My apologies for the tardines of this installment. I have been ensconced in a hospital for the past six days, experiencing the tortures of the chronically ill.
This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to violent behavior between adults, and expressions of physical affection between consenting adult males. If you find this type of story offensive, or if you are underage and it is illegal for you to read it, please exit now. All characters are fictional and in no way related to any persons living or deceased. Any such similarity is purely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission guidelines but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the consent of the author.
I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com
Copyright 2003 Kristopher R. Gibbons All rights reserved by the author.
10 Fortune's Star
Hamlet: These men,
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
Being nature's livery, or fortune's star...
Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 4, Line 32
Aldul crouched on one side of the Throne, and held tight to his friend. After a moment's uncertainty, Evendal rested his head on the priestly shoulder.
When he could speak at all, Evendal protested hoarsely. "Thunders! I endangered all of you."
"I suppose so." Aldul agreed calmly.
Kri-estaul started to tremble and squirm, unnerved at Aldul's proximity. "Shh. Rest easy a moment, my brave boy." Evendal murmured, then looked around at the others. "Ierwbae, Bruddbana, Mulienhas, Drussilikh... How can you stand around me so? Why didn't you flee when I turned fey? If I'd hurt any of you, that would have been too much for me."
"You are our Lord." Bruddbana replied. Ierwbae nodded.
"We would not betray your trust again, Lord." Mulienhas added.
Drussilikh whispered, embarrassed. "You were offering what I wanted. With Kri killed before my eyes, I just wanted to die."
Evendal looked up at Aldul, who grinned. "Don't look at me, I was just hoping for a tour of the newly ruined Palace." Despite himself, Evendal smirked, as Aldul intended. "chel-Alismok, what happened... was... too much for you. Everyone has a limit to what they can endure and still have a heart."
"I just can't believe I don't scare you all. I scare me."
Aldul smiled. "I've known you the longest of anyone here. No matter the circumstance, I trust you to do exactly as you have always done. What is right and just. It is your nature."
"Besides, you needed us." Ierwbae added.
"Yes." Evendal agreed. He started laughing, if desperately. "What do you want to wager, some of those Manourlords fled for the nearest chamberpot?"
"I don't wager against a sure thing." Bruddbana jibed.
"Well, our best option is a hot-spring bath and a change of clothes. Then back to do some handholding."
"I'll see to the disposition of the remains." Bruddbana offered.
"If you wish," Evendal replied. "But not in the usual manner, and not before Council ends today."
The Guard's jaw dropped. "You mean to leave them lying here?"
The King nodded. "Exactly as they are. Even though their bladders and bowels loosen, do nothing until after Council. These people need visual reminders of what they have permitted for too long."
Ierwbae asked, carefully not looking at his liege. "What do you want done with them after?"
"We will discuss that in Council," Evendal deferred serenely. Bruddbana knew he would not like the answer.
"May I sit in my chair?" Kri asked softly.
Surprised at the request, Evendal complied. Once Kri-estaul felt securely seated, he turned the wheels about and pushed his chair, again and again, at the carcass of Emial's son. No sound emerged from the boy's lips, his jaw clenched shut in determination, but his body proved too weary to accomplish what he wanted. His eyes bled tears of rage. As Evendal moved to lift his son away, Kri whimpered. "No, let me run him over! I can do it. He almost killed you! He's filth. Filth!"
"You have done enough, my son. He is dead and I am not, because of you. Now, lets get cleaned up."
"Please? But I am really tired. If I fall asleep, don't you go anywhere without me! Please?" Kri-estaul realised he had spoken out loud, and tried to hide his head.
"I have no intention of letting you out of my sight, little man. And when we return, you're sitting in my lap, not in that chair."
"Oh. Okay." And Kri-estaul ignored the swelling in his face and the pain in his legs, content for the moment.
When a somber Council reconvened, Evendal sat enthroned, waiting for them rather than giving precedence. Kri-estaul, garbed in the shade of blue reserved solely for the Royal Heir, rested against his father. The trident rested on its perch.
Seeing the Throne occupied, the first courtiers hesitated at the charred doorway. As Manourlords neared the dais, and the corpses became evident, Evendal noted those faces flushed in anger and those white with anxiety.
After the lords had assembled and seated themselves, just before the closing of the now warped door, a man in black shorts appeared, unsummoned, and planted himself in the doorway. He was broad-stomached, bare-chested and hirsute, straps crossed his chest and belly with knifes and darts of different shapes and sizes.
"My gracious lord, your Maritime Counsel begs your indulgence as the tide and winds had greatly delayed him. But is now arrived. And wishes to be presented to your august Majesty."
"By all means, it would be Our great pleasure to welcome Alekrond, cordially and in all verity."
The bearish man bowed low, stepping to one side. Wide and solid, black furred, brown-skinned and accoutered like his herald, the Maritime Counsel Elect stomped from the entrance in a direct assault on the dais. An entourage of ten thick-thewed men and women followed in his wake. At the steps leading up to the Throne, the pirate knelt. A multitude of small scars and the awards of sun and weather freckled his body, and bleached his gray head white.
The stolid privateer's looks troubled m'Alismogh with an untraceable familiarity. He felt certain he had met this man before, or someone very much like him, and not just at Mausna. Startled, Evendal realised that Alekrond waited on the King.
"Rise and approach, friend Counsel. We cannot greet you as is traditionally done."
Rapier-swift, the Maritime Counsel stood, pounded up the steps and, once again, knelt. Evendal leaned forward slightly and took the hand Alekrond offered in one of his, as his other secured Kri-estaul. "We confirm you in your offices, titles and intentions. And applaud your cunning with the Usurper." He released Alekrond's hands. "And how fares Shenrowyn? Well, I hope."
"Happier than he has ever been, he says." The privateer jerked his head toward the corpses. "Your eyes glow now, a fine trick. And you've been busy, I see." The man, so blithe was his manner, could have been discussing what to drink. Evendal knew he would be asking that very question soon enough.
Evendal's smile disappeared. "Yes. Come, bring a chair up and sit. This has already proven an unusual Council, one more tradition defied won't matter much."
"As you will, my lord. Let me sit the dais and watch." Evendal nodded. Alekrond stood, shoved the would-be assassin's corpse out of his way, and sat down in a dry spot. His retainers genuflected before Evendal, walked up the steps, and stood in military order behind King and counselor.
"We resume this Council!" Evendal announced. Kri-estaul started awake with a frightened whimper. "Easy, belovèd. You're safe, now." Holding Kri tightly, he kissed the boy's forehead.
"Ierwbae!"
From the Royal entrance, Guard Ierwbae again escorted Master Polgern out.
"We made some accusations earlier. To the effect that this man conspired to regicide. Enlisting the services of that man who became his co-ruler after the success of their plan. This was not the limit of this traitor's intentions. With help from three other courtiers, he planned the assassination of Prince Murlesnad, sole male Heir of the Throne in Arkedda. Carefully molded fighters were to pose as an embassy in Arkedda to grasp control of that kingdom at its moment of greatest confusion."
Despite their palpable fear of royal displeasure, the room quickly hummed with the Manourlords' reaction.
"If you will notice, a few of your number are no longer attendant at this Council. Do not look for them in the future. Our Guard found armaments and barracks on the manor-grounds of Kernost. While present for this Council, the former lord of Kernost is wisely silent on this matter. A second allotment was found in Kandere. The Militia Comptroller has confessed to malfeasance. The Master of Stone, likewise, awaits Our judgment. The Guild of Stone-smiths' royal charter has been revoked and Our relations with them are under Our reconsideration. Fieronith the Metalworker is becoming re-acquainted with certain devices she constructed for the under-grounds."
"We are not unmindful of Our actions earlier this day. Look at Our feet and you see the wages of treachery, of avarice. Had the only conspirator of Kernost been the purpled corpse before you, We would have granted the lands to the son without grievance. The heir of Kernost attacked Our person, and, thwarted of that, murdered Our very heart. They remain where they fell. A reminder of the measure of trust We cannot place in you. And when this Council is adjourned, they will ornament the Kul-stone entranceway to the Palace."
Astonished shouts and groans greeted Evendal's pronouncement. The King allowed them to continue, until a woman stood to be noticed.
"Yes, lady. Please acquaint Us with your affiliation and name."
"Hurileth, Your Majesty, of the Limners. Please believe that I speak only because I feel I must. Such a gesture seems barbaric..."
Evendal grinned at the descriptive. "We have surmounted untold obstacles to liberate Our home, only to be attacked by one of its 'sons.' None of you, staring up at the dais, chose to give alarum! They killed Our son, an eight year old child. He lives again only by the grace given Us as Left Hand of the Unalterable. Our anger toward you good folk-of-commerce, and Our distrust, shall burn long. Should We not be allowed such a 'barbaric' gesture?"
"But what you desire will only cause fear in those who see the corpses."
"And how would that be anything new?" Evendal thundered. "What has this 'august assembly' done to comfort the grieving? To heal the wounds inflicted so publicly by the two traitors? To offer even token defiance as the citizens and strangers at our gates were press-ganged, imprisoned, tortured, starved, raped and killed? What? What?"
No one spoke.
"No! Your silence will not serve here! Silence may have been the coin you paid to the duumvirate, but it will no longer serve to keep you safe."
Soft and low, but audible to those few on the dais, Evendal hummed an old melody: The Truth Shines Bright. The resultant nimbus, like a sundog, encircled the King and emphasized his harsh features, the impassibility in his nature.
"Nine years has made you all forgetful. We are Our father's son and heir. Absolute in Our rule. But We are more beside. We are the Left Hand of the Unalterable; the juncture of mutability and constancy for all estates. The only certain succour for the land."
m'Alismogh nodded his head in condescension, in acknowledgement. "It may be that you have never been asked such questions as We ask. Our father never asked them. The landless citizenry were the least of the duumvirate's concerns. How We conduct Our affairs is and will be alarming to all of you. Showing little respect for class or pedigree. Treat with your distress in private. The understanding that underpins Our actions and decisions is totally incomprehensible to you, and unique."
"Whence came your percepts, if they are so original?" Alekrond rumbled.
"We did not say they were. We said they were incomprehensible to you, because they are the Rule of Osmaredh, Our Founder."
A querulous voice near the back screeched. "That Rule has only been written about. No one has ever found a complete text!"
"Again. You do not understand. We are here, more than you expected, and Ir has lent her felicity to Our reign. You are the ones under question."
"Each and every one of you, stand up and tell us what you have done toward the help and healing of this Our home! Understand that your rights and grants as Manourlords are at stake here. We will start with you, Hurileth."
Her mouth flapping like a fish on land, Hurileth's eyes bulged. After a long drawn out wait, the woman bowed her head. "I have no defense, Your Majesty. I have served the wants of my craft-hall, not the needs of my home. And for the first time, I regret to say I am representative of my guild... in my failure."
Quietly, all but unnoticed, Aldul worked over a slate.
"Honest Lady Hurileth, with the depredations of Mausna and the co-rulers, how many rooms in your schola lie vacant?"
Blinking at the unexpected query, the woman paused. "Twenty, Your Majesty."
Evendal nodded for Hurileth to sit, then glanced at the Manourlord next to her. The King went through the entire assemblage, with the same two questions, skipping only lords he knew had been too victimized to dare any gesture. Only three lords had a service to recall that was of any moment. One of them being Anlota, who had decided to attend after hearing of the noontide attack. Evendal restored her charter. The Commander of the Shipwrights had rescued what children, widows and orphans as he could, claiming them as apprentices or seamstresses. And since Polgern thought to use some kind of ragtag naval force, he dared not cannibalize the Shipwrights. Evendal confirmed his charter, and added a benefice for the fosterers. The third manor-lord had kept an ongoing record of the casualties from every corner of the city they knew, as well as a detailed chronicle of the co-rulers' infamies. Where her guild could not secretly supply the enslaved stone-haulers with foodstuffs, they listed the identities of every person pressed into service, how and by whom.
"Matron Drussilikh, We not only confirm the charter we negotiated earlier this past week, We have contracted with certain artisans and non-guild stone-wrights to restore your guild-house to its original stability. Using the monies in Our thesaurus(22). You have shown audacity in public and in private, and selflessly permitted Us this greatest of gifts, Our Heir."
With a nod and a smile, an emotion-weary Drussilikh resumed her seat.
"As is Our right as sovereign, We have examined and judged the man to Our side, Polgern son of Morruth. And found him culpable in the regicide of Our father. Culpable in the malfeasance of his commissioned authority and of his usurped authority. Culpable for the deaths of six thousand four hundred citizens and émigré."
Speak, you baseborn traitor,
Let no silence remain
What you've hoarded unveil,
Who you worked with make plain.
Compelled, Polgern recited a litany of his efforts. Goaded by the presence of some of his blithely ignorant victims, he detailed how he had manipulated and coerced those he did not blackmail or threaten. When Polgern finished, the silence from the Court held more fury than fear.
Into this expectant quiet, Evendal spoke.
"The victim with the longest history of abuse at his hands has been the Cinqet. Realizing this, We have agreed that, while judged by Us, the carrying out of any sentence shall be the privilege of the Clans, of the Cinqet. Therefore, we relinquish this henceforth nameless t'bo to the will and justice of the King's Fifth, and their mediator in Court, Heamon akha Lliori."
With a bow to their King, Ierwbae and Heamon took an ashen prisoner out through the main entrance.
"This Court is nearing its close. We are tired and overwrought. So, baldly, here is Our summation: Kernost, and all its revenues, is once more the demesne of the Throne. Those lords on whom We have not called, arrange an personal audience with Us for your succour. Those of you whom, named, were the friends of the oppressed, are free to go with Our blessing and gratitude."
He took a breath. "Those of you named, without such justification, are granted conditional residency on the lands you have tenanted. In as much as We now know the degree of vacancy in your scholae and granges, it is Our will that you take in and care for those number of refugees from the under-ground and the stone-hauling as shall equal the number of your vacancies. Along with one or more representative of Our will, to see that the care provided is in excess of that needed. This is your obligation for the length of your individual charters. No questionable, sudden deaths through indigestion, ignorant misadventure, or mysterious disappearances, will relieve you of this obligation. If a ward dies, another will take their place, with an increasing fee for negligence with each 'mishap'. If you wish to work as a guild or crafthall in the Thronelands, you will care for, with liberality, those citizens who cannot care for themselves. And provide for their immediate family."
"We are certain that none of you are pleased with this decision. You are not meant to be. Let Us add to your displeasure. It took coercion, indirection, and the threat of charter-loss, to get you fools to assemble here. Until such time as We are satisfied, every announced Court shall be a Court Critical, with Ourselves as the sole Authority. And you shall attend. Not your deputies, not your relatives. We accept no proxies. Fail to attend, and We will displace you with people more pliant and eager for advancement. Most of you know that We can do so, which is what finally moved you to attend today."
"This Court Critical is now adjourned. Justice has been served. We would suggest, lords, that you prepare your homes for the guests you will be receiving. Soon. You have Our leave."
The Manourlords moved with alacrity. Evendal's nimbus faded.
"When did you beget an heir, my lord?" Alekrond inquired softly, smiling down at the tableau that King and Prince presented.
"With this sprite I wish I had sired him. But no, he is Matron Drussilikh's brother, a survivor of two years in the under-grounds and the Beast's whims. He is called Kri-estaul. I adopted him, with his sister's blessing."
"Two years in the coils of that man-o-war? The child is a wonder, indeed. Am I right in understanding that he got attacked earlier? I thought you said he died?"
"Kernost's heir had hidden in the entrance to the under-grounds and prepared to attack me. Kri saw him and blocked the attack with his wheeled chair. The scum stabbed Kri... through the heart. Ierwbae executed the cretin."
Evendal's face burned. "I... I went crazy. Berserk. I strangled Kernost and set the Chamber on fire."
"I take it, you don't mean the rugs. There are none."
"The... The stone."
"Impressive. I don't see a mark on the bugger, how did you strangle him?"
"I told him he could not breathe."
Alekrond's eyes glinted with joy, and absolute disbelief. "I'd love to see you commanding a meeting of my ships' captains. You'd be a caution. So how is it that Kri-estaul is breathing again?"
Evendal lifted up his son's frail form and gently kissed Kri's forehead. "I begged him to live."
"You begged him to live? Obedient child." Alekrond laughed aloud. Kri-estaul stirred.
Evendal sighed. "It is a dread gifting I have, Alekrond. One that came awake in the midst of Mausna. What I sing, or speak in rhythm or rhyme, comes to pass. As you saw with the Wise Counselor."
"Yes. I gathered you had that old snake under some kind of glamour. But why struggle so? You could sing your manor-lords' obedience."
"I disarmed the Wise Counselor, unaware at the time that my gift was what had made him compliant. Since then I have learned to allow others their choices, until their choices result in harm. Besides, such a compulsion would only serve for one generation. And leave behind only fear."
"And what of Kri-estaul?" Alekrond challenged.
"What do you mean?"
"Why not heal him?"
Evendal gazed down at the sleeping bundle of sinew and bone. "I am afraid to do anything so... precise. I might harm him more. With all the things I have sung, I knew what exactly I wanted, what I dealt with. I know nothing of the body, or a human's insides."
"You knew how to make stone burn?"
The King flushed. "I don't think that effect stemmed from the song-mastery. But from my golden-eyes."
Evendal continued. "Believe I have thought about it! I could sing for him to be able to walk again. And find I have left him with legs like stiff poles, unbending support. Making him more of a target of derision. Or I could wish his legs to be as they were before the Beast hamstrung him. And he could grow to be an adult with legs the length of a six year old. Also, my successes with this dw^Ümer have been mostly spontaneous, and out of direst extremity."
"Had I told you that you are not the only one fretting over an heir..."
Evendal looked up sharply and smiled. "No! Really? Congratulations! Boy or girl?"
"We don't know yet. But I reckon a boy. With her mother's face and my bulk." Alekrond grinned like a shark, eyes blind. "Only our company, Shenrowyn's kin, and yourself know. For the present."
"Wise, friend counselor, until things settle."
"I tell you, not only as you are my liege, but also to add to your burdens."
The King blinked, then stared hard at the Maritime Counsel. "How so?" Evendal anticipated the next request, but, uneasy, heard more.
"Would you grant the child right of inheritance? I ken he needs a mainlander, someone not entangled in our travels and ventures, and someone with the authority to enforce his rights. Who better fits that than you?"
Suddenly Evendal could not look the man in the face. "No, my friend."
Startled, Alekrond persisted. "May I ask why you refuse, my lord?"
"I am not your lord, Alekrond." The Maritime Counsel sat back aghast, until the King continued. "No one could ever be lord over you. You are Osedys' friend; from the time my father plotted war in Mausna. I say no because of what happened here today. Drussilikh entrusted Kri-estaul to me, thinking her son would be safest in my care. And he was attacked and killed, so easily." It took Evendal a moment to continue. "Your child would be in more danger under my care."
"Well, its true we tend to think mainlander squabbles to be pathetic, and not nearly as bloody as our own. But from the decorations in this room," The pirate pointed to the dead. "I guess you may be right. And I had thought we had discussed it all."
"We?"
"Melianth and I." Alekrond hesitated, a mannerism foreign to all Evendal dimly recalled of him. "My king, I have actually been harboured since before noon today. No tide or wind delayed me. And one of my crew sat among the manor-lords during the first part of the meet. She reported to me all that had passed. You scared her gray!"
"I scared me!" Evendal exclaimed. "But why the subter... Oh, of course."
"If things went ill for you, my people were ready to... er, interrupt Council. Be that as it may. I tell you this to say that I know not only what you did, but why. My child could have had no better guardian."
"But, Kron... "
"No, Evendal. I understand. There are no ironclad guarantees with anyone's safety. Fortune's Wheel turns for everyone. I can content myself with what I have. Your answer does not change the truth of my good will."
Evendal turned the conversation in the direction he knew Alekrond swam away from. "You spoke earlier as if you have been childless. But I thought you had a son, near unto my age..."
Alekrond's sun-dark face flushed darker still. "Yes. I do not know what to tell you. Melianth was originally to be his bride. He utterly refused her. I wish with all my heart, now, that I had not lost my temper with him so. We had fought before, but always... always a simple brawl followed by a return to our usual bonhomie. After a week's brooding and snarling between us, I ordered him, in front of all the crews assembled, to accede and court this woman. He swore he would as soon sail up the Kerilawyn in a coracle. So I said..."
The privateer drew a harsh breath, clearly working for a measure of calm. Evendal sat mesmerized; he had never expected grave, quiet honesty from this boisterous personality.
"So I said. 'We don't have a coracle, you backstabbing ungrateful whelp, but I'll give you one ship! One ship, and whatever crew is stupid enough to accept you, to do just that! And to stay wherever you sink!"
"I usually do not remember what I say in anger. But I remember that time. And so did he. Less than a fortnight later he was gone, with a decent crew and one good ship."
"And you fear?"
"That he will never return. Either because he is hurt, a prisoner, or dead. And that I sent him to his death! It has been too many seasons." Alekrond fell silent and tried to regain his façade of good-humour.
"Later, talking to those of his mates that stayed, I realised what I had done. How cruel my demand would have been for both my son and Melianth. I told myself that he should have explained it to me. But, if he had, I would not have listened to him. I know how I am. He had always obeyed me, and the one time he didn't... I did not pay attention. This child, boy or girl, is a second chance for me. A second chance..."
Alekrond's shout assaulted Evendal's ears and heart. "I'd rather have the first chance back home and furious with me! Oh, Ir! I want my son home!"
m'Alismogh felt a tingling along the palm of one hand.
"Papa!" Kri-estaul squeaked, waking up to see a huge man, arrayed with knives, overshadowing him.
"Easy, Kri. It is well. This is an old friend your Papa met nine years ago, come to chat with us. Alekrond, Our friend. As Sword-brother to the Sea, well.... Do not despair yet. We may yet be able to bring you some measure of heart's ease."
The suddenly old-looking seaman glared at the King, eyes too ocean-filled to truly see him. "What are you saying?"
Evendal looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "Just... Don't despair for your son, as yet. That is all."
The Maritime Counsel scowled and whispered. "Please, lad, don't toy with me."
"Never, Alekrond! That is why I will say no more than that. Enough! Alekrond, Maritime Counsel, may I present my son, Kri-estaul, Master of the Under-grounds."
A breath, and the Counselor recovered, if fitfully. "Yes, I've heard of you. Greetings and health, young man. It is an honour to finally meet you."
Kri tried to burrow into Evendal, uncomfortable with the warmth and approval in the man's words and voice. "Health." He managed to say.
Evendal sighed. "You honour me, Kron."
"I do not accept your refusal. If you will not be the child's nathlil, then you must explain it to Melianth."
Evendal shuddered. "You are cruel. If you still want this, once the child is born, then I will accept."
Alekrond chuckled. "You struggle over shadows, Evendal. Rest easy, dear friend. Neither Melianth nor I plan on dying anytime soon. Well, I need to be seeing to my family and crew. If I might have your leave?"
Evendal looked about furtively. "It was such a shock to see you, when you came with Shenrowyn last time. For you it has been nine years. For me, not quite eight weeks. Even so, it has been a pleasure to see you, my loud friend." With a groan, Evendal stood, set Kri briefly on the Throne, and gave the Maritime Counsel an embrace. Alekrond lifted the tall King off the floor, then set him back down. Kri-estaul watched this with wonder. He had never seen anyone who looked big like Abduram, and yet seemed nice. Once recovered, Evendal picked his son up again.
Alekrond looked Kri-estaul in the eyes and asked. "My Prince, may I speak with you?"
Kri thought a moment. The man was huge to him, but his Papa called him 'friend.' Seeing Evendal smiling, Kri-estaul whispered. "Yes."
Slowly, Alekrond knelt before the crippled Prince, and waited for the child's heart to calm. "You are a good and special boy, do you know that?"
Kri pulled his head back and stared at his fingers. "That's what Papa says. He says the Terrible... that Abduram was bad, not me."
"He is right. Do you like boats?"
Kri-estaul hunched his shoulders. "I think so."
"I have a couple of boats. Would you like to see them? Would you like to ride in one? You and your papa?"
Kri looked around to see what Evendal thought of the idea. His father nodded to him. "Its up to you, son."
"Can we?" he asked the pirate.
"Melianth will be thrilled. And before the birth of my future son. Just name the day."
"One thing." Evendal interjected. "Have a supply of weaker wine than you usually stock. Or some watery cider. Kri is still not well."
"Of course. You didn't even notice that I never asked today? I'm a family man now."
Evendal laughed, knowing he would have to supply the safer drink.
As the day progressed, Kri grew more wearied. Evendal received a few of the manor-lords that had been decimated by the duumvirate: The Patterers, the Foresters, and a too-quiet lord of the Eastern Wold who did not even mention her feudum, her wardship. By the time Niem Dïr had left, the Temple tolled the third bell of night. Evendal ate and fed a fractious Kri-estaul. The King had set a second small cot in his apartment, which he settled Kri in, then retired himself.
At some point in the night, Evendal awoke. So suddenly alert, he kept motionless, waiting for some clue as to what awakened him. He heard cricket polyphany outside, and one soloist somewhere inside the room. A thin whispery voice whimpered. "No, please. I'll be good." Then there was a long period of silence, but for Kri pulling at his covers. Evendal thought perhaps the child's dreams had stilled. After another moment, the whisper was a clear sobbing cry. "Don't. Take it out, please! Please! Not again, please! It hurts! It hurts..."
A flip of the bedclothes and Evendal stepped across the stone floor to Kri-estaul's cot, where he pressed the child lightly on the shoulder. "Kri. Kri, belovèd."
The child jerked awake with a shout, looked wildly around him, and cringed from the figure standing over him. "Its me, Kri. You're safe. You're safe now."
"Who? P...Papa?" And Evendal scooped his son up and sat with him on his own cot.
"You were having a bad dream, love. Like the Beast was hurting you." Evendal felt the child's nod. "Well, what can I do to help you sleep?" Dead silence. This quiet had the flavour of restraint, Kri keeping himself from answering. "Kri. Do you know what you are?"
After a moment, Kri-estaul answered in a whisper. "Your son."
"Yes. You are my son. I love you. I want it so you feel safe and good. Because you are not only my son, you are a good boy. How can I help? I want to."
The child swiftly clutched at Evendal and began to tremble. "I... I felt so scared. So scared and alone... For so long. Just hold me, Papa. Please! Never saw nobody. Just the Terrible... Nisakh, and mice. I don't want to be alone again. Ever again! Nobody! Nobody..."
Evendal shifted back on the bed, and Kri-estaul flinched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I'm sorry."
"Shhh. Oh, my boy. My sweet, good, boy. You have nothing to be sorry about. You've been alone for two years. Never again, my son. Never again. Would it help to sleep in my bed?"
"That's what babies do." Evendal could hear the uncertainty.
"Yes. And hurt or scared young boys. I would feel so much better if you were right beside me."
"Oh. Okay."
"One more thing. If you wake up at night and have to pee, you wake me up then. Don't try to wait until morning. Agreed?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Good." The King burrowed one hand under Kri-estaul's back, the other under his knees, lifted the child up, and carried him over to the larger bed. As he settled the child down, Kri-estaul cried out. Evendal then noticed how the child's back was moderate and dry, but the legs practically burned and felt damp. Concerned, he retrieved a lamp and returned to the bedside. Even in the fitful light of his eyes and the lamp, Kri-estaul's knees looked swollen and red.
"My legs hurt." Kri-estaul protested
"A dull pain? A sharp pinch? A really painful twisting? In what way?"
"They burn!"
"They are really puffy, Kri-estaul. There is nothing I can do about that, myself. Bear with it for a little while. Mulienhas!" Evendal shouted.
The woman rushed into the room, blade drawn. Seeing no intruder, she bowed and waited respectfully.
"Bestir Aldul, if you would, quickly."
The Guard nodded and left. Before the next bell chime, the Kwo-edan stooped over the bed, examining Kri-estaul's legs. "Kri-estaul, I am going to turn you on your side." Aldul suited action to word, and Kri-estaul screamed, then began to sob.
Aldul flinched, and then nodded. Evendal practically leapt on the slighter figure. "What is happening?"
"Sometimes, with a serious wound to the legs or arms, especially with nerve damage, a person will react like this." Aldul straightened up further, and arched his back. He quickly, and without warning, held Evendal by the shoulders and glared intensely into his face.
"Evendal..." Aldul whispered the words with patent reluctance. "The legs. They've got to go."
"No. Not yet." Evendal shook his head vehemently. "He would not survive it yet. The blood loss alone would kill him right now."
Wearily, in silent agreement, Aldul sighed. He knelt down beside a still sobbing Kri-estaul. "Greetings, little man."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake anybody! I'll be all right. It will go away again."
"Again? No, Kri-estaul, it won't. Your legs are very fragile, and that won't change. They've been hurt too badly and too many times. We are going to have to cut them off. But not now. Not for a while. I am going to give you something to make the pain more bearable. Is that acceptable?"
"Will it make me stupid?"
"It can. Depends on how much you take of it. Will you swallow it when the pain gets real bad?"
Kri-estaul nodded. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For telling me. For telling me the truth."
"Both your Papa and I always will. Now, even when they don't hurt, you are going to have to be a lot kinder to your legs than you have been. I have watched you. No pulling them around, or letting them drop or fall. None! Do you understand?"
Kri-estaul nodded, then stopped abruptly. "No. But I will be careful. Can I have some of the medicine now? Please?"
"Yes. I have it right here. Mulienhas told me you were in pain. I still needed to see why." Aldul grabbed a goblet, poured water from the ewer, and mixed some powder into it. "Now. Drink it all. It should not be too unpleasant."
Kri-estaul obeyed.
Evendal leaned back, pulling Kri with him, settled the boy's legs, and pulled the bedclothes back up. "Does this feel better?" The bed shook a bit from Kri-estaul's affirmative.
"Then, sweet dreams, son."
Kri-estaul wriggled a bit, pulled Evendal's protecting arm to a more comforting position, and waited hopefully for sleep.
"Thank you, my friend." Evendal fought a losing battle against his own tears. "No one deserves this..."
Aldul slowly, cautiously, wiped at Evendal's face. "Easy, brother. It had best be accomplished soonest. Within a month. But calm yourself by remembering what Sygkorrin pledged his sister. The child will thrive yet."
The next day, after breakfast and helping Kri with his potion and a needed ablution, Evendal sat in judgment on those he had named in Council.
Evendal chose to sit outside, cushioning the mock throne in the courtyard, and attend the morning's business. The statues of Polgern and Abduram littered the sea floor beyond the reefs as shards, and Ir's icon remained a troubling memory.
Ierwbae escorted a smooth-gaited, fine-boned man who knelt with a liquid grace. The ensign on the man's shoulder confirmed the identity Ierwbae gave. "Your Majesty, I present Horest the Stone-smith, who did organize and oversaw the construction of the city wall, the press-ganging of the citizenry, and the protocol of the work-camps."
Long Evendal sat, with Kri-estaul dozing, and stared at the calm, serene-looking artisan. "Are we correct in Our understanding that you focused your greater efforts on the residents of the King's Fifth?"
"Your Majesty, I merely acted under the directives of the Lord Protector."
"You have not answered Our question."
"I looked to the area holding the greatest number of potential labourers, Your Majesty."
"You also do not refute the charges which Guardsman Ierwbae listed?"
"No, Your Majesty. I simply acted under orders."
"Your... zeal, Master Stone-smith, was misplaced. You know full well, having kept excellent records, how many people you killed with your methods."
"My Lord, I killed no one. I simply followed the commands of the Lord Protector. He desired that a wall be built, quickly, by whatever means necessary."
"In your utter obedience, churl, you killed. With a legion of assistants, and only perhaps two people whose authority was greater than yours... Two self-absorbed men whom your assembly could have helped you decieve, you could have been the saving of Our home. You."
Remove from this man the wall of his deceptions,
For such as he, destroy all his protections.
Let him see the pattern of his fate,
Created by him, now that its too late.
To Evendal's amazement, the Stone-smith remained impassive. This meant the man's protests were not rationalizations. After a moment in contemplation of the quiet face before him, the King realised Horest held no humane perceptions. Kneeling in front of him was a man who saw all people around him as tools or as stone or irrelevancies, objects merely. A man incapable of seeing an ethical dilemma or challenge, only logistical or vocational ones.
"So, Master Horest, let Us say you have a son. The boy shows all the brilliance you hope for in an heir. Someone else, with authority, decides the boy would be better served as a galley-slave on a ship and, under orders, a third party abducts your son. The boy does poorly as a rower, the third party is indifferent to the boy's needs, and the boy dies under the lash. Should the slaver, the third party, be rewarded?"
"I do not understand, Your Majesty."
"Think on the question, man."
"No, of course the third party should not be rewarded. He wasted a boy better suited to more gentle work. He wasted a valuable resource."
"As have you, Master Horest. Six thousand valuable resources! People better suited to other work than you forced them to."
"I but followed orders."
"How you followed orders, sir, was your choice! Do you understand Us?"
Evendal's vehemence startled Kri-estaul awake. He looked up, saw his Papa, and relaxed. Until he looked at whom the King spoke with. "No. Don't want to go! I'll be good. I'll be good. I promise!"
"Shhh, Kri. Rest easy, son. I am right here." Evendal hated Kri's frightened stare. "What's wrong, love?"
"He wants me. He started it. He started it all." Kri-estaul sounded whiney, a child certain of not being credited.
"What do you mean, child?"
Kri-estaul began to tremble fiercely. "I was at the Palace. With my guard. He was there. He said we had to come with him. He tried to grab me, and I ran. I ran. But I ran into the Terrible Lord. I mean the Beast. He got angry 'cause I ran into him, I guess. Later he said that I should thank him. Because he would never let the Stoner get me. Don't let him take me! I'm sorry! I'll be good! Please!"
"Six year old children, Horest? You are a walking corpse. You do know that?" Evendal kissed Kri repeatedly on the forehead. "Do you think I would let that happen? The only time I will leave you will be with your permission, little man. Rest easy, Kri. And relax against me again, I feel like you trust me when you do. It feels good."
"You won't let him take me?"
"Never."
"It does?"
It took Evendal a moment to understand. "Yes. I like you being right here."
"Oh. Okay."
"Horest Stone-smith, you have judged yourself. We declare you guilty of genocide toward the Cinqet, and murder of citizens and visitors alike. The penalty is death."
The elegant man clenched his jaw and bowed his head to hide the glitter of rage in his eye.
"However," And Horest looked up in surprise and a moment of hope.
"However, We shall not be the executors of your penalty. Last night We received petition from a girl, having thirteen years, representing the remnant of survivors from your work-camps. They wanted to be the instruments of justice in your case. We have, with great graciousness, acceded to that request. The stone-haulers you corralled shall assemble before noon at the stone quarry, there you shall be delivered, and there shall you give them what little recompense you are capable of, in the manner of their choosing."
"Ierwbae, get this... flawed tool away from me!" The Guard wordlessly obeyed.
The next presentation involved Pylan-drest, a slight, non-descript woman who had functioned as Militia Comptroller.
"Lady, We understand that Mausna would not have been fought at all but for your efforts."
"That is what others have said to me, yes." The woman dimpled.
"We also understand that the Wise Counselor would not have begun the city wall, the acquiring of co-conspirators, of weapons, of assassins, but for your suggestions and goad."
"I do not know what you refer to."
Speak, you luckless schemer,
Let no silence remain
What you've hoarded unveil,
What you plotted make plain.
A strange glint shone in Pylan-drest's eye, and an unsettling passion resonated in her voice as she responded to Evendal's prompting.
"We have been here, quiet and meek for nearly one thousand years. The Queen of the Provinces, the First and Eldest. We could be so much more! When all the Hramal made treaty with the native Forest-dwellers, it was Osedys that sealed the agreement. The only land that saw the wisdom in peace with the natives. When the Nikraan were vanquished, it was Osedys that all other provinces looked to for guidance and comfort. Leadership! Ir herself graced us for one clear purpose: Empire! All our story points to it."
"The Lord Protector was indeed wise. He shared my vision, my certainty. He entrusted me with the allocation of funds and the distribution of weapons. Ultimately the whole plan for removing the recalcitrant leaders and subsuming the other provinces, in all its details, became my calling, my responsibility. And I accumulated every copper, every sliver of metal, for that goal. Another season unmolested, and I could have contracted the soldiers needed for the first foray into Arkedda and Kwo-eda."
Evendal grimaced in disgust, wanting to go find a hot bath somewhere. This woman, so unassuming of demeanor, sickened and frightened him in a way no one else ever had. "You spout nonsense, Pylan-drest. Delusions. We have been an empire. It served us nothing but grief and bloodshed. And for what? Land we did not have a use for, praise that was poisonous and hate-induced. You not only plotted for the future, you helped create the past. You held back some of Osedys' companies during the muster at Mausna, did you not?"
"Aye, my lord."
"To what end?"
"We would need to have the greater numbers later, should some misguided province choose to ignore our Primacy. Our right to Rule. Let the other provinces decimate their strength over some island rabble. But Menam found my reports on the sequestered companies, and commandeered them as well. The man had no sense. No vision."
"Those companies came too late, else the battle would have ended sooner, and the Beast would not have had his moment to murder Our father. For this and all you have attempted, We sentence you to death. Death at the hands of the Prince of Arkedda. That is where a contingent of Guard is to take you. Our gift to Our brother sovereign. You start out at noon bell today. Take her away."
Mar-Elionir, sister of the Lord of Kandere, had died in custody. Rather than await judgment, she had broken the frame of her sleeping-cot and used a sharp slat of wood to open her veins. Evendal had heard and felt the death, but could not ken whose it was at the time.
Ierwbae presented an older, gray-haired man, dressed in somber colours and decorated with accolades. "Gres-lauri, Your Majesty, retired Commander of the King's Militia."
Gres-lauri stood, military discipline evident in his carriage, disdaining the respects due his lord. Evendal sighed and nodded, and Ierwbae kicked the commander behind a knee. Gres-lauri went down.
"We do not care if you wish to acknowledge our right to rule, former commander. Our rule is now a simple fact, whether or not you want to concede it."
"Also, We could have simply executed you without this conference, based on all We know. And all that is now common knowledge throughout the city. But that would deprive Us of the pleasure of a long wished-for reunion." Evendal's voice took on a deeper pitch, coasting near the bass. Kri-estaul looked up in puzzlement, and seeing the light in his Papa's eyes pulse, made no protest when Evendal stood and deposited the child back on the mock throne with a distracted kiss on the head.
The King approached the prisoner. "We remember you, Gres-lauri. Yes, We remember you well. We remember the man who advised Our father not to coddle his sickened son. 'Its just first-battle jitters,' were your words. 'How can you abide such a disappointment? I would have the weak-livered boy do duty on the front line.'"
"Which We did. Far away from Our father. Just as you arranged for his personal guard to likewise be far away from their principal duty. All in order that a certain soldier, whose name is and was on no roster, would be able to slide a blade across the royal windpipe from behind."
During this hissed recollection, the prisoner had knelt frozen, gaze held by Evendal's basilisk glare. "Interesting how the man who brooked no pain or weakness in the royal heir, suddenly suffers an attack of gout, and has to retire from the field. Retire all the way to Kwo-eda. Safe in Kwo-eda. Safe from the chaos that would ensue as the Heir was slaughtered by Islanders, and Menam killed by the Beast. Leaving the army leaderless."
"Oh, We have looked forward to this meeting. Dear former Commander." As Evendal smiled, Gres-lauri, still frozen, lost control of his bladder. The King ignored the man's condition. "So, after nine years wait, what shall We do with this disappointment of a Commander? This jelly-spined betrayer of his King, his code, his command, and the soldiers who put their trust in him?"
Evendal waited, but Gres-lauri remained silent.
"What? No profound declarations? No cutting remarks on Our manhood? No treacherous suggestions?" The King stopped glaring at the prisoner and stared toward the Avenue of Kings, and the entrance to the Palace grounds. "Nothing We do will bring Our father back. The father We loved and hated and miss with every day's passing. Nothing We do will return the fallen to their loved ones. But..."
Evendal glanced back at the mock throne and the small figure huddled there, then glanced quickly away. "But We are not the same man we were two days past. Then We might have exercised restraint and mercy in the execution of Our judgments, here and now We feel no such compunction. We decree the traditional penalty for traitors to the Throne shall be your fate. We do not care whether you face your death with dignity or absolute wretched terror, for the only witnesses shall be Ourselves and the Guard handling the half-tamed horses to which you will be bound."
Gres-lauri dropped his head into his manacled hands.
"What family you have shall have no body to cremate or entomb, nor have they any rights to what estates or goods you possessed. They shall be banished from the Thronelands within the very hour of your death, searched, with no possessions permitted but clothes and a tinderbox. If they are found in the city after sundown of this day, or in the Thronelands after sundown two days hence, their own lives are forfeit."
"But... But they are innocents!" Gres-lauri burbled through his fingers.
The King stood stone-faced, implacable. "They are your kin, hardly innocents. Nonetheless, the time-honoured penalty included their beheading. We are showing what mercy We can dredge up at this time. And for their sakes, not yours. Two Guard have already been dispatched to your home to tattoo them - on the hand, not the face - as traitor-kin and to expedite their departure. To grant them more time."
"Finally, after you have been ripped apart, your head shall grace the feet of Our father's statue on the Causeway of Kings. This, to be accomplished as soon as the horses can be provided. And accomplished in Our presence."
Gres-lauri stayed kneeling, tears dripping into his beard, face taut with dread. Evendal took a deep breath, released it, then turned to pick up his son and sit down. Quiet and solemn-faced, Kri-estaul reached around Evendal's chest and held on. Half a bell passed in silence before a Guard reported the horses readied. Gres-lauri was taken to the dirt and stone expanse beyond the Causeway. Evendal motioned Bruddbana to take his son away, but Kri simply refused to let go.
"Kri, my son. I have something to do which I don't want you to witness. Please go with Bruddbana, I will be with you as soon as I can."
"I know, Papa. You have to watch that bad man die. I am going with you."
"No. I cannot allow that. The way he has to die would just give you evil dreams."
"Papa." Kri replied, sounding exasperated. "No! I have evil dreams anyway. This man killed your Papa. Please! I need to be there, with you."
Evendal locked gazes with his son, whose eyes never wavered. The fear in Kri-estaul's face shone brighter than the light off Evendal's, but whatever the child's fear, it did not involve some old man's death. "I must be unmanned to allow you this. If, at any moment, you change your mind, don't hesitate to let me know."
"I need to be there. A prince would not avoid it, would he?" It was a sincere question. It was also a child's test of his status.
"No. You're right."
When Evendal stepped across the path, Gres-lauri had already been tethered, each limb to a leather wrapped chain, each chain linked to a special harness. The four horses, all young and restless to begin with, plainly did not like the bridle and harness. As Evendal took a quirt in his free hand, he thought it odd how he was causing a man's death with only one regret - having to whip the horses to accomplish it. "Ready!" he shouted to the other three holding riding whips.
"Gres-lauri, as in your treachery you sought to tear this realm apart, so in your tearing may the realm be kept whole." One long ripple of fear flowed through the ex-commander's frame, his face nearly purple in anticipation.
"Now!" The King shouted and struck his horse's rib. The beast shied, kicked, then ran. Evendal heard a half-strangled shriek, and felt a single mind-splitting chord radiate through his frame. When his eyes worked again, he saw his horse's chain leading a leg and the torso in the direction of the entrance, arterial flow staining the dirt in hieroglyphic trails. A Guard caught the animal and calmed it, guiding it back around toward the King. Evendal watched Kri-estaul, who trembled slightly and sweated as he stared fixedly at the carcass approaching.
"Are you well?" Evendal whispered. The child nodded. "Do you wish to go?"
"Whenever you're ready to, papa." Kri said levelly.
"I need the use of both hands, now, son." Evendal motioned a Guard to hold Kri-estaul, who went stiff but made no protest. The Guard turned his back to the horse, to shield the boy.
"No, let him see." Evendal corrected. With a breath, the King drew his sword. A Guard unchained the corpse's arm and set a wooden wedge under its shoulders. Evendal lifted his sword and with a brief hiss, severed the head cleanly. After cleaning his blade, Evendal lifted the trophy by its graying locks and walked to the eikhon of Menam. Evendal had had the smaller statue of himself separated and removed. With a nod, the Heir of Osedys placed the traitor's head at the base of his father's cenotaph.
"Here, father. Blood. Grand and empty gestures. Are you happy, father? Your death avenged."
Feeling suddenly old and tired, and not pleased with himself, Evendal m'Alismogh walked slowly back to the horse. Not sure what he would see, or what he hoped to see, Evendal lifted his gaze to his son. Kri-estaul stared at his father, his eyes wide and dry, his expression somber, unreadable. Alert. The boy gestured to return to the King.
Evendal felt Kri-estaul shivering. When he realised the child was neither cold nor repulsed, Evendal became alarmed. "Kri, talk to me. Do you know why you tremble so?"
The child said nothing, only gripped tighter to the King's tunic. "Kri-estaul, did I scare you?" The boy shook his head vigourously in the negative. After a few patient pacings to and fro, the tremors eased. Once secure in Evendal's arms, Kri-estaul stretched up to kiss his father on the cheek, then leaned back against the King's ready hand to look him in the eye.
"I love you, Papa."
"You do?" Evendal murmured, stunned. "Still?"
Kri-estaul nodded.
"Thank you, little man. I need that."
A Guard approached and knelt. "How do you want us to dispose of the offal?" Kri-estaul burrowed into Evendal's shoulder.
"Lime. Leave the head where it is."
"As you will, sire."
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"Can we get rid of those bodies by the entrance?"
"They killed you, Kri-estaul. I know you don't remember being stabbed, but I will never forget. It nearly killed me, too."
"Well, if they were still alive, that would be fine. They could stay there. But they're dead. It doesn't mean anything to them. It just scares people who don't mean us any harm."
Evendal stood and mulled over his own decision. "Yes. You are right. It serves no good purpose having them drape the entry. How do you think we should rid ourselves of the bodies?"
"Just like that commander. Lime. It gets rid of everything, doesn't it?"
"So I understand. How do you know about lime?"
"The Beast used to say he'd throw me in some. He told me what would happen when he did."
"Hailstones and fishes! He didn't spare you much, did he?"
Kri-estaul did not know what Evendal meant, so he did not respond. "When do we eat? I'm real tired, but I'm also real hungry."
The thought of food sent a shiver of nausea through Evendal, but he knew a sensible request when he heard it. "Yes, let's see what the Empress of the Hearth has ready for us. After that, we'll come back outside. I should not have to move for quite a while, so you can take a nap." Kri-estaul smiled and nodded his approval, so Evendal adjusted his grip and they retired indoors.
---------------------------------- (22) Thesaurus - treasury, not exclusively of coin. A larder is a thesaurus.