"All right, then, Dark Lord. You've been summoned to the Council." The large, heavyset prisonmaster of Old Castle approached the holding cell containing his newest and most infamous guest. "Get in there, men, and make sure he don't flaming move.”

Carefully, their faces set and pale, a dozen guards armed with pikes and swords inched into the cell and warily surrounded vel Serranis.

"Corbin," the prisonmaster barked, "bring those chains.”

Behind him, his burly young assistant hurried forward, sel'dor chains rattling and clanking as he half carried, half dragged them to the cell and dropped them in a large, black pile near the door. Taking the first set of heavy ankle chains, he cautiously approached the prisoner.

"What are you waiting for? Put them on him.”

The younger man swallowed and drew even closer. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and he carefully knelt down before the Dark Lord and reached out to clasp the first sel'dor manacle around the dahl'reisen's booted left ankle.

At the first touch of the black Eld metal, the dahl'reisen's leg shot off a tiny explosion of sparks. Corbin cried out and fell backward, releasing the manacles. The sel'dor chains fell through the prisoner's booted foot and landed on the straw-covered cell floor. Above it the dahl'reisen's boot shimmered and sparked, wavering in and out of existence.

"Gods scorch the Fey!" the prisonmaster exclaimed. He spun on his heel, snatched up a sel'dor chain from the pile, and whipped it towards vel Serranis's body. The prisoner's torso gave off another shower of sparks as the chain passed straight through his body. "Our prisoner's a flaming Spirit weave. We've been tricked!”

Throwing down the chain, he ran down the hall, calling to the guards. "Send word to the king! Vel Serranis has escaped!"

Bel turned to face the cathedral nave. He dragged a long breath of air into his lungs, testing the scents and tastes with every one of his Fey gifts.

"I know you're there, vel Serranis," he said to the empty air. "We're alone now. Show yourself." He took another, even deeper breath and turned to his right, facing the altar.

Scarcely a man-length away, the air began to shimmer. The white and gold marble of the great altar, covered with its blue watered-silk altar cloth, wavered. A faint shadow solidified into the fully armed, black-leather-clad figure of Gaelen vel Serranis.

"Spit and scorch me," Kieran muttered.

"How did you manage it?" Kiel demanded. "How did you break free of the sel'dor?”

"He didn't," Bel answered. "He never let the sel'dor touch him.”

Gaelen cast Bel an approving glance. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet, vel Jelani.”

"How did you do it?" Kieran demanded.

His uncle shrugged. "When the Feyreisa burned herself, I used the confusion to kick the real manacles under the carriage and spin a couple of convincing weaves. The manacles the guard picked up were Spirit, as was the Gaelen vel Serranis those Celierian buffoons took into captivity." He arched a brow at the astonished quintet. "My place is at the Feyreisa's side. Surely you didn't think I would let a few overreaching mortals keep me from fulfilling my bloodsworn bond?”

"I'm surprised you didn't sneak into the Solarus with her, then," Kiel said.

Gaelen shook his head. "The Bright Bell is a sacred rite, and far more ancient than even the Celierians realize. As I am neither Ellysetta's beacon nor her priest, my presence would have been a defilement.”

Bel coughed something that sounded like "Tairen krekk" and arched disbelieving brows. "And the ward on the door that made your weave start to fail when you tried to pass through it didn't have anything to do with your decision?”

"Well," Gaelen acknowledged with a wry grin, "there was that."

Inside the cathedral's sacred chamber of meditation and spiritual purification, Ellysetta took stock of her surroundings. The large, circular room was as big as the entire first floor of the Baristani home, and it was constructed entirely of white marble. Scenes of Adelis and the other twelve gods bestowing their gifts upon the peoples of the earth had been etched in gold on the marbled walls. The room's sparse furnishings consisted of a small golden prayer bench positioned before an ornate devotional carved into one wall, and a circle of cushion-topped benches surrounding a raised white marble altar in the center of the room, directly beneath the room's towering domed ceiling. Six marble columns circled the perimeter. Gilded mirrors tiled the dome's interior, reflecting back every ray of light so that the smallest candle could have illuminated the entire Solarus and a full chandelier would have set the room ablaze. As it was, six small golden lamps made the room bright as day.

"Go to the devotional, daughter, and recite the six devotions of Light while I bless the chamber. Once that is done, we may begin your soul's purification.”

With Mama and Selianne beside her, Ellysetta walked across the room to the carved devotional, knelt on the golden bench, and began to recite the devotions she'd learned as a child. Behind her, Greatfather Tivrest slowly circled the room, pausing near each of the columns to murmur a prayer and wave his scepter at the chamber walls.

Ellysetta's skin prickled with a now-familiar tingling sensation, and the words of the devotion caught in her throat.

The archbishop was weaving magic.

"Gaelen vel Serranis has escaped from our custody." Dorian made the announcement with a heavy heart. Around him, the buzz of outrage was already rising to fill the Council Chamber. Any hope of questioning vel Serranis directly was gone, as was the faint hope Dorian had still harbored that he could discover the truth.