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44 To Spite A Raven's Heart
Duke Orsino: Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy
That sometimes savours nobly...
Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
Twelfth Night Act 5, Scene 1, line 117-131
Gwl-lethry looked over at the five ampoules and the cutter that Ierowen had `acquired' from His Majesty's guests. "But Your Majesty cannot be certain what those glasses contain. And that amethyst bauble is surely too limited to serve as a mortal weapon!"
Evendal smirked at a sharp surface no longer than the length from thumb-tip to knuckle. "That they were all hidden deliberately, and not just pocketed in a purse or set out as ornament, tells Us plenty. And were I so inclined, Lord Gwl-lethry, I could kill a person in eight heart-beats with one informed application of that toy."
"Did you mark the owners of each?" Karondeo asked.
"Of course!" Ierowen understandably took umbrage.
Kri-estaul reached for the seal-cutter. "That's pretty. Is it old?"
"That depends on what you consider `old'," Surn-meddil responded. "It is older than you or your father. In fact, if the work is not an homage... See how the curves of the silver juniper berries and rounded leaves hug the stone to its cradle? That was a style popular during the reign of the grandfather of your grandfather Menam."
"That would have been Asurrmedd agdh'Mikeliyen." Evendal commented absently. He set Kri-estaul's empty platter on the table and hefted the clear vial in his hand. It held a watery aubergine content.
"Par-shetope?" Evendal asked the Guard over his left, "Could you acquire another chair..."
Surn-meddil raised his hand. "Permit me to retire for the present, Your Majesty? My old bones turned to powder long ago and could use a respite."
Cheselre likewise spoke up. "I also, if Your Majesty will permit, wish to retire and see to my son."
"You both have Our leave. Par-shetope, the chair may yet be needed."
Once Surn-meddil's simulacrum had started for the entryway, Evendal drew the attention of his table-companions away from the spectre.
"Ierowen, from whom came this silverwork?"
The lad swallowed too quickly on a piece of confectionary and coughed an answer. "An aging gentle...hight Urhlysha."
"The Nightingale Hobblers' Magistrate. We wonder who has their eye on him today," the King mused. "Did anyone note his nearest dinner companion?"
All shook their heads.
"Par-shetope, please ask Magister Urhlysha to attend Us now. Ierowen, this clear vial with the brown liquid came from...?"
Ierowen did not think to correct his lord. "Magister Urhlysha carted that as well. Your Majesty."
"And the other four ampoules?"
Ierowen indicated one green glass. "Mohontlen of Tarlwshan..."
"Tal'Ulistrien," Evendal corrected. "His way of speaking may be difficult for those not raised in the southern part of the Thronelands. He holds an area near Our mother's, mostly savanna. And the others?"
"One red, a lady...Eletthrha. Majesty."
"Lord of Siara'keb. Not good."
"Its green counterpart came off Master Aikathemi."
The King frowned, as did Kri-estaul. "We wonder if the impulse is greed or envy? And the last?"
"Magister Shontrekh. Your Majesty."
"Oh, yes. The Judge Particular for Old Aistun. A neighbour to Magister Urhlysha, though not immediate. So he and Siara'keb defy the King's Peace."
"Why are they different colours?" Kri-estaul interrupted.
Evendal ald'Menam grinned, pleased. "To signify the degree of peril in the liquid or salt that that glass contains. Red vials carry poisons, green is for benisons and antidotes. Of the significance to other colours I am less sure. Cobalt blue or the very rare black glass is for corrosives, I believe."
Aldul nodded.
"So Master Aikathemi is not trying to hurt anyone?"
"Well," the King temporised, "Not with what is in his vial." Almost Evendal spoke of the wooden horse -- whose diamond-hard head had dug into his ribs on a couple of nights. But Aikathemi's gifting, however awkward, had presaged a lightening of the skin under Kri-estaul's eyes and fewer heavy silences during his waking bells.
"Why is that bottle clear?"
"I believe that it is so a person can see how what is in it changes when another salt or liquid is added to it."
Gwl-lethry cleared his throat. "Unadulterated glass is best for that, yes, Your Majesty. But it most commonly signifies content that may change appearance and qualities even without additives, and in so doing lose or gain that virtue for which it was capped."
The King signalled for another Guard and had her move his chair around ninety degrees, so that his right side was to the table. "Ask the Lady Eletthrha to visit with Us. And the Lord of Tal'Ulistrien."
The two so named arrived before Urhlysha and showed their respects. The King did not grant them liberty to sit.
The Lady Siara'keb was past her childbearing years, short and voluptuous; not heavy from fat or slack muscle, but stout by predisposition. Her family's stewardship was grey-haired and honourable. Toward all but the King and the Heir she maintained a steady gaze and forceful demeanor.
Columns of bone pressing against pliant and supple skin characterized the body of the Lord Tal'Ulistrien. Wide blue-grey eyes dominated an equally spare face, giving an impression of unflagging anxiety and wariness where in a younger man the result might have been one of innocence and wonder.
"Siara'keb," the King began, "you would have Us break a pledge We had made? To accuse no member of the nobility this day."
"How could I, your humble praefectus civitatium, incite the Majesty of m'Os-tal to do anything contrary to his intentions?"
"By bringing a weapon into Our Presence. By partaking of Our salt and still planning harm to one of Our number."
Eletthrha spread her arms out from her sides. "I wear naught but the wool my Care is noted for, which makes a poor garrote. I bear no blades or truncheons and my bones would crack before I could succeed at beating the frailest into submission. What weapon, Your Majesty?"
"The weapon of a coward, citizen Eletthrha. Poison. And it would be more truthful to say that you had it when you entered Our home, but have it no longer." The King twisted slightly to his right. "Lord Gwl-lethry, might We have the use of your cup?"
The Lord Tinde'keb readily gave up his drinking cup and Evendal poured some cider into it. He took up a red vial and glanced at a silent Ierowen, who nodded confirmation.
"This fell from your possession earlier, Lady Eletthrha. Do you wish to reclaim it now?"
The Prefect of Siara'keb did not answer immediately. "That trinket is of no moment to me, Your Majesty. I know not how it came to be among my effects."
Evendal nodded slowly. "Then We can trust that Our vassal of Siara'keb keeps and honours the strictures of hospitality We impose...?"
The Lady Eletthrha all but tripped over her lips in replying, "Most certainly, Your Majesty!"
"And We can only conclude that this ampoule contains but a harmless tonic, of which you have no compunction partaking as we both drink to Siara'keb's probity and prosperity." So saying, the King drained the red vial's powder into Gwl-lethry's cup and held it out.
With eyes that competed with Mohontlen's for size, Lady Eletthrha gripped the cup in both hands.
"Again, to beloved Siara'keb's continuing honour and prosperity." The Lord of the Thronelands picked up his own drink and prepared to take a sip, his glowing eyes on a frozen Lady Eletthrha. "Is there some trouble, honest vassal of Our's?"
"Your Majesty," Eletthrha began tremulously, "I fear I must abjure my frivolous assertions of a moment ago."
"How so?"
"There is death in this cup, Your Majesty."
"We are saddened, Lord Siara'keb. What is the nature of this death you have brought here, making a lie of Our Peace?"
Eletthrha swallowed twice before answering. "It is called Bitter Apple. It shreds the bowels and inflames the throat and stomach. The drinker dies from a bloody flux..."
The King's jaw clenched and his shoulders drew back in reaction. "We are aware of its effects. It is a vicious death you wished on your peer."
"Do not call him my peer!" the woman spat. "No amount of wealth will make that dung-grubber an equal."
"Of whom do you speak?"
"Kieralametth of the Carders Guild."
"What has he done that you would kill him?"
"He rendered your canton into a paupered, leeched wasteland!"
Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam stared hard at this woman he only vaguely recalled from courts ten years in the past. "You have all Our attention, warden of Our people. Tell Us what brought you to this extremity."
"Your father, Your Majesty, confirmed me in my holding, knowing its mainstay was wool. We raised sheep, goats and rabbits, and while no one got wealthy we yet prospered. Then your father approved Kieralametth and his deputies, and them alone, to classify our wool, and then to oversee the scouring and cleaning. After the lamented Lord Menam's death, Master Polgern took umbrage at our autonomy: I would not allow his ruffians past the limes(278) so that he might press my wards into stonehauling."
"You defied him?"
"Yes, and I got nothing but corpses, widows, and widowers for my folly. And he continued the denuding of my influence and authority over the principal means of my canton's subsistence. Now the working of wool, the shearing, the differing levels of cleaning for its different uses, the felting, the classifying, and the shipment are solely the Throne-granted right of the Fraternity of Carders. This was not all accomplished at once, mind you. `Mean' wanted the canton itself to die slowly. He wanted to watch my despair and savour his having caused it."
"Could you not come to some accommodation with this Kieralametth?"
"Your Majesty, those few who remain in their steadings survive only because they do the work they know sub rosa and sell to an equally few generous hearts in Kardyna and Osyma'Kalidem. The only item the duumvirate would sanction Siara'keb to raise and market was rice."
Evendal's mouth dropped open. "Rice? Rice won't grow in... Oh."
Eletthrha nodded. "And many of my people actually thought they could discover a way to grow it. When I said I governed and warded a paupered and leeched waste, I was not overstating my home's plight, Your Majesty."
"But to seek out one man, whose only crime seems to be accepting the good fortune others have handed him, would not rectify anything."
The Lord of Siara'keb shook her head in dissent. "He is the keystone of that construct, the fire of ambition that moves the Carders. I did approach him once, Your Majesty, to see if a private contract could be fashioned between us. He had no patience for such talk, when it was clear to him that the Carders would soon enough be the only wool-workers permitted in the kingdom, and their numbers would grow along with their coffers. And he was right. A goodly number of my people abandoned their homes, the only homes they had ever known, to join the Carders."
Eletthrha's speech greatly troubled Evendal. He had not looked very far past the intransigence of those gentry, landed and crafters alike, who baulked at attending his court. The animosity between landed and guild was an old one, but this personally motivated consolidation -- if Eletthrha's account was accurate -- was a new and unhealthy complication. For though Siara'keb had always provided the finest wool, that canton had also been but one of many sources.
"Where does the Carders' Guild keep sheep and goats?"
"The eastern leg of Kernost and north-eastern Kandere. They once were Siara'keb's cattle."
"And provided what you have told Us is all of the truth, they will be again. Grant Us a time to address your companion. Mohontlen."
The man started. "Your Majesty."
"At first We thought you sported some antidote in the vial you carried, or some emetic against whatever Siara'keb sought to wield. A sign of a continuing blood-feud. But plainly you fear another. Do you know who or whom?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"But you anticipate one of your peers?"
The unnerved man nodded.
The King considered aloud. "We feel moderately certain that Our mother is not directly involved, and the Lord Tinde'keb is much too busy with over three hundred other matters to nurture any such dastardly ambitions. What of your kin?"
"I. I share my responsibilities with two sisters, Your Majesty. Older sisters. The eldest held Tal'Ulistrien through my minority, years ago, and could have kept it had she wanted."
"But you feel your life imperiled?"
"Yes."
When Mohontlen did not continue, Evendal realized the man felt a disproportionate awe for the royal estate. "What suggests this to you, Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
"Unsigned missives in an elegant hand, Your Majesty, warning me of different perils in a timely fashion. I received one last spring asserting that I had made an enemy. At the first, I thought the communication a written threat. But during the spring, coming back from supplying an aging outlier, I got lost in the bog that ensures her privacy. Twice I came near to suffocating in the mire before I found reliable ground. The hermes-stones that guided me to the woman's home had been moved before I left it.
"This past season, I found a packet that advised me to be cautious should I hunt my lands. In Dru-stal, on my second trek scavenger-hunting for winter, had I not been gripping the secured rope on which I drape venison, I would have dropped into a pit-trap and impaled myself on dung-smeared stakes. Then, near the end of Dru-stal, as I was again hunting, someone shot at me with a long-bow or crossbow."
"Not some hunter mistaking his quarry?"
Mohontlen shook his head. "An animal not brought down with your first arrow runs heedless. I hid as best I could and dodged in a large circle, and got shot at three times. I found where the attacker had waited but could learn nothing from it."
"Do you have the arrows to show to Us?"
Mohontlen grimaced. "No, Your Majesty. I recovered them, but they remain in a secure place at my home. I did not even hope for an audience with Your Majesty today as I had not petitioned for it."
"Having achieved such an audience, do you bring this before the Throne? Do you seek Our aid?"
"I do, Your Majesty, as our pledge allows."
"Very well. After the second attempt on your life, did you have people search?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Did they find other such pits?"
Mohontlen swallowed. "Yes, Your Majesty." After a ruminative pause, Lord Tal'Ulistrien divulged what was, for him, a troubling consequence. "One of my people, a recent mother, fell into one of two more we discovered. One stave pierced her shoulder; one pierced her through her stomach. A third stave gouged into her sternum. Had she been heavier and had the third stake not lodged against her ribs, the first two stakes would have gone completely through her. She remains at the Temple."
"Where were those other pits in relation to the first?"
Taken aback that the King had no civil response of dismay or sympathy for the woman, Mohontlen was slow to answer. "Within ten rods(279) of it."
Evendal nodded solemnly, as though this confirmed some matter. "And you received one more notification."
The vassal's eyes bulged further. "Yes, Your Majesty. Telling me that Onkira's was not the only execution planned for the day."
"If you have those papers with you, lend them to Us."
"I have the most recent." Mohontlen dug through the sleeve of his tunic and pulled a square lanolined leather packet out and handed it to the King with a bow. Ierowen bit on his lip, dismayed at missing the obvious.
The King removed the brief missive, perused it, and then indicated that Matron Drussilikh examine it. "What can you discern of the writer, Matron?"
After several breaths, Drussilikh offered, "I cannot say I recognize the hand. But the writer is someone striving for a florid, feminine presentment. It is a poor attempt. Someone having more than twenty years but less than two score and ten."
"Any other detail?"
Drussilikh held the paper up toward one of the narrow windows. "Yes. This piece was torn from Crier's rag."
Mohontlen's eyes relaxed slightly to their normal startled expression. "A Crier had visited our home within a day or two of this last packet. I cannot remember if that was true about the earlier deposits. The occasion was simply to apprise Tal'Ulistrien of the latest bills, edicts, and reparations. `Twas quite a thick bundle."
The Lord of the Thronelands shot a glance at Eletthrha. "We typically leave manourlord mischief for the manourlords to settle. We see We have erred in doing so." He flagged a kitchen drudge. "Do you want another serving?" he asked his son.
Kri-estaul shook his head. "Who is that man?"
"He protects the lands adjacent to Our mother's, in the far south. Someone has tried to kill him without Our sanction."
"You give folk permission to kill?"
Evendal nodded. "We do that with certain of Our Guard, should the need arise in the regular performance of their duty. They must later justify, directly to Us, the necessity. If We deem the killing unjustified, that Guard is either executed, rendered t'bo, or given over to the dead one's family or to those most immediately affected by the murder."
"What about the woman beside him?"
"She was seeking the bravado to destroy her life and end another's. She must wait upon Us a little time."
"I'm bored." Kri-estaul caught what he said too late and ceased all movement.
His father kissed him atop his head and advised him. "Breathe, dearling. Of course you are. Point out a child who would say otherwise and you'll be singling out a wretch whose heart and will has been ground under foot. There is little that I can do to change that for you. If you wish I can have Brualta place you in your moving chair and attend if you wish to visit with one of our table companions. I would hope they know that they can converse productively amongst themselves while I conduct Throne business."
The King could see that such was exactly a suggestion Kri-estaul fancied, but could not yet ask of for himself. "Par-shetope? Brualta, please. And Kri-estaul's chair." The Guard moved to comply.
"I love you, Papa." Kri-estaul's tone told Evendal his was not a spontaneous declaration.
"I doubt that not at all. Be at ease. I shall remain right here. Should I need to leave, you come with me. Should you feel strange, I am a warehouse of safety, always happy to wrap, cuddle and enfold you with no apologia needed. At your farthest, you will be but five steps away from me."
Reminded of Aldul's days-old advise, Evendal carefully pulled his son from the sling, slouched a bit in his chair and wrapped both arms around the child. The King quietly held his heir until Par-shetope returned with a smiling Brualta and the chair. With meticulous care, Evendal settled Kri-estaul in. He draped a sash weighted at both ends across the boy's waist and let the ends dangle through the appropriate holes carved in the chair's backboard.
"No rushing about," Evendal cautioned with a grin. "And no more trampling down my enemies."
Kri-estaul giggled.
Evendal waited until his son stopped looking back at him in uncertainty. Only then did he return his attention to the gentry before him. Behind Siara'keb and Tal'Ulistrien the King noted Urhlysha and directed him to Surn-meddil's vacated seat.
"Lord Tal'Ulistrien. How many years does each of your sisters bear?"
Uncertain as to the cogency of the question, Mohontlen nonetheless answered crisply. "My eldest, Rohirnesh, has two score years. My other sister, Kabrosheh, has a score and ten. Kabrosheh and I were born of our father's second wife."
"You are younger than We thought. Do either of them hunt or ride?"
"Both can. Kabrosheh enjoys both more often than Rohirnesh or I do."
"And how are they provisioned?"
"I do not understand the question, Your Majesty."
"Your father was the former Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
"Bironhyr ald'Menrolek. Yes, Your Majesty."
"How did he provide for whoever would not succeed him?"
"Rohirnesh is Lady Jenelkir but visits often in Tal'Ulistrien. Kabrosheh is recently betrothed of Lord Bloddoen."
The King looked to Karondeo. "It could be either one."
"Or both," Karondeo asserted.
"I do not understand," Mohontlen complained. "You cannot fit my sisters for this mayhem!"
"Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien, I present my companion and spouse, Captain Karondeo lin'Alekrond. Captain Karondeo lin'Alekrond, I present Mohontlen agdh'Bironhyr, Lord Tal'Ulistrien." The King strove to clarify. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, whoever works to kill you, lives among your people. He knows the lay of your canton and is or has someone of great strength. He moved a number of hermes-stones into bog. This person showed skill at either long bow or crossbow and at tracking or hiding in a savannah."
Mohontlen's face turned pink, his eyes again bulging. Evendal ald'Menam's first reaction was annoyance over this man's sensibilities. Then a second, atypical, thought reminded the King that he had a point of reference; he himself had been as defensive, as incredulous, when he finally confronted the perfidy and perversity of the woman he had thought his mother. He had felt under attack. No doubt Mohontlen did now. The audience called for ruthlessness and patience in equal measure.
"A member of your household is culpable. This person was at hand and prepared for your itinerary on those days he tried to accomplish your death. On a day you chose to visit an eremitical indigent, this person knew, and was equipped to move enough stones to serve his purpose -- and could remain unobserved in a level stretch of land. On a day you decided to hunt, this person prepared well beforehand and knew where you habitually hunted." Karondeo's fingers fidgeting drew the King's attention and tardy permission to speak to the issue.
"All of that also suggests an unknown someone with leisure time, and so not a servant or commoner. This unknown threatens to execute you during a public gathering. So he can get physically close, or is familiar to you. You yourself felt this to be so, else you would have borne a cuirass in here, not an emetic against poison."
Mohontlen glanced back and forth between the King and his companion, upset at their reasoning. "Who thinks like this? Do not...! I trust... Surely Your Majesty would not impugn my sisters merely for lack of more accessible culprits!"
"Your plaint is fair and just, Lord Tal'Ulistrien. Let Us not yield to speculation and fancy, but give you a more dependable certainty." As though he were accompanied by whistle and drum(280), Lord Evendal m'Alismogh inhaled deeply, and chanted in a gruff voice.
With song We snare you, hunter bold,
Although your trail be faint and cold.
Behold the quarry you went to kill.
Hunter, breath flows through his body still.
Where are you, who want his life to end?(281)
That death from your efforts We forfend.
Where do you wait for him and why?
Let Our snare reveal you, draw you nigh.
Mohontlen glanced about, gauging the responses of the companions to the King's seemingly witless behaviour. Out of those he had the acquaintance of, Alekrond, Drussilikh, Her Eminence and His Royal Highness perused the room calmly, as if expecting some spectacle or entertainment. The priest at the foot of the table, the hulking Karondeo, and the red-headed youth at Drussilikh's right, fixed their attention on the King. Shenrowyn's daughter, the boy two seats to the left of Her Eminence and the round-bellied man on Drussilikh's left, looked as bewildered as Mohontlen felt. He had hoped for a cohort of Guard to both supplement and interrogate his household staff, or perhaps to patrol his lime. But he did not know what to expect, or what to do, should the Majesty of the Thronelands prove deranged.
The youth opposite the Lord Tinde'keb tugged on Karondeo's sleeve to complain.
"That's not how the song goes!"
"True," the broad-shouldered man responded softly, again ignoring royal propriety. "And what is your brother saying in the changes he made to the lyric?"
After much consideration, the lad replied. "He's trying to find the hunter. Instead of their already talking to each other, like in the original song."
Mohontlen could hardly credit what he just heard. The new King had a brother? He must have overlooked that pronouncement in the ream of papers the Crier had left. As he considered this datum, the Lord Tal'Ulistrien noted the youth indeed had the same cleft in the jaw near his carotid as the King had.
The solidly built seaman, perhaps seeing Mohontlen's bemusement, defied protocol again to address him. "Edrionwytt ald'Menam, I present Mohontlen agdh'Bironhyr Lord Tal'Ulistrien."
"Peace and health to you, Lord Tal'Ulistrien." Edrionwytt mangled the title and ducked his head, mortified.
"And to you, Your Highness. I. I appreciate the kindness, Master Karondeo."
The son of Alekrond shook his head. "I am master of nothing, Lord Tal'Ulistrien, but my ship."
"But you sit at the King's right hand."
Karondeo grinned, his eyes all but magnifying the candle and torch light. "He is my harbour, as I strive to be his."
"Lord Tal'Ulistrien," the King recalled him to attendance. "Do you know these people?"
Backlit by what sun shone through the arrow-slit windows in the front wall, three silhouettes walked toward the King's table. Squinting to make the figures out more clearly, Evendal wondered at the obscuration, in as much as Minfal coming from nearly the same direction had been readily discernible. About four ells from the table, one figure stopped and two continued walking until the King raised his hand, palm outward.
"It is Estwalken. And my sister." Mohontlen answered, shocked and more than a little uneasy. It took a moment for Evendal to filter the patois in the worried man's hurried speech.
Estwalken Lord Jenelkir bowed stiffly, grey eyes busy darting to every element around him. The woman at Estwalken's side struggled to curtsey even as she clung to the Lord Jenelkir.
Lord Evendal contemplated the man his song had brought. The lord of the smallest hold in the Thronelands looked a hard, lean man. His angular face showed no sign that it knew how to smile, and the light grey eyes under their thick brows added to the man's pitiless countenance. His hair was nearly as black as Karondeo's, and swept up and back from his forehead.
"Lord Jenelkir, well met." The King addressed his vassal calmly. "'Twas good of you to answer Our summons. You also, Lady Jenelkir."
Lord Tal'Ulistrien turned from staring at the two subjects. "I beg your indulgence, Your Majesty. The woman at Estwalken's side is not his wife. With much trepidation I present my other sister Kabrosheh." His southern habit of traipsing past consonants came out even more noticeably.
Surprise showed on the King's face. "Our apologies, Mistress Kabrosheh. It seems We are a poor judge of age. Look upon Us, both of you."
The lord complied, expressionless. The woman tilted her head in the semblance of obedience, but kept her eyes shut.
Lord Evendal m'Alismogh grinned, darkly amused. "So. You have heard of Our facility, Mistress Kabrosheh? No matter."
You shall not move, wench, but to breathe,
Until your ruler gives you leave.
M'Alismogh pointed at Lord Jenelkir.
You, Our vassal, shall tell Us the truth,
Fear Our justice or trust in Our ruth.
"You need no compulsion for that, my liege. I am your good vassal and true."
Once again, Evendal knew surprise. The man's assertion was unsolicited. The King's second suspicion, once apprised of the woman's identity, was of a love triangle -- and a furthering of jointly-held ambitions.
"Lord Jenelkir, Lord Tal'Ulistrien has come to Us in concern for his life. Three times an unknown agency has tried to kill him in his own lands. Do you know aught of this?"
"No, Your Majesty. If I knew anything of such a matter, my wife would be the first repository of that intelligence. And Mohontlen would be the second." What made Lord Tal'Ulistrien's rushed speech occasionally difficult to understand gave Lord Jenelkir's measured words a lilt.
The King paused, nonplused. Estwalken, hands extended forward, palms up, tentatively interrupted the King's silence. "Might Your Majesty vouchsafe a summary of those occasions to me? Should they repeat themselves in any particular, I might be more alert and better prepared to safeguard him."
"Why?" Evendal blurted out.
"I do not understand the direction of your question, Your Majesty."
"Your wife's goodwill aside, why would you trouble yourself, and drain your revenues, to protect him?"
Despite the inherently hungry cast to his features, Estwalken's dismay was unmistakable. "He is my neighbour, and my friend. He keeps me in good humour when the Lord Pranno thinks of my land as his principality. He is...He is the younger brother I wish I had had."
The King nodded his acceptance of the answer. "Last spring, as Lord Tal'Ulistrien was visiting a solitary homestead encompassed by marsh, someone altered the placement of stones he used to guide himself through safely. Twice, the Lord Tal'Ulistrien almost succumbed to the mire's grip before he gained terra firma."
Lord Jenelkir's black brows changed the shape of his gimlet eyes as they rose. His head slowly twisted to his side and he gazed for a long tense moment at his companion. Kabrosheh had let go of him, but refused to return Estwalken's glare; he could not tell if her eyes were closed again or if she stared at the floor beneath her feet.
Estwalken swiveled his head back and forth between his king and his neighbor lord. "Your. Your Majesty. Mohontlen! I. I. Forgive me. I beg of you. Forgive me."
"For what, Esti? Oh. My apologies, Your Majesty."
The King waved that breach of protocol aside. "Answer him, Lord Jenelkir. For what do you need forgiveness?" This had become the strangest interview he had conducted, one over which he seemed to have little command.
"Last spring, during a lull in the rains, Kabi...er, Kabrosheh visited me and asked my help. I toppled some stones, then carted them to places she designated."
Evendal waited, but when the Lord Jenelkir remained mute he prodded. "Tal'Ulistrien has many sturdy citizens, doubtless willing to help the sister of their liege in labours legitimate or otherwise. Did it not seem strange that she accosted you for such an enterprise?"
"She was my friend. I have always thought of her as my friend. She told me as she would be leaving soon, to marry, she wanted to tend to a stretch of land that had long annoyed Mohontlen. A plot of marsh that he had been promising to drain for years...There is such a place. Mohontlen has mentioned it before."
"But it is not anywhere near that crofter!" Lord Tal'Ulistrien exclaimed.
The King raised his hand to halt any further speech. "Nevermind the Lord Tal'Ulistrien's understandable outburst, Lord Jenelkir. You said `a plot of marsh that he had wanted drained.' Re-placing boundary-markers to where they will be of future use sounds a tedious labour."
Estwalken nodded. "She insisted that, since Mohontlen... Er, since her brother had been extraordinarily patient with her hysteric reaction to her betrothal, she wanted to do something invaluable for him. And, wanted to keep it a secret until the wedding, she hoped to employ willing helpers he would not have much chance of meeting in his daily rounds."
The King took a breath, shifted in his chair, and wrapped his next question in a gentle tone. "Did you dig, or help to dig, three pits in your friends' land?"
The Lord Jenelkir nodded, his distress evident in the rigidity of his carriage. "Last Koffut-mor,(282) to catch a baboon that had turned killer. One that had Mohontlen's citizens too frightened to hunt him. It took a few days."
Evendal turned briefly to Mohontlen. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
"A rumour got started about such an animal. Two years ago. It did agitate some tenants, but turned out to be a child's scare. This does not make any sense to me."
"Lord Jenelkir, who asked you to intervene in the concern of another's domain?"
Shaking his head in disbelief and pain, Estwalken forced two hard breaths before answering.
"Kabrosheh."
With a suddenly caustic timbre, Evendal demanded, "Did she ask you to practise archery with her this last Dru-stal?"
"No, Your Majesty. I heard nothing of the baboon being killed. And I heard nothing more from Kabrosheh afterwards."
"Tarry awhile, Lord Jenelkir," the King bade. "Mistress Kabrosheh, speak with Us from your truth."
Kabrosheh's voice had a pleasant, raspy quality. "What would you, Majesty?"
"Look on Us and tell us true and clear. Did you plot to kill your brother?"
The woman complied. "No. I love my brother."
Momentarily confounded, Evendal m'Alismogh thought on the wording of his own question and tried again. "What result did you hope for in having those stones moved?"
Jaw straining, Kabrosheh nonetheless answered. "For the bog to weaken Mohontlen, and Your Majesty to invest me with the care of my home." The woman stuck a small, calloused hand in her mouth.
"Lower that errant hand. And what was your goal in having the three pits dug and brutal stakes emplaced?"
"That my brother would run afoul of one."
Evendal was getting irritated with her spare answers. "Why?" He kept his brassy-eyed gaze fixed on her muddy grey one. "Speak the truth freely from your heart and head."
The younger daughter of Bironhyr had been sweating since Lord Jenelkir first begged forgiveness. The chill that thwarted the active hearths in the huge room was not the only cause for her shivering. "In hopes that he would be found too late, survive too damaged to serve as lord. Then Your Majesty would invest me with the care of my home."
"Who fired arrows at Mohontlen?"
"I did. Time was flying. I could not wait much longer."
"What did you have planned for him today?"
Tears dragged their way down around her cheeks, but her voice came out steady. "Cosh him over the head. Later tonight, in our Osedys residence. Roll him onto a rug, drag it outside to a dark corner of Gentry Row, unstring his purse and leave a few kypri lying around. All will think my brother suffered from a thief or cutpurse angry at his poor take. Then Your Majesty would require that I attend to my own home."
Evendal grinned grimly; a mere stretching of the lips. "But you do not seek your brother's death?" Mockery drenched his tone.
"No, Majesty." Kabrosheh swallowed hard. "How can you do this? You. You are terrible!"
"Yes. Why did you employ Lord Jenelkir for two of your attempts?"
"For the reason I gave him. I wanted to do something to Mohontlen. And to keep it a secret I needed to employ willing helpers Mohontlen would not have much chance of meeting."
The King was not satisfied. "Why else did you employ Lord Jenelkir?"
"Nnn." Kabrosheh struggled against the compulsion. "Have you no pity?"
"Yes, We do: You yet breathe." The King leaned forward. "Speak your heart. All of it, not just the acceptable parts."
"Because he all but kisses my brother's ass in his worship of Mohontlen. Had the pit or the bog succeeded, I could then honestly say I did not harm my brother. But Estwalken would broadcast himself as the one responsible for his friend's injury. And he and my sister would also have to deal with me as an adult, as their equal. Finally."
"You have been an adult for sixteen years."
"I have no proof of that," the woman spat.
"Explain yourself, and do not stint." M'Alismogh commanded, though aware that this woman was not one to chatter under any compulsion.
Kabrosheh lifted her right fist in the air and counted items off, raising a finger for each one. "Mother related to everyone how beautiful a baby Ro was at her Naming. How difficult it was to find the right decorations, how the ceremony moved her to tears. The same for my brother's Naming. Father spared no expense for his first son. I was Named as one of a dozen children, in a rite neither of my parents found noteworthy or memorable at all.
"Dear Ro and Mohontlen yet wear their silver name-medallions. Mine was never made. `It was a tough year, dearling. Maybe next year we can commission one. We'll see.' Every year I heard the same cow-dung about it.
"Ro gets a fine-blooded palfrey as her own. Mohontlen has a gorgeous roan. I was allowed to train on the oldest beast we had, and allowed to choose from whatever plow-horses were being retired!
"Ro gets contracted to the boy she has panted after since she started to bleed. Mohontlen is free to graze where he wills. I am consigned to what our father arranged during a night's gambling."
Evendal thought, `And I have to deal with the mess your family created.' "Has your brother been derelict in his duties?"
"No."
"Then why do you act so desperately to inherit?"
"I am to be wed soon. Will she, nill she."
"Do you want this marriage?"
Kabrosheh's face turned an unbecoming shade. "What is this? Someone finally thinks to actually ask after my wants, and it is a stranger! I have been chatelaine since before our father died. It is a task I have enjoyed, do well at, and would continue in. From early on I protested against the need to continue our father's marriage plan and the answer was always the same. My...siblings echoed one another. `Why? Housekeepers are common, but not everyone gets to run a canton. Because you don't want to is not reason enough. Besides, you admitted how you like Lord Bloddoen.' The answer behind their answers was that I was acting the slow and stubborn child. I have thirty years, and they only ever see me as a child! When they see me at all!"
"Having asked you, We would desire that you answer Us."
"No. I do not want to wed Lord Bloddoen."
Jenelkir expostulated. "But Kabi, all we wanted was to see you kept in the manner..."
"We did not give you leave to address another," Evendal snapped. "And We expect that this young woman is tired of being `kept'."
"Yes, Majesty." Kabrosheh admitted. As she looked to say more, the King waited on her.
"If Brat...Mohontlen had died. If I had killed him, I would have ridden here. For judgement. Straightly." And everything Evendal m'Alismogh could employ told him that she believed what she was saying, that a great deal of too well-disciplined emotion and will impelled the simple declaration. Indeed she appeared surprised at her own profession.
"How important is Tal'Ulistrien to you, young lady?"
"It is my home."
Evendal huffed. "The Palace has always been Our home. That does not mean We don't wish Ourself far away from memories it holds for Us. But you spoke of your hope that We would invest you with the care of your home. You are indeed the older sister. Lady Jenelkir has disavowed all ties of obligation and blood in wedding another lord. As you would have to were you to wed a manourlord. Do you yourself want primacy?"
"I. I do not know," was her immediate reaction, but one swiftly substituted. "No. Mohontlen is better with the land and the renters. I am best with matters of the hearth. And healing. It was only that...I saw no other way to avoid this contract and..." The sob that escaped suggested terror. Evendal was reminded of Aldul.
The King leaned forward. "Take a full breath, Mistress Kabrosheh, then try again."
"I saw no other way to expunge that marriage. I could reason, shout, scream, argue. No one saw an adult talking. And what kind of wife or Lady would I be, wholly resenting a life I did not choose."
Evendal slapped his hand against the armrest. "We just recalled one further mitigator in your crimes. You were obliged by more than the smothering ties of kinship, weren't you? We had forgotten that the walking Abacus bound and loosed all gentry in matrimony. He sanctioned your marriage, and allowed no cause to disallow it. Correct?"
"Yes, Majesty." Kabrosheh looked around. "Do you imply that you do not exercise that same authority?"
The King waved a hand dismissively. "'Tis a power We exercise by permitting the candidates to do so, rather than relying on Our own ignorant impulses."
Kabrosheh gathered herself up and spoke with steadying care. "Then would Your Majesty, of your magnanimity, adjudicate specifically on the legitimacy of the Lord Protector's Proclamation of Union between Bloddoen and Tal'Ulistrien?"
"You forget, Mistress, that you confront Us now over malicious acts that render the wedding a dried husk of a fancy. Besides, We see no need to peruse documents that are essentially irrelevant. Having uncovered the depth of your feelings about this coerced union, We can only confirm you in your authority to nullify it. There will be no joining of the Lord of Bloddoen with the spinster sister of the Lord of Tal'Ulistrien."
Before Kabrosheh could respond, the King continued with a seeming non-sequitur. "Tell Us, Mistress. How did you mask the three pits?"
It took the lady a moment to rally. "The summer had been nearly rainless. I had Lord Jenelkir's people haul some type of browned palm leaf. And at all three places were these dead trees with dried foliage intact. It was no trouble to uproot them or tear the limbs from the trunk, as though they had been lightning-struck."
"Did not the weight of the palm fronds cause the brittle tree limbs to break?"
"I positioned the heavier...fronds? I placed the heavier fronds just over the edges of the pits, bound them to older thriving trees, and covered the twine."
Again Evendal nodded. "And that is how you can say that you truly did not, and do not, seek your brother's death."
"I do not understand, Your Majesty," a wild-eyed, damp-cheeked Mohontlen cried. "Did I not impart to you three attempts on my life by her?"
"Yes. Lord Tal'Ulistrien, who placed those stones in their original arrangement?"
"Our father did. With Kabrosheh."
Evendal expected as much. "Your sister struggled against each attempt she made to gain her liberty." Mohontlen flinched at the last word. "Success meant freedom, autonomy, recognition. Success also meant murdering you. Killing someone she loved and had guided out of childhood. You have spent over twenty years of your life mucking about in savanna and mire. Mistress Kabrosheh counted on that in her stone-shifting. Likewise, had you not had your rope fortuitously in place, she anticipated you grabbing one of the palm fronds she had set out for you. And had she wanted her liberty more than your life, you would now be a pincushion securing her arrows."
"So is she the message writer?"
The King could not resist a fast glance over the lordling's shoulder. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, now that you know your attacker, do We truly need to reveal who it was sought only to warn you?" The King's tone made it clear what answer he expected from his vassal.
Mohontlen did not feel particularly foolhardy. "No, Your Gracious Majesty."
"Lord Tal'Ulistrien, your sister worked to disable you, disenfranchise you, placed you in mortal danger. Regardless of a miscreant's rank or station, the royal judgement for that constellation of crimes has always been death. Is that acceptable to you?"
Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien contemplated Kabrosheh, hardly able encompass the truth that she had tried to kill him. No matter what details the King considered significant, she had manipulated to arrange his death.
His long familiarity with the conditions of his land did not, alone, insure his survival in the quagmire. Had the predominant vegetation not been a tenacious and prolific creeper-vine, he would have died.
Likewise with the pit-traps. Just before the forest detritus gave way, he could and did wrap the rope around his hand, which is what kept him from losing his grip at the sudden and surprise demand of gravity. He would not have been able to do the same with a palm frond.
"Yes." Mohontlen heard himself say.
The King raised his voice. "And how do you see the matter, Lady Jenelkir? Do you agree with your younger brother? Please come and speak with us."
The woman, standing behind her brother at the traditional distance of the unacknowledged, approached on being questioned. Both Mohontlen and Kabrosheh looked more bone and sinew than muscle and flesh; Rohirnesh, however, shared none of those characteristics. With fine hips, noticeable bosom, and hair and eyes an unusual brown, Rohirnesh sported no cosmetic yet still drew the eye. She curtseyed as though she had nothing else to do with her day. Then, when Rohirnesh stood and looked at Evendal, he understood anew Kabrosheh's anger, envy and frustration.
Before him waited the uncontestable mate to Estwalken Lord Jenelkir. Indifferent to her looks, aware but indifferent to their effect, with the gravitas of one used to responsibility and a look of quiet sadness in the cast of her features. All this the King comprehended immediately and knew, almost to the last word, what the noble woman would say when given the chance. Evendal declined his head in permission.
"I stood ready to respond to or forget what I could hear of your counsels, Your Majesty. And I could hear all."
"That was Our intent, gracious Lady. How do you think the Throne should act?"
"As Your Majesty sees fit. The Royal family in Osedys was ever known for Justice."
"That was true, Lady Jenelkir. But the interregnum has appeared to shorten some memories."
"Unlike my forgetful brother, I can think back and recall the too many times Kabi was told or expected to sacrifice what made her happy. She never embarrassed herself, never tried to match the excessive protests and dumb shows our brother made when disappointed, though I knew she hurt. I myself hope Your Majesty permits Mercy a voice of some weight."
"We do not cast lark before dogs(283), Lady Jenelkir," Evendal protested. "Why would We offer clemency who shows no remorse and vows no repentance?"
"I know I did wrong." Kabrosheh insisted. "I know that only Ir's, and Your Majesty's, intercession have kept me from life and death as a kinslayer."
"And so? What does that mean for you? You had any number of other choices, Mistress. You could have left the Thronelands. Or you could have contracted with a guild. Then any conflict over your nuptials would have been fought by your masters. You could have dealt directly with the Lord Bloddoen, let him know without excuse that the bride was not willing. Do you know why you chose as you did?"
"No! I just know I felt strangled. Ignored like a tapestry on the wall. Or treated like a Cinqet oaf."
"Very passionate, Mistress," Evendal judged. "I ask again. Do you know what pushed you and what pulled you?"
"I suppose I... I don't know."
"Yes you do. And if you value your life, you will admit that why to Us. Here. A third time We ask. Why did you choose to lead your brother into deadliest danger, put a lethal trap in his way, and play a mortal game of chance with the wind, your marksmanship, and his life?"
"Because he was our `silver sweetling'! My sister watched over us. I watched over him. She got the pretty gifts and was more comely. But she worked hard, just as I did. He not only could do nothing wrong, he could do nothing! Now we are all adults and the only reason he won't heed me is because of the betrothal agreement: gifts, monies, and trade-contracts. As if the Lord Bloddoen is any better off than we are!"
"Peace. We know to the last kypri how little Bloddoen has." The King turned back to a wider-eyed Mohontlen. "This is an old wound you have poured salt over, Lord Tal'Ulistrien. And a willing ear on your part would have circumvented much trouble."
"It has degenerated into family concerns, Your Majesty."
"Between adult nobles, Lord Tal'Ulistrien, and so is Our concern. Do you not see? You created this danger that you barely survived."
"How could I..."
"Don't whine, you silly bleater!" Rohirnesh snapped. "Your Majesty is wise. I fear Kabi has always been the little girl I helped dress, in my mind. I never saw her as a woman when she needed me to. And Mohontlen has always seemed the wide-eyed raggle-taggle to be indulged. Now there is no one to gainsay him."
"You make it sound as though your brother were some spoiled brat. We find instead a stubborn man. One whose sister has changed drastically before his eyes this day. A comfortable illusion has vanished. Kabrosheh has indeed gainsaid him in a way he cannot stomach, but he has not responded as a thwarted prat might."
"One point out of many that Kabi won't think to mention, Your Majesty: This betrothal has been pending for eight years. And two years ago, Kabi did flee."
The King bowed his head and sighed. "Let Us anticipate you: Polgern went after her and brought her back."
"Yes," Rohirnesh blinked a few times in surprise. "Your Majesty. How did you know?"
"Because an untested and green Tal'Ulistrien, linked to Bloddoen and to Jenelkir, would be a strong ally to have obligated to him."
Rohirnesh lifted an eyebrow and nodded in a realisation. "Your Majesty, have you ever engaged the Lord Bloddoen in extended discussion?"
"No, Lady Jenelkir. Why?"
"You will find, once you grant yourself that pleasure, that the current Lord Bloddoen has...a very accommodating manner and the memory of a cat."
The King grinned at the lady's delicacy. "So he is something of a weathervane. Any petition to him would gain Mistress Kabrosheh instant concession that would last only so long as she was in the same room as he. And in a period of public rapine, he would be no support."
"As you say, Your Majesty."
He looked back upon Kabrosheh. "You did not appeal to any guilds, did you."
"I did not dare, Your Majesty."
The King nodded, beginning to comprehend this woman's mettle. He appreciated that unless goaded, she was not one for excuses; or manipulating others' emotions. "That was wise. Forgive Us for assuming your actions precipitous. They were unlawful, they were arrogant, but they were not rash. You gambled with another's life, a life you had no right to. We shall have to think on the punishment most mete. It shall not come to pass today."
The King looked at the four before him and paused pointedly for a breath. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
"Your Majesty?"
"We trust that We have provided some succour, and done what We can to safeguard you as Our pledge requires."
Mohontlen but glanced at his attacker. "To both my relief and my sorrow, you have, Your Majesty."
Evendal straightened in his seat. "Mistress Kabrosheh, having served as chatelaine for your family, have you tended the sick and infirm?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Our parents."
"And did you do or give aught to them that sped them into Death's embrace? Did you fail to act in their welfare, and so hurry the bell of their death?"
Kabrosheh hung her head, stung by the fitness of the query. "No, Your Majesty."
"Hear then, Our tentative judgement. Tentative only because of the rough setting. What you did for your parents is what you shall do again as one expression of remorse. The woman who fell into the pit of your making shall have you as her servant and carer. And she had best survive, and thrive, from your care. You are to tend her and, should she permit it, her baby. If she has a spouse, you are to attend him. Their limits are that they cannot abuse you, except verbally, cannot overburden you or demand you labour more hours than they do, nor ask labour of you unrelated to the duties of housekeeper, healer's apprentice, or chatelaine.
"One of Our Guard shall reside at the Keep and daily take down report of you, your condition, your victim's condition -- all relevant circumstance -- and forward those to Us.
"Should the report be favourable in the main, We shall consider offering you the position of Chief Steward here. You will be free to accept or refuse Our offer then.
"Lord and Lady Jenelkir, you have Our leave at any time hence. Lord Tal-Ulistrien, within the next two days be so kind as to inform the unfortunate invalid what help is hers once she leaves the Temple. Mistress Kabrosheh, you shall first visit this woman at the Temple-grounds and make yourself and your culpability in her plight known to her. Then you may return to Tal'Ulistrien and you alone shall see that all the mutilation that you have made to the land is rectified, and those stakes burned if they are not already. You and Lord Tal'Ulistrien have Our leave also."
Lord and Lady Jenelkir, along with Kabrosheh, stepped back. Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien did not move. "Your Majesty, I am not satisfied. My sister gets upset and decides to kill me, and you give her almswork. My dearest friend abets her, and you do nothing! What about me? She tried to kill me! And you expect me to let her back under my roof?"
"Yes, she did. Yes, We do. And yes, We penalise people who attempt killing, and so We shall do with her. But giving death for her attempts is not equitable. What do you anticipate We should do against Lord Jenelkir?"
"Fine him. Challenge him as to who truly incited whom? My sister was never so eager for me. Someone had to have poured such venom in her ear as led her to this."
The King raised a hand to halt Mohontlen's further protest. He sat gazing steadily at the intense and sincere countenance. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, We have done what We will do! Lord Jenelkir will not give a different answer merely because you wish one. We shall not fine him; in this series of events he is an innocent. But We may fine you."
"Me? I am the victim here, Your Majesty!"
"'Were' the victim. Now you manufacture lies against your best ally and attack him publicly because We have not satisfied your outrage against your sister. Only the rabid and the unhinged, when frustrated, savage everyone in sight.
"Mohontlen," Evendal m'Alismogh began. The lesser lord frowned at the familiarity. "Mohontlen, you heard what We dredged from your sister's heart; anger and accusation she never expected would pass her lips, never manifest. True? Did you ever conceive of a circumstance in which you would deny your oldest companion? Yet here you have done so, after We have laid out his blamelessness for you. What would We hear were We to question you in the same manner?"
"Your Majesty?" Mohontlen looked puzzled. The King granted him time to think. That grace effected no change. "Your Majesty, I am the injured party here," he insisted.
"But not the only one, despite your delusion otherwise."
"As the head of the family, and lord of the Tal'Ulistrien, can I not arrange demesne and family matters as I will?"
Evendal shook his head. "Were Kabrosheh yet a child, yes. She is not. Though listed as a resident of your land, your authority is limited with regard to her." Mohontlen scowled. "So, you do not like being told you cannot do as you will?"
"No. Your Majesty."
"No more did Kabrosheh." Evendal saw how Mohontlen did not like the comparison. "We cannot concern Ourself overmuch whether you manage a rapprochement with your sister. But as he is your neighbor, We do intercede for Lord Jenelkir."
Lord Tal'Ulistrien frowned. "I am unmoved by protestations of his ignorance toward Kabrosheh's motives. Her campaign for spinsterhood had been so single-minded, how could he not have been suspicious of her volte-faci?"
"Shall We talk then about your own motives, Lord Tal'Ulistrien? Or your own campaign?"
Mohontlen's eyes bulged once more. "Your Majesty?"
"Dare We ask you what seeded your ambition, your eagerness for her marriage? Or ask of your wages for its accomplishment?"
"Kabrosheh's future and prosperity!"
Evendal grinned. "We have not asked you as yet. You have seen what passes when We do raise questions. The truth will out. Do you want your own actions, and their motives, unearthed?" The King tilted his head in consideration. "Who would be the injured party then?"
Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien's skin looked translucent.
"We have asked you questions enough already that you have not answered, lord. Do you want your motives and ambitions unveiled to your sisters?"
"No. I don't know. Have I deceived myself, Your Majesty?"
Evendal nodded. "Yes and no."
"That is no answer, my lord."
"Your decision to honour your father's arrangement served more than one want. Your desire to see your sister prosper, and yourself prosper, was genuine. So was your need to mimic your father, to be seen making such painful decisions as a manourlord makes. The contract was indeed a painful decision -- but not painful for you. A child's spite, your spite, flavoured all of it. Strongest was the desire to be undisputed, unchallenged, and free of both sisters' influence. You were ridding yourself of your last nursemaid. And tying your people to the nearest large source of untainted lake-water. Taken altogether you were buying your manhood and a measure of prosperity with your sister. Like your sister you gambled with another's life, a life you had no right to."
"Shall We disclose what motivates your sudden attempt at libel? `Tis pathetic, lord. Unworthy."
The Lord Tal'Ulistrien opened his mouth to declaim his virtue, then, seeing nothing of fury or glee in the King's countenance, finally suspected that the King was not attacking him. The questions were genuine and the King would persist until the Lord Tal'Ulistrien eschewed any fury at the Lord Jenelkir. Mohontlen knew his rage as misdirected, petty, but still felt betrayed. "I pressed for the union for the good of those in my care."
"For the good of all but one in your care. One who had spent the coinage of her youth caring for you. Do not tar and scar one who loves you and would have calmly taken the arrows you were helpless to halt."
"Your. Your Majesty is wise. And patient. I would that I could banish what I have already said in anger against my friend."
"He waits behind you to plead for your kind regard." The King raised his hand. "Make no mistake: Your sister has lessons, the learning of which shall serve as punishments satisfactory to the hardest heart. We do not assume, removed from the unique goads of the bonds of family, that Kabrosheh will suddenly choose emotional abnegation over against hurting another. But We know, better than you, what she by her nature does not think to reveal. Had she accomplished her desire, she would not have let herself live long."
As Evendal had expected, even the suggestion of indirect self-destruction was enough to make Mohontlen shy from his previous harping for retribution. "Again, I do not understand. I fear you think me..."
The King interrupted. "We think you Our good vassal, and no less honourable a man than any other here. No man, or woman, ever treats family justly. At least not in Our admittedly poisoned experience.
"Were the marriage her invention, then she would be obliged to pay you back for gifts sent to Bloddoen. Yes, she owes for her attacks upon you, for destroying your serenity. But as you did lay the whole matter out for Us to plumb, We shall determine and demand whatever price she is to pay. Now go and think on the fact that your life is safer than it was when you walked in here."
(278) The Latin noun 'limes' had a number of different meanings: a path or balk delimiting fields, a boundary line or marker, any road or path, any channel, such as a stream channel, or any distinction or difference. Hence it was utilized by Latin writers to denote marked or fortified frontiers. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limes.
(279) Rod: Saxon 'gyrd' measuring stick, might have been from 20 "natural feet". Retained its length but redefined as 16-1/2 Roman feet after 1066A.D.
(280) ~Traditional signal-makers in Hramal hunting.
(281) ~M'Alismogh, not knowing how many involved themselves, alternates between 2nd person singular and plural.
(282) ~ Originally Kohukt-mor - Dog-height': roughly corresponds with August, called Dog-Height' for much the same reason we speak of `the dog-days'.
(283) Similar to casting pearls before swine. Lark is an old delicacy, and dogs would eat it in indifference.