Page 69 of The Rebel's Prize

He smiled at that. "Yes they can. I think with Deandra, I need a different approach."

"Such as?"

His mouth flattened. "I'm not sure. But I think I should dig into the details. Cover more time. There has to be a limit to how many of a person's memories you can remove and not affect them in other ways."

She screwed up her nose, thinking. "I heard about cases in Anglion where people hit their heads or had accidents and lost their memories. It changed them."

Lucien nodded. "That happened to one of our grooms in Terre d'Etoi. Kicked in the head by a stallion. He was lucky to survive, but he became much more difficult after that. Quick to anger when he'd always been gentle. His wife divorced him in the end, I believe. What we really need is someone like Valentin. He knows more about mind magic than we do."

"Yes," Chloe agreed. "So maybe you can just leave Deandra until we return to Lumia."

"No. I have to at least try."

Chloe paused. "Well, Truth Seekers can do other things, can't you? You can...encourage people to cooperate."

"Yes, though we tend to prefer not to have to resort to that so soon. And if she's used those damn charms, I'd be terrifying her for no good reason if she can't remember what she's done." He paused, mouth twisting. "Actually, that brings me back to my point."

"Your point?"

"That you can only erase so much of a person's memory before it would become obvious. This conspiracy is not a 'cobbled together at the last minute' proposition. There must have been planning and communication. Not being able to answer questions about things that happened six months or a year ago because 'you don't remember' is going to be a tell at some point. It's not like Deandra fogging your memory of seeing her at the parliament, where it was a one-off encounter. Maybe I simply didn't go far enough back with Istvan. But he thought he was telling the truth. And he gave details. Which means he remembers details."

"What if they don't just erase the memories?" Chloe asked. "What if they replace them? Like an illusion for the mind. You go off and plot for two weeks, and then when you come back, you lose those memories and remember being with the troupe for two weeks."

Lucien had gone still. "Is that even possible?"

"I have no idea. But it's not inconceivable. A sanctii can implant a language in someone's brain. And Octarus shows me images of things he remembers."

"You think this is some sort of sanctii magic?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. It's just a thought."

"A good thought. We should talk to Imogene and some of the others. Even Silya."

"Andalyssians don't bond sanctii."

"No, but I don't want to rule anything out." He rubbed a hand over his chin and yawned again, then frowned. "They don't have Truth Seekers in Anglion, do they?"

"Not that I've ever heard about. I mean, I guess it is a talent that some may have, but I can't imagine that the temple would have looked very favorably on it. Especially not since they started twisting the goddess's beliefs, anyway. Someone who could know lie from truth would be dangerous. Maybe they killed anyone who showed a sign."

He frowned. "How do they go about solving crimes?"

"The same as everyone else does," she said, waving a hand around the barracks. "I mean, it's not as though every barracks in the country has a Truth Seeker. Talk to people, gather evidence, hold a trial."

"Not that helpful when our most likely evidence in this case is a confession from one of the conspirators. Though I should check whether anything has been found in the troupe's belongings. They should have gotten through most of them by now."

"Silya might know. She was helping them."

"We can find her after this. Though I suspect somebody would already have told us if they'd found anything that might incline Deandra or Istvan to confess."

Chloe shook her head. "It's sad, really. If they are in love. I wonder how she met him."

"Don't go getting sentimental about Deandra Noirene on me now. You already told me that she was never a nice person to begin with."

"True. But love doesn't always distinguish the truth about nice or not, does it?"

He looked mock indignant. "Are you saying I'm not nice?"

"No," she said. "I know you're nice. Terrifying though that truth may be."

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