Especially noteworthy suggested listening.

Maris' eyes snapped open the moment the door to the barn did. Laor stuck his head in. "The Inquisitor's here."

"Already?!" She stood, and could see the people behind her elder brother. "Why didn't you give me more time?" she hissed, but his head refused to explode as she willed it to. She had no time to make herself presentable, so she threw together her best-practiced enchantments to make herself more presentable.

A subtle magic rushed through her body, along and just beneath her skin to smooth away the wrinkles, even out and lighten the sun darkened marks of farm living, as well as her freckles. Unlike her dark-haired pale cousin, she had freckles to hide away. Also unlike her cousin, her magic had limits. In just seconds she had winded herself with her spell.

"Please, you'll find I've kept watch of the prisoner all night," she said to the man who came in first. Her head down, her hands held together in front of her lap as was proper position. What she had not expected was for him to be so young and attractive, with eyes and hair that bordered on silver in coloration. Two other men, in heavy but utilitarian armor that hid much of their faces, flanked either side of him.

The man took a moment to look at the prisoner, then his nose wrinkled in an expression of disgust. "And this is how Priestess Calenda left this man?"

"With exception to the chicken-wounds, my lord." Maris flinched a little at an imagined reprimand to come. "My apologies, the farm is in disarray after the storm, and chickens are mean when they're hungry."

"I'm less concerned with the condition of his body, and more that of his mind," he said. "I was under the impression that we needed a mind reader because his injuries made him a physical invalid, not that his brain was damaged."

Glad she could pass the blame off on someone else, Maris nodded. "I'm afraid nobody on this farm is educated on this sort of injury, or how to inflict it." All true, and provably so. "The priestess said it was Elruin's death magic that did it."

"The young necromancer." He took a seat on the hay next to the man's head. "I suppose I should be glad he survived at all, but I'm afraid it will be quite the challenge, extracting anything of value from what's left of his memories."

"I'm certain you will succeed, my lord."

"Then we shall see if time agrees with your faith." The man closed his eyes, and placed his hands on the temples of the half-conscious prisoner. Maris noted how serene he appeared, and she decided she liked it.

Several minutes passed in silence before the Inquisitor spoke. "Tell me, what is your impression of this necromancer? Elruin, you called her?"

Maris froze, as the butterflies in her stomach took the time to decide if they should be angry that this man, attractive though he was, taking the liberty to ask her personal questions as if they were close friends, or be elated that he wanted to be friendly with her. Instead she opted for jealousy that when he asked a question, it was about her gifted younger cousin.

His eyes opened a moment later, and locked on hers until she looked down. "I upset you." He closed his eyes again. "My sincere apologies. I was not raised in this land, and am still getting accustomed to its social norms."

"You need not apologize!" Now she felt bad that an Inquisitor of all people had to apologize to her. "I wasn't bothered, just surprised." She hazarded a look at her older brother, who was watching this interaction. Under normal circumstances, he or Father would be the one talking to the Inquisitor, but Maris had been the one to do everything in her power to make certain she got the opportunity to meet with these people from a city she might go her entire life without seeing. Now she willed him to continue staying out of it. She might never get another chance such as this one in her lifetime.

"It is true, I needn't, but I do so regardless," he said. "The question is more than idle curiosity. She's become the topic of much gossip in the few hours between her arrival and our dispatch. Is she a good person? I'm under the impression that she's received no formal training, and relies on nothing but natural ability?"

It was an Inquisitor's right to ask such questions, or at least Maris believed it was. "I only met Cousin Elruin a few times; the men don't like to bring us girls on the road, even if it's just between farms. Even as a small child, she was always creepy, and a loner. Not dangerous or mean, other than this weird fascination with dead animals, but strange. At times she'd attach to someone, whom she'd follow around like a puppy, but mostly she just watched their behavior, like people were some sort of strange animal she'd never seen before."

The Inquisitor nodded, his eyes still closed as he worked whatever magic he was working on his captive.

Maris looked over at her brother again; still watching, but still not interfering. "I can't imagine where she'd find someone to train her magic. I'm certain Aunt Othsa and Uncle Kalis wouldn't hire a tutor. They don't like magic, or not the high power stuff. They view career mages as either dreamers who can't produce anything of real value, and hired killers for the crown." Her parents felt the same way, as she learned time and time again. "Unless you're a healer, at least." Everyone loved healers, to Maris' knowledge.

"A common attitude, I fear," he agreed. He paused for a moment. "For your lack of training, you have a remarkable talent."

"My lord? I'm not-" Her denial was cut off by him opening one eye to look at her. "It was foolish of me to try illusions before an Inquisitor. I practice every day, but only someone like Elruin stands a chance against you, my lord." She released the magic, and with it the pretense that she might have been beautiful, rather than some boring farm girl pretending to be a woman.

He smiled. "Better, but you are mistaken on both assumptions."

She blinked. "I don't understand, my lord."

"Please, call me Arden. I'm a lord only because high society would never tolerate a commoner with my rank."

"Father says a title earned by hard work means a thousand times more than one granted by birth."

"There are those who would have you beheaded for speaking those words," Arden said. "Fortunately, they're not the ones who write the laws. But perhaps we should return to the topic of your magic. It would have deceived most Inquisitors."

She felt herself start to blush which, now that she lacked the protective disguise of her magic, made her blush all the harder. "Surely, I am not so powerful."

"There's more to magic than power," he said. "Brute force has its role, especially in war, but subtlety can accomplish great things in its own right. What I'm doing right now, for example. No raw power short of a god could do what I'm doing here, but with subtlety I can accomplish greatness. And if anything, your reliance on skill rather than power made it easier to hide your work from most Inquisitors, who would detect more blatant manipulation with ease."

"You say most, but not you?"

"I am, in some ways, like Elruin," Arden said. He allowed a sad smile, but still remained focused. "My power was mine from birth, a rare ability that scholars call Absolute Clarity. I cannot be deceived, by anyone or anything, save perhaps the gods. Most Truthsayers are limited, often they have to concentrate on their subject to catch lies, subtle lies can sneak past, as can many illusions. I have something quite a bit more than that. No illusion or deception escapes my notice, no matter how subtle. By talking to someone, I learn their motives, goals, even the lies that they tell to themselves are obvious to me."

Maris sank down, hoping the hay would swallow her so that she might hide with the insects where she belonged. "Then I've made a terrible first impression." In saying it, she felt liberated. "But since you already know, I want to say that you are the prettiest man I have ever seen."

Laor gasped from his place behind the guards, and Maris turned to stare him down. Sooner or later, the conversation would be over and she would be in a great deal of trouble, but until then she was safe. Nobody on this farm would dare stop an Inquisitor's conversation.

"A better impression than you realize," Arden said, drawing her attention back to him. "Everyone puts on acts, but most will add layer after layer of deception when challenged. Your first instinct is the opposite, to proclaim your truth with defiant pride. It is a rare trait, and quite beautiful. Beauty is truth, truth beauty."

"Does that mean..." she couldn't build up the courage to ask him if this was him offering himself as a suitor.

"Sorry, but I cannot," he said. "I'm afraid the situation known as 'political reality' won't allow it. Unique or strong bloodlines see... ugly... competition from the higher nobility seeking to control them."

Maris swallowed, her dreams uplifted and dashed in under a minute. "If I said I understood, I'd be a liar."

"But that was not the goal you set for yourself today," he said. "Before I walked in, you had no idea who I'd be. I imagine you thought I'd be some old, grizzled fossil whose last smile happened some time before your parents were born, or perhaps worse things."

She nodded, it was true that the title of Inquisitor brought to mind nothing but unpleasant things. Until today, she had thought it synonymous with torturer, not a nice young man who complimented her and treated her with respect.

"You wanted to see if you were worthy of the dreams you set for yourself, and none of those dreams had me in them. What is the true dream you set for yourself? What are you, what have you always been?"

She looked at her brother, and now Mother had joined him. She didn't have the bravery to confront an Inquisitor, either. Maris took strength from the fact that she was strong. "I am an artist."

She cast her magic in the open this time, not to lie by changing her features to be beautiful, but to proclaim the truth and accentuate and highlight herself in ways that embraced what little magic she knew. She covered her eyes much the way as she had seen Elruin and the priestess do, but with the blue of the sky she would gaze upon whenever she got the chance. A similar color spread across her skin, then in an act decided on the spot she used her magic to darken her freckles instead of hide them. Now they were like black stars on a day sky, instead of white on a night sky. It felt right to her, somehow.

Even if Mother was going to beat her bloody after the Inquisitor left.

Arden stood, smiling. He looked at his guards. "Take the prisoner. Lythas will be able to get quite a bit from him."

They obeyed without hesitation, stepping moving where they had to to get to their captive.

Maris stared like a deer in headlights at them. "You're done with him already?" She'd thought she had more time, not that any amount of time could have been enough to satisfy her.

Still smiling, Arden looked down at her. "I was finished within seconds of touching his head. Funny thing about an emptied room? Anything which remains behind is easy to spot."

"Then all of this was about me?" It seemed obvious, in retrospect. "Why?"

"I wanted to know the truth, and once I knew, I wanted you to see it, too. How would you like to be employed by my estate?"

"I... but... what?" Too much had happened too quickly for the young farmer's daughter, and it had caught up to her.

"For now, my Forgemaster needs a new apprentice, then later I may have to teach you the art of Forbidden Wine."

"I... I'm not suited for making weapons." More to the point, she wasn't interested in being a weapon maker. "And I don't want to."

"You'd be surprised how effective illusion enchantments can be in combat," Arden said. "But that's hardly the goal here. In order to train a Forgemaster, they must develop a lot of skill in melding enchantment magic into metal. It has a tendency to ruin the metal, make it worthless as a weapon or armor, and mark it with residual magic that is difficult to cleanse and makes other enchantments nigh impossible to get right. Even using cheap base metals, it's expensive, and there's only so much demand for nullification zones. And there's no trick to reduce the cost in sarite dust."

"Which is where I come in, somehow?"

"Yes, with jewelry," he said. "It's best to start with illusions of youth and health like you used before, or the alien beauty you just created. If that is all you ever do, you can make yourself a wealthy woman, and something tells me that you'll pursue more interesting and exotic art as you hone your skills. I won't tell you where your art will lead, that is for you to decide. Tell me, how does that sound to you?"

Like everything I have ever dreamed of and more. "What of this Forbidden Wine you mentioned?"

He chuckled. "Strange history, that. At some point, illusion mages realized you could give one fruit the flavor of another using magic. I imagined it was used as pranks for a while, until someone realized you could do it by putting the flavor of otherwise deadly berries into safe fruit like apples. I suspect the first attempts to ferment them occurred the same day."

Maris was stunned to silence. She'd used illusion magic on food, sometimes, in order to overcome the monotony of having so few options, but the idea of having the time and luxury to create illusion-laced alcohol for pleasure and novelty was beyond any experience in her life.

"And that is just the surface of the ocean," he finished. "It's up to you."

She'd all but made up her mind, but she had one more question. "If I say no?"

"Nothing, I won't be upset," he said. "You can change your mind whenever you like, and I will send an escort to bring you safely to my estate. Though other than the exorcist who will come here in a month to check on the threat of undead taint, I can't promise any means to contact me."

"May I have time to get some things?"

"Of course," another instant answer. "I'll need to confer with colleagues before we leave, to compare notes. And, if you can't be ready by then, I'll send an escort in, say, three days, or a week?"

"No, I'll only need a few minutes." Maris stepped for the door, then turned and held her hands in show of gratitude. "Thank you so much!" She stopped again only because her mother stood in front of her. "My apologies, Mother, I must do this. Please don't stop me."

"Is it because of the Inquisitor?"

She almost answered no on reflex. Truth is beauty, and from now on I will create nothing but beauty in this world. "Some, yes. But he's not the reason that matters."

Leyli pulled her daughter into a hug. The hasty illusions flickered at the disruption of touch. "Then I love you, and if you don't bring me one of those youth amulets when you visit, I will disown you."

"Thanks, Mother." Maris rushed off to gather her supplies.

Meanwhile, Arden met up with the exorcist as she watched the girl running for the house. She frowned, but only for a moment. "So, another one?"

"Yes," he said. "She's nowhere near as strong as her cousin, but as wild talent goes, she's impressive. More skill than half of the noble-scions who pay their way into the academies, though lacking in raw power. Still, two in the same generation in the same family and region. It's quite the coincidence."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," the exorcist said.

"I know," Arden agreed. "But it's something we may want to investigate, perhaps this area caries a stronger bloodline than we believed."

"Or perhaps you are too inquisitive for your own good."

"Well, it is in my very nature, after all. Nothing offends me quite like a mystery. Speaking of, I sensed no undead taint in the region, perhaps you can shed light on that? I admit my skills are better at the deliberately hidden rather than just the difficult to find, but it seems odd."

She shook her head. "There is no taint to find, I'm certain of it. The area is covered in necromantic residue, and it all but drips with corruption from the sarite Scout Calenda reported, but not a single flicker of undead taint."

"Speaking of mysteries, please tell me you got something for this trip other than a farmgirl."

"They call themselves the Ghosts of Sorvel. This one is a follower, but his accomplices were there. At least a dozen other members and countless sympathizers, and his mind was too shattered to give me the names of any of them."

"Oh, the Queen will not be happy to hear about this."

"I'd suggest telling her it's better to know than to remain ignorant, but I already tried that once."