Judge (9 page)

 10 

W
hile they knelt about the low table and shared their evening meal, Ela watched Tsir Aun move away from his wife, as if fearing the leather parcel in his hands would harm Lara and their unborn child. He untied the parcel’s leather cords and placed it at the end of the table, revealing crystallized ores.

Obviously taking his cue from Tsir Aun, Jon caught Beka’s hands, preventing her from touching the yellow and silver-gray stones. Beka protested, “I won’t touch them, but I want to see what all the fuss is about. Really, Jon, let go of my hands and I’ll be good. For now.”

Tzana piped up, “I’ve never seen yellow rocks like those.” She reached for the crystals.

“No! They’re dangerous.” Ela lifted her sister away. Tzana loved odd chunks of ore.

Ela settled Tzana beside her, then stared at the glistening stones. “Those are the types of ores I saw in my vision. The yellow one is poisonous in any form.” She hesitated, hating to discuss the matter in front of Tzana. “But how is my father connected with contraband ore?”

Lara shook her head, clearly at a loss. “When our authorities found these ores being secretly sold in our capitol, in the middle of Riyan, we had to arrest the offenders. Our citizens became ill when they attempted to smelt the yellow ore. And after the
silvered ore was crushed, the residue caused buildings to burn to the ground, killing several men.”

Taking up her explanation, Tsir Aun said, “When we demanded information from the Parnian smugglers, they specifically named your father, Dan Roeh, as their supplier of contraband ore.”

Reprobate Parnian liars! Ela clenched her hands into fists and paused. Be calm. Temper tantrums were unprophet-like. “My father is an ordinary workman. A stonecutter who maintains Parne’s foundations and walls. He has studied stone formations around Parne, but he’d never require others to sell such ores on his behalf. Particularly knowing the ores are dangerous.”

Jon and Beka, and Tsir Aun and Lara each cast her troubled glances. Did they suspect her father? Or her? Infinite, why?

“Nevertheless,” Tsir Aun said, “your father was . . . named . . . and it is a concern.”

He’d almost said
accused
, Ela was sure. In answer to her prayer, traces of a vision offered faces. And hatred. Hearing her own name hissed within the thoughts of others, Ela pressed her fingertips hard against the stabs in her head. “My enemies are attacking Father because of me.”

Because of Me
, the Infinite corrected.

“Because of the Infinite,” Ela repeated, in perfect agreement with His statement. Hurting, she focused on the tiny bowls of brightly pickled vegetables, baskets of soft flat breads, autumn fruits, and a platter of fat herb-roasted partridges. The vision’s residual pain faded, leaving Ela wearied.

Tzana huddled against Ela, her fragile body beset by tremors. “I want to go home—I need to see Father.”

“Yes. Soon,” Ela promised. She landed a soft kiss on Tzana’s insubstantial curls, then tucked the little girl close to soothe her shivers. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Until then, you should eat and rest.” She offered her sister some fruit. Tzana ate.

Jon cleared his throat and spoke to Tsir Aun and Tek Lara. Polite, but defensive. “It makes sense that Ela’s enemies would attack her father in an attempt to smear her good name. If her
enemies convince others of this lie, then they’ve diminished Ela’s authority.”

“We agree,” Lara said, with a glance at her husband, who nodded. “Ela, you will keep us informed, won’t you?”

“Yes. Istgard will be informed.” They deserved to know everything. She addressed Tsir Aun. “Prime Minister, within a few weeks, the country of Belaal will attack Parne from the south to gain control of these ores—and Parne’s gold, which they’ve promised to share with the Agocii and Eosyth tribes.”

Tsir Aun tensed, scorn crossing his bronzed features. “Belaal!” He hesitated. “If Belaal’s god-king—that Bel-Tygeon—gains exclusive command over these ores, then devious as his mind is, he’d command that Belaal create a destructive arsenal to use against other countries.”

Passing Beka a dish of pickled vegetables, Jon agreed. “If not an outright war, then the least Bel-Tygeon would do is threaten the Tracelands and Siphra to gain trade concessions. And lands.”

“Bel-Tygeon won’t be satisfied with such small victories for long,” Tsir Aun said.

Lara frowned. “With our new government, he’d consider Istgard vulnerable.” She gave Ela a pleading look that ought to have carried some blame. “Ela, can’t you subdue Belaal and its king?”

“Parne’s judgment comes first. Through Belaal and others.” Ela put down the morsel of bread she’d taken, her appetite obliterated by thoughts of the coming siege.

Unaffected, Tsir Aun ate. Neatly. Between bites of herbed meat and bread, he said, “We cannot allow Belaal to control Parne and these ores. I’m sending the Tracelands and Siphra warnings as soon as we return to Istgard. If need be, we will go to war.”

Beka cleared her throat in the silence that followed. As Jon nodded agreement, she said, “Unofficially, I promise you, the Tracelands is concerned and will send a force to join yours.”

“Thank you.” Lara studied Beka now, her expression fond. “You look so much like your brother—I’m surprised he’s not here. How is Kien? Where is he?”

Jon chuckled. “The Infinite sent him off on a mission.”

His dark eyebrows raised, Tsir Aun asked, “What type of mission?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Sudden fear tightened Ela’s stomach. She shut her eyes, praying for Kien.

Ominously dark clouds dropped shroud-like over Adar-iyr’s rooftops as Kien passed through the island-kingdom’s main gate. Odd island weather. Covering his mouth and nose with the edge of his cloak, Kien entered Adar-iyr’s filthy streets, his boots slipping in the fetid mud and waste heaped on the pavings. Didn’t the authorities enforce sanitation regulations? The city’s central gutter was blocked with . . . rotting corpses. Two bloated humans and one goat. The stench worked into Kien’s nostrils, gagging him. So much for the cloak. He lowered his hand.

“Infinite,” Kien muttered as his stomach churned in revolt, “thank You for not allowing me to eat.” Steady. Given the situation, he must behave as a prophet and follow Ela’s example. Warn offenders while trying to see them as the Infinite did, with concern for their souls.

He wove away from the gutter toward the buildings, still counting the corpses. Six now. Three human. Three animals . . . One, by appearances, had been carved up for roasts while still alive. No more than ten breaths within this stinking city and Kien had already counted at least eleven violations of the Tracelands’ criminal codes.

“Ooo . . .” a feminine voice purred as an arm slipped around Kien’s waist, chafing his raw skin so sharply that he wanted to yell. A young woman with sun-streaked brown hair clung to Kien, caressing him, and—between nervous glances at the forbidding clouds—taking liberties he’d allow no one. “Who are you, stranger? Never mind. You’re not in a hurry, are you?”

Kien stepped away, frowning. Why would anyone touch him, rotted as he appeared?

She flung herself at him again. “Wait! My, but you’re in a bad mood. Well, I can make you forget everything for a quarter-ninus.”

Twelve violations. Thirteen if she’d stolen his coins. Fourteen if she continued to maul him against his will. Gritting his teeth, Kien unwound her arms from his waist.

She grabbed him again, painfully, revealing her desperation. “Please, sir!”

This was like trying to free himself from a many-tentacled creature—its arms continuously entwining him. Frustrated, Kien stared down into the young prostitute’s eyes. He froze, shocked. She was so
young
! Obviously this girl’s situation wasn’t her fault. He removed her hands from his waist and held her wrists to keep the girl’s attention—and some distance.

Remembering his divinely dictated guidelines—the twelve official words he’d be allowed while in this city—Kien spoke gently, hoping she recognized his concern. The Infinite’s concern. “In twenty-one days, the Infinite will destroy Adar-iyr. Repent and be saved.”

“What?” She stared at Kien as if he were insane.

“In twenty-one days—”

“You’re teasing me.” The girl pouted, her voice pathetic, her lower lip out as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Don’t be mean.”

Were those specks crawling through her hair
lice
? Kien held the girl off, repeating earnestly, “In twenty-one days, the Infinite will destroy Adar-iyr. Repent and be saved.”

“Huh! Madman! Let go!” She ducked and tugged her hands from his. “Freak!”

A man leaned from the nearest doorway and snarled at Kien, “If you’re not conducting business, move on!”

The man’s hair was the same sun-streaked brown as the girl’s. Was he the girl’s panderer, selling his own daughter or his little
sister to a peeling, blighted stranger? No doubt he was. Infinite? Did Adar-iyr have any laws at all? This poor girl had been defiled through her relative’s greed! Kien eyed the man and struggled not to judge and condemn him with evidence unheard. “In twenty-one days, the Infinite will destroy Adar-iyr! Repent and be saved.”

As the man stared, then cast a wary glance at the threateningly low sky, Kien turned his scruffy-booted heels in an about-face and marched down the cloud-darkened street. He checked his coin purse, still secured to his waist, silver drams intact. Amazing. He untied it, cinched his belt tight, then dropped his coin purse inside his tunic, where it would be safe. Unless someone gutted him, which was bound to happen.

Raising his voice, Kien yelled, “In twenty-one days, the Infinite will destroy Adar-iyr! Repent and be saved!”

Unless their Creator forgave all these miscreants. Infinite? Would You?

If they repent. Yes. And you are right to not judge them by your own mortal understanding.

He’d done something right? Thank You! Heartened by his Creator’s approval, Kien clasped his sword’s hilt and crossed the filthy, gloomy streets, praying with every step that he’d survive.

Branch in hand, Ela waited in Ytar’s council chamber.

Expressionless, Tsir Aun rolled up a signed agreement and spoke to Ytar’s council. “Istgard has your oath, and you have Istgard’s, according to our first agreement. The wall, as it stands, has been paid for by Istgard, but it is now returned to your care. Remember that we’ve contributed to its construction.”