Walking stiffly, Maellas took his place between them and the gate. The morning sun limned his figure with golden light and made his white-blonde hair shine like a halo. Irulan had no doubt the elf had chosen the position for just that reason. No one could say the clergy of the Silver Flame weren’t consummate showmen. Then Xanin joined him, spoiling the effect.
“Andri Aeyliros of Flamekeep, Irulan Silverclaw of Aruldusk,” the Ancillary Bishop paused for the barest moment, and Ravadanci leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Greddark d’Kundarak of Sigilstar and Vidora Altaner of Aruldusk, for crimes against the-”
“No!” Andri interjected. “Not the priestess. She acted under duress, and cannot be held responsible for flouting the law.”
One of the soldiers made as if to cuff him across the mouth for his impertinence, but the Bishop’s aide held up a hand to stop him.
“You threatened her?” Ravadanci asked, forestalling Xanin’s angry response with another whisper.
“I … encouraged her,” the paladin replied, his unwillingness to lie leaving him with very few options. Irulan hid a wince. Andri’s integrity was going to get the priestess punished right along with them.
The aide turned to the priestess. “Is this true?”
Vidora Altaner wisely did not share Andri’s compunctions.
“Yes, my lady. He had the city guard drag me from my temple and told me he’d have me arrested or worse if I didn’t do what he wanted.” The gray-haired woman threw herself into the embellishment. “I would never have gone against His Excellency’s edict if this one hadn’t threatened me, but what could I do? He is a great paladin, claiming authority from the very Cardinals themselves, and I am simply a weak cleric who-”
“That’s enough,” Ravadanci interrupted the woman before she could overplay her part. After another whispered exchange with Xanin and Maellas, she gestured to the guards. “Vidora Altaner, you are free to go. These men will see you back to your temple.”
The priestess bowed her head in thanks, not even glancing at Andri as she made good her escape from whatever fate still awaited them. Though Irulan doubted Altaner would really get off that easily, now that she knew Zoden’s killer had been a lycanthrope and not a shifter. Making that information public would bring all the previous arrests-and Maellas’s judgment-into question, something the prelate would surely not allow. Then again, if the priestess was actually a secret disciple of the Dark Six, she’d have her own reasons for keeping silent. No, Irulan decided, Altaner would probably be just fine.
An observation, unfortunately, that did not apply to the rest of them. As the Ancillary Bishop resumed his proclamation, Irulan wondered if Andri would try to get the dwarf excused as well, but the paladin made no further protests as Xanin pronounced their sentence. Maellas said nothing, merely shaking his head sadly.
“Andri Aeyliros, Irulan Silverclaw, and Greddark d’Kundarak, for crimes against the Silver Flame-namely blasphemy, necromancy, and keeping a soul from its rightful place within the peace of the Flame-I do hereby banish you forthwith and forevermore from the city of Aruldusk. Should you be found within these walls without the benefit of a pardon, you will be executed on sight. May the Flame take pity on your wayward souls.”
With that, he etched the sign of the Flame in the air before him and the crowd responded in kind, as if at Mass. He ordered the guards to escort them out of the city, but before they could do so, Maellas walked over to stand in front of Andri, moving slowly. He looked at the paladin with tears in his eyes. More showmanship, Irulan thought, but to be honest, she wasn’t really sure. She wondered, for the first time, if she’d been wrong about the elf Bishop-perhaps her anger should have been directed at Xanin this whole time.
“Oh, Andri,” Maellas said softly, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Why? Why would you defy my edict and pull that poor soul away from the Flame? Do you truly hate me that much for what happened to your father?”
Andri opened his mouth, then shook his head once and closed it again without saying anything. The Bishop sighed and stepped back, motioning to the guards. They conducted the exiles and their mount outside of the gates, depositing Andri’s trunk roughly on the ground and slamming the massive iron and wooden doors closed behind them.
“Well, that was fun,” d’Kundarak said, to no one in particular.
Andri stared at him curiously. “How is it that you did not tell the Ancillary Bishop that you were not with us?” he asked, seemingly glad of the distraction.
Irulan wondered what Maellas had meant about Andri’s father. She resolved to ask him about it, but as Greddark looked pointedly in her direction, she thought now might not be the best time to do so.
“Um, Andri? About that … I hired him, before we got arrested.”
“Hired him.” The paladin’s tone was flat.
“He’s already been working on the case for ir’Marktaros and has information we don’t. How better to get to the bottom of this case then by combining our efforts?” She gave him a wide smile, hoping he wouldn’t castigate her in front of the dwarf.
Andri didn’t respond, instead taking a deep breath and looking off towards the tents. She thought he might be counting to ten, as her mother had often done when either she or Javi tried her patience once too often in a day. Thinking of her mother and brother brought an unexpected rush of grief and she blinked back sudden tears. She knew d’Kundarak could help them with their investigation, and hiring him had been the right thing to do. If Andri didn’t agree, she was prepared to argue the point.
She didn’t have to. Andri appeared to make his decision and turned to hold his hand out to the dwarf.
“Good to have you along,” he said.
D’Kundarak shook the proffered hand. “Likewise.”
“Well. At least the guards had the courtesy to put us out the right gate,” Andri remarked as he hefted his trunk and began to drag it along the ground. Greddark picked up the other handle without prompting, sticking Irulan with leading the horse.
“Why do you say that?” the dwarf asked, the weight of the paladin’s trunk not fazing him.
“Because this was going to be our next stop, anyway.”
“The shifter camp?”
Andri nodded.
“More specifically, the tent of their leader, Ostra Farsight. Who has a lot of explaining to do.”
Chapter THIRTEEN
Zor, Therendor 26, 998 YK
Ostra did not look happy to see them. Possibly because they barged into his tent without waiting to be announced, possibly because Irulan had shifted and had him pinned to the ground, her long, thick claws at his throat.
“So. Would you like to explain why you sent Thorn ahead of us to lay a trap in the graveyard, or should I let Irulan try shaving you with her claws?” Andri realized it wasn’t the most politic of openings, but he didn’t care-the shifter leader had lied to him, making him ache for the fate of a girl who likely never existed, and nearly gotten him and Irulan killed in the process. Had gotten Thorn killed, though they hadn’t told the old shifter that yet.
“Please.” Ostra looked beseechingly at him. “Let me up, and I’ll explain everything.”
Irulan glanced at Andri, as if asking what the paladin wanted her to do. In that split second of distraction, the shifter leader rolled and threw her off him. But Greddark was there in an instant, the tip of his short sword forcing the old shifter back down and coming to rest on the jugular where Irulan’s claws had just been.
“I think not,” Andri said, his voice cold. “You can tell your story from there. But this time, if I sense even a hint of duplicity, I’ll let the dwarf slit your throat.”