Grief threatened to unravel me, all the more devastating after the hopes of the past summer-the love and grace I had been granted after so many years of bitterness. Yet this strange and sober voice reached through the storm that racked my soul and assured me that the universe was not random, not careless or capricious. The Way was laid down, and somewhere I would find a reason for its turnings.
Perhaps it was my imagination. Perhaps I was a fool. But when Paulo and I were brought before the Dar’Nethi Preceptorate, I said nothing, and I was not afraid.
CHAPTER 23
They had taken Karon’s body-no, more properly, D’Natheil’s body-away by the time Paulo and I stumbled onto the fine rug laid before the council table. The patterned wool square, hastily moved, did not quite cover the fresh blood that stained the white stone floor. They had kept us waiting in a bare anteroom for several hours, able to hear only hurried footsteps and bursts of unintelligible conversation through the door. The exclamations of dismay were clear enough, though, as the word of D’Natheil’s death spread.
Gerick and Darzid were no longer present-only the six Preceptors in their high-backed chairs. The one chair sitting empty at the end of the dais would have been Dassine’s. I wondered, somewhat foolishly, who would be chosen to sit in the chair. Maybe no one. Maybe the Preceptorate would no longer exist now that Gerick, a ward of Zhev’Na, was to become the Heir of D’Arnath.
“Who is this woman? Where did she come from? And another boy? Is this one your own long lost son, Exeget?” said Ce’Aret.
“We should get on with our important business and interview spies later,” said Ustele. “Everything is changed, now.”
“Not ordinary spies,” said Y’Dan, still red-eyed from his weeping, as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. “These two are not Zhid.”
“Ustele is correct,” said Exeget. “We have two matters of utmost urgency: how we are to announce the Heir’s death to the people, and what provision we must make for the boy’s care until he comes of age-approximately a year, so I understand.”
Madyalar joined in. “Would that we could anoint the child right away.”
“Are you planning to destroy this young Prince the same way you ruined D’Natheil, Exeget?” said Ce’Aret. “I pray this Exile Darzid is trustworthy as you assure us. The boy must not be compromised either by the Zhid or our own foolishness. We must find him a proper protector and suitable mentors.”
“This Exile is eminently trustworthy,” said Exeget. “And he’s already taken the young Prince to a place of safekeeping. I propose we leave him there…”
As the six of them wrangled, a low mutter rose from beside me. “He’s not dead… not dead… not dead.” Paulo was staring at the blood fading from red to brown underneath the edge of the rug. A tear trickled down his freckled face. I reached for his hand, and for once he didn’t refuse it. When he looked at me, I gave him a slight shake of the head, warning him to be silent.
“Now,” said Exeget. “Let us dispose of these spies, so we can get to our business. Not only are these two strangers not Zhid; they are not even Dar’Nethi.”
“Not Dar’Nethi? No… I see not.” An itchy warmth crept behind my eyes as old Ustele peered at me across the table. One might have thought I had three heads. “Mundanes.”
Ce’Aret sat up straighter. “Mundane spies? Who is this woman?”
“As a spy she has severe lacks,” said Exeget. He tapped the ends of his smooth, white fingers together lightly. “And one has only to look at the woman to know who she is- even if certain people are too deaf to have heard her maudlin cries.”
“I’m not deaf,” spat Ce’Aret. “There was a commotion.”
“Yes, when D’Arnath’s Heir guts himself because his head pains him, an unseemly commotion is the likely result. But come, old woman, can you not see the resemblance to our new liege? I do believe we have the honor of meeting our young Prince’s mother.” Exeget jumped out of his seat and stepped from the dais, coming to stand beside me. Arms folded, he inspected my garments and face, much the way he might examine a piece of furniture.
“The mother? The wife, then, of the other-the Exile that lived in D’Natheil?” said Madyalar, staring at me curiously. “Is that true?”
“The Lady Seriana Marguerite-widow of the same man for the second time,” said Exeget. “A sad and most unusual case. And quite mundane. Of course, mundanes are not capable of spying as we know it. They can read nothing from our minds, nothing of the auras of life, nothing beyond the dry evidence of their eyes and ears. I cannot see how a Dar’Nethi-even an Exile-could consort with such deadness.”
“Is the woman mute?” said the querulous Ustele. “Why does she stand there so stupidly?”
“What should she say?” said Madyalar. “How pleased she is to meet us who sit in judgment of her husband and her child? How delighted she is that the poor madman somehow got his hands on a knife here in the council chamber? She’s committed no crime that I can see.” The woman slumped in her chair, tapping her fingers rapidly on the table, her mouth drawn up in annoyance.
“Well, we can’t just let the woman go free.” The bald Y’Dan bit his lip and wrinkled his leathery forehead. “She might know something useful. And I don’t understand-if she was the Prince’s wife, why did he not acknowledge her? Why was she sneaking about here in the dirt and”-his nostrils flared-“the stables?”
“All good questions,” said Madyalar. “But a more useful question might be how she can help us understand our new Heir. The boy seems so cold. What child of ten calls his father a murderer? Our examination revealed no evidence of murder in our late Prince.”
“Clearly one of us must question the woman before we let her go on her way,” said Exeget. “As she cannot cross the Bridge to her own world until her own son can take her, she and her young companion will need someone to take them under his wing. I consider such a matter to be my responsibility as head of the Preceptorate.”
I almost broke my resolution of silence. I would not surrender myself or Paulo to Exeget.
“No, I’ll take her,” said Madyalar, shooting a wicked glare at Exeget. “You insisted I turn over the Prince to you for the examination, and look what’s come of it. He was wreckage, already half dead before you brought him here this morning. This matter”-she waved her hand at Paulo and me-“needs a woman.”
“How dare you question me? The Prince’s state was Dassine’s fault, not mine, and if you think I will allow the new Heir to be coddled by some maudlin female-”
“A plague on both of you”-Gar’Dena rose to his considerable height, pounding his meaty fist on the table until the floor shook with it-“and on all of us Dar’Nethi who have allowed matters to reach this pass.”
Throughout the whole discussion, the huge man had sat silently in his oversized chair, his massive head resting on thick fingers ringed with emeralds and sapphires. But now his thundering rage silenced the childish bickering like an arrow in the throat. “We were saved from one disaster by our brother Dassine and this dead Exile, whom you so callously dismiss. Now we stand at the brink of another, and you quarrel about your petty prerogatives. We should humble ourselves before this woman who has suffered such loss as we cannot imagine. We have no right to question her, but should instead beg her forgiveness and implore her to enlighten us as to what might influence her son to follow the Way of the Dar’Nethi. To that end, I will take her under my protection, and whoever says ought against it will discuss it with my fist.” A burst of white lightning spat from Gar’Dena’s jeweled hand.