Crucible Read Online Free PDF Page B

butterfly.
    â€œI know a bit about her . . . work,” Amelie said,keeping her voice pitched so that the conversation stayed between them. “Bards doing very bad things. She hoped we could fix it. But we can’t. All we have are words and songs. And Ferrin’s are far more effective than mine.”
    She looked down at a dark spot on the landing.
    â€œThere,” she said. “That’s where he killed the Guard.”
    â€œAh.” Wil sat down next to the spot. “Watch Ivy for me. I’m going to be concentrating on something.”
    :I watch as well.:
    Wil bit down on a curse. Aubryn’s Mindvoice could lure out a Bard, but it could also be like getting smacked over the head with a sackful of bricks.
:Aubryn?:
    :My job is to watch her. Of course I followed.:
    :Did anyone see you?:
    She made no reply other than a snort from somewhere in the bushes.
    Wil leaned forward and put his hand on the darkened stones. “This murder happened last month?” he asked as he closed his eyes.
    â€œYes,” Amelie replied.
    â€œOkay.”
One month,
he thought.
I need just one month.
    His Foresight had an unusual secondary property, what he’d come to think of as “Hindsight.” It could outright bonk him over the noggin with visions and premonitions ridiculous or terrifying . . . but it could also peel back the layers of the past.
    And Lineas Castle had many, many layers to peel through.
    A dizzying blur of images whizzed past, a stew of emotions and
things
. He reached through the array fanning out before him, filtering out anything that didn’t feature a familiar figure in scarlet velvet, with a distinctive white cloak. He discarded any with snow—the last of the snowfall had melted two months ago. This left him with a small handful. One blazed brightly, indicating it to be the most important to his directed will, and he seized on it and cast the others aside.
    Wil still sat on the stones, but in a different
when
. Night had fallen, and the now-blazing lanterns turned the stone landing into a stage. The double doors flew wide, and a white-cloaked figure in scarlet stepped out. Though Ferrin had donned a half-mask with a pointed bird’s nose, nothing could mask the rich timbre of his voice.
    â€œWelcome all . . . to the Masque,” he said to an audience of at least thirty people, also disguised, albeit in simpler masks of cloth strips. “You have come here tonight to hear the truth, and the truth is this: the Queen is mad.”
    The crowd muttered agreement.
    â€œThe Queen sends our sons and daughters to war,” he continued. “She sends them to death and worse, and for what?” He spread his hands. “Have you seen the armies of Hardorn on our doorsteps? Have you met a Karsite force on our roads?”
    Wil’s stomach twisted with growing disgust.
    â€œShe does it . . . to control us,” he went on. His voice had a honeylike quality Wil recognized from the other night, when the Bard had flung his Gift on Orenn.
    Ferrin lowered his voice a little, requiring listeners to strain to hear. “But we . . . have a choice. We will send her no more fodder. The revolution begins here. Are you all with me?”
    Yes,
whispered the crowd.
    Ferrin raised his voice from a whisper to a bellow. “We are the heralds of peace! We are Valdemar’s hope!
We
will bring an end to Mad Queen Selenay!”
    The crowd screamed, and from there the Masque dissolved into chants and shouts. Eventually, the crowds dispersed, leaving only Ferrin and two others: Eel and Sharlot.
    â€œBring him out,” Ferrin said.
    Eel pushed open the moldering double doors and came back a few minutes later dragging someone in Guard Blues. He’d been bound and gagged, but he looked up at his captors fiercely, struggling against his bonds.
    The Bard drew a knife and handed it hilt-first to Eel. “Do it.”
    Eel