"How can you be so sure that Iollas was responsible?" Alexander asked, his voice weak, his breath wheezing, his lungs gasping for air.

I had needed to intervene to allow him even this amount of speech. He had been too far gone to make an [Oath] or even discuss the prospect when I offered the deal. I healed him enough to prove that it was possible and give him the strength he would need to bargain. I was careful not to heal him enough to restore him to total health.

A dying Alexander would be more compliant and susceptible to my plans.

He would still die from the poison he had ingested. I hadn't removed the poison. I had simply given him a few more days of life. What was worrisome was that I had barely reached him in time. He was only hours away from passing the point of no return when he would be beyond even my ability to heal.

Alexander had aged and aged poorly. He was no longer the boy-king that had raged against the world, his armies conquering everything in its path. Even beneath the pale of illness, he seemed lessened. Weathered skin, wrinkles, hair receding. His decision to lead his armies had taken its toll over time.

"I ordered my spies to discover the truth behind your illness," I said, answering Alexander's question. "Iollas was heard by my people, angry and confused that it was taking you so long to die. I'll admit most of that was because he was worried that you were in so much pain."

"He really is fond of you. If not for his love for family and father, he would never have betrayed you. But with his father in disgrace and removed as Viceroy. With the palace's corridors full of those jostling for his father's position, he has had no choice.

"When everyone around him is whispering that you will kill his father, that you might kill his mother and brothers in your anger? What was he to think or do? He knows you well enough to know those rumors are probably true, so he was easily persuaded to act."

"I would have ordered his father crucified," Alexander admitted, "but I would never have turned my anger on the rest of the family. Iollas has been with me for over a decade. He knows my temperament. There must be something else to this."

"He stands behind you," I reminded Alexander. "Use [Danu's Icon] and learn the truth. You will know when and if he lies."

"And if he refuses to speak at all?"

"I have a spell that will encourage him to answer.

"It won't force him to tell the truth, and it can be resisted, but few rarely hold our long if they try," I promised.

"Why?" Alexander wondered.

"It affects the mind, projects images and attacks of things he most fears, almost to the point of death. And the attacks are real. His body will endure every strike, every wound, only to be healed and forced to endure an ever-increasing number of attacks and injuries.

"He will be flayed alive, inside and out as his mind is assaulted just as assuredly as his body. It is a cruel form of torture. One the Sidhe have perfected," I explained dispassionately.

"He may be able to refuse to answer questions a few times. But if even my people with our formidable will cannot hold out, I doubt he will be able to endure the pain much past the first question. He will answer and answer truthfully. It is only a matter of time," I concluded.

"How do I know that you won't use your magic to make him say what you want him to?" He asked.

"The words that he speaks will be those he chooses. Having said this, you can be assured that I will not use any Sidhe magic or tricks to influence him or shape his thoughts. Whatever he says will be his decision.

"Sidhe, do not lie. That is a human invention. But if you are so lost to your illness that you forget the tales of my people, the ruthless adherence to speak only truth, even when it comes at a cost, then I will make [Oath]," I said, allowing the anger and contempt I felt at even the suggestion that I might shape Iollas testimony to be easily recognized.

"Iollas will be questioned," Alexander finally decided.

Normally, Sidhe would consider anyone questioning their words as a slight to their honor. I needed Alexander alive, so there was no room to take offense. And he hadn't really suggested that I might be lying, but it had been close.

Iollas chose that moment to try to run. His efforts were futile, considering the number of soldiers waiting in line to pass by Alexander. Those watching and listening as I made my accusation had already begun grumbling in anger. They quickly caught him and dragged him before Alexander. His screams proclaiming his innocence and demands that he be released were punctuated by bursts of light as [Danu's Icon] reacted to his lies.

He would have already been killed if he had been holding the icon. It would have destroyed him at the first lie.

Alexander, wary and uncertain of my tale, seemed to gain strength and focus with Iollas' actions. I could see the moment when he realized I had been right and that Iollas was a part of the plot to poison and kill him.

Why, after all, would a person try to escape when all that was needed was to say they weren't involved? That assertion of innocence would be proven if the icon didn't react.

"Why?" Alexander demanded once I had cast the spell that would force Iollas to answer any question put to him.

The spell itself was a simple process, a compulsion spell combined with illusion and glamour. If the person under the effects of the spell didn't answer within a proscribed amount of time, the punishment section of the spell would trigger, and the person would be lost to a personal glamour that plunged them into a nightmare dreamscape that inflicted real wounds.

Wounds that affect the body, mind, and soul.

I added a bit of additional illusion to the spell, creating a visual effect for those watching. A globe of magic surrounded him, with winds of fire and ice swirling inside. It had the appearance of a giant snow-globe made of nightmare and horror. One that was decidedly deadly even as it projected a surreal type of charm and beauty.

The people observing had a mixed reaction to what was happening. A few gloated, a few appeared worried, most were trying their best to hide their fear. But there were two who stood out to my senses. A man that was sexually excited by the prospect of torture. And a furious woman. I wasn't sure if she was Iollas' lover or not, but there was some connection between the two of them.

Iollas tried to ignore the question, and the countdown reached the point where the next part of the spell was triggered. The magic had been created and released very much like an If/Then computer program. If Iollas answered truthfully, nothing happened. If he didn't answer or [Danu's Icon] signaled he had lied, he would be punished.

The spell wasn't able to parse Alexander's words. It couldn't determine when a question had been asked, and a countdown should be enacted. That had to be done manually. Every time Alexander asked a direct question, I would activate the spell.

Iollas refused to answer this first question, his only words begging to be released.

The room watched in horror as the punishment segment of the spell activated, and Iollas was crucified. His body began sporting wounds as his flesh was lashed with whip marks from a cat-of-nine tail.

His arms were forced apart, his legs held in position as spikes were embedded into his body. He hung there suspended in midair, blood running from the wounds his body was receiving, while the illusion of fire and ice continued to cycle. The illusion and beauty of the snow-globe was a horrific counterpoint to the blood and pain he was enduring.

His screams of agony reverberated. A phantom whip continued to lash out, creating new wounds as he was suspended from an illusionary cross. The cross sprouted new growth, vines of thorn that began digging into the open wounds that littered his body—burrowing inside of him to inflict a separate form of damage to his body's organs.

He was denied the release of unconsciousness. The spell refined enough to keep him on the cusp of pain, to inflict just enough pain and torture to torment him without allowing him to faint and escape into oblivion.

The smell of fresh semen wafted across the illusionary meadows I had created. The man who had been sexually excited by the promise of torture could not control himself as the scene that horrified so many others played out in front of him.

I ended the spell, leaving Iollas a drooling, crying mess for a moment. Then a blast of healing magic, and he was restored to full health. His disbelief was evident as he began patting down his body, searching for wounds.

The healing was as impressive to those watching as the torture had been, even more so for Alexander. He might have had some lingering doubt about my ability to heal but seeing the effectiveness of my magic removed any worry he might have.