“This is more than rivalry between wives or Shek Kul ridding himself of an inconvenience,” said Laio somberly. “The practice of magic is a foul offense and it must be punished. I would be doing this if it had been Mahli you had overheard, you must understand this.”
I understood that Laio meant every word, whatever I might think of the so-called crime. “You are doing your duty to Shek Kul and to the domain,” I replied with equal gravity. “I will do everything in my power to support you.”
Laio drew in a long breath and, after a moment, released it slowly. Moving to look out across the straits to the distant hills, oblivious to the milling crowds below, she stood in silence, preparing herself. I looked at her, wondered if I should try talking to her further, but decided against it and addressed myself to my own appearance. Taking a brush to burnish my hauberk, I scoured it to a silver brilliance before scrubbing the resulting grime from my hands. Once I was clean I dressed in the green and black silk arming jacket that proclaimed the domain when I was on show to visiting nobles. Settling the armor on my shoulders and hips, I was about to buckle on my belt when Laio stirred.
“There’s a coffer by the door,” she said, almost absently, her eyes still fixed on the far distant heights.
I looked around and found a small casket of reddish-brown wood bound with bronze. Opening it I found a broad belt rich with silver-mounted stones, jet and malachite, arrogant in their size and cut. Clasping similarly ornamented bracers around my forearms, I lifted out an Aldabreshin war helm, something I had not worn to this point. Shaped close to the skull, it had a veil of fine chainmail to protect the neck and shoulders and a sliding nasal bar. Chased silver bands around and across it were inlaid with curling enamel lines of Aldabreshin script and I put it on with an odd sense of foreboding, wondering just what I had written above my eyes.
“Now you are an Islander.” Laio nodded her approval.
I managed a faint smile. I certainly looked the part but I would have to convince everyone present that I was truly Laio’s man at this masquerade of a trial, loyal to her, Shek Kul and the domain in that order. How could I do that when I did not believe it myself? My oath had been given long before I had been brought here and I was the only one who could take it back and give it elsewhere. My loyalties to Laio or Shek Kul weren’t worth a Lescari cut-piece; I spent every spare moment racking my brains for a way to escape them. Was I forsworn by this pretense? Where was the virtue in standing on my honor if that would only get me killed?
What of my immediate situation? My quarrel was with the Elietimm, with him and his kind who had somehow encompassed my slavery here; I wasn’t doing this for Laio or the domain, I wanted some measure of vengeance for my own predicament, even if that hapless slut Kaeska was going to suffer Dastennin only knew what torments if I succeeded. I caught my breath on a sudden memory of the visions Viltred had shown me; these Elietimm were a threat to all that held my oath, weren’t they? That alone should validate my actions here, shouldn’t it?
Would I be any closer to escaping and returning to the duties I had chosen of my own free will? If I did, would Kaeska’s death be a price I was prepared to accept, a consequence I could defend to Saedrin when the time came? Too late for these questions; I was committed now. It was time to act and deal with the consequences as the runes fell, the moment any good soldier learns to recognize if he’s to live beyond his first season in the militia.
I moved to stand at Laio’s shoulder and stared out toward the hidden seas, wondering what Livak was doing at this moment, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun sank inexorably to the horizon. A rising note swelled above us from a deep-throated horn I had not heard give tongue before. In the gathering dusk I saw bright flowers of flame blossom along a line of beacons, answering points of light identifying islands far distant. Whatever happened here tonight clearly involved the entire domain.
“Come.” Laio turned and led the way, back straight, head held high, her poise impeccable. I drew myself up as straight as if I had been granted a private audience with the Emperor and kept pace at her heel. As we reached the stairs, Gar and Sezarre emerged, equally resplendent, faces equally grave. Side by side and everyone in step, we descended to the compound where the throng parted before us in silent waves of obeisance before sweeping around to follow like a gathering sea at our backs. Crossing the compound, we entered a great hall that I had not been in before and it took all my training to remain impassive as I took in my surroundings.
This was Shek Kul’s audience chamber, the heart of the domain, the seat of his authority. It was a lofty, pillared hall with walls of shining black marble inlaid with false arches of a green, veined stone, bracketed with torches scattering golden light from their faceted and mirrored niches. Shutters high above our heads had been opened and a breeze stirred the array of pennants hanging from the central arch of the roof. The snap and flutter of the silk could clearly be heard above the faint sounds of the expectant crowd. Censers filled the air with their perfume and the soft whisper of fly-whisks sounded on all sides.
Our steps echoed on the floor, the sound vanishing into the masses already gathered along the walls, more pressing in at the wide double doorway. We proceeded up the central aisle to stand in the center of a vast abstract design in green marble set into the floor at the foot of a flight of three broad steps. Shek Kul looked down from the dais, seated squarely on a black wood throne inlaid with silver and precious stones. In a dramatic contrast to ourselves, the Warlord was dressed in plain white silk, hair and beard unornamented, his only gem a great emerald set in a heavy gold chain around his neck. He waved Laio and Gar to seats at his off hand with an economical gesture, his grave expression unchanging.
I took my stand at Laio’s shoulder, wanting to share a glance with Sezarre but unable to do so without moving my head. Before I had time to grow concerned about the possible implications of Shek Kul’s dress, a low murmur swept toward us through the expectant crowd and the guards at the doorway stood aside to let Kaeska Shek enter. I heard a note of sympathy, which gave me something new to worry about.
Kaeska was a forlorn figure, tiny in the vastness of the hall, bare feet silent on the cold marble as she walked up the central aisle toward judgment. Her hair was bound in a simple braid down her back, face naked and vulnerable, and she wore only a plain dress of unbleached cotton. I managed to keep my own contempt out of my face, but couldn’t help glancing at Shek Kul to see how he was reacting to this display of penitence. To my relief I was sure I saw a gleam of cynicism to answer my own in his dark eyes. Looking for the Elietimm priest, I saw he was following Kaeska, his distance nicely judged not to distract the onlookers from her portrayal of humble duty.
My thoughts were interrupted by the heavy slam of the far doors, the bar falling across with a thud that made me feel as trapped as Kaeska, the feverish scent of anticipation replacing the fragrant aroma of the night-time gardens. I drew a deep breath as Shek Kul rose to his feet, looking down at Kaeska with hard eyes.
“You are accused of suborning sorcery in my domain, woman. How do you answer?”