The woman sat on the left. She looked almost exactly the same as the statue, only the knot of hair on her head was gray, and her hands and face were very pale. Over her eyes she wore a gold mask that covered half her face, each eyehole filled with an emerald.
Like his image, the man in the center had long hair, a big arched nose, and the broad forehead that made the rest of his face look small. His hair was brown, and he, too, wore a gold mask; his had amethyst eyes.
I almost didn’t look at the third person, because I was afraid he would have no face, like the statue. But I swallowed and turned to the third throne. Again, I almost cried out, I was so surprised. He wore black robes like the others, and as I watched, his face shifted in the strange light. He wore a gold mask, too, with rubies where the eyes should be. Even though the mask covered the middle of his face, from his eyebrows halfway down his cheeks, I recognized him. It was Darzid.
“Welcome, Gerick. Welcome to Zhev’Na on behalf of the three of us.” He smiled in his private, sneaking way. His voice sounded different-larger than a normal voice, as if he were speaking into a deep well.
“He gapes like a fish,” said the woman. “Perhaps you should have warned him.”
“He is only a child,” said the man with the amethyst eyes. “Yet he does not flee from us in terror. I read curiosity in him more than anything. And amazement. A good start, I think.”
“He is exceptional, as I’ve told you,” said Darzid. “Blood will tell.”
I didn’t like them talking about me while I stood in front of them. Mama always did that.
“Gerick, Duke of Comigor, come to wait upon the Lords of Zhev’Na,” I said, remembering how important visitors would greet Papa. “Is it the Lords of Zhev’Na that I address?”
The man with the amethyst eyes raised his eyebrows above his mask. “Why, yes. You must forgive us our rudeness, my lord. We are old and forget our manners. I am Parven the Warmaster. To my right sits Notole the Loremaster, and to my left… I believe you are acquainted with Ziddari the Exile, who has so recently returned to us after an immensely long time… abroad.”
I bowed at each introduction, though it felt awkward to bow to Darzid who had been my father’s hired lieutenant. “I wish to thank you all, my lords, for the hospitality you’ve shown me. I owe you a debt of honor, for I’m certain you’ve saved me from brutal murder. I hope to redeem my debt as soon as I’m able.”
“Prettily spoken, my lord duke,” said Parven. “It is our pleasure to grant you sanctuary. Consider Zhev’Na your home, and Ce Uroth as your own country. We think it is very likely that you will be able…”
“… to redeem your debt of honor quite easily.” Now it was Notole speaking. “We are old and selfish, and we do not step out of our way to aid young noblemen-even those so worthy as yourself-with no hope of return. Our enemies are the same as yours, and we hope to join together…”
“… to make common cause against them.” Darzid was speaking now. The three of them took up each other’s thoughts and speech without even pausing for breath, like one person speaking out of three mouths. “You’ve begun your training in the skills necessary to accomplish your purposes-to fulfill the blood oath you’ve sworn to avenge the deaths of the man you called father and the woman you called friend. Perhaps that will be enough for you, and you will choose to return to the soft lands where your mundane king wants to burn you. But if you truly mean what you say about your life debt, then we will give you full opportunity to repay it. If you choose to make a new life here as our ally, then we will train you in other arts, and tell you truths of yourself and of the world that will change everything you know.”
“It will be dangerous and exciting and difficult.” Parven was speaking again. “You’ll have to hear things you’ll not like, and do things that are unpleasant. There will be no going back to what you’ve left behind. But it will be the life you deserve and your own choice. How does this strike you?”
The Lords seemed very stern, but kind, too, and respectful. My weapons felt good at my side, and I liked how strong I was becoming and how much faster I could run now. And, too, I thought of the sun-baked ugliness and the jagged red cliffs, and how the only place I felt really warm was out in that desert sun, sweating and fighting. In Leire they burned sorcerers and killed those who had anything to do with them. “I think this is the place I belong,” I said. “I’d like to hear whatever you have to tell me and learn whatever you have to teach.”
“Such a wise young man!” said Notole. “Let us seal our alliance, my young Lord. We are old and mistrustful and must be convinced that you take this as seriously as you seem to do. Come to me.”
I climbed up the wide black step to stand in front of her. I was amazed to see that her gold mask was a part of her face, grown right into the pale, dry flesh. Each eye was a single, huge emerald. What could she see through them?
“Everything, my young Lord. Everything.”
I looked away quickly. It was rude to stare, even at something so strange. Notole must be used to it, since she had guessed what I was thinking.
“We’ve found something that belongs to you, young duke, and have been waiting for a proper time to return it.” Her hands were very dry, and the flesh hung on her long bony fingers as if it weren’t connected to the bones at all. She held out a small green silk bag and dropped its contents into her hand. It was the Comigor signet ring, the one Seri had brought to me when she came to tell me lies about Papa’s death. The Lords must have found it in my clothes when I first came to Zhev’Na. I had forgotten all about it.
“Thank you,” I said, and reached for it.
But Notole yanked it back out of reach. “Wait one moment. As I said, we must be convinced that your heart lies here in Zhev’Na, that you will not desert us when times get hard… or when your pillow is wet with a child’s tears.”
My face got hot… and my blood, too. If Sefaro had seen my weakness and told the Lords of it, I would kill him. Then the Lords would know for certain that I was not a child. “I’ve sworn on my family’s honor to avenge my father and my nurse,” I said, trying to stand tall. “I consider my debt to you of equal weight. I do not swear lightly, even though I’m young.” I pulled out my sword and laid it at Notole’s feet. “I will serve you until you consider my life debt satisfied. Your enemies are my enemies, and I will do whatever is in my power to sustain you against them.”
Notole laughed gently, her breath ruffling my hair. “We do not want your sword, young Lord. Not yet… though that may come when you are older. What we want is your loyalty, your allegiance… your soul. We want you to exchange this signet ring, a symbol of a life you have forsworn, for this”-she opened her other hand to reveal a small gold triangle, embedded with an emerald, an amethyst, and a ruby-“the token of our alliance. Else how can we trust that you will consider our common interests in preference to those about which we care nothing? A life debt cannot be half repaid or served only when there is nothing better to do.”
She held out both hands then, the signet ring in one and the Lords’ token in the other. “You must choose.” The palms of her hands were horribly scarred, as if they’d been burned long ago.
Though none of the three moved from their thrones, I felt as if they were all hovering about me-waiting, suspending breath until I would choose. Maybe they thought it would be difficult. But my dreams had already revealed enough of the truth. There was nothing for me at Comigor, and I wanted revenge more than anything in the world. I touched the signet ring for a moment and tried to think what to say about it. I’m sorry, Papa. If I weren’t evil, I could be like you. But I am what I am, and if those who are wicked can have any honor, mine will have to be what I make it. And then I moved my hand to the Lords’ token, picked it up, and felt such a sigh in the room that it made me think of a thunderstorm that breaks a summer’s drought.