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.
12 And Who Shall Scape Whipping?
Hamlet: God's bodkin, man, much better! Use every
Man after his desert and who shall scape whipping?
Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2, Line 540
After arranging a supervisory detail for the Stone-wrights, two days hence, Jaserle retired to a jakes closet; one of the consequences of his physical condition. Evendal retained a Guard to wait on the emissary, but secured Mar-Depalai for himself and returned above-ground. From the Chamber he bustled anxiously back to the Courtyard.
Once outside again, Evendal took in several lungfuls, with great fervor, of winter-crisp air. His eyes closed of themselves, creating a sense of solitude, however brief and illusory. Even raised as he was, the rapaciousness of mundane self-interest still managed to surprise and dispirit him. That he chose to leave a child who was in greater need and more responsive, to settle a cadre of greedy amoral fumblers, did not help his mood. That he inflicted his glamour on a loyal woman, who merely irritated him, raised the accusation of despotism. What from others would simply serve as a warning, from him had the force of compulsion, circumventing her will entirely. He had taken her most fundamental right away.
"Mar-Depalai?"
"Your Majesty?"
"How many years do you have?"
"I own twenty-six years, Your Majesty."
"And you were not at Mausna? How is it you were spared?"
Mar-Depalai flushed, either in anger or embarrassment, or both. "I was pregnant at the time. Pleuritic, the baby's lungs failed at three months."
"When did you begin training in bladework?"
"My father's brother contended that I began when I had five years and consistently managed to retrieve his wooden practice-daggers no matter where he hid them."
"You were strong-willed from your first days?"
Mar-Depalai paused, struggling with her answer. Evendal's gut twisted. "So he insisted."
"How was he called? He had your training?"
"Mar-Jessaupela. The discipline and the foundation, yes. Your Majesty."
"Mar-Depalai... Explain to me what good is served by your cutting with words as well as steel?"
"Your Majesty." Her breath came harsh and heavy. "From when I first accosted Your Majesty... And you gave back in the same coin... If I was in error to accept the freedom in speech you seemed to permit, please accept my... deepest apologies."
"No, Mar-Depalai. I am not chastising you. The question is sincere. You would not speak so cuttingly, if it did not benefit you. What good does sarcasm serve you?"
Long Evendal waited, as Mar-Depalai struggled to push acceptable words from her lips. "Protection. No one thinks me slow-witted. No one expects me to care much. No one gets close enough to hurt me again."
"Oh, Mar-Depalai. As you have found, that last is just your own delusion. I did not have to get close, and I have hurt you most effectively." Again Evendal waited.
"Yes."
"I say right now, and will say so before witnesses. You may banter with me to my face, in good fun, with utmost abandon. But to drop an innuendo against someone unaware of the attack is cowardice, Mar-Depalai. Do you understand? There is no honour in it, nor sport. I doubt seriously if Mar-Jessaupela would have been silent about such 'lack of discipline'. Or was all you learned from your mentor force-majeure?"
"I hadn't... I honestly hadn't considered. He." That Mar-Depalai did not get defensive at his question told Evendal the depth of her vulnerability.
Evendal's eyes flew open, as Mar-Depalai began to sob. He turned and gripped the suddenly overwrought Guard across her shoulders.
"He would demand my blades. He would! I have been unheeding with my cruelties for so long. He would know I had lost all control. All authority." And Evendal marveled at the personality of this Mar-Jessaupela, that could so affect the well-armoured Guard.
With no grace whatsoever, Evendal maneuvered Mar-Depalai to a shadowed corner where two walls of the Palace façade met. Unintended by him, the Guard's pride had taken a beating. He pulled out a bit of rag for the woman to wipe her eyes.
"Look at me, Depalai." Evendal the Songmaster commanded. "We gave you no chance at virtue. Whether you would choose to show self-restraint was made irrelevant. We promised Our trust, Our regard and Our respect. But We showed no respect for you, my Guard."
"But We have your measure now. Enough to restore."
Uncaring, I hobbled you,
Where you always went running.
I even twitched you(23), for biting.
I reclaim my hackamores
For you are human, not horse.
They do not belong on you.
The verse kept a balanced structure, but a disjointed content, reflecting Evendal's perceptions of the Guardwoman.
"I am not a stupid horse!" Mar-Depalai protested.
"No," Evendal agreed, grinning. "You are not. You never were. I acted without compassion, Mar-Depalai. I hope you will accept my remorse, and bide long enough to see if it is also repentance. Let disdain or joy spout forth as you decide, guarded by your own sense, discretion and will. And the bonds of friendship."
"What you did. What you can do. It is terrible!"
"Yes. It is."
"Simple scorn..."
"What about it?"
"That is all you... sifted. Just one ill habit. And I have never been so quiet! That I have so little to say which is not cruel! That is a hard truth to face, Your Majesty. I... I would tender that we provided offense to each other in equal measure."
Evendal felt less sanguine; Mar-Depalai's words could be countered, his Songmastery could not. "Are you certain? That is how you want matters to stand?"
"For now, yes. If I thought you would agree, I would beg you to relieve me of my oath. I have a lot of effort ahead of me. And need no more weights of obligation or recrimination than I already possess."
"I would refuse. Then, so it shall be. Now let us proceed, for I have been too long away from my son."
When Evendal ald'Menam crossed the short distance from the Palace façade to the mock-Throne it was to a strained tableau. Both Ierwbae and Metthendoenn had plainly been upset. Kri-estaul slept wrapped in an adult's cloak, curled tightly against the arms and back of the Throne seat.
"What has passed?" Evendal whispered, certain only that something had.
"He waited as long as any child could have." Metthendoenn began, conveying rage and pain in a brittle rasping. "Then he began to shake and sob. He would not talk to us."
"He could not!" Ierwbae interjected.
"But we guessed he thought himself abandoned. Left in the custody of Guard. Again."
"What kept you inside so long?"
"Details. The emissary for the Stone-haulers will soon join us. This is an enclave whose pain has rendered it isolate, angry and necessary. They see themselves as... inconsolable, as a communion entirely separate from Osedys."
Metthendoenn showed no reaction, but Ierwbae's widened eyes signified understanding, and an appreciation of some of the ramifications.
"He is a remarkable man. And his argument is sound. Theirs is a community fashioned from this city's fear. Also, We have a new addition to the work-staff here: Horest's gentle brother, who may apprentice to Shulro. If he doesn't decide to marry her."
"They know each other?" Metthendoenn asked, surprised.
"No. But he is a fellow of odd humours." Evendal confided, not explaining his own levity. "I think... the best way to treat Kri-estaul is to behave as if he did not have any difficulties. Let him confide them or not as he chooses. I would ease him into my lap, and then let him awaken."
Metthendoenn smiled. "That sounds like the gentlest alternative."
Evendal ald'Menam breathed a relieved sigh, and then suited action to plan. Ierwbae, with the help of another Guard, relocated Metthendoenn beside the King, then rested himself against the side of the Throne, and set his partner's head in his lap. Once Evendal had settled, Kri-estaul stirred enough to twist his head against the King's hip, sleepily trying to avoid the sunlight.
"Kri-estaul." Evendal singsonged lightly, then stopped, uncertain if his glamour might employ itself. 'Thunders,' he thought angrily, 'I don't dare sing just for the pleasure of it. Ever.' He said as much to Ierwbae and Metthendoenn.
"Is this a great hardship? I ask because it would not be, for me. I sing like a frog." Metthendoenn answered.
"When I was young, singing to myself helped get me through the worst of my days." Evendal recalled.
"What about humming?"
"I do not know, but I dare not try unless I am alone."
Ierwbae nodded his head against the side of the Throne. "So much for that idea."
The King signaled Mar-Depalai to approach. "Would you have a chair brought out here? Goodman Jaserle would likely appreciate the chance to rest his hip. Also, I shall apprise my kinsmen of my malediction against you, and did not want you ignorant of this."
"Your Majesty!" Mar-Depalai protested.
"Mar-Depalai, the defenses you once affected are common knowledge, and will be of no moment in my discussion! The matter under scrutiny being my own failure."
"You could pummel a Kul-stone block into pebbles with your tongue, Depalai. All acknowledge that." Ierwbae jibed gently.
Metthendoenn spoke more cogently. "Just as all the Guard deduced you to be a woman in great pain, coping as best you know. Like all of us these past nine years."
That she had been the subject of concern and discussion stunned Mar-Depalai. The tightening around her eyes, casting back and forth between Ierwbae and Metthendoenn in alarm, showed that being the object of their generosity made her uncomfortable.
Evendal kept the too understanding smile off his face. "Finally, I would ask you to escort Jaserle." The King shook his head in amused relief when, later, the chair just barely preceded the emissary.
"Seat yourself or stand, Jaserle, whichever eases you."
"I would sit, Your Majesty. Thank you."
"The convalescent beside Us is a Guard downed by treachery on the night We returned. Guard Metthendoenn. His companion hights as Ierwbae m'agdh Rhynlosedd. They honoured Us with a conditional adrogation."
"Conditional in what way?"
"We share kin-ties. They do not share Our estate or station. They have the right to Our Presence without petition. But none to Our heritage or Name."
Jaserle's brow knotted. "That seems to benefit mostly yourself, Your Majesty. Which does not agree with my perception of your nature so far."
"The choice was entirely their own. And it suits us well. For I find that I love them and need them as brothers such as I never had. And do not wish on them the burdens of rule or royal intrigue." Evendal kept the pace of his speech constant, even as he deliberately dropped the royal plurality.
"And the child? He has the air of one of the Rosette."
"He could easily have been. Kri-estaul? Kri-estaul?"
Hearing his name, this time, the boy awoke. "Papa?" As he became more awake, the reality of Evendal's presence registered. "You came back!" The boy gripped the sides of Evendal's tunic and struggled to pull himself even more securely in his father's lap.
"I said I would. And I am not leaving you for anyone, or any reason, for the rest of the day. I am not going anywhere without you, excepting the jakes." He grinned down at his wide-eyed son.
"Jaserle of the Rosette, We present Our son by adoption. Kri-estaul aldh'Evendal, Master of the Palace Undergrounds and Sole Heir to the Throne of the Thronelands."
By this time the man had tallied the damage he could see. "A strange jest, Your Majesty."
Evendal's face left no room for doubt and no mercy. "No jest, Jaserle. This is Our son! This is the future of Osedys."
"You are in earnest? The child will bear no authority. No one will take his election, his rights, seriously."
To the alarm of the adults, and the fascination of the child, Evendal's eyes began to brighten. "This is Our son, Jaserle. Worthy of more had We more to give him. There is mettle to him which is yet unplumbed. We find it perverse that you, of all, should judge on appearance."
The armless man had the grace to act ashamed. "You are just to correct me." He could not look at Evendal me'Löema except in glances.
"Jaserle. Kri-estaul is the brother of the Quill-master. He has but eight years. Two years ago the Beast abducted him, abused him and gave him over to a pæderastic overseer, a rabid animal. Two years, Jaserle, of every abuse your Rosette has probably known, the starvation you suffered under, with the added burden of utter solitude."
Jaserle rose in Evendal's estimation when the man stared Kri-estaul in the eye. "Forgive me, young Master. I notice that your legs barely move."
Daunted by the harsh tone Jaserle had previously adopted, Kri-estaul responded with timid reluctance. "I ran into the Terr... the Beast. He took me and... hamstrung my legs. Is it 'ham-strung'? Twice. I'll never walk again because I am evil."
Evendal's stomach twisted, as he lifted and rearranged Kri-estaul into a sitting position, then bent down to whisper in unintended concert with Jaserle.
"You are not evil."
"It sounded like you didn't like me." Kri-estaul accused the deputy.
"We have similar wounds, Your Highness. I feared being mocked."
The answer meant nothing to Kri-estaul. "I don't understand."
Jaserle realised the test he had fashioned for himself, and that he was yet treating this child as though Kri-estaul had no commonality with him. "After flattering your father, I then assumed he was playing a cruel joke with me. That you were simply a ragamuffin he was treating to a short-lived time of royal attention. Then when I understood he had indeed made a cripple his Heir, I imagined you as weak of mind as you are in body." He paused, then translated. "I thought you weak or common, an idiot, and for no reason. Not knowing anything about you. Which only proves that I myself am an idiot, Your Highness. My deepest apologies. You deserve better treatment from me than that."
"...Know what I look like. A sea urchin without the spines. And that that won't change." Kri-estaul interrupted, baldly unsentimental. Evendal angrily wondered where the child had heard that description.
"Nothing so severe." Jaserle insisted, thinking Kri-estaul was being deliberately dramatic. "Look like? What you look like, Your Highness, is irrelevant. A lesson I need to relearn, it seems. Do you know what matters here?"
"No. I still don't."
"I am part of a group of people that the Stoner took."
"He almost got me, too!"
Jaserle was briefly speechless. "In tr... He did?"
Kri-estaul nodded vigourously; relieved to respond to a statement he understood.
"Well, he treated us no better than the Beast treated you. And do you know who helped us survive to this day?" Jaserle's eyes burned with a darker fire that contended with Evendal's for strength.
"No," whispered Kri-estaul.
"No one. Not one of our family, neighbors, or kith. No one wanted to. If anyone thought to, we never knew it." Jaserle took a deep breath and forced his mind to his point. "Just like what happened to you. What matters is that we both have been wronged. And utterly... Oh. Oh, my heart!"
To Evendal's distress, the one-armed man fell back in his chair, looking suddenly red-faced. "Are you well, Jaserle?"
"Your Majesty... I only just realised. Do you seriously intend for this dearling to inherit?"
"Yes, if he himself so wills."
The man's whole demeanor changed, excitement replacing deep intensity. "Then you offer the Rosette a hope for a future. A hope that our rights will not be abrogated again. Thunders! It galls me to give up the fancy, but... You offer, in your son, a surer safeguard for us than any vow or edict. You are our King and this wonder after you!"
"Caution, good Jaserle. My son has hazards to face, yet. He is not well. And he believed the poison poured in his ear these past two years."
After several slow breaths, Jaserle of the Rosette leaned forward and focused completely on the wide-eyed Prince.
"He told you you were evil?"
Kri-estaul squirmed, then nodded.
"Why?" Jaserle asked, and then recalled. "You really ran into him?"
"The Stoner was chasing us!" Kri-estaul blurted. "I didn't mean to."
The deputy of the Rosette sat up straight, taking on a mantle of grim hauteur. "Kri-estaul, I am older than you by many years. And I tell you it is wisdom, not evil, to run from danger. Do you understand?"
Predictably, Kri-estaul nodded, then looked to see if he was believed. "No."
"You were wise to run from the Stoner. Wise, not evil. That you ran into the wrong man?" The one-armed man managed a shrug of enviable nonchalance. "But that is not because of you. You know who was the evil one, don't you?" Evendal watched in amazement, as Jaserle took on a power of his own. The man practically oozed gentilesse, talking to Kri-estaul like an old and kindly, sage uncle. And the hope in Kri-estaul's eyes made it hard for Evendal to breath.
"The... Beast?"
Jaserle nodded somberly, as if the child had said something very wise.
"Both when he was alive, and now that he is dead, no one has ever said otherwise. No one. The Beast was evil, Your Highness. Not a simple kind of evil, like you hear in old songs. But he enjoyed both deceiving people and killing them. He always had an ambition to further. Always. But he also enjoyed deceiving people for the sheer pleasure of fooling people. That means his opinions and decisions were always deceptions and lies as well. Always."
The Rosette deputy leaned back in his chair and waited.
"You mean when he... When he or Nisakh promised I could leave if I passed their test. They would never have let me go? And they would never, ever, have said I passed? Even if I had?" Evendal briefly wondered over Nisakh. Kri-estaul had mentioned him once before, but this was not a moment to interrupt.
"Even so, Your Highness. The only way to succeed, with the Beast or his minions, was by dying. The only success, the only master, the Beast ever acknowledged was Death." Jaserle jabbed a gnarled, swollen finger at Kri-estaul, who did not even flinch.
"You are not now, and have never been, evil. You were a victim. A good boy in the hands of evil men. Just as I. Just as so many the Stoner captured. Do you hear me?"
Shaking and saucer-eyed, Kri-estaul nodded.
Later, after Jaserle had retired, Guard Mulienhas approached.
"Your Majesty, the Eikhonists have come begging the grace of Your audience."
"Let them present themselves."
Metthendoenn looked over Ierwbae's knee to see two people. Foremost came a woman with flawless skin, prematurely gray hair, and an air of command. Behind her fidgeted a willow-thin young man with large eyes and narrow face. The woman carefully held a cloth-wrapped conical object. The man clutched at a sketchboard like his fingers wanted to plant roots in it. They both knelt in quick awkwardness.
"Rise. Stand or sit as you wish." Evendal bade them. The woman chose to stand; the man dropped into a half-lotus, pulled a wide pencil from the base of the sketchboard, and began working.
Amused and bemused, Mulienhas announced. "The Typika of the Eikhonist League, Sielre-han. And her Secretary, Ulahas."
"Greetings and Health to you both." The King wished.
"Felicitations to Your Majesty." Sielre-han returned.
"It grieved Us a trifle to have the statues of the Usurpers destroyed. The icon of the Beast evoked his nature so flawlessly. And the figure of the Wise Counselor, with its bland, blank face, conveyed the shallowness of his façade with equal wit. That crowning touch of a strumpet Fortune... A masterwork of political prophecy."
Sielre-han smiled, eyes twinkling. "Ah, a lord with perception. I will convey your appreciation to the artist. And advise her to greater caution in any dealings with Your Majesty."
Evendal in turn smiled. "You mean the artist lives? We feared someone might have pointed out the message contained in that tableau to the Usurpers."
"No one who could see it said anything. She is very much alive." The woman paused. "We have come as you requested during that extraordinary Council, Your Majesty. We, and I, appreciated your not naming our people aloud with those you account apathetic."
"We are glad of your visit. In truth, We do not count your guild among those. The duumvirate-icon aside, We had learned of other instances where your message had not been so subtle, and the consequences severe."
Sielre-han's smiled faded. "Yes. None of us dared hope that you would see what we had done as being the best we could do. We lost some master-level talents and some beautiful hearts. But we just could not pretend."
"We restore your charter, and, as with the Ship-wrights, thought to provide some kind of benefice. However. We also feel your guild should choose what would qualify as amends or restitution."
"My thanks and the thanks of my family. We will discuss what we most need. Then return our decision to you. Now, Your Majesty, by your leave I would offer a token of our own regard. Small and simple, but I trust its personal significance will lend it grace in your sight."
Sielre-han proffered the package in her hand. The King removed the cloth to unveil a statuette of an adolescent girl with a chromatic ball, caught in the act of running, skirt flaring behind her. She looked to be passing the orb to an adult man with his hand outstretched. The girl figure drew the focus because it held the greater detail; with pleats to her skirt and a pattern on her kirtle, and a light roughness that might be dirt-marks on her cheeks. The man looked to be young, unremarkable except pinhead-sized beryls had been inset for his eyes.
"How?" Evendal gasped.
"One of the Guard who kept his attention on his liege at his swearing in." Sielre-han explained.
"It... It is wonderful!"
Sielre-han smiled, looking quite pleased. "The artist you praised earlier rendered this as an icon of this time. For is it not so that what you experienced in that moment is what has happened for us all? Fortune has lent you her favour."
"Only for a moment, Sielre-han. For a breath, perhaps."
"As long as you know that, your reign can only be healing for all."
"Thank you and thank the artist." Evendal requested. "What is your companion working so furiously at?"
"Forgive Ulehas, he has more skill than manners. I suspect when he saw you four settled so, the balance and composition proved irresistible to his eye."
"I wish I could do that!" Kri-estaul exclaimed, after seeing the sculpture.
"Do you?" Sielre-han asked, face suddenly alight, interrogative. "It takes a lot of time and boring work to reach the point you could make something like this."
Realising he had invited comment from a stranger, Kri tried to scrunch up smaller in Evendal's lap. "I... I don't know."
"Good Typika, deal gently with Our son. He anticipates harm from people he does not know. Also, please desist. We want him to learn how to be a free-hearted child before he becomes anyone's novice."
"But if he is gifted, surely Your Majesty would not prevent him from adding skill to those gifts. And we could come to a generous accommodation for him, not in monies so much as in works of our craft."
Evendal's pleasant mood and expression wafted away. "What do you... have in mind?"
"Well, should he prove apt, or at the least a diligent worker, we would be happy to render that statuette in lifelike proportions."
"So should you find him talent-less...?"
Sielre-han glared, affronted. "Your Majesty! We do not discard any of our oblate children! Some niche would be found for him, such as cook's drudge or ash-boy."
"Typika Sielre-han, We will not forget this conversation. Much to your detriment."
The woman looked away from Kri-estaul to Evendal, startled. "Wh... Why?"
"When We say Kri-estaul is Our son, We do not mean as all the Cinqet are Our children. Kri-estaul is, in deed, Our Heir. He is not for barter. For that matter, neither are the children of the Cinqet, nor those of any other portion of the Thronelands."
Out of the corner of his eye, Evendal noted Ulehas stop his furious scribbling and glance quickly up, alert to a change in ambiance.
"Our's are all the citizens of this land, and in return for their trust, We give their lives back to them, their liberty. Surely you knew We do not condone the duumvirate's practise of indenture?" Uncertain of his impulses, Evendal looked down at Metthendoenn and Ierwbae. Ierwbae looked grim-faced at the thought, while a sad-eyed Metthendoenn nodded his approval of his kinsman's words.
Sielre-han protested. "Yes, and we acquiesce to your will in that, Your Majesty. But oblates and alumni(24) are not under indenture. Many are set at our door in the night; some are given to us by families who cannot feed them. We do not contract with them."
"But you contract for them! As you were prepared to do with Us. The result is the same. And any parent wanting money more than they want their child can come to you, or any guild, and bargain. This is contrary to the foundation of our authority."
"Were We to request that you cease any exchange of skill, monies or gifts for children, what would you?"
"You would be condemning many children to an abusive and hopeless existence, my lord, bound to those unwilling to care for them."
"No, We would not. We would be removing a wellspring for irresponsibility among the citizenry. Those children unwanted and cast at your door, gratis, are your's, to tend and nurture as you described. When someone offers an exchange, note their identity and let a Palace clerk know, or scrivener. And refuse the exchange. Are you clear on Our will in this, Typika Sielre-han?"
The Eikhonist had been caught in the glare of the King's gaze. "Yes, Your Majesty. As you will, so it shall be for us. Truth to tell, the experience has often troubled me." Ulehas resumed his work.
"Then allow Us to return your complement. We delight in dealing with a lady of perception, and compassion. And We would again thank you for this icon, there are moments when I yet feel the weight of that ball."
"The Guard's sister, our premier artist, related the tale of that day to me when she showed me her work. I was overwhelmed. How... How did She seem to you?"
"Old eyes and young form." Evendal answered promptly. "We mean eyes asparkle with strength, mirth, and yet sadness and a frightening, distant wisdom. When she disappeared, so did her statue."
"What are you talking about, Papa?" Kri-estaul asked, stirring from his half-sleep. "Who did you see?"
"Ir, Kri. I met the Protector of our land and people. The Great Teacher, quicksilver Fortune."
"Oh. What does she look like?"
A bass voice sounded mellifluously behind Sielre-han. "Your Majesty, and Your Highness have been most accommodating, thank you." Ulehas turned and walked down the King's Causeway and off the Palace grounds.
Mouth agape, the Typika of the Eikhonists looked back at the King. Evendal smiled, then began to laugh, mostly from Sielre-han's surprise. After a moment's uncertainty, the Typika joined in. Kri-estaul just watched the two, and wondered what was so funny.
"Your Majesty," Mulienhas intoned. "A fisher caught this couple on the eastern face of Shield Cay."
Evendal frowned at the two young men kneeling before him. One had the brown leather vest and stained trews of a harbour-dweller, and the muscles and calluses of a seasoned sailor. The other man, dressed in very little, displayed a sleeker musculature.
"Caught them at what?"
Stone-faced, the Guard replied. "Pearl-diving, Your Majesty."
"In this season?" Evendal sat up straighter. "You jest, I hope."
"No, Your Majesty. When first accosted, the one claimed to be out seeking privacy. But as the fisher prepared to pass by, the other fellow emerged from undersea and tossed a handful of shells into their boat."
"Their names?"
"One is called Hyrosh-mi. The diver, Mar-kestlen."
"Is this so, Kestlen?"
The scantily-clad youth answered. "That those are our names, yes."
"Do not be so glib, fool. You can hardly be ignorant that your very life is now Our's."
The man's skin prickled in the wintry air. "We are our own, no one else's. What do you mean?"
"Were you born in Osedys?" Evendal asked. Both men nodded. "Then you play child games with Us. If all is as reported, you have violated the second-oldest law of our land."
"My lord," Mulienhas interrupted. "I retained the fisher." And at Evendal's nod, the woman approached.
"You found these two as Guard Mulienhas said?"
"Ayah, Majesty. Just ten throws east of the Shield."
"Far within the cordon, then. And the harvest?"
"Tossed over the side, but for two pearls they swallowed."
Evendal grinned and shook his head. "Really? You are called?"
"Buth-lomie, Your Majesty."
"Did you yourself catch sufficient for your day?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"How many do you have to feed?"
"Seven, Your Majesty."
Evendal looked on the fisher with a greater respect. "Then We offer you a choice: Three silvers. Or the afternoon to gather your dependents and be fed in the smaller kitchen adjacent to the Palace."
The fisherwoman's eyes started. "My chicks would never forgive me an' I didn't avail myself of Your Majesty's hospitality."
"We trust they are a mannerly crew?"
"No fear, Your Majesty. They know how to behave, and stay in good order."
"Then you have Our leave. Enjoy the rest of your day, good woman." Evendal turned to the vested man, letting their gazes meet. "What were you doing that far east of Shield Cay?"
"Pearl-diving, of course."
"Hyrosh! What are you saying, you fool?" Kestlen exploded. He looked up, and shuddered at Evendal's glowing eyes.
"Why? The law is clear. No pearl-diving within the reef-barriers of Osedys. Not by royal commission, none by royal or Temple exemption, none under compulsion or for commerce. From the western faces of the Scepter, the Witness and Shield Cay and westward, any and all pearl-diving is permissible. All of Sentinel Cay, with its surrounding bars and deeps are open to predation. But not from the eastern lines of the Scepter, the Witness and the Shield. You knew this."
"Yes," Hyrosh replied. Kestlen bit his tongue.
"Tell Us, Hyrosh. Can you swim?"
"No, my lord."
"And what is Kestlen to you?"
"He is my man."
"So We see." Evendal turned to the other. "Kestlen."
The young man looked up at the King, and could not look away.
"You knew your peril in diving along the eastern side?"
"Yes."
"And yet you did so dive?"
"Yes."
"What is Hyrosh to you?"
"My man. He but humoured me in this."
"We understand. Hyrosh, do you recall the penalty?"
"Castration, my lord."
"No, Hyrosh. Not quite. The male offender is to have his testicle sack cut off, the testicles cooked and served to him. Force-fed if necessary. The female offender is to have her breasts permanently scarred and a small trident branded on her cheek. Should she be of generative years, the Temple would render her barren and unresponsive. After which the offenders would choose between tongue removal or death." Evendal looked from one to the other offender. "So. Do you want your own testicles? Or each other's?" Before they could respond, the King signaled the Guard.
"What do you say, Hyrosh?"
"We broke the laws. I should not have listened to him then, and you should not listen to him now. I can accept responsibility for my own decisions. He... I hate seeing him dive to begin with. Whether beyond Shield Cay or not, it is the most dangerous work he could do. And diving this late in the year is madness!"
Evendal realised that, left to their own natures, these two would enact an all-too-common melodrama. "I needs must speak with each, without the other." Mulienhas nodded, waved another Guard to stand duty, and bustled Hyrosh-mi away.
It being early winter, no birds thronged and no insects chirruped. Evendal contented himself with making 'ugly faces' at Kri-estaul, and smiling at Kri-estaul's contortions. As Evendal ald'Menam expected, with deliberate silence, in isolation from his support, and as his enforced immobility chafed, the youth spoke without leave or permission.
"My lord," Kestlen whispered. "I would... I would you visit both punishments on me, the cut and... and the feeding. And the tongue-removal. The plan was mine... my folly."
"Very noble." Evendal oozed. "Where was that nobility in honouring your home's oldest laws?"
The young man said nothing.
In the privacy of his mind and heart, Evendal hurt. Here before him was a situation which would not end well. Could not end well.
"Talk to Us, citizen. While you are yet a citizen. You will have no other chance nor, believe it or not as you choose, a better advocate than your current judge. But you must talk to Us!"
"What would you, Your Majesty?" whispered a chastened Kestlen.
"What moved you? Whim? Need? Want? The excitement of danger? We are asking you, here." Evendal let the regret he did truly feel imbue his voice.
Kestlen's response gushed out like a cry of old pain, a plea with no expectation of an answer. "Why is it so important? No one will say why. Why?"
A simple question. A child's query. And dangerous. But... "Kestlen, I cannot answer that completely. No one now living will. What I can do is tell you that I know, because I need to know. The safety of our home relies on that law's honouring. This law is not a whim on anyone's part. Think about what I have just said as we talk. Now I need a few helps from you."
Kestlen nodded, totally unperturbed at the incongruity of a new-made felon chatting with his lord. "One of the reasons for the... punishments is our safety? But there has been no safety!"
Evendal nodded. "This has been, perhaps, the most destructive time for our home since the Nikraan invaded so many generations past. Would you agree?"
"Wholeheartedly."
"And though I have been home for too short a time... Would you say that the people you know and talk to are feeling... less under threat? More safe than last season?"
"Well, its still no summer-evening swim, my lord. But most of my circle marvel that you returned and fixed Mean and Ugly up right. And that Shenrowyn honestly likes you has my grandfathers very happy."
The last comment surprised Evendal. "He is a great good man. A man to be trusted."
"That's what my father says."
"Are you, Kestlen?"
"How can I know?"
At least intelligence resided in the youth, however seldom engaged. "By the degree to which your friends turn to you. What they rely on you for." He deliberately paused. "What do they rely on you for?"
"Not much. I..." The figure never seemed more like a child, suddenly. "I don't read well. I don't like it. So I ask a lot of questions. Mother says I was born with my mouth open. Hyrosh-mi says the same, but he means something else by it. It makes me mad when I get told to shut up, or get told... 'That's a stupid question.' So I don't keep friends. They get embarrassed when I get mulish."
Evendal could not believe what he was hearing. He knew exactly what festered in Kestlen's seemingly childish personality. "No one wants to admit 'I don't know.' No one wants to admit that a question they themselves don't have an answer for actually is important. Or might be."
Kestlen stared at Evendal with his jaw unhinged. The King waited, but the boy said nothing. Sunlight, or a shaky breath, refocused Evendal's eyes onto the silent slide of tears that coursed down to Kestlen's chin. Evendal whispered to a fitfully alert Kri-estaul, who nodded. With a sleek grace that would have failed had it been intended, the King slid from around Kri-estaul, leaving him the mock-Throne, stepped forward and bent toward the suddenly shipwrecked youth.
"Mar-Kestlen, if it would ease your heart at all... I would offer a moment's shelter in your storm."
The young man tilted his head up, but could not have been seeing anything. "Do you...? Do you really...?"
"Thunders, you must have felt like a leper! Or a Forest-dweller! The Temple would have welcomed you. Did no one see it?"
Of his own, without thought, Kestlen held on hard to Evendal's tunic, terrified by a hope. "But I can't... I can't... read. I hate it! It makes no sense to me!"
"Shh. Easy, young man. There are many kinds of learning. And one of the three oldest, and personally most important to me, has no use for writing except as memory-helps: One symbol standing for a room of information within your own mind. That is for another time. How did you manage to... to not kill yourself answering your own questions? Or from sheer isolation!"
Kestlen glanced, self-conscious, over his shoulder, but Hyrosh-mi was nowhere in line-of-sight. "Hyrosh. He... He has always been there. Though I don't really know why. Lord... Your Majesty... I'm confused."
Evendal almost laughed, to share the same feeling. "I have so much I need to know if I am to keep you alive, Kestlen."
"What do you mean?"
Evendal kept his tone friendly, conversational. "Kestlen. I am prepared to enact everything the law commands upon you for your trespass today. You do know that. Right? And while I would have regretted it, I am not - if I am to be a good king - able to counter other than by what the severity of a trespass demands."
The youth paused and, ignoring the glow of his liege's eyes, caught the cool avuncular sorrow beneath.
"I cannot care that you are but a young man, in love, with a long and soon-to-be-good life possible. Do you understand at all, Kestlen? I cannot! Or I will be the one with no testicles. No strength."
After several breaths, the youth simply asked. "Why?!" The question he had asked all his youth.
Evendal actually smiled. "I imagine, among other things, you are asking me 'Why is this law so cruelly enforced?' Am I right?" Evendal stepped back and retrieved Kri-estaul, to sit once again.
"Well,... Yes!"
"Again. I cannot tell you." Evendal saw what Kestlen meant by 'mulish', from the look that resulted. "Kestlen. You may well find out some day, if I am permitted to save your life. But if you do, the pleasure of that knowledge must stay private!"
"What do you mean? Nevermind."
"No, Kestlen. Don't assume I want you to shut up. Don't ever assume that! Take a few breaths, lad. Think. I am pushing you, rushing you, I know. Because I have to! As you grew up here, you would remember... Has anyone ever died in Thasylh Bay? Have you ever lost anyone to the deep, Kestlen? Family or friend? Think."
"Only to hear my mother talk, half of her family. But no one remembers ever having met them ever. We know she actually makes up the stories to scare us into obeying her."
Evendal could see that the youth took the questions as diversion, a moving away from matters emotionally volatile. "A very protective woman, eh?"
Kestlen rolled his eyes.
Evendal had let Kestlen restore himself to calm. "I am never going to tell you 'don't pursue a question.' But your methods are vital here, absolutely vital. I mean nothing more than what I said. If, through your days, may-they-be-many, you learn something or hear something that helps you to know why we render that most innocuous of acts such a gruesome violation... There is only one person you can tell, as you value your home, your family, your land and your beloved. As you value their safety. And that person is you."
"Being given brush-offs for years, Kestlen, I can understand why you dove. The act was inevitable, so long as you were given nothing but indifference or abuse for striving to think for yourself. Before I say anything more, let me speak with your man, and then I must speak with you both."
"You... You aren't going to execute us. Are you?"
"I do not want to. That will depend on what now follows." The King nodded to Mulienhas, who exchanged the youths.
"And you are called Hyrosh-mi?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"How many years do you have?"
"I own eighteen, Your Majesty. And would own more, by your grace."
"That remains to be decided. It can be argued... in as much as you never left the boat, and since Kestlen insists he thought the scheme up himself, that you are... guiltless. Or at the most that you serve merely as 'witness' to his action."
"That refreshing view I would share with great relief and gratitude, Most Noble One." The boy actually smiled.
Evendal shifted in the seat, suddenly uncomfortable and distracted. "You have me in some confusion, good Hyrosh-mi. Perhaps you can clarify matters."
"Whatever I can do to enlighten the Sun of our kingdom. And ease myself from the label of 'added burden' I would do right gladly." An instrument played, off in the distance. Or a cat cried.
"When last you spoke, you intimated that you stood ready to accept whatever penalty fell to you for the crime. Has that changed?"
Hyrosh-mi's delay, his reconsideration, lengthened almost to insulting. "No, Your Majesty, if you feel justice is served in unmanning an essentially innocent youth." The indistinct noise persisted.
'Thunders,' Evendal thought, distracted. 'This boy is a toad of the worst colour!' "You also expressed more concern toward your companion than toward yourself. That concern appears... lacking currently."
"Some habits, Your Majesty, are difficult to halt. Apologising for him has been a habit of near-unto eight years..."
"But Kestlen honours you, Hyrosh-mi." Evendal protested.
The young man's brow furrowed. "I would hope so. The number of times I have paid for his slow-witted, stubborn, ill-conceived misadventures!"
"Again, if his companionship adds such a burden..."
"Why do I not jettison the added weight?" Hyrosh-mi completed the thought with a chuckle. "The amusement he provides..."
And Evendal m'Alismogh knew what he was hearing!
Dissonance!
He began to laugh, loud and whooping. He could not help it. Hyrosh stopped in mid-yap. Kri-estaul scowled, having felt totally lost since he had heard of the swallowed pearls. Mulienhas shared Kri-estaul's scowl, though her frown held more worry than annoyance. When he could finally recover some semblence of calm, the King blurted out. "You wall-eyed young idiot! You almost destroyed him with this farce of your's! Enough! Desist."
Perhaps not even realizing he spoke, Kri-estaul whispered an unnecessary. "I don't understand."
"This... This young fool has somewhere gotten my measure. And right well, too. Thinking his heart in mortal danger, he doesn't promise better behaviour from Kestlen, or a more humble life henceforth. No. Because he knows Kestlen better than that. He can hardly assume that a king who leaves trophy-pieces of his enemies on display is compassionate. Instead, he tries to make himself the most loathsome type of sponge, in the misguided hope that I will inflict my wrath on himself and not Kestlen. He tries to make Kestlen look like... like Ugly thought himself to be, in comparison."
"That would have worked, young minx, were I the type of man who presumed every judgement obvious, or easily arrived at. Or did not care! If all there was to me was 'Sensibility'."
Hyrosh-mi opened his mouth, stared hard at the man still chortling on the mock-Throne, and prudently shut his mouth again.
"But why would he want to make you angry at him?"
"Because, my son, he would rather... Well. Because, imagining an Osedys without Kestlen in it hurt him in more ways than imagining Osedys without himself. I expect it was a rationale he arrived at years ago."
To further confound Kri-estaul, Hyrosh-mi started to hyperventilate in reaction. Evendal took the youthful case of nerves as confirmation. At a signal, Kestlen was escorted back before the mock-Throne. Like a nettle-stung puppy, Hyrosh-mi wrapped an arm around Kestlen and burrowed his head against the swimmer's chest, the embodiment of capitulation.
"Mar-Kestlen, how many years do you have?"
"I own nineteen years, Your Majesty."
Again, Evendal felt surprise. "And have you hopes of family? Of children and grandchildren?"
"Fancies only, Your Majesty. I would be an indifferent parent, easily distracted, and no kind of husband."
"Who carries the names of your parents beyond your generation?"
"I have four brothers and three sisters happily begun on that enterprise." Evendal could see the worry coalescing.
"Hyrosh-mi, have you hopes for family? For children or grandchildren?"
"I have. Such a hope already granted." Kestlen shared a grin with Hyrosh-mi.
"Explain."
"I have a sister, wed but recently to a man who refused her bastard. The child is now mine by house law and Archate registry. Ours, but of my family name."
"And so you have people who carry your parents' names beyond your generation. Good. For you cannot."
"Hyrosh and Kestlen, hear Our judgment. The traditional, unalloyed restitution serves no purpose here, but some severe loss must be rendered. Your generative powers may not remain intact. But here is where We will begin to show ourselves capable of 'sensibilities'. With whatever pain-freeing gases serve you best, both of you, under the supervision of a Temple healer, shall suffer that loss. The sacks shall not be removed, but the cord that one feels within the sack shall be severed. So no 'meal' will be made of them. Also under the eye of a Temple healer, Hyrosh, you shall suffer two brandings. You shall have a representation of the reefs branded upon your buttock, and the trident upon your left breast."
"About the unequivocal choice between the slicing of your tongues or your death... Having removed the means of surviving through natural-born children, We have effectively guaranteed your, eventual, deaths. Of old age. If We learn that you have spoken to others about your harm, or your survival, Our next judgment must be immediate, and for your corpses."
The silence that followed lingered, as did the looks of shock and dismay on the two trespassers. Very pointedly, Evendal did not look down into Kri-estaul's face, hoping the child had slept through some of the confrontation. Evendal felt of two minds: On the one hand, he had made life that much harder for two men who had no understanding of the danger they had courted. On the other hand, he had not eliminated two potential sources of future hazard to the Thronelands.
"No pain or torture." Hyrosh-mi whispered. He sounded amazed.
"Just the pain of the loss and the healing that follows after."
"Our talk just now, Your Majesty. Why... What... Were you simply putting me at my ease? Your Majesty?"
"Our own son as witness, no, Kestlen. You are a great jewel in need of rough work and fine polishing, but you have the makings of a dangerously valuable scholar. We found nothing 'stupid' or 'dense' or 'slow-witted' about you or your questions. And 'stubborn' has always been one of Our proudest titles." As Evendal spilled out the pejoratives, each one clearly struck a chord in Kestlen's memory of pain.
"Kestlen, and Hyrosh-mi if he wishes, We have plans for you. They will be slow work for you, but nothing like the pain, shame or denigration you had suffered in the past."
"I would serve you, Your Majesty."
"No."
Whatever Kestlen was expecting, it was not refusal. "No?"
Evendal achieved a pointed glance toward Kri-estaul going unnoticed by the child. "Not me."
Ephemeral and unreliable, but Evendal felt encouraged that, in that moment of near-understanding, nineteen-year-old Kestlen never seemed more like a man.
Evendal m'Alismogh felt too tired for gratitude over the day's end. He helped Kri-estaul with his ablutions, rubbed ointment on the child's scars, and settled in for the night. His second bell in bed, Kri-estaul began to thrash, waking Evendal. The two had moved with their backs to each other, and one of Kri's legs had twisted over the other. His son's body twitched, by dim moonlight the King could see the child's eyelids fluttering, his breath quicken and then slow, only to quicken again. Kri-estaul groaned.
"No. No, Papa. I'll be good."
Evendal turned about, adjusted his son's legs, and stroked his back. 'I'm right here, little man." He whispered. "I am right beside you, protecting you. You are good. You are safe. Good or bad, you are safe, now." The King whispered his litany several more times.
Kri mumbled, "Good. Love you." and relaxed. Evendal fought to swallow the lump in his throat. After a moment, Evendal turned on his side, draped his arm over his son, and settled into sleep.
The next day, after a fast-breaking of oatmeal with stewed apples and mashed spuds, the King ignored the schedule of his audiences and petitioned the High Priestess's presence at her earliest convenience.
Just before the noontide bell, Lady Sygkorrin arrived at the Palace, was escorted into a small, firelit room, and told to sit at her ease. After a delay, Evendal entered alone, motioned her to remain seated and pulled up a chair facing her. "Greetings and health to Your Majesty."
"Peace and health to you, Lady Sygkorrin." Evendal's lambent gaze favoured the floor, as they sat in silence.
Finally, Sygkorrin had had enough quiet. "Your Majesty, what troubles you that you summon me?"
The King looked up, startled. "Summoned?" His face reddened. "No matter how I try, I cannot seem to convince my Guards that when I request an audience, I truly give the other party the power to refuse."
"Believe me, as High Priestess I understand. But, that aside, I can see you are troubled. And the absence of your son means your worry concerns him."
"Yes, and no." Evendal opened his mouth to say something, swallowed it, then tried again. "My lady, what is happening to me?" Evendal stood again and started pacing in front of the chair. "I come home this... avenging messenger of Ir, the Left Hand of the Unalterable, angry and... Our Guardian visits me. I have this... gift with song that scares me witless. Truth to tell, I can still govern despite such wonders both helping and besieging me. Because the one was simply a single event, and the other I can choose to use or not. Nine years out of my life I cannot account for, at all. Again, I can cope, unless something or someone from that time arrives at my doorstep to surprise me." The King stopped his rush of words, looking confused.
"But...?" Sygkorrin prodded.
"But. Kri-est..." The King halted, and dropped down in his chair. "What... I am so afraid, because I don't know what I am doing, Priestess. And I don't understand. From the moment he started arguing with me in the under-grounds, thinking he had to obey Abduram, I have been ready to abdicate and spend the rest of my life trying to mend his heart and mind! Where did this come from? What is he?"
"He is a little boy," Sygkorrin insisted. "And he holds your heart." Now the priestess hesitated. "Your Majesty, may I ask an indecorous question?"
"Yes, of course."
She fixed him with a hard stare. "You shall never marry, am I right?"
Evendal flushed. "I doubt it seriously. I have never felt what I see others feeling, for... for anyone. Male or female. I try not to think about my... lack."
Sygkorrin frowned, then nodded. "I see no 'lack' in you. Some people are like that. Not many. Whether those few are more fortunate or not? Who knows? But the townsfolk, who have heard of everything that passes in the Palace, love you already. You are loved by Anlota, myself, Ierwbae, Metthendoenn. Bruddbana would lie down and thank you for walking on him, trusting you would not do it but for good reason. And Aldul..." Once again, she hesitated.
"How do you feel about Aldul of Kwo-eda?" She asked.
Unsure of the turn in conversation, Evendal stammered. "He is my friend. I love him."
Sygkorrin raised an eyebrow. "You love him? Do you wish to undress him? Nibble on his neck a bit?"
"No!" Evendal barked, laughing as he blushed. "No. But I trust him in all things. He is my dearest friend."
"That was glaringly obvious from my first interview with him, when he arrived in Osedys. Heed what you just said: You trust him in all things. A unique and almost holy relationship, King Evendal. Would it surprise you that friend Aldul, and I mention this with his sanction... He accepted our invitation to the Archate because men and women in his home city had made his life unbearable to him with their attempts to bed, entrap, or marry him. People confused his gentleness as a sign of special interest in them or as shy passivity. Priests are trained in self-examination, my lord. He has admitted, quite contentedly, that his mysterious past and his nature have fashioned him into a solitary person. You, Lord Evendal, are the closest anyone has ever been to him."
"I know about his past." Evendal whispered, understanding the reference.
Again Sygkorrin lifted an eyebrow, and grinned. "How interesting. I don't." She let that sink in before continuing.
"Speaking of pasts. You are aware that one of the functions I serve with my staff is as personal counselour?"
"Yes," Evendal replied, suddenly uneasy.
"So, in our talks about his journey, Aldul had to speak about the theft of your memory. How do you feel about that?"
Evendal shrugged. "It happened. While I am not comfortable talking about it, I care not who knows about it."
Sygkorrin grinned in recollection. "Aldul is a stubbornly private man. And he assumes the same of those in his care. He was quite adamant on my letting you know of his disclosures."
"Yes." Evendal could think of no other response. "That was kind of him."
"You are a man who is also solitary by upbringing. But not to the degree that Aldul is. So, you found someone to care for, without the sexual distractions of a lover. And someone who needs your care. Very specifically, your care." Sygkorrin smiled, her face brighter than Evendal's eyes. "You were just fortunate that the boy is sweet-natured and loving, and loves you."
"But also... I care about him more than I have ever cared for anything or anybody! Painfully more! Why? Where did this come from?" Evendal looked wildly about. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and resumed. "Never-mind. You have already tried to answer that. The question isn't a question really. I mean... I do not know what I am doing. I am afraid of hurting him, of doing something irreparably stupid, half the time. He is an eight-year old with a six-year old mind, and experiences nobody of any age should have. He's having dreadful dreams of his buggering, and I can't protect him from those. I tell myself I have a kingdom to heal, but leaving him in anyone else's care is too obvious a betrayal."
"Yes." Sygkorrin agreed, a feline smirk still on her face.
"How did it happen that I hurt so much over this one child? Its like nothing I have ever had to cope with."
"You really don't need an answer to that one, do you?"
"No," Evendal grinned, self-conscious. "Not really. Does he really love me? Its not just that he needs?"
"Has he asked to go back to his sister's?"
"No. Not even once. I feel bad about that."
"Don't. He is a child, with a child's tunnel vision. But that also answers your question."
Evendal nodded. "Thank you for responding promptly. Its just that this is so new to me. About his legs..."
"Yes?"
"Are they completely gone? Is there any help for them?"
"After two years of absolute inactivity, and two hamstringings, no restoration is possible. Too much scar-tissue. But what can be done must be done. That means you keep his legs safe, until he is ready. That means using the painkillers Aldul provides, and only as he directs! That means as few worries for him as possible. The sooner we get him strong enough to remove his legs, the better."
"You make it sound like it is a minor cutting. I know better!" Evendal agonised.
Sygkorrin stared full at the King, ignoring the glare. "Truthfully, Lord Evendal... After what he has endured, it is minor. Do not make of it more than an hour's sleep for him, and a lengthy bed-rest. Don't scare him with it! Better for him to dread the long days after, unable to accompany you until he recovers."
"I hear you. You know what I am capable of, should he not recover..."
"Is that a threat, Your Majesty?" The High Priestess frowned.
Evendal shook his head. "No, Your Eminence. It is an honest and heartfelt warning." His eyes pulsed, and he leaned forward to emphasize his earnestness. "I see nothing but truth and goodwill in all you have said. I treat with you in the same manner. It is a warning. I am dangerous, whether I will it or not."
Sygkorrin thought a moment. "I understand. And I feel no peril. Kri-estaul is Osedys, the Temple would not endanger him."
From another room came a high-pitched summons. "Papa!"
Evendal smiled. "My master calls."
"Best obey, then. A recommendation, if you will?"
"Yes?"
"When we requested him, Aldul was going to be an advocate for some of the children we deal with at the Temple. Talk with him about some of your worries over Kri-estaul."
"Thank you. I will."
"I'll return, then, by your leave."
"You have my... Our leave, Priestess Sygkorrin."
"Papa?" Both adults exited the room.
Evendal strode quickly to his son's side.
"Where were you?"
"Talking about you with the priestess." The King replied, smiling.
"What about me?" Kri asked, anxious.
"What to do for your legs and feet. Also, I was worried."
"What about?"
"Kri, I know it has only been a few days, but are you happy here?"
"You're not sending me away?" Panic rang in his voice, strangling its volume.
"Gods, no! But I've never had anyone to care for before, Kri. I am not very good at it."
"No. You're great! I love you."
"But what about your sister? She loves you, too. And would love for you to be with her."
Kri-estaul said nothing for a long moment. Evendal could almost see him weighing his words and what was safe to say. Evendal's heart twisted in his chest. He knew next-to nothing about children, but he knew such restraint was not right for an eight-year-old. "I miss her, I think. That first day back at the house... She came to look in on me a lot, but there was no one would stay with me."
The child obviously thought he had explained, but Evendal let his silence goad.
"I have thought about it." That statement alone sent off warnings in Evendal's head. "I would be alone. A lot. And when she was with me, she was all funny."
"How so?"
"Like she was afraid to touch me. Would go all weepy when I tried to tell her what had happened. She didn't want me to even think about it. She could not talk to me like you do, and Uncle Ierwbae and Uncle Metthen... Metthendoenn do, but like I was a 'Cinqet oaf'."
Evendal laughed, he could not help it. He was fairly certain Kri-estaul did not know what a 'Cinqet oaf' was - a congenital idiot. "Oh, Kri! She did not mean to. And I know I did the same thing at first."
"So? It hurt. But you stopped." That so-adult restraint had disappeared in Kri-estaul's effort to be understood. "And I mean, she wasn't being Drussie. She wouldn't talk to me. She wouldn't listen. I wanted my sister. And I have watched people talk at other people hurt by the Beast... So I know she would still act like that when I got well. But, being with you... When she comes here, she is my sister around you. I love her when she's being Drussie."
"I know what you mean. She's a strong person then."
"Are you getting tired of me?" The tension was back in Kri-estaul's body. "I know I need a lot of help. I try to do as much as I can..."
"Oh, Kri. No. I love you. You are full of nice surprises. I have said it before and I will say it again: I need you. I need you right here beside me... or in front, actually." Kri giggled a bit. "And yes, you need a lot of help. So do I. I have never been a father before, and I don't want to treat you the way my father treated me. You would not survive it. Let me tell you what the priestess and I talked about." Evendal picked the boy up and carefully settled himself in a chair.
"Kri, I have never had any friends until I came back here. I have never... kissed a girl, or a boy. I never had anyone to hug me like you do. I have never been real close to anyone. Never. I meet you and I am suddenly a parent. And I want to be."
Kri-estaul looked confused. "You were scared? You think you are a bad Papa?"
Evendal nodded. "Yes. Sometimes."
"Never! You love me, even though I'm a dirty, evil..."
"Kri, stop that! You are not evil. You were never bad."
Kri-estaul shook his head, frantic. "You don't know. You don't know." He sat up as straight as he could and stared sad-eyed at Evendal, then frowned. "I guess... need to talk about the under-ground, and the Beast. Do you think? Should we? You won't get all angry at me, or burn things, will you?"
Evendal took a deep breath. "I can't promise I won't cry. But I promise I won't be angry with you."
"You won't hate me?"
"No, Kri. I won't hate you. I may hold you and want to kill the Beast all over again. But I won't hate you."
"Well, that's..." He blinked, and added hesitantly. "Now?"
Evendal shook his head. "Only when you feel you can."
(23)twitch - a length of looped rope or chain at the end of an 18-inch or 24-inch handle. Used to restrain horses by drawing upper lip into the loop and twisting to tighten.
(24) Alumni - Oblates ("ones offered up"), infants or minors given or claimed by manour or guild that had achieved their freedom.
A map of the reefs mentioned in this chapter can be found at http://www.homestead.com/evendal/Kelotta.html