Stonewiser (4 page)

Malord somehow rose, although his legs had defected long ago in deference to the quartering block's ax. He was the gathering's lead, the most knowledgeable wiser in the Domain, the only man Sariah knew who could rise without legs, looking dignified and superior while stuffed in a basket strapped to another man's back. Cinnamon dark, long of face and sharp-featured, his deep voice carried the weight of his authority.

“The justice gathering had no means at its disposal to spare her life,” Malord said. “It can only declare innocence or guilt, but you know that, Petrid.”

“So what?” The executioner spat to the side. “You expect us to take up your burden?”

“You have your trade's leeway,” Malord said. “Don't be fooled, the gathering realizes this wiser's importance to the Domain. Didn't she wise a tale of Domainer redemption out of the seven twin stones? Is that not enough to grant her atonement?”

“Redemption?” Petrid scoffed. “How can you call this state of catastrophic disaster redemption? There's war in the Goodlands and it threatens to spill over to the Domain. Has the Shield gone away? No. It has gotten crueler and more savage. Has the Guild stopped hunting us? No. It kills us with ever more pleasure.”

“Sariah's unprecedented wisings showed that we didn't commit the crimes for which we were execrated to the Rotten Domain,” Malord said. “Her wisings freed us from the accusation that we brought the rot to the land.”

“Perhaps she proved us innocent of that, but only to prove us guilty of worse crimes. Ask anybody in the Domain and they'll tell you they would prefer to remain guilty but proud, execrated but separate from the filth of the Goodlands.”

And that was the very reason why she had to die. Because to these beleaguered Domainers, the redemption she had discovered had turned out to be a more hideous charge than they could bear.

“It will take time to sort out matters,” Malord said. “What we need is a way for all the Blood to come together.”

“Goodlanders and us?” Petrid laughed. “You're mad if you think they'll share the land with us.”

“We can't give up hope. It's our purpose. Perhaps they can be persuaded. If there's a tale out there that can help bring us together, if she could find it—”

“You think she can do that?”

“It's our only hope.”

Meliahs only knew how hard she had been trying to find such a tale, quietly, unbeknownst to those who wouldn't want her to find it under any circumstances. Now it was out in the open, an impossible undertaking revealed to a mostly hostile crowd.

“Her claims have given us a chance,” Malord said, “a shot at a better future.”

“Her claims are disputed by many,” Petrid said.

“Precisely. Will you kill the only person in the Domain who can affirm our rights?”

The executioner flinched. The Domainers were far from convinced of Sariah's claims but after centuries of oppression living in the Barren Flats, they craved a better life as much as they wanted good land and uncorrupted water. The executioners were a people unto themselves, but they also lived in the harshness of the Domain and shared in the Domainers’ hopes. Perhaps they understood what was at stake. On the other hand, with matters as they were, with the hatred of the Bloods simmering to a raging boil, who in the Domain would really favor the truth?

The chief executioner huddled with his peers in whispered discussion. Petrid listened, petting his left arm absentmindedly. Sariah noticed movement along his sleeve. The face of a brown-spotted miniature monkey darted from his ruffled cuff, a quick show of black eyes and tiny fangs, along with a chattering bark.

Lazar flashed Sariah one of his brilliant, reassuring smiles. Metelaus nodded, cautioning her for patience with a stern purse of lips from the depths of his salt-and-pepper beard. Kael kept his back to her, his eyes on the executioners and his hands poised on his loaded weapons belt.

“Will the justice gathering support atonement?” Petrid asked.

“That's why I'm here,” Malord said. “They will be pleased by a reprieve.”

Sariah understood Kael's complicated maneuvering now. He hadn't just been biding his time and waiting for the outcome of the gathering throughout the last few months after all. He had been engaged in a convoluted effort to preserve her life. It explained some of his sudden absences and journeys. It certainly explained this last trip as well. He hadn't gone to check on Ars's demesnes, as she had believed. He had gone to the gathering himself. She should have seen it sooner, but she had been too busy plotting on her own. Aye. Leave it to Kael to take his oath of protection before the justice gathering and beyond.

As her advocate, Malord hadn't been able to convince the justice gathering of her innocence. No one could have. But even after she had been found guilty, Kael and Malord had conspired to find a way in which the gathering could support the executioners' decision to sell atonement. It was no small accomplishment when considering her situation.

“Even if we were willing to sell atonement, other issues must be addressed,” Petrid said. “It's unprecedented. She's a Goodlander with matching eyes. She's not of the Domain.”

“She's my kin by the way of the blanket,” Kael said. “She's my blood now.”

It was shocking to hear their forbidden union proclaimed brazenly aloud, but it was also liberating, gratifying and thrilling, like the nights spent together in bodily conversations brimming with passion. She blinked away a rush of old fear.

The executioner still hesitated. “Will you stand for her if necessary?”

“I'll serve atonement with her.”

The crowd murmured. Some familiar faces from Ars jeered. Sariah didn't know how exactly, but she knew Kael was giving beyond his own rights. She started to protest. Kael's hand was already in the air, forbidding her to speak.

“Are you sure the woman has the coin to purchase atonement?” the executioner asked.

Kael patted his pack. “I have the coin right here with me.”

A whole pack full of coin? Sariah gaped. Kael had never measured wealth in coin and although she never lacked anything she needed in the Domain, she had never seen much coin among Kael's wares. Poverty was rampant in the Domain. Her wising profit was barely enough to purchase vellum and ink. Where had Kael found so much money?

It had to come from his lifelong roaming and land-healing earnings. It had to be next to everything he had. She couldn't let Kael do it. She couldn't let him spend all his coin on the likes of her. She got up, but before she could protest, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

“Don't you dare spoil Kael's negotiations,” Metelaus whispered. He had materialized next to her, no doubt at Kael's silent behest. The brothers had an irritating way of working wordlessly in complete tandem. Sariah swore to herself that she would make it right. She would find a way to repay Kael her price.

The sight of the ready coin seemed to be the most persuasive argument thus far.

“Who will avow for the woman's compliance?” Petrid asked.

“I avow with my wiser's authority,” Malord said.

“I avow with my marcher's right,” Metelaus said.

“I avow with my runner's lead,” Lazar said.

“The woman is lucky to have eminent friends and kin such as you,” the executioner said. “What assurances will you grant?”

Malord's swarthy features darkened. “Is our eminence not good enough to grant you plenty of assurances?”

“Atonement is only granted for profit,” Petrid said. “Death, on the other hand, is free for the woman.”

Malord grimaced as if he had tasted sour limes. “I pledge the stone of Iluim to her cause.”

Was the old stonewiser losing his wits?

“I pledge my runner's deck,” Lazar said.

“And you?” the executioner asked Metelaus.

He hesitated. He had a wife and a host of children who could be rendered homeless by such an oath. Sariah didn't think he should imperil his family. She tried to say so, but he jumbled her protests with a stern hand over her mouth. “I pledge too.”

Sariah groaned. It would do Metelaus good if Torana beat him senseless for the deed. They were all recklessly crazy, kin-sworn, noble and steadfast to her cause, but clearly mad. Anyone could see that.

“Will you be quiet now?” Metelaus withdrew his hand, testing her, knowing she was capable of betraying herself easily.

Sariah slumped down next to him in grudging concession.

“We're willing to grant atonement,” the executioner said. “One month for each of Meliahs’ nine sisters as is customary. The wiser must find this tale which can unite the Bloods. And she must bring it before us or she forfeits her life as decreed.”

Too little time for too great a task. Sariah knew a bad deal when she heard one. She had been looking for just such proof for the last year. Yet she saw Kael's wisdom in the proposal. It had to be done. Nothing less would satisfy the executioners, the justice gathering, and ultimately, the Bloods.

“If she defaults, you forfeit your pledges,” Petrid said. “We take great risk on this venture. Therefore we need further assurances to protect ourselves from default, potential losses and probable death. You are Sons of Ars. No other house is as praised or admired in the Domain. If the wiser defaults, we require Ars's earnings for three years
and
the Crags.”

The crowd gasped. Metelaus growled like a wounded beast. Lazar paled, and even Malord, who was not of Ars, looked aggrieved. Sariah loathed the executioner. His smile was as chilling as his monkey's snarl. She understood he had a job to do, but did he really need to unleash his greed blindly on her kin?

“Fine.” Kael spat the word as if it were poisonous.

Her life wasn't worth Ars's earnings, let alone the settlement's unique and profitable placement as guardians of the Crags, the best good water source around. It was also one of the few ranges of solid stone that remained unconsumed by the rot in the Domain, populated with valuable herds of goats which made life sustainable for Ars's people.

“I won't have it,” she said.

Kael's first look at her was an incinerating glower that could have melted her bones as effectively as the rot. “Pay no heed to her,” he said between clenched teeth. “She has no voice in the Domain. I speak for the woman.”

The damn fool. But he was right. A Goodlander by birth, she had no rights in the Domain and was a mere spectator in the matter of her own life and death.

“Kael knows what he's doing,” Metelaus whispered.

“I won't be the cause of Ars's ruin,” Sariah whispered back.

“Then listen, so you can meet your obligations and we can all get out of here alive.”

“The executioners are setting up this deal so that I'll fail. Can't you see? Why would they want me to return with the tale when they stand to make huge profits from my failure?”

“Don't you think Kael knows that?”

“It's not right, Metelaus. Give me a few moments of distraction and I'll be gone.”

“Look around. You'll be dead before you blink. What good will you be then?”

“Kael is mad putting out Ars like that.”

“If I were he, and Torana were you, I'd do the same thing.”

Sariah sunk her face in her hands. She had made her share of bad deals before, but this one promised to be the most costly of all. It was just a fast way for the executioners to enrich themselves, of trumping prosperous Ars and overtaking its prominence. No matter how kind they were, people in Ars were going to be furious with her for putting their livelihoods at risk, for threatening to destroy what they had built since the execration. Sariah couldn't bear the thought of ruining the only kin she had ever known, the very people who had granted her a home.

“It's done then.” The executioner accepted Kael's pack. “Remember. Nine months to the sunrise. One last thing. A sentence for a sentence. We require an irrevocable condition to the entire agreement in the form of an edict.”

“An edict. Of course.” Rage burned in Kael's gaze and simmered in Sariah's soul like a twin.

The executioner smiled in naked triumph. “I hereby decree the wiser banished from the Domain.”

Four

 

P
ETRID WIELDED THE
banishment bracelet with a snake charmer's deliberate care. At first sight, it seemed to be no more than an intricately ornamented band adorned with precious stones, the type of ancient trinket the wealthy and the powerful liked to flaunt to each other in the Goodlands. Nine square links connected to each other by smaller round hinges made up the sinuous gold bracelet. Each link was filigreed and decorated with different and elaborate designs. Stunning opalescent red crystals of a kind Sariah had never seen before were expertly inlaid on each link.

Sariah had never worn anything like it. She had never fancied rich dress or ornamental jewels. She was a stonewiser, for Meliahs’ sake, pledged to the stones’ austere ways. But she had to admit to the bracelet's outstanding workmanship, to its exuberant if gaudy beauty, to the shock that the mere sight of it provoked. It evoked the Blood's sumptuous past, the luxury and prosperity of the Old World, the catastrophic losses to the rot. The bracelet was not only incongruent with herself. Like a knife to the heart, it struck a painful contrast between the promising past and the barren present.