This ordeal is all too familiar, she thought. Half a year ago, at the start of spring, her clan had been massacred by followers of Lord Medb. Without family or friends, she had come to Khulinin Treld and stood before the chieftain to ask for acceptance into the clan. Instead of revealing her identity as a woman and risking rejection, she had disguised herself as a boy and brought with her a legendary and rare Hunnuli horse she had rescued from wolves. The Khulinin had reluctantly chosen to take her in on Lord Savaric’s recommendation.
Now, months later, the Khulinin had to choose again, but this time they knew the full truth of Gabria’s identity and her powers as a sorceress. Under normal circumstances, clan law prescribed death for a woman found guilty of hiding her sex in order to join a werod, the tribes’ fighting units. The penalty for practicing the heretical arts of sorcery was also death. Yet in Gabria’s case, the circumstances were far from normal. She had been the only person in the eleven clans able to face Lord Medb’s sorcery and she had saved them all from annihilation or slavery. In thanks, the council of chieftains had released her from the punishment due a sorceress, but only under the condition that she not use magic again until the laws were revised. However, they did not release her from punishment within her new clan for her other crimes.
The new chieftain of the Khulinin, Lord Athlone, had made his feelings for Gabria known to his clan and had already paid the bride price to the priestess of the goddess, Amara.
The Khulinin knew they could not anger their chieftain or ruin the honor of the clan by putting Gabria to death. Nevertheless, the ancient laws could not be maintained if Gabria was allowed to go unpunished. Some penalty had to be meted out to calm the anger and resentment of the clanspeople. Many of them, incited by Thalar, wanted Gabria exiled. Others wanted her tongue cut out so she could not speak the words needed to cast spells. Still others, though only a minority, felt she deserved a mild sentence. The controversy raged through the Khulinin during their trek home and continued even as they prepared the treld for the coming winter.
The emotions grew so high, Lord Athlone had finally stepped in to put an end to the furor. As chieftain, his powers were bound by the limits of clan law. He could have simply released Gabria from any judgment, but he was the son of a chief and had been wer-tain, commander of warriors, for several years. He knew when it was time to acquiesce to the demands of his people. Reluctantly, he had agreed several days past to hold a getyne, a form of clan trial in which a tyne, or jury, of eight decided the accused’s guilt and punishment.
To Priest Thalar’s fury, Lady Tungoli had insisted that the tyne be composed of four men and four women. Women did not usually serve on a tyne, but the lady reasoned that, since Gabria’s crimes encompassed so many issues, it was only fair that clanswomen should help judge her. Lord Athlone had agreed. And so four men—two elders, a warrior, and a weaver—and four women—the priestess of Amara, two wives, and a grandmother-gathered on a chilly autumn afternoon to decide Gabria’s fate.
The sorceress shifted her weight again and pushed a strand of flaxen hair out of her eyes. The heat was growing worse. Beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead, and her long skirts hung on her like a heavy blanket. She wished the people would hurry and get this over.
Particularly Thalar. The priest’s voice was still ringing loudly through the hall. With a small frown, Gabria tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“I do not condemn the council of chieftains for releasing this woman from her justifiable execution,” he cried, his voice thick with righteousness. “The chiefs were overcome with joy and relief at their release from the evil ambitions of Lord Medb. But they did not see then that they had only traded one evil for another. This magic-wielder,” he pointed a finger at Gabria “still lives! The responsibility of wiping out this heretic has now fallen into our hands. We have a gods-given opportunity to show the clans of the Ramtharin Plains how we deal with magic-wielders. We do not tolerate them!” Thalar’s voice rose to a thundering shout. “Khulinin, we must blot out this stain of sorcery before it spreads. Fulfill the penalty of death. Kill the sorceress!” The words were barely out of the priest’s mouth when the healer, Piers, leaped to his feet and demanded the right to speak.
“No! I am not finished,” Thalar shouted. He had the crowd’s attention and wanted to press home his point.
Lord Athlone, however, had had enough of Thalar’s rantings. “We have heard you for some time, Priest. Give the right to someone else. Piers, you may speak.” The healer, ignoring Thalar’s infuriated glare, turned to face the tyne. His pale skin and light, graying hair looked almost colorless in the dim light of the hall, but there was nothing lackluster about his speech. The old healer loved Gabria like a daughter and would have done anything to save her.
“Khulinin, I realize that I am not a blood member of this or any other clan. I am a foreigner to your ways and laws. Yet in the eleven years that I have been with you, I have never seen you act with anything but honor, courage, and loyalty. This young woman who stands before you has those same qualities in full measure.
“When Medb’s men massacred her clan, Gabria did not crawl away in fear to die. She took the only way open to her to seek justice for the murder of her people. When she learned she had the talent to wield magic, she did not hide her power, she used it to save all of us. Gabria’s methods were wrong by the strictures of your law, but they were the only methods available to her and she acted on them with courage and honor. The council of chiefs has released her from death for her use of sorcery. Can we now turn our backs on their wisdom and justice and kill her for striking back against an enemy stronger than even the warriors of this clan? She does not deserve death for that, she deserves our respect.” For a moment the healer looked at each member of the tyne as if to seal his words in their thoughts, then he smiled at Gabria and sat down.
The watching clanspeople shifted and murmured among themselves.
Lady Tungoli rose next and claimed the right to speak. As widow of Lord Savaric and the mother of Athlone, Tungoli held one of the highest positions of status and respect among the Khulinin women. Everyone listened quietly as she nodded to the tyne and began to talk. “I would like to speak for myself and for several witnesses who are not in this hall today,” she said. She did not raise her voice, yet her firm words were heard clearly throughout the hall. “For myself, I will only note that I agree wholeheartedly with the beliefs of those I am here to represent.
“The first is Lord Savaric. I knew my husband well enough to say with complete confidence that he would never have ordered Gabria’s death under these circumstances. He respected her for her courage, her intelligence, and her determination. If he were here today, he would examine her deeds, her motives, and her strength of character, as well. He would want you to do likewise.
“The other witnesses I wish to include are the Corins. Gabria’s clan did nothing to earn their fate. They were pieces in Lord Medb’s game, pieces he discarded when they would not turn against their fellows. Gabria did not accept that fate. She fought back to redeem her clan’s memory and to win justice for the murder of her family. The Corins would not have expected anything less, and neither should we.”