Judge (3 page)

Ela blinked and took another breath. No. She didn’t want to live. Not if living meant facing Parne. She shut her eyes tight and willed herself to perish.

“Ela?” Kien’s voice beckoned, low and so concerned that Ela’s longing to die faded. For now at least. Was Kien here? She feared opening her eyes. Kien might vanish. Then the vision of Parne would reappear.

Warm, soggy destroyer breath wafted over Ela’s cheek, followed by the light grazing nudge of an equine muzzle. Scythe . . . Pet.

The destroyer licked her cheek and throat, his wet tongue so raspy that Ela raised a defensive hand. “Pet,” she mumbled, eyes still closed, “No licking.” Destroyer drool. Ick. At least his breath was sweet. Like flower petals. And warm tree sap. She
concentrated on petals and tree sap. More tolerable than her vision of Parne’s ruin. Smoothing the destroyer’s soft muzzle, she asked, “What have you been eating?”

“My mother’s garden,” Kien said, also real.

Ela looked up at him—his beautiful gray eyes. Appealing lips. No-no. Not prophet-like, allowing herself to be captivated by his handsome face and charming soul. Think of something else. Yes. Scythe had feasted in Ara Lantec’s perfect garden. “The whole garden?”

“Every petal and leaf. With the exception of five spice-gum trees.”

“Oh, Pet!” Tzana scolded Scythe, disappointment weighing her little-girl voice. “You ate
all
the flowers?”

“All of Mother’s flowers?” Beka asked, horrified.

Scythe gave a trifling sniff and looked away. At any other time, Ela might have laughed.

Kien scowled at the destroyer. “Naturally you’re unconcerned, you monster. You aren’t paying for the damage.
Are
you?”

Trying to be hopeful about the garden at least, Ela sat up. Her senses wavered, forcing her to support herself with the branch. “Perhaps Pet . . . Scythe . . . simply gave all the plants a severe pruning and everything will be even lovelier next spring.”

“Trampled and splintered plants aren’t pruned.” Kien leaned forward, turning grim. “And you, Parnian, are avoiding a subject we actually want to discuss. What did you see in your vision?”

Xiana Iscove’s bored expression brightened. “Yes, please tell us!”

Aware of the listening girls, Ela touched her sister’s frail shoulder. “Tzana, could you bring me something warm to drink, please?” Just remembering the vision chilled her, despite Kien’s heavy cloak.

Beside Tzana, Tamri said, “What am I thinking? Naturally, you’d need something warm to drink after such a shock. We’ll hurry. Tzana dear, come help me.” The older woman stood, so nimble that Ela envied her. What was it like to be eighty?
Truly
eighty. She could only wonder. She’d never experience old age for herself.

“Thank you, Tamri.” The instant Tzana was beyond earshot, Ela said softly, “Parne is now in open rebellion against the Infinite and has been judged. I need to warn my family and friends—and anyone who will listen. Perhaps they’ll survive.”

All five girls stared at her, incredulous. Beka frowned, her long-lashed brown eyes narrowing. “Survive what?”

“The siege.”

“A siege?” Kien’s expression turned cold. Soldierly. “When? And besieged by whom?”

“In one month. The country of Belaal will bring its army against Parne first, with two allied tribal nations—the Agocii and the Eosyths—seeking control of Parne’s wealth and resources. They’ll be followed by the countries of Istgard and Siphra, with a smaller force from the Tracelands, all hoping to defeat Belaal.”

“Istgard? And Siphra!” Kien shook his head. “No. You must be mistaken. Belaal and its neighboring tribes, I understand—they’re constantly creating turmoil, north and south. But not Istgard and Siphra. They’re our allies! We’d
know
!”

Kien doubted her? How dare he! Just what she didn’t need. Ela tugged his cloak from her shoulders and wadded it into his arms, not caring if she died of the cold. She’d have to face death anyway. “Yes, Istgard and Siphra! They’ll want to protect their own interests during the siege, as will the Tracelands.”

Scythe nudged Kien and whickered concerned-destroyer noises.

Kien shoved the warhorse’s muzzle away. “Ela, Istgard and Siphra have
no
interests in Parne! Why would they? If I’d—”

As if Parne was nothing? Oh! “They
do
! Istgard and Siphra must protect their own borders, particularly if Belaal acquires more gold and weapons to support its attacks! I notice you’re not very concerned about the Tracelands’ involvement!” Why was he arguing with her?

Nia Rol gasped, making Ela look at her. “Father would have
said something, I’m sure, if we were planning to invade Parne. . . . Not that I listen to everything, mind you, but . . .”

When Nia’s half-coherent protest faded, Kien said, “I’m not concerned about the Tracelands, because if our allies are involved in
any
military action, then of course we’ll support them.” He hesitated. “Are you telling me that you’re going to Parne, knowing it’ll be under siege? Ela, I forbid it!”

“No you don’t!” She wanted to wallop him with the branch. Who did he think he was? Didn’t she have enough trouble without his misguided interference? Pet bumped her, exhaling an anxious rumble. Ela leaned away from him and scowled at Kien. “I’m Parne’s prophet. I have to go, whether or not
you
approve.”

“Ela—!”

“Kien!” She stood. Swayed.

Kien jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm. She shook him off. “Stop!”

“No. Listen to me! You don’t need to—”

“You listen!” As Ela aimed the branch at Kien, the destroyer stamped and snorted as if prepared for battle—then nosed his way between them. Ela cried, “Pet,
move
! I want to beat your master!”

The destroyer groaned and stood his ground.

 3 

E
la wanted to beat him? Kien scowled, stepping backward as Scythe muscled him away and then halted, blocking Kien from Ela. Didn’t Ela realize he was concerned for her safety? If she would just listen to his suggestions!

Beside Kien, Beka grabbed his sleeve. “Look, you’ve upset your destroyer.”

“He started
my
morning by upsetting me,” Kien argued. He shoved at the destroyer’s huge black shoulder. “Move, you lummox!” Naturally, the beast didn’t budge. But his powerful muscles were twitching. Wildly. Adopting a calmer tone, Kien called out, “Ela, he seems certain you want to injure me. Do you?”

“Trust your destroyer!” Ela yelled. “You’ve basically said I don’t know what I’m talking about!” To Scythe, she said, “Pet, never mind. You stand right where you are!”

The giant horse shut his eyes and groaned again. Probably because she’d called him
Pet.

Unseen, some of Ela’s students were now giggling. Xiana’s too-cheerful voice cooed, “Oh, beat him a little, Ela. He deserves it!”

Kien fumed. Was Xiana referring to Scythe, or to him?

Beka tugged at Kien’s sleeve, clearly irked. “You two cannot give your destroyer conflicting orders. You’ll drive him insane!”

Kien opened his mouth to snap a reply at his sister, then paused. She was right. And Ela was right. But that didn’t make
him wrong. His training in diplomacy took hold. Kien sat down, looked past the destroyer’s immense black hooves and legs, and studied the opposition. Ela’s face wasn’t visible, but he saw her fingers restlessly tapping the branch. Then she aimed a fierce kick at a fold on the mat. Bad-tempered little prophet. With pretty feet. At least she seemed mostly recovered from her vision.

Keeping his voice reasonable, he called, “Ela, I’m leaving for ToronSea this afternoon, and I’d prefer to depart with blessings from the prophet of Parne.”

Ela’s hands and feet stilled. She thumped the branch against the mat and bent to stare at him. “ToronSea? But . . . why? You’ve just returned home!”

She sounded like his mother. She’d miss him. Kien grinned. “You’re the prophet. You tell me.”

Ela sat down and shut her eyes, evidently questioning the Infinite. Her students sat on either side of her, whispering, then smiling at him and Beka from their side of the destroyer.

Beka sat next to Kien and hissed, “What’s this about ToronSea?”

“Listen,” he muttered. “You won’t believe it.”

Apparently finished communing with the Infinite, Ela opened her dark eyes and stared at him, horror-struck. “You’re being sent to ToronSea in my place. Because I’m going to Parne.”

“So it would seem.”

“But . . . we don’t know what you’ll be facing!” Whatever color she’d recovered faded.

Kien realized she didn’t like it one bit that he would confront danger on the Infinite’s behalf. He wanted to say,
Now you understand how I feel about you being caught in a siege.
But tormenting Ela wouldn’t gain the answers he sought. “I only know that I’m leaving today. Any advice for a temporary prophet?”

Her voice distant, shaken, she simply said, “You must obey the Infinite.”

“That’s the reason I’m going,” Kien pointed out. He instantly regretted his challenging tone, half expecting to see Ela fling the branch at him like a javelin.

Instead, she rubbed a hand over her face, seeming dangerously close to tears. Worse than a makeshift javelin, as far as Kien was concerned. Could she be overwhelmed by fear for him? It
was
pleasant to think Ela loved him enough to be distraught.

After a pause, she looked up, addressing the destroyer. “Dear rascal, you can move now. We’re finished quarreling.”

The destroyer ambled away, but lingered at the closest clumps of shrubs, still watching.

Tzana returned, carrying Ela’s rough mantle. Tamri followed with a ceramic goblet of steaming liquid. Ela wrapped herself in the mantle, then nestled Tzana in her lap. She thanked Tamri and accepted the goblet, but made no effort to drink. Kien wished she would. She looked almost lifeless.

Ela watched him instead, looking as if she wanted to speak but no longer had the strength. He nudged Beka toward Ela, then joined their circle. Settling himself, Kien studied Ela. If only they were married. He could hold her. Comfort her. Instead, as a mere friend and erstwhile suitor, he had to be content with ridiculous formalities and tame questions. “You look as if you want to tell me something. What is it?”

“You’re about to be tested.” Her low, somber prophet voice. Warning him. Raising the hairs along his scalp. “Obey the Infinite. Don’t stray from the tasks He’s given you.”

Now she sipped from the clay goblet. Kien waited for her to say more. She didn’t. “That’s all?” So much for Ela loving him enough to be distraught. “Those are my complete instructions?”

The faintest sad hint of a smile lit her big brown eyes. “Shall I repeat them?”

Xiana tittered. Nia fluttered her lashes.

Kien grimaced. “No, thank you. I’ll repeat them to you instead. I’m about to be tested. Obey the Infinite. Don’t stray from the task He’s given me—which is ToronSea.
Which
, incidentally, has been swayed by Atea-worshipers from Siphra who may not react cordially to my news, and I risk ritual strangulation. Did I remember everything?”

“Yes.” Her weak smile had already faded. She set down the goblet and rocked Tzana as if the little girl were a baby. Before Kien could persist in questioning her, General Rol’s personal chariot, driven by his ancient household charioteer, clattered around the clearing, its little horse becoming skittish at Scythe’s monstrous presence.

Accompanied by Xiana Iscove, Nia stood and smiled. “Safe journey, Kien. I mean . . . return home soon. Ela, thank you. Rather, I’ll see you later, maybe. . . .”

Xiana sang out, “Come, Nia, that’s enough, dear!” She aimed a dart of a smile at Kien. “It’s a pity we won’t see you at your mother’s reception tonight, Kien. We’ll miss you.”

He grinned, pleased they were departing. “My apologies. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Another chariot rattled alongside the ruins to retrieve two more students—a pair of twin-like sisters who, in Kien’s opinion, seemed dazed and glad to leave. Only Beka remained, and she sat quietly with Ela. Kien glanced up at the sky. Midmorning. He still had time. “Ela, I don’t intend to quarrel, but I need information. If you can’t tell me anything more about ToronSea, then tell me why Belaal would attack Parne. Remote as Parne is, what could Belaal gain?”

“Gems. Gold, which they’ve promised to the Agocii and Eosyths. And, most of all, new ores for dangerous weapons.”

“Ores similar to the ones we use for Azurnite?”

She shook her head. “I wish they were Azurnite.” Her gaze rested on his sword, concealed in its black military scabbard. “May we see your new sword?”

“You knew I would receive it?”

“Yes . . .” She seemed ready to say more, but hushed, sad-eyed.

Wondering at her wistfulness, Kien slid the exquisite blue sword from its scabbard. The early-autumn sunlight shimmered and danced against the blade, showing off the metal’s rich forged pattern of dark blue and deepest gray waves.

Tzana scrambled from Ela’s lap and plunked herself down
beside Kien. She crooned over the sword, “Ooooo . . . it’s so pretty. I wish I could have one.”

Kien smiled at her fragile old-woman features, wishing she could indeed have an Azurnite sword. It would mean she had the strength to carry a sword—or anything of a similar weight. It would mean that Tzana was healthy. The proper size and height for a near-adolescent girl. She had such spirit. . . .

Ela sighed shakily. “I saw you with this sword. I’m glad you have it.”

Kien eyed her. No, she wasn’t entirely glad.

Ela looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the glitter of tears. Beka hugged Ela. “Don’t be upset! Everything will be fine—you’ll see.”

“I
have
seen.” Ela mopped her face with her coarse mantle, then patted Beka. “It won’t be fine. But thank you.”

Kien couldn’t endure her misery. He slipped the sword into its scabbard, crossed the space between them, and sat beside Ela. Tamri Het joined them, wringing her embroidery between her aged fingers. “Is there anything we can do, Ela-girl?”

“Pray. For all of us.” Ela’s gaze turned distant, pained and frightened, as if absorbed in some nightmare. “And for Parne.”

On impulse, Kien wrapped an arm around her in sympathy. Ela didn’t ward him off, which was alarming. Usually improprieties provoked her to feistiness. Now, however, she looked defeated. Kien jostled Ela gently. “Why are you so scared? You’ve faced equally dire situations before. You can manage this one.”

She remained silent, and Kien continued. “Is there a chance the Infinite might forgive Parne?”

“Forgive Parne for what?” Tzana demanded.

“For turning against Him, though they know better,” Ela murmured. To Kien, she said, “The Infinite is always willing to forgive—if offenders truly regret their offenses and change their hearts.” Ela looked Kien in the eyes. “I’m not concerned with Parne alone. Please . . . don’t stray from the Infinite’s plans.”

“I won’t. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” He
watched her, hoping for details or some encouragement regarding their respective missions. And, perhaps, their future.

She shrugged, on the verge of crying. Had she seen what would happen in ToronSea? Kien said, “Let’s walk a bit.”

Tamri Het shot him a fierce look. “Sir, you remain where I can see you.”

Kien didn’t have to become a prophet to see Tamri running him through with his own sword if he misbehaved. “Yes, ma’am.”

He helped Ela to stand, then set a slow pace. Despite her earlier temper, she was still ashen. Kien wished he could carry her. Cuddle her until she’d recovered. Tamri
would
kill him. He wasn’t sure about Ela. Opting for a slightly safer alternative, Kien led Ela to the stone base of a fallen pillar, made her sit down, then sat beside her. He enfolded her cold hands in his, rubbing warmth into her fingers. “Ela, when the bravest person I know is in tears, I’m worried.”

She glanced away. “I wouldn’t be so weepy if you weren’t being so sympathetic.”

Meaning she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with him? “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“I should have known you would.”

“Should have?” Kien couldn’t resist teasing her. “Not much of a prophet today, are you?”

She sniffled noisily, but gave him a fierce nudge. “I’m never much of a prophet where you’re concerned. You know that.”

“Yes. And I’ve wondered why. Perhaps it’s because our futures are so closely intertwined.” Wait. Had he sounded too suggestive?

Ela’s dark eyes went huge. She blinked at him, then reddened. Adorable. Kien grinned. Obviously, he couldn’t kiss her, but . . . He leaned down until he could feel the warmth of her blush and inhale the scent of her skin. “I see the perfection of my theory has left you speechless.”

She returned his stare for a lingering breath of time, then managed, “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not while we’re both alive.”

Ela leaned away slightly—not enough to convince Kien she was upset with him. “You need a new theory.”

“No. I’m pleased with the one I’ve just developed.”

“I’ll disprove your premise in Parne. I doubt I’ll survive.”

“But you aren’t sure,” he argued.

She looked away. “In my vision, I was entombed. Surrounded by the stench of death.” Her hands went cold again, and her lovely blush faded to the ghastly pallor induced by her vision. Deathlike. Particularly now, as she shut her eyes and retreated into silence.

If Ela hadn’t just foreseen her own demise, Kien feared he had. Sickened, he began to pray.