Page 87 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Careful! One false spark could send the whole thing up in flames.”

“Stop bitching,” the soldier growled, snatching something from Silas’ hands. “Unless you don’t want our help?”

The words and images pounded into Silas’ head. Brow furrowed, he tried to focus on them, to identify that oddness he’d noticed earlier. There was a grayish quality to everything, as if he was watching it through a filthy window.

Silas breathed through the pain and confusion. “Just tell me what happened.”

Quentin glanced around the office. The staff had been dismissed, offering him some privacy for his confession. His eyes landed on the closed Vault door, and he gulped. “When we heard that the Arnsveldians had invaded the city, Jacoby was already preparing to flee.”

Silas stood in the doorway to the treasury offices, watching Jacoby stuff book after book into a canvas bag. “Sir—”

“Hand me that ledger.”

Silas skittered forward and grabbed the ledger Jacoby pointed to, passing it over. “Sir, are you really leaving?”

“Of course I’m leaving! And you should, too, if you know what’s good for you. Juniper’s already gone—smart girl, barely waited for me to approve her leave before running out the door. Only reason I stayed was because the mercenary said he could fix Alistair, and what do we have to show for it? Not a damned thing! I never should have listened to them …”

“I don’t know what happened,” Quentin’s quavering voice broke through the images, “but in the chaos, Jacoby left behind the current month’s ledger.”

“You idiot! You gave me the wrong book!” Rage darkened Jacoby’s expression, usually so meek. Silas barely had time to duck as one of the ledgers was thrown at his head. The book slammed against the wall and dropped onto the floor facedown, opened to a random page.

But it was the book you asked for. The thought floated through Silas’ mind in Quentin’s quiet voice.

“The ledger he wanted not only had coded messages for all the locations where he had squirreled away his funds, but he had also hidden the Vault key in the spine. I didn’t know any of that until he approached me a few days later.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Jacoby moaned, hands threaded through his wispy gray hair. “I thought I’d have time, a few days at least, but by dawn, soldiers were crawling over every inch of this city. Posters with my face on it have been plastered on tavern walls. Everyone knows exactly who I am and what I’m accused of, and they’re all raising their prices because of it! Can’t get a damn boat out of this city without paying an arm and a leg in bribes.”

“Jacoby returned to the palace?” Silas asked, trying to modulate his tone from shocked to merely curious. Was he hiding under our nose the whole time?

“No, sir, I live in the city,” Quentin explained. “I don’t know where he hid after the battle of the courtyard, but one day I came home to find him sitting at my kitchen table, as if nothing had happened. He said he could only leave once I retrieved the current month’s ledger.”

Firm hands gripped Silas’ shoulders. “You’ll get it for me, won’t you?” Jacoby begged, beady eyes damp with tears. Dark shadows covered his face—like the windows Silas was looking through weren’t just dirty but made of black glass.

As soon as Silas identified the problem, the image shifted and warped, growing more distant. There was a familiar curve to the warping, something Silas had seen in his mind’s eye a hundred times as he’d sat in Adelaide’s cottage, bolstering his mental defenses. I’m seeing Quentin’s memories through my mental shields, Silas realized, staring at the treasury aide in shock.

When he’d first met Adelaide, she’d explained to Silas that people with weak mental shields sometimes unintentionally projected their thoughts. As Quentin recounted his interactions with Jacoby, his memories leaked through whatever mental shields he possessed.

In the weeks since Alistair and Silas’ mental battle, Silas hadn’t had any time to rebuild his shields after purposefully allowing Alistair to tear them down. The only one that remained was a simple layer of black glass that had protected Silas from the backlash of his own trap. Enough to shield Silas’ thoughts from any nosy mages, but it apparently wasn’t enough to block out Quentin’s thoughts and memories when they were being projected so clearly.

“What did Jacoby offer you in exchange for the ledger?” Silas asked.

Quentin’s gaze snapped to the side, unable to maintain eye contact with Silas.

“Do you think I’m the only one they’ll condemn once they find it?” Jacoby hissed, his fingers digging into Silas’ shoulders.

Although Silas had identified the source of the false memories, he still struggled to disentangle himself from them.

“With those ledgers, they can find every little bribe you took, every number you changed. You’re in this as deeply as I am.”

“Money,” Quentin said. “A portion of the funds he’d embezzled over the years.”

Silas arched a brow at the lie. Does he think it’s better to claim he was bribed than to admit he was an accomplice? He didn’t comment on the lie for now—he didn’t want to risk Quentin clamming up again and refusing to answer. “Then what happened?”

Quentin scratched his neck, disturbing the bandage. It was dirtier than the last time Silas had seen it, with black smudges and spots of blood leaking through. “I failed, and he reminded me who he worked for.” Carefully, Quentin peeled off the bandage.

Disgust jolted through Silas’ stomach, and he had to swallow down his bile. A black wound festered under the bandage, oozing blood and puss. The veins around it were black and swollen.

“Damn,” Langley whispered behind them.