The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (45 page)

“Get some sleep, you idiot.” There was precious little patience remaining in her tone and her foot was tapping ominously.

I moved to the bed, consoling myself with the realization that Sezarre and Grival would be awake by now and the residence guard would have been changed at dawn. They would be more than a match for Kaeska and her sorcerer in a straight fight. Now the plot had been exposed, for the Elietimm to use magic would be to condemn the pair of them out of hand. My sluggish thoughts had just reached this conclusion when the silken pillow touched my cheek with a seductive caress. I was lost and asleep even before Laio’s warmth and lingering scent in the bed could stir my tired senses.

I was borne upwards from the depths of sleep by a swelling tide of noise in the compound below Laio’s apartments. Opening my eyes, I was just trying to identify the individual elements in the mix when the door opened. I sat bolt upright, heart racing, only to see Laio standing looking at me, her expression a blend of concern and irritation.

“Are you going to be able to tell a coherent tale without falling asleep in the middle of it?” Her foot was tapping again and I realized belatedly how much of her own prestige Laio was investing in my word.

“Yes,” I said simply. “You were right, I did need to sleep.” If I had expected my admission would soften her mood, I was wrong.

“Of course I was,” snapped Laio. “Get up, get washed and fetch something to eat.”

I hurried to comply; having Laio standing in the middle of the floor, arms folded and eyes hooded with annoyance didn’t encourage any lingering in bed. Stifling a fleeting wish that I could have a decent shave for once, I headed down to the kitchens, pausing at the half-landing to open a shutter and check the time by the sun. It proved to be late afternoon, but I barely spared the sun a glance when I saw the activity in the gardens. I’d thought the place was crowded when the news of the baby’s birth has spread but that was nothing compared to the scene below me. It looked as if half the domain had somehow made its way here; I couldn’t believe all these people lived on this one island. A tremor of nervousness threatened to unsettle me and I slapped a passing insect with unnecessary venom.

“Get a grip on the reins, Rysh,” I muttered to myself. “The only one you need to convince is Shek Kul. Imagine he’s the Sieur in a difficult mood.”

The problem with that was not only did I know the Sieur and his disposition while Shek Kul was largely still an untold tale to me, but I could also rely on the protection of oaths that the Sieur had made when offering me his commission. I realized that I had no idea just what Shek Kul might do to me if he decided for some arcane reason that my words were a malicious fabrication. I made haste to fetch Laio’s meal and waited impatiently for her to eat her fill.

“What will happen if Kaeska is not judged guilty?” I asked abruptly, not bothering to ask permission as I began to eat, trying to see if some food would settle the qualms gathering in my gut.

Laio shook herself as she rose and began pacing along the balcony. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” she replied in a haughty tone that nevertheless rang a little hollow to my ears. “Tell the tale as you gave it to me and she will not be able to excuse herself.”

There was a distinct edge of nervousness in her voice, which struck answering echoes from the doubts starting to gather around my mind. I stared at the flatbread in my hand, appetite failing me.

“Will you hurry up!” Laio suddenly snapped. “I need to dress and make ready.”

As I shoved the tray aside, I forced the tumult of doubt and apprehension into the back of my mind and slammed a door on it. If I betrayed any nervousness, I could see Laio’s poise would desert her and then we would both be in trouble. I might have the evidence that would condemn Kaeska but Laio was the one who knew how this so-called system of justice worked, which arguments would be most likely to sway Shek Kul, how Kaeska’s mind would be working as she tried to evade her fate. I needed Laio calm and confident, all her wits sharp, honed to perfection as she cut through the intricacies of life in a Warlord’s household. Well, that at least was something I had some control over.

Accordingly, I dressed her in a flamboyant golden gown, the silk shot through with a vivid bankfisher blue, answering fire caught from an Emperor’s ransom in sapphires and diamonds around her neck, her wrists and her ankles. I drew her hair up with jewelled clips and pins, piling it high to give her an illusion of greater tallness, the style encouraging her to carry her head high, shoulders back. She sat still as a statue, expressionless, as I painted her face in the intricate mask of an Aldabreshin noblewoman, outlining her eyes and brows with black, a sweep of azure and gold carried out from her lashes to her hairline, cheekbones highlighted to dramatic effect and lips full with a rich red tint that promised untold delights. As her mouth yielded to the soft kiss of the brush, my hand halted and our eyes met.

“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?”

“I deny the act.” Kaeska’s reply was little more than a whisper, catching on a half-stifled sob that elicited a ripple of sympathy from the closest spectators. Shek Kul looked unmoved.

“I will hear the accusation.” He looked at me and I thought I saw some hint of encouragement in a softening of his expression.

“Stand next to Kaeska,” Laio murmured through barely parted lips and I marched briskly down the steps, pleased to see faint distress in Kaeska’s eyes as I towered over her, armored in all the regalia of the domain. Wreathed around with the coils of the inlaid design, I have to confess that I felt uncomfortably exposed to the probing gazes all around.

“Speak only the truth or suffer the consequences.” Shek Kul looked even more forbidding from here.

I took a soldier’s stance and began my tale, drawing on all my knowledge of the Aldabreshin tongue, forcing myself to speak slowly and clearly, repressing any hint of emotion, trusting that the facts alone would condemn the woman. Murmurs among the crowd rose, died back and swelled again as I continued my recital, but I kept my eyes fixed on Shek Kul, speaking to him as if we were alone in the windswept center of the Dalasorian plains. When I fell silent, the tension in the air would have blunted steel.

“What say you?” Shek Kul demanded of Kaeska.

“I confess—” She collapsed to her knees, face hidden in her hands, her sobs ripping through the shocked silence of the great hall.

“You—” Shek Kul was startled to his feet for an instant before he regained his poise. I looked at Laio and saw she had gone so pale beneath her complexion and her face paints that I thought she would faint.

“Not to the sorcery!” Kaeska’s head snapped up and, for all her tears, her eyes were clear and calculating. “Never to the magic but, oh, my lord, I—” she choked on a shuddering breath. “I confess to fatal weakness, mortal foolishness, to succumbing to the lure of the mainlander smoke. I have sought for so long for a cure for the pain that twists in my heart, that I have been unable to bear children, that my blood falls barren, not to nourish the domain—”