"Here, Captain!" I called back.
"No!”
I stared at Slevoic, tasting his sudden terror bitter across the back of my tongue as he stared over my shoulder. My horse danced, pulling against the reins as he too felt the intense fright of the man. Surprised, I moved so that I could see what was coming down the street while keeping an eye on the Vicious, but it was only my captain leading troopers. I shot a quick glance at Basel, but he hadn't moved and now stood with raised head, looking as puzzled as a ghost stag could.
I looked back at the lieutenant again. Even with the scare Suiden gave him that morning at the embassy, Slevoic's reaction was extreme, sweat pouring down his colorless face, his hands shaking. Then memory burst upon me of how I was when I started to come into my power. "Oh, hell—”
"No! Keep away!" Slevoic howled, raising Pru Oak's body just as Suiden drew even with me, and I could see Pru's eyes—black pits in her screaming face.
Get down! the wind said.
Get down, Rabbit! I heard Laurel bellow.
"Duck!" I shouted as I slammed down along my horse's neck. My pommel caught me in the stomach, hard, knocking my breath out of me, and it grew dark as I tried to suck in air. I swallowed, this time a metallic taste filling my mouth. A roaring filled the street and I vaguely heard screams and horses galloping off.
Whatever had just happened, I thought, it was not good.
I lay wheezing in my saddle as I was led out of the side street back into the square, my eyesight still dim with sudden flashes of light, the metallic taste strong in my mouth. Once we reached the square, Jusson took one look at my face and told me to go inside Flavan House. I did not argue, even when I was made to lie on a couch in a room off an enclosed atrium filled with bright, twittering birds. I closed my eyes, the butterflies settling on my head.
After a while my breathing became easier and when I heard a commotion outside the room, I sat up. The door flung open and the king entered, followed by Captain Thadro, his Own, Lord Esclaur, and Captains Javes and Suiden. Jeffen, who was sitting guard, and Basel, who hovered in the corner in his man form, jumped to attention.
"So you're saying that you don't know what happened?" Jusson asked. He had cleaned the blood off his face, the thin cut along his cheekbone already scabbed over.
"No, Your Majesty," Suiden replied. "I had followed Lieutenant Rabbit and found him and Trooper Jeffen facing off against Slevoic and a small detachment of rebels. The moment I arrived, though, Rabbit yelled 'Duck.'" A wry smile crossed his face. "I've learned, Your Majesty, that in battle it's not wise to ask questions when someone shouts an imperative. I ducked.”
There was muted laughter, and a smile flitted across the king's face.
"When I came up again," Suiden said, "parts of the street were scorched and Slevoic and the rest were gone.”
"I see," Jusson said. He walked over to the couch and looked down at me. "And you, cousin? Are you well? Your color is better.”
"Yes, sire," I said. "I'm well." I stood, a little loath to be sitting while the king was standing. Except for some wobbliness in my legs, everything seemed to be working fine.
"Good." He grabbed Jeff's chair and sat down, waving me back to my seat on the couch. "Then perhaps you can tell us what happened.”
"Slevoic is starting to come into his power, Your Majesty," I said.
A bird chirped and then fell silent.
"Define 'power,'" Jusson said.
"He's mage-born, same as me, sire, and he's going through what I just did." I looked at Suiden and Javes. "Only three people didn't translate in the embassy, sirs. Me, the healer, and Slevoic." I cast a wary glance at Jusson. "I'm not calling the honored healer a mage, but she probably has some talent." I indicated the butterflies and braid. "You know what I am. So what does that make Slevoic?”
"Sorcerer," Jeff said, staring at me. "You called him a sorcerer.”
"He wears dragon skin and carries a death staff, Jeff. With his, uhm, bent, it's not a wholesome combination." I felt the resistance, the refusal to believe that a member of a Great House could be something so foul. "What would you call him if his hauberk was human skin and his standard attached to human bones?"
"That's different—" Thadro began.
"No, it's not. Sir. They were people." I looked back at Jusson. "Even before this"—I waved at my hair again— "happened, I didn't want to be anywhere near the staff or hauberk, warded or not. Neither did anyone else—Trooper Ryson even avoided them. Slevoic is wearing one, has attached his House's device to another—and it probably gives him great pleasure.”
"Pain always did," Javes said. "But doesn't he have to chew those mentha leaves the Faena cat gave you?”
"He could survive without them, sir." I shrugged. "But mentha leaves are easy to get—I've seen them growing wild. He should have no problem finding them."
"But he doesn't know—" Javes began.
"Groskin, sir. I'm sure that Slevoic knows all about it.”
"All right," Javes conceded. "But he still has to figure out what's happening to him.”
"He knows, sir," I said, sighing. "I called him a sorcerer to his face.”
Jusson sat still for a moment; then his eyes focused on my face. "A sorcerer, loose in my kingdom." He saw my look and his mouth twisted. "I've sent out searchers into the City, and have men at the gates, but not only did Slevoic grow up here, he was stationed here too. I'm sure he knows who is open to a little judicious bribing."
Or to a little judicious terror, I thought.
The king's mouth quirked further. "The evil they have accused you of being, Rabbit, they themselves have become. I'm sure His Holiness the Patriarch could do a sermon or two about that." He sighed and stood.
"I suppose we should take the rabble outside back to the royal compound. But, before I leave"—the king's smile became real—"I want to see where this infamous party took place. Teram was always over the top.” Esclaur and I did the honors, but the interior of Flavan House looked normal in the daylight, with no trace of skulls, toadstools or poisoned wine. I led the way to the courtyard, as Esclaur's recollection at that point was very hazy, and I showed Jusson where the lordling had collapsed. As I reenacted the fight between me and the five assassins, Suiden squatted down on his heels as he studied the ground. "Here," he said as he pointed out shoe and boot prints in the soft dirt and crushed grass.
"Do not worry, Captain Prince," Jusson said. "I believed Rabbit the first time he told me." The king turned and walked back towards the house, his entourage trailing behind him. "And a body was found early this morning in the river—unfortunately not an uncommon event. It was weighted, but the river patrollers had orders to search the usual favored spots. It was also tongueless and had a stab wound that matched Rabbit's knife.”
Everyone in the house had been herded out into the street to stand in the middle of the square. The king remounted his horse and sat facing Teram, who had a rough bandage around his hand. Behind him were the witnesses, mercenaries, turncoat troopers and archers, and a crowd of servants. A guard (who looked an awful lot like the majordomo twins) read from a list of charges that had been penned at Teram's own desk, his loud voice echoing in the square. Teram said nothing as the guard intoned about attempted abduction, poison, cudgels, broken swords and, of course, treason, but his head flew up when the guard got to the spiders.
"Fifteen Pale Deaths?" His eyes were wide in horror. "I did not!"
Rebellion, regicide and kinslaying he had no problem with, but apparently the weavers were a bit much.
"Slevoic," Javes said.
"Yes, he's mine," Suiden said, flames leaping in his eyes.
"No, ours, Captain Prince," Jusson said as the charges were nailed to Flavan House's front gate. "We are king and so we have first dibs." He reached out his hand to receive a copy of the charges, and passed it to a lordling. "See that this is posted throughout the City and all of Iversterre." He looked back at Teram, holding his gaze. "Also see that the tale is told of how our cousin, Lieutenant Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan, stood in the Witness Circle and it burned bright as the sun as he swore to uphold this king and this kingdom. As it was in the days of old, when the real Locival and his companions rode, bringing justice to the realm." Jusson's smile was not pleasant. "Now that the Circle has come alive again, we are so looking forward to seeing how you fare there, Teram ibn Flavan e Dru.”
We posted guards at the house entrances, then loaded the wounded, the very young, and the infirm into some carts, and the dead into others, and moved out of the square. I looked out over the mass of people walking, noting that Teram's wife Isalde was absent, and wondered if that was deliberate or just a lucky break.
We soon reached the bridge over the moat, and the brambles were just as thick and thorny as when we had left. Basel pranced up to the bridge and immediately the tangle parted, leaving a wide gap for us to go through. "Show-off," I said as I went past. He ignored me as he struck a pose, antlers held high, only to have the prisoners pitch a fit as they took in the ghost—apparently for the first time.
"See?" screamed Teram. "See? I told you he was an evil sorcerer! Look! Necromancy!” A trooper reached over and slapped him on the head, and he stopped midshriek, his mouth hanging open at a common horse soldier daring to assault his exalted person. I watched as the realization sank in that there was nothing he could do about it. The trooper prodded Lord Teram with his foot and he stumbled forward, all protestations gone.
It was a rowdy bunch that swept up the stairs into the palace. There were catcalls, rude jokes and noises as we laughed at finding ourselves alive at the end of a battle. Lord Commander Thadro immediately separated our prisoners, sending Teram down to the dungeons, instructing the mercenaries and turncoat troopers to be moved to the garrison stockade "to make room," and directing the rest to gentler but just as secure quarters.
"Put all the children in the palace nursery with their mothers," King Jusson said, pulling his hauberk hood down and sighing in relief at the breeze. "But post guards.”
It was a pared down, but just as noisy group that followed the king into the throne room—only to fall silent as we came face to face with (guessing from his big hat and vestments) Patriarch Pietr standing near the rune circle. Next to him were Archdoyen Obruesk and Doyen Allwyn. The doyen had his head shaved and was wearing white penitent sacking. But I barely noticed that because my attention was riveted on what the patriarch and doyen carried in their arms.
"No." My legs gave way and I sank to my knees.
"No." Laurel, standing behind them, yowled with me in pain and grief as my eyes closed out the sight.
"Open your eyes, Lieutenant, or I swear I'll pin them open for you!"
They flew open to meet Captain Suiden's molten green ones glaring down at me. "This is not the time for moaning and swooning, do you hear me?" He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet.
The patriarch walked forward a couple of paces, a little awkwardly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but we"—he inclined his head to include Allwyn—"came for the meeting with Ambassador Laurel, only to hear of the insurrection you had to put down." He shifted the burden in his arms, bells tinkling. "Is all well?” King Jusson threw me a sideways glance, then looked over at Laurel who was lamenting softly. "It was until now."
"Then the audience is going forward?”
The king cast us another look. "We think we'd better, Your Holiness.” The patriarch nodded and he and Doyen Allwyn laid their burdens on the rune circle, making sure they all were straight. Archdoyen Obruesk watched them from under his brows.
I walked over and squatted down beside the circle. Laurel, still lamenting, followed.
"When Doyen Allwyn arrived, I had him enter into three days of purification and sanctification," the patriarch said. "When his time was accomplished, it occurred to us that perhaps we should search the See." He sighed and removed his hat, showing that his head was also shaved. He began to undo his vestments, revealing white underneath. "We found these staves." He laid his hat and vestments aside, standing there in penitent sacking. "I take it that they're what we thought they were." He looked at Laurel.
"Doyen Allwyn was reluctant to name who'd given him his staff, Ambassador, because it came from me.”
Though the most common was oak, a church staff could be made from any hardwood, the idea being that it wasn't the wood that made the staves holy, but rather what they represented: the guidance, comfort, and protection of God. The thought floated across the back of my mind that these were more likely to cause nightmares, as I reached out and almost touched a staff made of ash. "Honor Ash Faena."
"You knew—her?" Jusson asked.
"She strode the area around my parents' farm." I held my head in my hands. "How could you've not known, Laurel Faena?”
"I've been gone a long time, Lord Rabbit," the Faena replied. "It took me months just to find you."
"We weren't lost that long, cat," I said.
"Did you ever tell anyone where you were?”
He was right. I had kept where I was to myself, hiding. I lifted my head and looked around at Basel's body and the spritewood before us, weariness pressing down.
"I'd come to see if I could stop a war, honored king," Laurel said, standing up. "But I don't think I can."
The Faena rumbled deep in his chest. "How it grieves me that I can't.
"Never say never, Ambassador Faena," Jusson said, his voice soft. "There has to be a way out that doesn't involve more bloodshed.”
I made myself stand also. "You foresaw the fulfilling of the Council's charge of peace, Laurel Faena," I said.
Laurel looked at me. "That can just as easily come after war—”
"Don't split hairs," I said. "Either you saw peace or you didn't."
"They killed Honor Ash Faena," Laurel replied.
"Yes." A hard knot formed in my chest. "They killed her."
"What do you think the other Faena will say?”