“Surely we can prevent this catastrophe,” Sir Graybow said to Karleah. “Treacherous sorcery has never yet defeated the Quadrivial.” His gruff voice rang in the room, and Jo felt suddenly heartened.
Karleah shrugged. “We can intercept the box, I suppose,” she said slowly. “Perhaps your guards are slow, or have met with disaster.”
Sir Graybow nodded, then helped the baroness to her chair and sat next to her. Jo and the others sat down as well.
“This is what we will do,” the castellan began, his deep voice reassuring and authoritative. “Squire Menhir,” he said formally, “by virtue of your prompt return of Master Brisbois, your proven rapport with Karleah, who knows most about the box, and the fact that I am surer of your motives than of any other knights and squires at this point, I send you after this box. You must stop its arrival at Armstead any way you can ”
The baroness looked askance at her castellan and said, “I’m sorry, Sir Graybow, but I believe that one of the more experienced knights should be given this task.”
“Normally, that would be true, My Lady, but there is one overriding reason for my choice. Squire Menhir has something no other knight possesses.”
“And that is?”
“Wyrmblight. If the dragon Verdilith is involved in these events, the sword forged to slay him must go along.”
“But she is only a squire.”
“I will send her in the company of Master Briarblood, a fighter equal to even our most experienced knights.” Sir Graybow looked at the dwarf, who nodded his head slightly. “And Karleah Kunzay will go as well, a mage who exceeds our mages in experience and intuition—as shown by her discovery of the box’s power.
“In their initial assault on Verdilith’s lair, Squire Menhir and her companions proved themselves more effective than the full regiment of knights and mages we sent afterward. And, given the problem of security, I would prefer to send a small, potent strike force rather than a marching army.”
“Do you agree to go, Karleah Kunzay?” Arteris asked. The old wizardess rubbed her chin for a moment. Then, looking at Jo, she said, “Aye, I’ll go, but on one condition: that only one more person accompanies us, and I choose whom.” Karleah turned to Sir Graybow and Arteris, who traded stunned looks.
Graybow peered at Karleah. “And who would that be?” Karleah grunted. “Master Brisbois.”
Jo stood and cried, “What? Are you crazy, Karleah? That man’s in league with Auroch—”
Karleah snapped, “Hush up, young lady. I’ve got more intuition in my little toenail than you have in your whole carrot-topped head! Brisbois is innocent. He’s also the only one who knows anything about Aurochs whereabouts and plans. He completes the strike force. We’ve got our sword-bearer …” She looked at Jo, Wyrmblight resting against the chair beside her. The crone’s gaze then shifted to Braddoc. “We’ve got our warrior, our spell-flinger (and assistant),” she continued, patting Dayin’s shoulder. “Now we need an information man, and Brisbois is it.”
“With Brisbois in our camp, Auroch has a certain chance of finding out what we’re up to!” Jo shouted. The castellan grabbed her arm and flashed her a warning look. Jo reluctantly took her seat. She crossed her arms.
Arteris spoke up. “It would seem that the disposition of Master Brisbois must be addressed now, rather than later as we had hoped.” She paused and looked at Jo. “The council had not quite come to a decision, and now other factors have arisen that would further color their judgments.” The baroness steepled her fingers again and set her gaze on Jo, who felt suddenly uncomfortable.
“Squire Menhir, as heir to Sir Flinn’s blade, what would you have us do with Master Brisbois? Would you grant him mercy … or death.”
Jo stared at the baroness, her mouth suddenly dry. Her arms felt like lead, and she let them come uncrossed. “My decision, Your Ladyship?” she asked, breathless.
The baroness nodded. “Yes, squire. The decision is yours. Master Brisbois has clearly betrayed his duty, not once but twice. The first time, Sir Flinn asked that the man be spared, asked that Master Brisbois act as his bondsman for one year, in hopes that he could be reformed. Sir Flinn’s mercy, of course, went astray.”
“I know all this,” whispered Jo.
Arteris nodded. “And now, Master Brisbois has betrayed his duty a second time, not honoring his sworn word as bondsman,” the baroness said. She shook her head sadly. “We have not determined if Brisbois joined Auroch willingly or was indeed abducted by the mage. But, either way, he rendered to Sir Flinn none of his service as bondsman. And, in a feeble attempt to return himself to our good graces, Master Brisbois willfully misled the knighthood,” Arteris paused, letting the point sink in. “By all rights,” Arteris continued slowly, “the man deserves no further mercies. He is clearly without honor. He is possibly in league with Auroch and Verdilith. And he may do us great harm. His execution would be warranted, and I will sanction it with only a word from you to do so.”
Sir Graybow covered Jo’s hands with his own and said,
“The choice is yours, Squire Menhir. You are Sir Flinn’s former squire. Not only are his memory and his sword entrusted to you, but his commitments are yours as well.” He paused and then said, “As we all saw in the marketplace, the people of Penhaligon cheer your mission of vengeance, whether I do or not. So, I leave the choice to you: mercy or death.”
“Mercy or death?” Jo muttered in bewilderment. Those two words hammered at her soul. She wanted her revenge, now even more than in the marketplace. During the council meeting, Brisbois had smoothly laid out excuse after excuse, lie after lie, and Jo had grown only more angry. He was not innocent. Brisbois had defamed Flinn. Brisbois had burned Flinn’s home and befriended Flinn’s killer. He had vowed his service as bondsman and then fled when Auroch had attacked. A score of true offenses rose to the surface of Jo’s mind, accompanied by a hundred imagined ones. And her anger deepened. The stone in her belt pouch seemed to throb in sympathy with her hatred, and a voice in her head whispered, Give him death, Johauna; for the sake of Flinn’s soul, give him death.
But Flinn had let the man live. The irony of the situation suddenly struck Jo: Brisbois had dishonored Flinn by saying he had denied mercy to a foe on the battlefield. The charge was not only false, but absurd. Flinn demonstrated his mercy by granting a second chance to the very man who had falsely accused him. It was Flinn’s mercy that had saved Brisbois, had let him keep his title, had let him live.
Jo felt the anger in her begin to crack. For so long this grim vow of vengeance had eclipsed her mind, eclipsed her being. And, in its deep shadow, Jo’s soul had withered. Her single-minded quest to hunt down and kill the slayers of Flinn seemed suddenly hollow, destroying rather than building her soul.
It was making her more like Brisbois, less like Flinn.
No, Jo told herself. True knights exhibit not only Honor, Courage, Faith, and Glory. True knights also exhibit Mercy.
“If I am the heir to Sir Flinn’s estate as well as his commitments,” Jo said clearly, “then I can only do as he would have done: I grant mercy to Sir Brisbois.” Jo’s eyes glittered suddenly. “But Master Brisbois must fulfill his sworn word as bondsman.”
Conflicting emotions flitted across the castellan’s face, and Jo wondered just what the man was thinking. Finally, he turned to Arteris and said, “If you so approve, Your Ladyship.”
The baroness gave a slight nod.
Karleah caught Jo’s eyes and said, “Looks like we’d better get that man out of the dungeons, then. We’ve a box to find.”
Jo nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. A niggling voice in her mind told her she had made the wrong choice, and for the wrong reasons.