Page 98 of The Flame King's Queen

I wait for an answer, hoping that they won’t give me silence.

“Yes, it was the three of us who helped the king kill his brother,” Master Gaun finally admits. The other two men look terrified.

“But who was your fourth?”

Master Gaun falls to his knees, which must be painful with his injured leg. “We cannot tell you the identity of the other warlock. I sincerely apologize, Queen Isavelle. You may punish us in any way that you believe is fitting.”

I hurry forward and help him up, and drop all the severity from my voice. “Of course I’m not going to punish you. We’re so grateful to you. I’m just confused about why you’re sworn to secrecy. If you can’t tell me anything, I understand.”

I wait hopefully for a little more explanation, but Master Gaun just looks relieved.

“Thank you, my queen. Let’s talk about something else.”

“It’s not exactly something else, but can we talk about this?” I take the lead bottle with the magical symbols out of my bag. “Is this a phylactery?”

Now that I’m not pressing him about secrets, his face brightens. “Not exactly. It’s made from lead, and the symbols and the salt within are meant to entrap a spirit, not protect it.”

I uncork the bottle, upend it, and give it a shake. Flakes of salt trickle onto my palm. “A shame that it couldn’t capture the piece of the lich’s soul. Do you know why?”

He hesitates. “Let’s just say that the warlocks who assisted you and the king at the ruined shack were not proficient with interplanar magic, unlike yourself. They—that is, we—were unable to find a way to force it into the bottle. You may have better luck in the future, so best you keep it with you from now on.”

I wouldn’t call myself proficient with interplanar magic, but I suppose I’m the only one in Maledin with some experience. I tuck the bottle back into my bag.

“Do you really want no credit for what you have done? None of you? Putting aside your mysterious friend. There’s no danger in people knowing what you have done. You need not be scared of retribution. In fact, the Maledinni will probably throw you a parade. Emmeric was beloved by no one, as a man or king, and he long ago ceased to be a prince.”

“We wouldn’t wish for any public acknowledgment, but…” Master Gaun glances at the others.

“Go on. Please ask me for a reward. You have done the king a great service.”

“As you can see, the archive is becoming quite crowded with books. I believe the candlemaker next door could be persuaded to move to another part of the city if he was offered a good price for his building.”

I smile at him. “I shall send Zabriel’s steward to make an offer. How exciting that the archive is expanding.”

“You are too kind to us, Queen Isavelle.”

“I’ll also send one of the Temple Mothers to tend to your wounds. You have patched yourselves up, haven’t you? And not very well either.”

He winces. “We did what we could. Witchfinders always had to make do with what little field medicine we knew. We appreciate your kindness, my queen.”

“Of course. But before I leave, could I ask you one more question? What do you think my chances are against the lich if I ever meet it?”

He hesitates. “I’m sure you will do your best. You are a creative spellcaster and a gifted witch.”

“I want the truth.”

Master Gaun sighs. “You may find the task difficult, if not impossible. The only way to command an entity such as this, that I’m aware of, is by learning its name. Its body is long gone, but names are forever. Names hold power.”

I think back through my encounters with the lich, both in this world and on other planes. Did I ever hear its name? It had no reason to speak its name, and Emmeric never called it anything. He acted as if he and the lich were one and the same. “How do I learn its name?”

Master Gaun glances sadly around the library. “We have tried. We consulted every book and scroll pertaining to the undead, but none of them contained the name of a powerful lich. If it has ever been recorded, that record was probably destroyed long ago. Prince Emmeric likely knew the lich’s true name while it possessed him, but I doubt he wrote it down or could have been persuaded to speak it.”

Disappointment washes over me. “So the only one who knows the lich’s name is the lich itself and anyone it possesses? Then we’ll never be free.”

“I did not say that, Queen Isavelle. There are other possibilities. Without a body, the lich exists as an untethered scrap of soul. Highly volatile, and impermanent on this plane of existence. The more time passes, the more likely it is to dissipate into nothing and return from whence it came.”

That sounds hopeful, but the expression on Master Gaun’s face is graver than ever.

“Go on, please. I feel as though there’s something you’re not telling me.”

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