Peter turned suddenly and walked rapidly into his sleeping chamber, beyond my sight. He was a long time returning, and I found myself wondering whether I had failed some test he had set for me. But when he came back, he was holding a bone-sheathed dagger.
He placed it in my hands and said, "I didn't think you would want this if you were returning to Koretia, because it is of Emorian design. But if you are to be a free-man in this palace, you will need a free-man's weapon to wear on ceremonial occasions. I had this made for you."
I stared down at the dagger. The last time before the enthronement that I had seen a free-man's weapon had been that afternoon. Released from my work so that I might attend the slaves' celebrations, I had instead spent an hour eavesdropping on some of the free-servants practicing their vows. While Peter had been in the ceremony, I had stayed in his quarters and whispered those vows to myself, imagining that I was watching him become Chara.
Now I pulled the dagger from its sheath, turned to face Peter, and placed the blade flat-wise immediately in front of my eyes so that it ran down the middle of my face like the nose-bridge of a mask. I did not kneel; an Emorian stands while giving his oath of land loyalty, in order to indicate that, while the servant has duties toward the master, the master also has duties toward the servant.
"I, Andrew son of Gideon, free-servant of the Chara, do swear this vow unto the Chara Peter: that I will respect and obey the laws of Emor as they were given to the first Charas and as they are proclaimed by the Chara Peter, that I will use my weapon only as the Chara would have me do, and that I will serve the Chara with loyalty until death and beyond. This is my free-man's oath, sworn on this blade."
My mind had been so much on the words that I was speaking that it was not until I was done that I saw Peter's face. It had a look on it that I had never seen before: his eyes were as I remembered them, but the lines of his face were molded into a severe and formal mask, as though he were something much more than a sixteen-year-old man. Placing his fingers upon the Pendant of Judgment that lay over his heart, he replied in a voice firm and sure.
"I, Peter, the Great Chara of Emor and Its Dominions, Judge of the People, Commander of the Armies, Lord of the Marcadian Mountains, Ruler of the Arpeshian Nation, Master of the Koretian Land, do swear this vow unto you: that I will judge without favor to any man, that I will wreak vengeance upon my people's enemies, and that I will have mercy upon those who serve me with loyalty. This is the Chara's oath, sworn to those who are placed under my care and receive my peace."
We stood a moment longer, frozen in our poses as though both of us had been taken over by something older and wiser than ourselves. Then we smiled, and I sheathed the dagger and hung it on my belt.
o—o—o
Nine years later, I stood in the same room, looking down at the same dagger.
I was standing next to Peter's writing table, which held the Chara's official documents, as well as a jewel case. I never touched the latter, but I did sometimes open the box beside it, which belonged to me and which hid my free-man's weapon. I reached out to touch the white and creamy hilt. The smooth bone was raised in rows of delicate lines criss-crossing each other, but at the very tip of the hilt, hidden to the casual eye, was the emblem that only the Chara could wear: the Balance, the Bird, and the Sword.
I heard a noise behind me, and I slipped the dagger back into the box where it had lain for most of the time during the years since Peter had freed me. With my other hand, I picked up the Chara's ceremonial cloak from the fireside chair where he had discarded it the evening before, and turned to place it on him.
Peter was wearing his silver tunic, and he was busy hooking to his belt the silver and gold Sword of Judgment. As I came forward, he said nothing, but turned to allow me to place the black cloak on his shoulders. When I had closed the cloak's clasp, he walked over to the small jewel box lying on his writing table and pulled out the drawer. He looked down upon it for a moment, then picked up the Pendant of Judgment and placed it around his neck.
He caught my eye on him. "What is on your mind?"
"You have been quiet this morning, Chara."
Peter gave a faint smile. "You are polite. You mean that I'm not turning you deaf with my usual chatter." His hand went up to his chest, and he fingered the teardrop-shaped gold pendant with its large, central ruby. His smile faded as though it had been a hard-kept illusion. "You will have heard of the case that I have been judging."
"Just a little. You mean the one involving Lord Carle's free-servant?"
"His former free-servant. After Henry retired last year, you may recall that Lord Carle astounded us all by allowing him to continue living in his quarters. I suppose that even Lord Carle is capable of appreciating thirty years of loyal service. Since Henry is now a palace guest, he has been placed under my judgment for this case."
"It was a murder, I heard."
Peter gave me that look he sometimes cast my way when I was not as successful as usual at pretending ignorance of his deeds. "If you don't know the details, I think that you must be the only man in this palace who doesn't. But I suppose that the other servants haven't wished to discuss this case with the Chara's free-servant. Opinions are strong on the matter." He turned abruptly, closed the drawer that had contained the pendant, and said, with his back still turned, "I hand down my judgment today, and I expect that every chamber in this palace will be unmanned as the free-servants flock to hear what I say."
He continued to stand with his back to me, and I waited to see what more he would tell me, but he merely said abruptly, "I must go. The people are awaiting my word." Without looking my way, he left the room.
I bent down to pick up a face-cloth that had fallen from a table, and then made my way through the room, straightening piles of papers and putting away small items. Through the half-open door, I caught occasional glimpses of people walking by, all travelling in the same direction. After a while, I stood up from where I had been cleaning the Chara's boots, alerted without thought by a sound. No, not a sound, but an absence of sound: for once, the palace was absolutely silent.
I looked into the corridor outside. The corridor was usually bustling at this hour with lords, officials, palace visitors, free-servants, and slave-servants. The only persons there now were the Chara's guards, and even they appeared restive beneath their standard stiff poses. I went to my room, changed my tunic, and then, formally dressed, I returned to the sitting chamber and took out the dagger that Peter had given me.
A few minutes later, with my free-man's weapon clipped to my belt, I arrived at the Court of Judgment. Peter's guess had been right: the court seemed filled with every free-servant of the palace, as well as many of its officials. The crowd poured beyond the ceiling-high gold doors leading to the court floor, the place where I had stood on the few occasions that I had attended cases. Turning away, I moved toward the staircase to the balcony reserved for the council lords, their free-servants, and the Chara's free-servant.
Even this proved to be crowded. As I arrived, the other free-servants, who had been talking in low voices amidst themselves, fell silent and parted without a word to allow me passage to the front of the balcony. There I found a space next to some of the council lords who were intently watching the proceedings.
I had arrived in time for the court clerk's summary, used only in cases that lasted more than one day. The clerk, a shy man who struggled to overcome a stutter, was standing atop the thirty-stepped throne dais and reading the witnesses' testimony in as low a voice as possible. I could catch no word of what he said. Behind me, the servants had resumed whispering amongst themselves; below, the rest of the crowd was murmuring its opinions.
"It is a difficult case. I would not want to be the Chara today."
I turned my head and looked over at Lord Dean, standing beside me at the balcony railing. He smiled and said, "Your name is Andrew, is it not? We have met on many occasions, of course, but I don't believe that we have ever before had a chance to chat. I was surprised that you weren't watching the case on the previous days, as every other palace servant seems to be here. The Chara nearly decided to give judgment in private, but such was the notoriety of the case that he felt it better to have the witnesses speak in public."
"I did not realize that the murder was so important, High Lord."
"The murder is very unimportant, I think – the killing of an insignificant subcaptain. But Henry is facing a second charge of disobeying the Chara, and either one of those charges, you know, is enough to place him under the high doom. Still, the Chara has been generous in such cases before, and Henry may be fortunate enough to escape with a branding or enslavement."
I could just catch sight of Henry, standing at the foot of the dais steps with his hands rope-bound behind him. His posture was as straight as it had been in the days when he had served Lord Carle, and his grey head was tilted to look upward, not toward the clerk, but toward the Great Chara, sitting in judgment above him. Peter's cloak flowed like black water over the white marble throne, his arms lay motionless on the armrests, and his face was cold and formal. I could not see his eyes.
"This case will take the rest of the week if that clerk cannot stop stuttering," said Lord Dean, and he turned to his side to face me, leaning with ease against the railing. "Would you like me to tell you what is happening? The case is complex, but not so complex as the clerk is making it sound."
I murmured to him my thanks, and then gazed back at the scene below as Lord Dean said, "The subcaptain was one of those soldiers who helped put down the Snow Hills Rebellion in Marcadia. I don't know whether you are aware that Henry was originally brought to this land as a Marcadian slave, several decades ago. He had already been free for some time when he took up service with Lord Carle. Henry's sister was also sent into slavery, though the court summoners have been unable to discover where she was sold – she was sought as a witness in this case, at the Chara's request. Henry claims that the soldier whom he murdered was the one who raped and enslaved his sister."
The clerk ceased to speak, and a group of men standing at the foot of the dais were beckoned forward to sign their names to their written witness. I watched them walk up the steps one by one: some soldiers, a few servants, and a lord.
Lord Dean followed my gaze and said, "Yes, Lord Carle chose to give evidence against his free-servant. He was the only witness besides the Chara himself to the charge of disobedience. As I'm sure you know, the Chara prefers not to give evidence in cases that he himself is judging, though he will usually do so if there is no other witness to a serious crime. In this case, however, Henry came to Lord Carle and confided to him that he had gone to see the Chara to ask him whether he might be allowed to bring a charge of rape against the soldier. The Chara told him that the court summoners had never allowed such charges to be made in the case of wartime assaults, and that he would not overrule the summoners. Then he commanded Henry to look no further into the matter."
I watched Lord Carle bend over the paper that the clerk proffered and sign it with a decisive stroke. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lord Carle's new free-servant watching his master, then turning to say something to Lord Dean's free-servant. My ear caught the word "Chara."
Lord Dean leaned over the railing and said, "Of course, what all of the palace servants are discussing is whether the Chara should have overruled the summoners, but that doesn't enter into the judgment of this case. Henry has admitted his disobedience; he is defending himself against the charge of murder without provocation. He says that he went to see this subcaptain only to learn whether the man knew where his sister had been sold. Some of the palace free-servants bear out this testimony, and certainly Henry did not bring any weapon with him. Soldiers passing the subcaptain's tent did not hear Henry speaking, but they heard the subcaptain laughing. Henry claims that the subcaptain not only refused to tell him where his sister was sold, but that he also made personal and disparaging remarks about his sister, causing Henry to grow mad with anger. He killed the subcaptain with the soldier's own sword."
Lord Dean cut himself off from his next sentence. The crowd quieted as the clerk and the last of the witnesses stepped down from the dais. Lord Dean leaned forward and joined me in watching the enthroned figure below.
Peter's voice, when it came, was strong and stilted with formality. "Henry son of Howe, palace guest of the Chara: you have been brought here to answer two charges. The first charge is that you did murder without provocation Colm, Subcaptain of the Palace Guard. The witness in this charge is Baldemar, orderly to Subcaptain Colm, and the sentence for such a crime is mercy or branding or the high doom. You have accepted the charge of murder, but deny that it was done without provocation."
The crowd was hushed as Peter reached toward the Pendant of Judgment. He raised the stone to his lips, kissed it, and then raised it to his forehead, where he kept it for a moment before allowing it to fall back to his chest. Dispassionately, he said, "The Chara's judgment is that the prisoner is guilty. The Chara's sentence is mercy."
A sigh went over the crowd, like a soft wave breaking against a shore. Some of the servants behind me began to murmur, but when I looked over at Lord Dean, his gaze was still fixed upon the Chara.
Peter continued, "The second charge brought against you is that you did willfully and with clear understanding disobey the command of the Great Chara. The witness in this charge is Carle, Lord of the Great Council, and the sentence for such a charge is mercy or enslavement or the high doom." Once more Peter's hand held the pendant next to his heart, where mercy resides; on his lips, where vengeance is spoken; and above his eyes, where judgment is made. Then he let the Pendant of Judgment fall and said, "The Chara's judgment is that the prisoner is guilty. The Chara's sentence is the high doom of death by the sword."
I did not see how Henry reacted to the sentence, and only faintly could I hear the grumble of the crowd as it began to disperse. My eyes and thoughts were on the Chara, a young man of twenty-five years, sitting as motionless as though he were as permanent a being as a land or a god.