

“With that man of yours?” Lazaros asked. “The one who isn’t a man? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to compel you to speak the truth if it’s too personal.”

“That’s kind of you.” Iason shifted in his seat. “I would like to try something—something that might help, in the way you described—but you’d have to trust me.”

Lazaros gave Iason a long, considering look. “That’s a tall order.”

“I know.” Iason stood. “I’d like to remove the spell on your tattoo. The one that other mages can use to incapacitate you.”

“What?” Lazaros’s eyes flew open wide. “Why? How?”

“I’m a wizard,” Iason said wryly. “And if I can do it, I probably should. Sophie would in a heartbeat, you know that.”

“She would.” Lazaros pushed his chair back, then looked up at Iason. “If you’re sure.”

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