“You were under direct orders from Prince Rajnir to aid the warriors’ preparations in breaking the siege at the northern castle at Andahi Pass?”
“I was.”
“You also made a transfer token so that Stalna Hyarl Durasnir could witness the progress of the battle?”
“I did.”
“How did that come about?”
“The Stalna requested it from me. I conveyed his wish through Dag Erkric, who obtained the prince’s permission. I fashioned the token and sent it to the Stalna to use.”
“Did you prepare your token to send Stalna Hyarl Durasnir to the tower at Ala Larkadhe?”
“I did not. I prepared it for the ancient observation platform called by the Sartorans an
atan,
there at the heights. I assumed that that would be the best place from which to observe the progress of the invasion. As I know little about military matters, I was not aware that it was not in fact a good placement; it was far too high.”
“Did you ever see the accused?”
“Only once. After the battle had ended.”
“Did you personally witness the accused performing magic?”
“I did not.”
“Did you ever transfer to the white tower at Ala Larkadhe?”
“The day after we received orders to cease and retreat. Dag Erkric conveyed orders from the prince to investigate while our forces were withdrawing from the pass.”
Signi braced herself. Now was the time for Dag Ulaffa to mention Brit Valda. But Ulaffa remained silent, awaiting the next question.
The Losveg Skalt looked down, rattled her papers, then said, “When you investigated the tower, you were able to discover the accused’s identity through magical tracers, which enabled you to determine that the accused had committed treason via magic, raising a great water spout.”
Signi gripped her fingers together behind her.
Ulaffa bent his head, then finally said, “No.”
“No, the Dag Signi did
not
magically raise a water spout?”
The old dag raised his head. The only sign of emotion was a slight quiver in his jowl, and the gleam of moisture in his eyes, but his voice was strong. “She did. According to the tracers.”
“Will you explain your contradiction, Dag Ulaffa?”
“Yes. My understanding is that treason is an action that jeopardizes the kingdom.”
“Treason,” Dag Erkric spoke up from the bench behind the throne, “is an action in aid of one’s enemies. It is an act that violates one’s allegiance. It is an action against the will of the king.”
Ulaffa looked up. “To the Erama Krona the king said,
Bring the Marolo-Venn, the lost ones, back to us with their lands
. He did not actually order us to conquer them. That was Prince Rajnir’s desire. Furthermore, the oath of allegiance we dags make requires us to perform magic to the protection and service of the Venn. By her action, Dag Signi saved Venn lives as well as Marlovan, for subsequent questioning of the Battle Chief furnished the fact that no one died in the flood.”
Signi scarcely dared breathe. She was certain that Valda had said something about Ulaffa as an ally, but she could no longer remember. That might only have been a dream.
Noise rustled through the hall. One of the Erama Krona struck the floor with a spear butt until silence fell.
“Did you witness Dag Signi giving succor to Marlovans after the battle?”
“After the battle, yes,” Ulaffa said. “I did so see, when the prince ordered me to investigate, the day after the battle.” Beads of sweat glittered in his grizzled hair.
“This action does not constitute treason? Giving aid and comfort to enemies?”
“We dags are sworn to protect life. Not just Venn life, but all life. This vow is the reason we do not learn the skills of war.”
A whisper, but a ring of the spear butt from the Erama Krona again caused silence.
“The aid was given after the horns of retreat were blown, and no sword was raised by either side. No warrior aided by Dag Signi rose to attack our men.”
“Why did she not offer aid to our fallen?”
“I do not know, but I observed that among the Marlovans there was no healer mage at all. For our men, we had one per Battlegroup, plus their assistants. The greater human need was among the Marlovans, by ninefold times nine. And the halt had been called, so it could not endanger our men to aid the fallen among the Marlovans.”
“We are finished with you for now, Dag Ulaffa. We call forth Southern Fleet Commander Hyarl Durasnir.”
The southern fleet commander rose from his seat beside Dag Erkric as whispers again rustled through the hall. Durasnir wore full battle gear, his face far more lined than Signi remembered. He did not once look her way.
“As you are well known to all assembled here, you may be brief in stating identity and place,” the Losveg Skalt said.
She might have meant that as an obscure compliment, or maybe only to save time, but Durasnir used his deck command-in-a-thunderstorm voice to roll out his name, title, and Oneli rank. It was impressive; most sensed his righteous anger and wanted to speculate about the cause.
When the last echo of his voice faded, the Losveg Skalt said flatly, “The Dag Ulaffa has explained that your transfer token took you to another location, yet you encountered the accused on the tower at Ala Larkadhe, by accounts some two weeks’ travel away.”
Erkric stilled.
“The site chosen by Dag Ulaffa did not afford a close enough view,” Durasnir said. “It might afford a fine view for a mage, but for military purposes, it was useless. I had been told that what the Sartorans call an
atan
would transfer to the tower.”
Signi leaned forward, her chains clinking slightly.
In the gallery, the dags whispered. Signi caught a note of longing, even envy in the word
atan
.
The Losveg Skalt said, “So the records show. We sent a dag to test this transfer from tower to
atan
. They report that the tower archive is closed.”
Durasnir gestured. “I know nothing about that. It functioned at the time.”
The Losveg Skalt turned Erkric’s way.
Dag Erkric said, “The archive was open, and the
atan
transfer functioned, when I attempted it in my investigation previous to our landing in the north.”
The Losveg Skalt rattled through two papers, jerked one forward, then addressed Durasnir. “In your military opinion, did this water spout prevent our people from taking the city as ordered?”
“Only for the duration of the flood,” Durasnir stated. “Drenga Battle Chief Vringir could have taken the city once the water was spent, but Commander Talkar issued a new order for him to lead his force to the harbor to secure it.”
“The Oneli Commander speaks the truth,” Commander Talkar said from the side, where he sat, stiff in his armor and battle gear, his winged helm on his knee.
The Losveg Skalt turned back to Durasnir. “You saw the accused perform this magical action, raising the geyser.”
“I did.”
“Did Dag Signi state her purpose for her action?”
Durasnir said, “She did not speak to me.”
The Losveg Skalt fussed with her notes again, then jerked her chin up. “She was there on the white tower of Ala Larkadhe when you arrived to witness the progress of the attack?”
“Correct.”
“Did she at any time indicate why she was there?”
“She did not.”
“Did you ask?”
“I did not.”
“So you just stood there in silence, the two of you? The commander of the southern fleet and a sea dag missing for half a year?” Sarcasm crisped the Losveg Skalt’s consonants.
“There was a little talk, and events required our attention.”
“What did you say to her on first seeing her?”
“ ‘I thought you were dead.’ No, I believe it was, ‘They said you were dead.’ ”
Whispers—even laughter—were swiftly silenced.
“Her response?”
“She asked if I had come to witness the fighting.”
“And you said?”
Durasnir paused, frowned, then looked up. “We exchanged a little talk about the progress of events, and I do not trust myself to remember the exact words with any accuracy, for my attention was on the field below. I was there to witness the battle, and our forces were preparing to enter the city.”
“You did not ask where she had been for half a year?”
“No. It has never been my place to question those in the other services.”
“You did not ask what she intended to do?”
“No.”
“When Dag Signi began her water spout, did she say anything to you?”
“She did not speak to me at all. When she began to do magic, I deemed it best to transfer.”
“And that is the last time you saw Dag Signi?”
“Correct.”
Signi’s sight flickered at the edges, and she remembered to breathe as a few whispers, sharp and clear, were quickly silenced. Erkric looked up, a sharp movement revealing impatience, anger.
The Losveg Skalt’s hieratic tone blurred into haste as she spoke the formal words that dismissed the fleet commander, and called forth two dags, Erkric’s followers. She bade them stand opposite Signi. Then she gestured to the Erama Krona.
Signi’s heartbeat thumped in warning as she was flanked by the guards who brought her forward to the witness stand and held her there.
Then began a long list of accusations of magical actions. After each the two dags were asked if they had witnessed the result of a magical act. They testified to it before Signi was called on to admit to having performed them. Signi could feel how the questions had been formed to hide the true cause of Valda’s actions: by deft wording, her defensive measures blurred into Erkric’s offenses.
He is condemning me, spell by spell, for Valda’s actions in thwarting his Norsundrian magic
.
Signi denied each with all her dwindling strength. Her arms throbbed with red pain as the Erama Krona held her upright; she could no longer stand on her own.
She braced for the conviction, or thought she was braced, but there was a yet another horror waiting.
The Losveg Skalt said, “The testimony of the witnesses proves that these actions occurred. The council agreed that in the event of your denying having performed them, you prove the truth of your words by naming the person or persons responsible.”
And there at last was the true purpose of this trial.
Signi was too weary to raise her head. This trial was not hers, though she stood accused. On trial was Brit Valda, whom Erkric dared not name because he did not know how much she knew, he did not have her in hand, and because her actions had all been taken directly against him when he had twisted the tree of Ydrasal into the clawing, soul-devouring dragon of Rainorec by claiming that his orders all came from the prince.
Cold to the bone, Signi knew what must come: execution, public atonement not just for Erkric’s secret deeds, but also for Valda’s secret attempts to thwart him. Because of this last, Signi’s path was clear, through cruel. She must not speak, she must not betray her vows.
“I repeat,” the Losveg Skalt stated, louder. “Can you name the person or persons responsible?”
Valda is the only mage who can withstand Erkric
.
Signi made an effort that took all her remaining strength, and raised her eyes to the golden banner of Ydrasal. Through the sheen of tears in her burning eyes, she saw past the gold-worked, much-repaired banner tree to the Great Tree beyond it, twelve branches intertwined above the rising sun, the whole coruscating with pale fire.
And its reflection glowed in her face.
He seeks to make my bones warp and my blood weft, but I will not betray my vow to laws above political boundary
.
The great laws were the weaving of civilization. And so Signi gripped the spindle of sacred light and spun pain and degradation away, threaded by the frantic beat of her heart.
From above, and around, came whispers:
Vision . . . she is a Seer!
Signi was beyond hearing, but Erkric wasn’t. The light that seemed to radiate from the banner, or from beyond the banner, shafted down to touch Signi’s filthy face, and the whispers that made clear how many saw it, pierced him with needles of pain. That light
must
be merely a mere trick of the glowglobes, a stray reflection from somewhere outside.
Too many stirred, faces raised in wonder and awe and even fear, to sustain the comfort of that assumption. So here he was, witnessing a Seeing at last, but he was not the Seer. Bitterness roiled in his stomach. What a waste! Proving, he thought, that such things were random trickery on the part of the unseen. The visions of the Yaga Ydrasal, the inward eye, belonged only to poets and to the insane, who were often indistinguishable from one another.
“Do we wait all day for the accused to answer the question?” he asked Ulaffa, just loud enough to prod the Losveg Skalt, who stared at Signi with her mouth half open behind her mask.
The Losveg Skalt jerked her attention back to the moment. “Dag Signi! I ask you a last time. Will you name the person or persons responsible for performing the treasonous magic that you deny performing yourself?”
Signi started and looked around in weary bewilderment. Those closest witnessed in the bracing of her thin body under its weight of chains, the tension inscribing lines in her face, her acceptance of the burden of time, place, and situation.
“I witnessed no treason,” she stated, because that was the truth. In the resulting outcry, her low, exhausted voice was nearly inaudible. “I never committed treason.”
In the following uproar, Erkric struggled to remain outwardly impassive, to mask his wrath. He knew what those words meant: she
did
know whose will and skill opposed his. She was rejecting the offer of mercy he had so carefully designed to come as relief, release, at the end, when she gave him Valda.