Date: Sun, 11 May 2003 17:58:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SongSpell-12 (Revised)

This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to violent behavior
between adults, and expressions of physical affection between consenting
adult males. If you find this type of story offensive, or if you are
underage and it is illegal for you to read it, please exit now. All
characters are fictional and in no way related to any persons living or
deceased. Any such similarity is purely coincidental.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned to
the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission guidelines but
it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the consent of
the author.

I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com

Copyright 2003 Kristopher R. Gibbons  All rights reserved by the author.


                    12	And Who Shall Scape Whipping?

                    Hamlet: God's bodkin, man, much better! Use every
                    Man after his desert and who shall scape whipping?
                                           Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2, Line 540

     After arranging a supervisory detail for the Stone-wrights, two days
hence, Jaserle retired to a jakes closet; one of the consequences of his
physical condition. Evendal retained a Guard to wait on the emissary, but
secured Mar-Depalai for himself and returned above-ground. From the Chamber
he bustled anxiously back to the Courtyard.
     Once outside again, Evendal took in several lungfuls, with great
fervor, of winter-crisp air. His eyes closed of themselves, creating a
sense of solitude, however brief and illusory. Even raised as he was, the
rapaciousness of mundane self-interest still managed to surprise and
dispirit him. That he chose to leave a child who was in greater need and
more responsive, to settle a cadre of greedy amoral fumblers, did not help
his mood. That he inflicted his glamour on a loyal woman, who merely
irritated him, raised the accusation of despotism. What from others would
simply serve as a warning, from him had the force of compulsion,
circumventing her will entirely. He had taken her most fundamental right
away.
     "Mar-Depalai?"
     "Your Majesty?"
     "How many years do you have?"
     "I own twenty-six years, Your Majesty."
     "And you were not at Mausna? How is it you were spared?"
     Mar-Depalai flushed, either in anger or embarrassment, or both. "I was
pregnant at the time. Pleuritic, the baby's lungs failed at three months."
     "When did you begin training in bladework?"
     "My father's brother contended that I began when I had five years and
consistently managed to retrieve his wooden practice-daggers no matter
where he hid them."
     "You were strong-willed from your first days?"
     Mar-Depalai paused, struggling with her answer. Evendal's gut
twisted. "So he insisted."
     "How was he called? He had your training?"
     "Mar-Jessaupela. The discipline and the foundation, yes. Your
Majesty."
     "Mar-Depalai... Explain to me what good is served by your cutting with
words as well as steel?"
     "Your Majesty." Her breath came harsh and heavy. "From when I first
accosted Your Majesty... And you gave back in the same coin... If I was in
error to accept the freedom in speech you seemed to permit, please accept
my... deepest apologies."
     "No, Mar-Depalai. I am not chastising you. The question is
sincere. You would not speak so cuttingly, if it did not benefit you. What
good does sarcasm serve you?"
     Long Evendal waited, as Mar-Depalai struggled to push acceptable words
from her lips. "Protection. No one thinks me slow-witted. No one expects me
to care much. No one gets close enough to hurt me again."
     "Oh, Mar-Depalai. As you have found, that last is just your own
delusion. I did not have to get close, and I have hurt you most
effectively." Again Evendal waited.
     "Yes."
     "I say right now, and will say so before witnesses. You may banter
with me to my face, in good fun, with utmost abandon. But to drop an
innuendo against someone unaware of the attack is cowardice,
Mar-Depalai. Do you understand? There is no honour in it, nor sport. I
doubt seriously if Mar-Jessaupela would have been silent about such 'lack
of discipline'. Or was all you learned from your mentor force-majeure?"
     "I hadn't... I honestly hadn't considered. He." That Mar-Depalai did
not get defensive at his question told Evendal the depth of her
vulnerability.
     Evendal's eyes flew open, as Mar-Depalai began to sob. He turned and
gripped the suddenly overwrought Guard across her shoulders.
     "He would demand my blades. He would! I have been unheeding with my
cruelties for so long. He would know I had lost all control. All
authority." And Evendal marveled at the personality of this Mar-Jessaupela,
that could so affect the well-armoured Guard.
     With no grace whatsoever, Evendal maneuvered Mar-Depalai to a shadowed
corner where two walls of the Palace façade met. Unintended by him, the
Guard's pride had taken a beating. He pulled out a bit of rag for the woman
to wipe her eyes.
     "Look at me, Depalai." Evendal the Songmaster commanded. "We gave you
no chance at virtue. Whether you would choose to show self-restraint was
made irrelevant. We promised Our trust, Our regard and Our respect. But We
showed no respect for you, my Guard."
     "But We have your measure now. Enough to restore."

        Uncaring, I hobbled you,
        Where you always went running.
        I even twitched you(23), for biting.
        I reclaim my hackamores
        For you are human, not horse.
        They do not belong on you.

     The verse kept a balanced structure, but a disjointed content,
reflecting Evendal's perceptions of the Guardwoman.
     "I am not a stupid horse!" Mar-Depalai protested.
     "No," Evendal agreed, grinning. "You are not. You never were. I acted
without compassion, Mar-Depalai. I hope you will accept my remorse, and
bide long enough to see if it is also repentance. Let disdain or joy spout
forth as you decide, guarded by your own sense, discretion and will. And
the bonds of friendship."
     "What you did. What you can do. It is terrible!"
     "Yes. It is."
     "Simple scorn..."
     "What about it?"
     "That is all you... sifted. Just one ill habit. And I have never been
so quiet! That I have so little to say which is not cruel! That is a hard
truth to face, Your Majesty. I... I would tender that we provided offense
to each other in equal measure."
     Evendal felt less sanguine; Mar-Depalai's words could be countered,
his Songmastery could not. "Are you certain? That is how you want matters
to stand?"
     "For now, yes. If I thought you would agree, I would beg you to
relieve me of my oath. I have a lot of effort ahead of me. And need no more
weights of obligation or recrimination than I already possess."
     "I would refuse. Then, so it shall be. Now let us proceed, for I have
been too long away from my son."
     When Evendal ald'Menam crossed the short distance from the Palace
façade to the mock-Throne it was to a strained tableau. Both Ierwbae and
Metthendoenn had plainly been upset. Kri-estaul slept wrapped in an adult's
cloak, curled tightly against the arms and back of the Throne seat.
     "What has passed?" Evendal whispered, certain only that something had.
     "He waited as long as any child could have." Metthendoenn began,
conveying rage and pain in a brittle rasping. "Then he began to shake and
sob. He would not talk to us."
     "He could not!" Ierwbae interjected.
     "But we guessed he thought himself abandoned. Left in the custody of
Guard. Again."
     "What kept you inside so long?"
     "Details. The emissary for the Stone-haulers will soon join us. This
is an enclave whose pain has rendered it isolate, angry and necessary. They
see themselves as... inconsolable, as a communion entirely separate from
Osedys."
     Metthendoenn showed no reaction, but Ierwbae's widened eyes signified
understanding, and an appreciation of some of the ramifications.
     "He is a remarkable man. And his argument is sound. Theirs is a
community fashioned from this city's fear. Also, We have a new addition to
the work-staff here: Horest's gentle brother, who may apprentice to
Shulro. If he doesn't decide to marry her."
     "They know each other?" Metthendoenn asked, surprised.
     "No. But he is a fellow of odd humours." Evendal confided, not
explaining his own levity. "I think... the best way to treat Kri-estaul is
to behave as if he did not have any difficulties. Let him confide them or
not as he chooses. I would ease him into my lap, and then let him awaken."
     Metthendoenn smiled. "That sounds like the gentlest alternative."
     Evendal ald'Menam breathed a relieved sigh, and then suited action to
plan. Ierwbae, with the help of another Guard, relocated Metthendoenn
beside the King, then rested himself against the side of the Throne, and
set his partner's head in his lap. Once Evendal had settled, Kri-estaul
stirred enough to twist his head against the King's hip, sleepily trying to
avoid the sunlight.
     "Kri-estaul." Evendal singsonged lightly, then stopped, uncertain if
his glamour might employ itself. 'Thunders,' he thought angrily, 'I don't
dare sing just for the pleasure of it. Ever.' He said as much to Ierwbae
and Metthendoenn.
     "Is this a great hardship? I ask because it would not be, for me. I
sing like a frog." Metthendoenn answered.
     "When I was young, singing to myself helped get me through the worst
of my days." Evendal recalled.
     "What about humming?"
     "I do not know, but I dare not try unless I am alone."
     Ierwbae nodded his head against the side of the Throne. "So much for
that idea."
     The King signaled Mar-Depalai to approach. "Would you have a chair
brought out here? Goodman Jaserle would likely appreciate the chance to
rest his hip. Also, I shall apprise my kinsmen of my malediction against
you, and did not want you ignorant of this."
     "Your Majesty!" Mar-Depalai protested.
     "Mar-Depalai, the defenses you once affected are common knowledge, and
will be of no moment in my discussion! The matter under scrutiny being my
own failure."
     "You could pummel a Kul-stone block into pebbles with your tongue,
Depalai. All acknowledge that." Ierwbae jibed gently.
     Metthendoenn spoke more cogently. "Just as all the Guard deduced you
to be a woman in great pain, coping as best you know. Like all of us these
past nine years."
     That she had been the subject of concern and discussion stunned
Mar-Depalai. The tightening around her eyes, casting back and forth between
Ierwbae and Metthendoenn in alarm, showed that being the object of their
generosity made her uncomfortable.
     Evendal kept the too understanding smile off his face. "Finally, I
would ask you to escort Jaserle." The King shook his head in amused relief
when, later, the chair just barely preceded the emissary.
     "Seat yourself or stand, Jaserle, whichever eases you."
     "I would sit, Your Majesty. Thank you."
     "The convalescent beside Us is a Guard downed by treachery on the
night We returned. Guard Metthendoenn. His companion hights as Ierwbae
m'agdh Rhynlosedd. They honoured Us with a conditional adrogation."
     "Conditional in what way?"
     "We share kin-ties. They do not share Our estate or station. They have
the right to Our Presence without petition. But none to Our heritage or
Name."
     Jaserle's brow knotted. "That seems to benefit mostly yourself, Your
Majesty. Which does not agree with my perception of your nature so far."
     "The choice was entirely their own. And it suits us well. For I find
that I love them and need them as brothers such as I never had. And do not
wish on them the burdens of rule or royal intrigue." Evendal kept the pace
of his speech constant, even as he deliberately dropped the royal
plurality.
     "And the child? He has the air of one of the Rosette."
     "He could easily have been. Kri-estaul? Kri-estaul?"
     Hearing his name, this time, the boy awoke. "Papa?" As he became more
awake, the reality of Evendal's presence registered. "You came back!" The
boy gripped the sides of Evendal's tunic and struggled to pull himself even
more securely in his father's lap.
     "I said I would. And I am not leaving you for anyone, or any reason,
for the rest of the day. I am not going anywhere without you, excepting the
jakes." He grinned down at his wide-eyed son.
     "Jaserle of the Rosette, We present Our son by adoption. Kri-estaul
aldh'Evendal, Master of the Palace Undergrounds and Sole Heir to the Throne
of the Thronelands."
     By this time the man had tallied the damage he could see. "A strange
jest, Your Majesty."
     Evendal's face left no room for doubt and no mercy. "No jest,
Jaserle. This is Our son! This is the future of Osedys."
     "You are in earnest? The child will bear no authority. No one will
take his election, his rights, seriously."
     To the alarm of the adults, and the fascination of the child,
Evendal's eyes began to brighten. "This is Our son, Jaserle. Worthy of more
had We more to give him. There is mettle to him which is yet unplumbed. We
find it perverse that you, of all, should judge on appearance."
     The armless man had the grace to act ashamed. "You are just to correct
me." He could not look at Evendal me'Löema except in glances.
     "Jaserle. Kri-estaul is the brother of the Quill-master. He has but
eight years. Two years ago the Beast abducted him, abused him and gave him
over to a pæderastic overseer, a rabid animal. Two years, Jaserle, of
every abuse your Rosette has probably known, the starvation you suffered
under, with the added burden of utter solitude."
     Jaserle rose in Evendal's estimation when the man stared Kri-estaul in
the eye. "Forgive me, young Master. I notice that your legs barely move."
     Daunted by the harsh tone Jaserle had previously adopted, Kri-estaul
responded with timid reluctance. "I ran into the Terr... the Beast. He took
me and... hamstrung my legs. Is it 'ham-strung'? Twice. I'll never walk
again because I am evil."
     Evendal's stomach twisted, as he lifted and rearranged Kri-estaul into
a sitting position, then bent down to whisper in unintended concert with
Jaserle.
     "You are not evil."
     "It sounded like you didn't like me." Kri-estaul accused the deputy.
     "We have similar wounds, Your Highness. I feared being mocked."
     The answer meant nothing to Kri-estaul. "I don't understand."
     Jaserle realised the test he had fashioned for himself, and that he
was yet treating this child as though Kri-estaul had no commonality with
him. "After flattering your father, I then assumed he was playing a cruel
joke with me. That you were simply a ragamuffin he was treating to a
short-lived time of royal attention. Then when I understood he had indeed
made a cripple his Heir, I imagined you as weak of mind as you are in
body." He paused, then translated. "I thought you weak or common, an idiot,
and for no reason. Not knowing anything about you. Which only proves that I
myself am an idiot, Your Highness. My deepest apologies. You deserve better
treatment from me than that."
     "...Know what I look like. A sea urchin without the spines. And that
that won't change." Kri-estaul interrupted, baldly unsentimental. Evendal
angrily wondered where the child had heard that description.
     "Nothing so severe." Jaserle insisted, thinking Kri-estaul was being
deliberately dramatic. "Look like? What you look like, Your Highness, is
irrelevant. A lesson I need to relearn, it seems. Do you know what matters
here?"
     "No. I still don't."
     "I am part of a group of people that the Stoner took."
     "He almost got me, too!"
     Jaserle was briefly speechless. "In tr... He did?"
     Kri-estaul nodded vigourously; relieved to respond to a statement he
understood.
     "Well, he treated us no better than the Beast treated you. And do you
know who helped us survive to this day?" Jaserle's eyes burned with a
darker fire that contended with Evendal's for strength.
     "No," whispered Kri-estaul.
     "No one. Not one of our family, neighbors, or kith. No one wanted
to. If anyone thought to, we never knew it." Jaserle took a deep breath and
forced his mind to his point. "Just like what happened to you. What matters
is that we both have been wronged. And utterly... Oh. Oh, my heart!"
     To Evendal's distress, the one-armed man fell back in his chair,
looking suddenly red-faced. "Are you well, Jaserle?"
     "Your Majesty... I only just realised. Do you seriously intend for
this dearling to inherit?"
     "Yes, if he himself so wills."
     The man's whole demeanor changed, excitement replacing deep
intensity. "Then you offer the Rosette a hope for a future. A hope that our
rights will not be abrogated again. Thunders! It galls me to give up the
fancy, but... You offer, in your son, a surer safeguard for us than any vow
or edict. You are our King and this wonder after you!"
     "Caution, good Jaserle. My son has hazards to face, yet. He is not
well. And he believed the poison poured in his ear these past two years."
     After several slow breaths, Jaserle of the Rosette leaned forward and
focused completely on the wide-eyed Prince.
     "He told you you were evil?"
     Kri-estaul squirmed, then nodded.
     "Why?" Jaserle asked, and then recalled. "You really ran into him?"
     "The Stoner was chasing us!" Kri-estaul blurted. "I didn't mean to."
     The deputy of the Rosette sat up straight, taking on a mantle of grim
hauteur. "Kri-estaul, I am older than you by many years. And I tell you it
is wisdom, not evil, to run from danger. Do you understand?"
     Predictably, Kri-estaul nodded, then looked to see if he was
believed. "No."
     "You were wise to run from the Stoner. Wise, not evil. That you ran
into the wrong man?" The one-armed man managed a shrug of enviable
nonchalance. "But that is not because of you. You know who was the evil
one, don't you?" Evendal watched in amazement, as Jaserle took on a power
of his own. The man practically oozed gentilesse, talking to Kri-estaul
like an old and kindly, sage uncle. And the hope in Kri-estaul's eyes made
it hard for Evendal to breath.
     "The... Beast?"
     Jaserle nodded somberly, as if the child had said something very wise.
     "Both when he was alive, and now that he is dead, no one has ever said
otherwise. No one. The Beast was evil, Your Highness. Not a simple kind of
evil, like you hear in old songs. But he enjoyed both deceiving people and
killing them. He always had an ambition to further. Always. But he also
enjoyed deceiving people for the sheer pleasure of fooling people. That
means his opinions and decisions were always deceptions and lies as
well. Always."
     The Rosette deputy leaned back in his chair and waited.
     "You mean when he... When he or Nisakh promised I could leave if I
passed their test. They would never have let me go? And they would never,
ever, have said I passed? Even if I had?" Evendal briefly wondered over
Nisakh. Kri-estaul had mentioned him once before, but this was not a moment
to interrupt.
     "Even so, Your Highness. The only way to succeed, with the Beast or
his minions, was by dying. The only success, the only master, the Beast
ever acknowledged was Death." Jaserle jabbed a gnarled, swollen finger at
Kri-estaul, who did not even flinch.
     "You are not now, and have never been, evil. You were a victim. A good
boy in the hands of evil men. Just as I. Just as so many the Stoner
captured. Do you hear me?"
     Shaking and saucer-eyed, Kri-estaul nodded.

     Later, after Jaserle had retired, Guard Mulienhas approached.
     "Your Majesty, the Eikhonists have come begging the grace of Your
audience."
     "Let them present themselves."
     Metthendoenn looked over Ierwbae's knee to see two people. Foremost
came a woman with flawless skin, prematurely gray hair, and an air of
command. Behind her fidgeted a willow-thin young man with large eyes and
narrow face. The woman carefully held a cloth-wrapped conical object. The
man clutched at a sketchboard like his fingers wanted to plant roots in
it. They both knelt in quick awkwardness.
     "Rise. Stand or sit as you wish." Evendal bade them. The woman chose
to stand; the man dropped into a half-lotus, pulled a wide pencil from the
base of the sketchboard, and began working.
     Amused and bemused, Mulienhas announced. "The Typika of the Eikhonist
League, Sielre-han. And her Secretary, Ulahas."
     "Greetings and Health to you both." The King wished.
     "Felicitations to Your Majesty." Sielre-han returned.
     "It grieved Us a trifle to have the statues of the Usurpers
destroyed. The icon of the Beast evoked his nature so flawlessly. And the
figure of the Wise Counselor, with its bland, blank face, conveyed the
shallowness of his façade with equal wit. That crowning touch of a
strumpet Fortune... A masterwork of political prophecy."
     Sielre-han smiled, eyes twinkling. "Ah, a lord with perception. I will
convey your appreciation to the artist. And advise her to greater caution
in any dealings with Your Majesty."
     Evendal in turn smiled. "You mean the artist lives? We feared someone
might have pointed out the message contained in that tableau to the
Usurpers."
     "No one who could see it said anything. She is very much alive." The
woman paused. "We have come as you requested during that extraordinary
Council, Your Majesty. We, and I, appreciated your not naming our people
aloud with those you account apathetic."
     "We are glad of your visit. In truth, We do not count your guild among
those. The duumvirate-icon aside, We had learned of other instances where
your message had not been so subtle, and the consequences severe."
     Sielre-han's smiled faded. "Yes. None of us dared hope that you would
see what we had done as being the best we could do. We lost some
master-level talents and some beautiful hearts. But we just could not
pretend."
     "We restore your charter, and, as with the Ship-wrights, thought to
provide some kind of benefice. However. We also feel your guild should
choose what would qualify as amends or restitution."
     "My thanks and the thanks of my family. We will discuss what we most
need. Then return our decision to you. Now, Your Majesty, by your leave I
would offer a token of our own regard. Small and simple, but I trust its
personal significance will lend it grace in your sight."
     Sielre-han proffered the package in her hand. The King removed the
cloth to unveil a statuette of an adolescent girl with a chromatic ball,
caught in the act of running, skirt flaring behind her. She looked to be
passing the orb to an adult man with his hand outstretched. The girl figure
drew the focus because it held the greater detail; with pleats to her skirt
and a pattern on her kirtle, and a light roughness that might be dirt-marks
on her cheeks. The man looked to be young, unremarkable except
pinhead-sized beryls had been inset for his eyes.
     "How?" Evendal gasped.
     "One of the Guard who kept his attention on his liege at his swearing
in." Sielre-han explained.
     "It... It is wonderful!"
     Sielre-han smiled, looking quite pleased. "The artist you praised
earlier rendered this as an icon of this time. For is it not so that what
you experienced in that moment is what has happened for us all? Fortune has
lent you her favour."
     "Only for a moment, Sielre-han. For a breath, perhaps."
     "As long as you know that, your reign can only be healing for all."
     "Thank you and thank the artist." Evendal requested. "What is your
companion working so furiously at?"
     "Forgive Ulehas, he has more skill than manners. I suspect when he saw
you four settled so, the balance and composition proved irresistible to his
eye."
     "I wish I could do that!" Kri-estaul exclaimed, after seeing the
sculpture.
     "Do you?" Sielre-han asked, face suddenly alight, interrogative. "It
takes a lot of time and boring work to reach the point you could make
something like this."
     Realising he had invited comment from a stranger, Kri tried to scrunch
up smaller in Evendal's lap. "I... I don't know."
     "Good Typika, deal gently with Our son. He anticipates harm from
people he does not know. Also, please desist. We want him to learn how to
be a free-hearted child before he becomes anyone's novice."
     "But if he is gifted, surely Your Majesty would not prevent him from
adding skill to those gifts. And we could come to a generous accommodation
for him, not in monies so much as in works of our craft."
     Evendal's pleasant mood and expression wafted away. "What do
you... have in mind?"
     "Well, should he prove apt, or at the least a diligent worker, we
would be happy to render that statuette in lifelike proportions."
     "So should you find him talent-less...?"
     Sielre-han glared, affronted. "Your Majesty! We do not discard any of
our oblate children! Some niche would be found for him, such as cook's
drudge or ash-boy."
     "Typika Sielre-han, We will not forget this conversation. Much to your
detriment."
     The woman looked away from Kri-estaul to Evendal,
startled. "Wh... Why?"
     "When We say Kri-estaul is Our son, We do not mean as all the Cinqet
are Our children. Kri-estaul is, in deed, Our Heir. He is not for
barter. For that matter, neither are the children of the Cinqet, nor those
of any other portion of the Thronelands."
     Out of the corner of his eye, Evendal noted Ulehas stop his furious
scribbling and glance quickly up, alert to a change in ambiance.
     "Our's are all the citizens of this land, and in return for their
trust, We give their lives back to them, their liberty. Surely you knew We
do not condone the duumvirate's practise of indenture?" Uncertain of his
impulses, Evendal looked down at Metthendoenn and Ierwbae. Ierwbae looked
grim-faced at the thought, while a sad-eyed Metthendoenn nodded his
approval of his kinsman's words.
     Sielre-han protested. "Yes, and we acquiesce to your will in that,
Your Majesty. But oblates and alumni(24) are not under indenture. Many are
set at our door in the night; some are given to us by families who cannot
feed them. We do not contract with them."
     "But you contract for them! As you were prepared to do with Us. The
result is the same. And any parent wanting money more than they want their
child can come to you, or any guild, and bargain. This is contrary to the
foundation of our authority."
     "Were We to request that you cease any exchange of skill, monies or
gifts for children, what would you?"
     "You would be condemning many children to an abusive and hopeless
existence, my lord, bound to those unwilling to care for them."
     "No, We would not. We would be removing a wellspring for
irresponsibility among the citizenry. Those children unwanted and cast at
your door, gratis, are your's, to tend and nurture as you described. When
someone offers an exchange, note their identity and let a Palace clerk
know, or scrivener. And refuse the exchange. Are you clear on Our will in
this, Typika Sielre-han?"
     The Eikhonist had been caught in the glare of the King's gaze. "Yes,
Your Majesty. As you will, so it shall be for us. Truth to tell, the
experience has often troubled me."  Ulehas resumed his work.
     "Then allow Us to return your complement. We delight in dealing with a
lady of perception, and compassion. And We would again thank you for this
icon, there are moments when I yet feel the weight of that ball."
     "The Guard's sister, our premier artist, related the tale of that day
to me when she showed me her work. I was overwhelmed. How... How did She
seem to you?"
     "Old eyes and young form." Evendal answered promptly. "We mean eyes
asparkle with strength, mirth, and yet sadness and a frightening, distant
wisdom. When she disappeared, so did her statue."
     "What are you talking about, Papa?" Kri-estaul asked, stirring from
his half-sleep. "Who did you see?"
     "Ir, Kri. I met the Protector of our land and people. The Great
Teacher, quicksilver Fortune."
     "Oh. What does she look like?"
     A bass voice sounded mellifluously behind Sielre-han. "Your Majesty,
and Your Highness have been most accommodating, thank you." Ulehas turned
and walked down the King's Causeway and off the Palace grounds.
     Mouth agape, the Typika of the Eikhonists looked back at the
King. Evendal smiled, then began to laugh, mostly from Sielre-han's
surprise. After a moment's uncertainty, the Typika joined in. Kri-estaul
just watched the two, and wondered what was so funny.

     "Your Majesty," Mulienhas intoned. "A fisher caught this couple on the
eastern face of Shield Cay."
     Evendal frowned at the two young men kneeling before him. One had the
brown leather vest and stained trews of a harbour-dweller, and the muscles
and calluses of a seasoned sailor. The other man, dressed in very little,
displayed a sleeker musculature.
     "Caught them at what?"
     Stone-faced, the Guard replied. "Pearl-diving, Your Majesty."
     "In this season?" Evendal sat up straighter. "You jest, I hope."
     "No, Your Majesty. When first accosted, the one claimed to be out
seeking privacy. But as the fisher prepared to pass by, the other fellow
emerged from undersea and tossed a handful of shells into their boat."
     "Their names?"
     "One is called Hyrosh-mi. The diver, Mar-kestlen."
     "Is this so, Kestlen?"
     The scantily-clad youth answered. "That those are our names, yes."
     "Do not be so glib, fool. You can hardly be ignorant that your very
life is now Our's."
     The man's skin prickled in the wintry air. "We are our own, no one
else's. What do you mean?"
     "Were you born in Osedys?" Evendal asked. Both men nodded. "Then you
play child games with Us. If all is as reported, you have violated the
second-oldest law of our land."
     "My lord," Mulienhas interrupted. "I retained the fisher." And at
Evendal's nod, the woman approached.
     "You found these two as Guard Mulienhas said?"
     "Ayah, Majesty. Just ten throws east of the Shield."
     "Far within the cordon, then. And the harvest?"
     "Tossed over the side, but for two pearls they swallowed."
     Evendal grinned and shook his head. "Really? You are called?"
     "Buth-lomie, Your Majesty."
     "Did you yourself catch sufficient for your day?"
     "No, Your Majesty."
     "How many do you have to feed?"
     "Seven, Your Majesty."
     Evendal looked on the fisher with a greater respect. "Then We offer
you a choice: Three silvers. Or the afternoon to gather your dependents and
be fed in the smaller kitchen adjacent to the Palace."
     The fisherwoman's eyes started. "My chicks would never forgive me an'
I didn't avail myself of Your Majesty's hospitality."
     "We trust they are a mannerly crew?"
     "No fear, Your Majesty. They know how to behave, and stay in good
order."
     "Then you have Our leave. Enjoy the rest of your day, good woman."
Evendal turned to the vested man, letting their gazes meet. "What were you
doing that far east of Shield Cay?"
     "Pearl-diving, of course."
     "Hyrosh! What are you saying, you fool?" Kestlen exploded. He looked
up, and shuddered at Evendal's glowing eyes.
     "Why? The law is clear. No pearl-diving within the reef-barriers of
Osedys. Not by royal commission, none by royal or Temple exemption, none
under compulsion or for commerce. From the western faces of the Scepter,
the Witness and Shield Cay and westward, any and all pearl-diving is
permissible. All of Sentinel Cay, with its surrounding bars and deeps are
open to predation. But not from the eastern lines of the Scepter, the
Witness and the Shield. You knew this."
     "Yes," Hyrosh replied. Kestlen bit his tongue.
     "Tell Us, Hyrosh. Can you swim?"
     "No, my lord."
     "And what is Kestlen to you?"
     "He is my man."
     "So We see." Evendal turned to the other. "Kestlen."
     The young man looked up at the King, and could not look away.
     "You knew your peril in diving along the eastern side?"
     "Yes."
     "And yet you did so dive?"
     "Yes."
     "What is Hyrosh to you?"
     "My man. He but humoured me in this."
     "We understand. Hyrosh, do you recall the penalty?"
     "Castration, my lord."
     "No, Hyrosh. Not quite. The male offender is to have his testicle sack
cut off, the testicles cooked and served to him. Force-fed if
necessary. The female offender is to have her breasts permanently scarred
and a small trident branded on her cheek. Should she be of generative
years, the Temple would render her barren and unresponsive. After which the
offenders would choose between tongue removal or death." Evendal looked
from one to the other offender. "So. Do you want your own testicles? Or
each other's?" Before they could respond, the King signaled the Guard.
     "What do you say, Hyrosh?"
     "We broke the laws. I should not have listened to him then, and you
should not listen to him now. I can accept responsibility for my own
decisions. He... I hate seeing him dive to begin with. Whether beyond
Shield Cay or not, it is the most dangerous work he could do. And diving
this late in the year is madness!"
     Evendal realised that, left to their own natures, these two would
enact an all-too-common melodrama. "I needs must speak with each, without
the other."  Mulienhas nodded, waved another Guard to stand duty, and
bustled Hyrosh-mi away.
     It being early winter, no birds thronged and no insects
chirruped. Evendal contented himself with making 'ugly faces' at
Kri-estaul, and smiling at Kri-estaul's contortions. As Evendal ald'Menam
expected, with deliberate silence, in isolation from his support, and as
his enforced immobility chafed, the youth spoke without leave or
permission.
     "My lord," Kestlen whispered. "I would... I would you visit both
punishments on me, the cut and... and the feeding. And the
tongue-removal. The plan was mine... my folly."
     "Very noble." Evendal oozed. "Where was that nobility in honouring
your home's oldest laws?"
     The young man said nothing.
     In the privacy of his mind and heart, Evendal hurt. Here before him
was a situation which would not end well. Could not end well.
     "Talk to Us, citizen. While you are yet a citizen. You will have no
other chance nor, believe it or not as you choose, a better advocate than
your current judge. But you must talk to Us!"
     "What would you, Your Majesty?" whispered a chastened Kestlen.
     "What moved you? Whim? Need? Want? The excitement of danger? We are
asking you, here." Evendal let the regret he did truly feel imbue his
voice.
     Kestlen's response gushed out like a cry of old pain, a plea with no
expectation of an answer. "Why is it so important? No one will say
why. Why?"
     A simple question. A child's query. And dangerous. But... "Kestlen, I
cannot answer that completely. No one now living will. What I can do is
tell you that I know, because I need to know. The safety of our home relies
on that law's honouring. This law is not a whim on anyone's part. Think
about what I have just said as we talk. Now I need a few helps from you."
     Kestlen nodded, totally unperturbed at the incongruity of a new-made
felon chatting with his lord. "One of the reasons for the... punishments is
our safety? But there has been no safety!"
     Evendal nodded. "This has been, perhaps, the most destructive time for
our home since the Nikraan invaded so many generations past. Would you
agree?"
     "Wholeheartedly."
     "And though I have been home for too short a time... Would you say
that the people you know and talk to are feeling... less under threat? More
safe than last season?"
     "Well, its still no summer-evening swim, my lord. But most of my
circle marvel that you returned and fixed Mean and Ugly up right. And that
Shenrowyn honestly likes you has my grandfathers very happy."
     The last comment surprised Evendal. "He is a great good man. A man to
be trusted."
     "That's what my father says."
     "Are you, Kestlen?"
     "How can I know?"
     At least intelligence resided in the youth, however seldom
engaged. "By the degree to which your friends turn to you. What they rely
on you for." He deliberately paused. "What do they rely on you for?"
     "Not much. I..." The figure never seemed more like a child,
suddenly. "I don't read well. I don't like it. So I ask a lot of
questions. Mother says I was born with my mouth open. Hyrosh-mi says the
same, but he means something else by it. It makes me mad when I get told to
shut up, or get told... 'That's a stupid question.' So I don't keep
friends. They get embarrassed when I get mulish."
     Evendal could not believe what he was hearing. He knew exactly what
festered in Kestlen's seemingly childish personality. "No one wants to
admit 'I don't know.' No one wants to admit that a question they themselves
don't have an answer for actually is important. Or might be."
     Kestlen stared at Evendal with his jaw unhinged. The King waited, but
the boy said nothing. Sunlight, or a shaky breath, refocused Evendal's eyes
onto the silent slide of tears that coursed down to Kestlen's chin. Evendal
whispered to a fitfully alert Kri-estaul, who nodded. With a sleek grace
that would have failed had it been intended, the King slid from around
Kri-estaul, leaving him the mock-Throne, stepped forward and bent toward
the suddenly shipwrecked youth.
     "Mar-Kestlen, if it would ease your heart at all... I would offer a
moment's shelter in your storm."
     The young man tilted his head up, but could not have been seeing
anything. "Do you...? Do you really...?"
     "Thunders, you must have felt like a leper! Or a Forest-dweller! The
Temple would have welcomed you. Did no one see it?"
     Of his own, without thought, Kestlen held on hard to Evendal's tunic,
terrified by a hope. "But I can't... I can't... read. I hate it! It makes
no sense to me!"
     "Shh. Easy, young man. There are many kinds of learning. And one of
the three oldest, and personally most important to me, has no use for
writing except as memory-helps: One symbol standing for a room of
information within your own mind. That is for another time. How did you
manage to... to not kill yourself answering your own questions? Or from
sheer isolation!"
     Kestlen glanced, self-conscious, over his shoulder, but Hyrosh-mi was
nowhere in line-of-sight. "Hyrosh. He... He has always been there. Though I
don't really know why. Lord... Your Majesty... I'm confused."
     Evendal almost laughed, to share the same feeling. "I have so much I
need to know if I am to keep you alive, Kestlen."
     "What do you mean?"
     Evendal kept his tone friendly, conversational. "Kestlen. I am
prepared to enact everything the law commands upon you for your trespass
today. You do know that. Right? And while I would have regretted it, I am
not - if I am to be a good king - able to counter other than by what the
severity of a trespass demands."
     The youth paused and, ignoring the glow of his liege's eyes, caught
the cool avuncular sorrow beneath.
     "I cannot care that you are but a young man, in love, with a long and
soon-to-be-good life possible. Do you understand at all, Kestlen? I cannot!
Or I will be the one with no testicles. No strength."
     After several breaths, the youth simply asked. "Why?!" The question he
had asked all his youth.
     Evendal actually smiled. "I imagine, among other things, you are
asking me 'Why is this law so cruelly enforced?' Am I right?" Evendal
stepped back and retrieved Kri-estaul, to sit once again.
     "Well,... Yes!"
     "Again. I cannot tell you." Evendal saw what Kestlen meant by
'mulish', from the look that resulted. "Kestlen. You may well find out some
day, if I am permitted to save your life. But if you do, the pleasure of
that knowledge must stay private!"
     "What do you mean? Nevermind."
     "No, Kestlen. Don't assume I want you to shut up. Don't ever assume
that! Take a few breaths, lad. Think. I am pushing you, rushing you, I
know. Because I have to! As you grew up here, you would remember... Has
anyone ever died in Thasylh Bay? Have you ever lost anyone to the deep,
Kestlen? Family or friend? Think."
     "Only to hear my mother talk, half of her family. But no one remembers
ever having met them ever. We know she actually makes up the stories to
scare us into obeying her."
     Evendal could see that the youth took the questions as diversion, a
moving away from matters emotionally volatile. "A very protective woman,
eh?"
     Kestlen rolled his eyes.
     Evendal had let Kestlen restore himself to calm. "I am never going to
tell you 'don't pursue a question.' But your methods are vital here,
absolutely vital. I mean nothing more than what I said. If, through your
days, may-they-be-many, you learn something or hear something that helps
you to know why we render that most innocuous of acts such a gruesome
violation... There is only one person you can tell, as you value your home,
your family, your land and your beloved. As you value their safety. And
that person is you."
     "Being given brush-offs for years, Kestlen, I can understand why you
dove. The act was inevitable, so long as you were given nothing but
indifference or abuse for striving to think for yourself. Before I say
anything more, let me speak with your man, and then I must speak with you
both."
     "You... You aren't going to execute us. Are you?"
     "I do not want to. That will depend on what now follows." The King
nodded to Mulienhas, who exchanged the youths.
     "And you are called Hyrosh-mi?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty."
     "How many years do you have?"
     "I own eighteen, Your Majesty. And would own more, by your grace."
     "That remains to be decided. It can be argued... in as much as you
never left the boat, and since Kestlen insists he thought the scheme up
himself, that you are... guiltless. Or at the most that you serve merely as
'witness' to his action."
     "That refreshing view I would share with great relief and gratitude,
Most Noble One." The boy actually smiled.
     Evendal shifted in the seat, suddenly uncomfortable and
distracted. "You have me in some confusion, good Hyrosh-mi. Perhaps you can
clarify matters."
     "Whatever I can do to enlighten the Sun of our kingdom. And ease
myself from the label of 'added burden' I would do right gladly." An
instrument played, off in the distance. Or a cat cried.
     "When last you spoke, you intimated that you stood ready to accept
whatever penalty fell to you for the crime. Has that changed?"
     Hyrosh-mi's delay, his reconsideration, lengthened almost to
insulting. "No, Your Majesty, if you feel justice is served in unmanning an
essentially innocent youth." The indistinct noise persisted.
     'Thunders,' Evendal thought, distracted. 'This boy is a toad of the
worst colour!' "You also expressed more concern toward your companion than
toward yourself. That concern appears... lacking currently."
     "Some habits, Your Majesty, are difficult to halt. Apologising for him
has been a habit of near-unto eight years..."
     "But Kestlen honours you, Hyrosh-mi." Evendal protested.
     The young man's brow furrowed. "I would hope so. The number of times I
have paid for his slow-witted, stubborn, ill-conceived misadventures!"
     "Again, if his companionship adds such a burden..."
     "Why do I not jettison the added weight?" Hyrosh-mi completed the
thought with a chuckle. "The amusement he provides..."
     And Evendal m'Alismogh knew what he was hearing!
     Dissonance!
     He began to laugh, loud and whooping. He could not help it. Hyrosh
stopped in mid-yap. Kri-estaul scowled, having felt totally lost since he
had heard of the swallowed pearls. Mulienhas shared Kri-estaul's scowl,
though her frown held more worry than annoyance. When he could finally
recover some semblence of calm, the King blurted out. "You wall-eyed young
idiot! You almost destroyed him with this farce of your's! Enough! Desist."
     Perhaps not even realizing he spoke, Kri-estaul whispered an
unnecessary. "I don't understand."
     "This... This young fool has somewhere gotten my measure. And right
well, too. Thinking his heart in mortal danger, he doesn't promise better
behaviour from Kestlen, or a more humble life henceforth. No. Because he
knows Kestlen better than that. He can hardly assume that a king who leaves
trophy-pieces of his enemies on display is compassionate. Instead, he tries
to make himself the most loathsome type of sponge, in the misguided hope
that I will inflict my wrath on himself and not Kestlen. He tries to make
Kestlen look like... like Ugly thought himself to be, in comparison."
     "That would have worked, young minx, were I the type of man who
presumed every judgement obvious, or easily arrived at. Or did not care! If
all there was to me was 'Sensibility'."
     Hyrosh-mi opened his mouth, stared hard at the man still chortling on
the mock-Throne, and prudently shut his mouth again.
     "But why would he want to make you angry at him?"
     "Because, my son, he would rather... Well. Because, imagining an
Osedys without Kestlen in it hurt him in more ways than imagining Osedys
without himself. I expect it was a rationale he arrived at years ago."
     To further confound Kri-estaul, Hyrosh-mi started to hyperventilate in
reaction. Evendal took the youthful case of nerves as confirmation. At a
signal, Kestlen was escorted back before the mock-Throne. Like a
nettle-stung puppy, Hyrosh-mi wrapped an arm around Kestlen and burrowed
his head against the swimmer's chest, the embodiment of capitulation.
     "Mar-Kestlen, how many years do you have?"
     "I own nineteen years, Your Majesty."
     Again, Evendal felt surprise. "And have you hopes of family? Of
children and grandchildren?"
     "Fancies only, Your Majesty. I would be an indifferent parent, easily
distracted, and no kind of husband."
     "Who carries the names of your parents beyond your generation?"
     "I have four brothers and three sisters happily begun on that
enterprise." Evendal could see the worry coalescing.
     "Hyrosh-mi, have you hopes for family? For children or grandchildren?"
     "I have. Such a hope already granted." Kestlen shared a grin with
Hyrosh-mi.
     "Explain."
     "I have a sister, wed but recently to a man who refused her
bastard. The child is now mine by house law and Archate registry. Ours, but
of my family name."
     "And so you have people who carry your parents' names beyond your
generation. Good. For you cannot."
     "Hyrosh and Kestlen, hear Our judgment. The traditional, unalloyed
restitution serves no purpose here, but some severe loss must be
rendered. Your generative powers may not remain intact. But here is where
We will begin to show ourselves capable of 'sensibilities'. With whatever
pain-freeing gases serve you best, both of you, under the supervision of a
Temple healer, shall suffer that loss. The sacks shall not be removed, but
the cord that one feels within the sack shall be severed. So no 'meal' will
be made of them. Also under the eye of a Temple healer, Hyrosh, you shall
suffer two brandings. You shall have a representation of the reefs branded
upon your buttock, and the trident upon your left breast."
     "About the unequivocal choice between the slicing of your tongues or
your death... Having removed the means of surviving through natural-born
children, We have effectively guaranteed your, eventual, deaths. Of old
age. If We learn that you have spoken to others about your harm, or your
survival, Our next judgment must be immediate, and for your corpses."
     The silence that followed lingered, as did the looks of shock and
dismay on the two trespassers. Very pointedly, Evendal did not look down
into Kri-estaul's face, hoping the child had slept through some of the
confrontation. Evendal felt of two minds: On the one hand, he had made life
that much harder for two men who had no understanding of the danger they
had courted. On the other hand, he had not eliminated two potential sources
of future hazard to the Thronelands.
     "No pain or torture." Hyrosh-mi whispered. He sounded amazed.
     "Just the pain of the loss and the healing that follows after."
     "Our talk just now, Your Majesty. Why... What... Were you simply
putting me at my ease? Your Majesty?"
     "Our own son as witness, no, Kestlen. You are a great jewel in need of
rough work and fine polishing, but you have the makings of a dangerously
valuable scholar. We found nothing 'stupid' or 'dense' or 'slow-witted'
about you or your questions. And 'stubborn' has always been one of Our
proudest titles." As Evendal spilled out the pejoratives, each one clearly
struck a chord in Kestlen's memory of pain.
     "Kestlen, and Hyrosh-mi if he wishes, We have plans for you. They will
be slow work for you, but nothing like the pain, shame or denigration you
had suffered in the past."
     "I would serve you, Your Majesty."
     "No."
     Whatever Kestlen was expecting, it was not refusal. "No?"
     Evendal achieved a pointed glance toward Kri-estaul going unnoticed by
the child. "Not me."
     Ephemeral and unreliable, but Evendal felt encouraged that, in that
moment of near-understanding, nineteen-year-old Kestlen never seemed more
like a man.

     Evendal m'Alismogh felt too tired for gratitude over the day's end. He
helped Kri-estaul with his ablutions, rubbed ointment on the child's scars,
and settled in for the night. His second bell in bed, Kri-estaul began to
thrash, waking Evendal. The two had moved with their backs to each other,
and one of Kri's legs had twisted over the other. His son's body twitched,
by dim moonlight the King could see the child's eyelids fluttering, his
breath quicken and then slow, only to quicken again. Kri-estaul groaned.
     "No. No, Papa. I'll be good."
     Evendal turned about, adjusted his son's legs, and stroked his
back. 'I'm right here, little man." He whispered. "I am right beside you,
protecting you. You are good. You are safe. Good or bad, you are safe,
now." The King whispered his litany several more times.
     Kri mumbled, "Good. Love you." and relaxed. Evendal fought to swallow
the lump in his throat. After a moment, Evendal turned on his side, draped
his arm over his son, and settled into sleep.

     The next day, after a fast-breaking of oatmeal with stewed apples and
mashed spuds, the King ignored the schedule of his audiences and petitioned
the High Priestess's presence at her earliest convenience.
     Just before the noontide bell, Lady Sygkorrin arrived at the Palace,
was escorted into a small, firelit room, and told to sit at her ease. After
a delay, Evendal entered alone, motioned her to remain seated and pulled up
a chair facing her. "Greetings and health to Your Majesty."
     "Peace and health to you, Lady Sygkorrin." Evendal's lambent gaze
favoured the floor, as they sat in silence.
     Finally, Sygkorrin had had enough quiet. "Your Majesty, what troubles
you that you summon me?"
     The King looked up, startled. "Summoned?" His face reddened. "No
matter how I try, I cannot seem to convince my Guards that when I request
an audience, I truly give the other party the power to refuse."
     "Believe me, as High Priestess I understand. But, that aside, I can
see you are troubled. And the absence of your son means your worry concerns
him."
     "Yes, and no." Evendal opened his mouth to say something, swallowed
it, then tried again. "My lady, what is happening to me?" Evendal stood
again and started pacing in front of the chair.  "I come home
this... avenging messenger of Ir, the Left Hand of the Unalterable, angry
and... Our Guardian visits me. I have this... gift with song that scares me
witless. Truth to tell, I can still govern despite such wonders both
helping and besieging me. Because the one was simply a single event, and
the other I can choose to use or not. Nine years out of my life I cannot
account for, at all. Again, I can cope, unless something or someone from
that time arrives at my doorstep to surprise me." The King stopped his rush
of words, looking confused.
     "But...?" Sygkorrin prodded.
     "But. Kri-est..." The King halted, and dropped down in his
chair. "What... I am so afraid, because I don't know what I am doing,
Priestess. And I don't understand. From the moment he started arguing with
me in the under-grounds, thinking he had to obey Abduram, I have been ready
to abdicate and spend the rest of my life trying to mend his heart and
mind! Where did this come from? What is he?"
     "He is a little boy," Sygkorrin insisted. "And he holds your heart."
Now the priestess hesitated. "Your Majesty, may I ask an indecorous
question?"
     "Yes, of course."
      She fixed him with a hard stare. "You shall never marry, am I right?"
     Evendal flushed. "I doubt it seriously. I have never felt what I see
others feeling, for... for anyone. Male or female. I try not to think about
my... lack."
     Sygkorrin frowned, then nodded. "I see no 'lack' in you. Some people
are like that. Not many. Whether those few are more fortunate or not? Who
knows? But the townsfolk, who have heard of everything that passes in the
Palace, love you already. You are loved by Anlota, myself, Ierwbae,
Metthendoenn. Bruddbana would lie down and thank you for walking on him,
trusting you would not do it but for good reason. And Aldul..." Once again,
she hesitated.
     "How do you feel about Aldul of Kwo-eda?" She asked.
     Unsure of the turn in conversation, Evendal stammered. "He is my
friend. I love him."
     Sygkorrin raised an eyebrow. "You love him? Do you wish to undress
him? Nibble on his neck a bit?"
     "No!" Evendal barked, laughing as he blushed. "No. But I trust him in
all things. He is my dearest friend."
     "That was glaringly obvious from my first interview with him, when he
arrived in Osedys. Heed what you just said: You trust him in all things. A
unique and almost holy relationship, King Evendal. Would it surprise you
that friend Aldul, and I mention this with his sanction... He accepted our
invitation to the Archate because men and women in his home city had made
his life unbearable to him with their attempts to bed, entrap, or marry
him. People confused his gentleness as a sign of special interest in them
or as shy passivity. Priests are trained in self-examination, my lord. He
has admitted, quite contentedly, that his mysterious past and his nature
have fashioned him into a solitary person. You, Lord Evendal, are the
closest anyone has ever been to him."
     "I know about his past." Evendal whispered, understanding the
reference.
     Again Sygkorrin lifted an eyebrow, and grinned. "How interesting. I
don't." She let that sink in before continuing.
     "Speaking of pasts. You are aware that one of the functions I serve
with my staff is as personal counselour?"
     "Yes," Evendal replied, suddenly uneasy.
     "So, in our talks about his journey, Aldul had to speak about the
theft of your memory. How do you feel about that?"
     Evendal shrugged. "It happened. While I am not comfortable talking
about it, I care not who knows about it."
     Sygkorrin grinned in recollection. "Aldul is a stubbornly private
man. And he assumes the same of those in his care. He was quite adamant on
my letting you know of his disclosures."
     "Yes." Evendal could think of no other response. "That was kind of
him."
     "You are a man who is also solitary by upbringing. But not to the
degree that Aldul is. So, you found someone to care for, without the sexual
distractions of a lover. And someone who needs your care. Very
specifically, your care." Sygkorrin smiled, her face brighter than
Evendal's eyes. "You were just fortunate that the boy is sweet-natured and
loving, and loves you."
     "But also... I care about him more than I have ever cared for anything
or anybody! Painfully more! Why? Where did this come from?" Evendal looked
wildly about. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and
resumed. "Never-mind. You have already tried to answer that. The question
isn't a question really. I mean... I do not know what I am doing. I am
afraid of hurting him, of doing something irreparably stupid, half the
time. He is an eight-year old with a six-year old mind, and experiences
nobody of any age should have. He's having dreadful dreams of his
buggering, and I can't protect him from those. I tell myself I have a
kingdom to heal, but leaving him in anyone else's care is too obvious a
betrayal."
     "Yes." Sygkorrin agreed, a feline smirk still on her face.
     "How did it happen that I hurt so much over this one child? Its like
nothing I have ever had to cope with."
     "You really don't need an answer to that one, do you?"
     "No," Evendal grinned, self-conscious. "Not really. Does he really
love me? Its not just that he needs?"
     "Has he asked to go back to his sister's?"
     "No. Not even once. I feel bad about that."
     "Don't. He is a child, with a child's tunnel vision. But that also
answers your question."
     Evendal nodded. "Thank you for responding promptly. Its just that this
is so new to me. About his legs..."
     "Yes?"
     "Are they completely gone? Is there any help for them?"
     "After two years of absolute inactivity, and two hamstringings, no
restoration is possible. Too much scar-tissue. But what can be done must be
done. That means you keep his legs safe, until he is ready. That means
using the painkillers Aldul provides, and only as he directs! That means as
few worries for him as possible. The sooner we get him strong enough to
remove his legs, the better."
     "You make it sound like it is a minor cutting. I know better!" Evendal
agonised.
     Sygkorrin stared full at the King, ignoring the glare. "Truthfully,
Lord Evendal... After what he has endured, it is minor. Do not make of it
more than an hour's sleep for him, and a lengthy bed-rest. Don't scare him
with it! Better for him to dread the long days after, unable to accompany
you until he recovers."
     "I hear you. You know what I am capable of, should he not recover..."
     "Is that a threat, Your Majesty?" The High Priestess frowned.
     Evendal shook his head. "No, Your Eminence. It is an honest and
heartfelt warning." His eyes pulsed, and he leaned forward to emphasize his
earnestness. "I see nothing but truth and goodwill in all you have said. I
treat with you in the same manner. It is a warning. I am dangerous, whether
I will it or not."
     Sygkorrin thought a moment. "I understand. And I feel no
peril. Kri-estaul is Osedys, the Temple would not endanger him."
     From another room came a high-pitched summons. "Papa!"
     Evendal smiled. "My master calls."
     "Best obey, then. A recommendation, if you will?"
     "Yes?"
     "When we requested him, Aldul was going to be an advocate for some of
the children we deal with at the Temple. Talk with him about some of your
worries over Kri-estaul."
     "Thank you. I will."
     "I'll return, then, by your leave."
     "You have my... Our leave, Priestess Sygkorrin."
     "Papa?" Both adults exited the room.

     Evendal strode quickly to his son's side.
     "Where were you?"
     "Talking about you with the priestess." The King replied, smiling.
     "What about me?" Kri asked, anxious.
     "What to do for your legs and feet. Also, I was worried."
     "What about?"
     "Kri, I know it has only been a few days, but are you happy here?"
     "You're not sending me away?" Panic rang in his voice, strangling its
volume.
     "Gods, no! But I've never had anyone to care for before, Kri. I am not
very good at it."
     "No. You're great! I love you."
     "But what about your sister? She loves you, too. And would love for
you to be with her."
     Kri-estaul said nothing for a long moment. Evendal could almost see
him weighing his words and what was safe to say. Evendal's heart twisted in
his chest. He knew next-to nothing about children, but he knew such
restraint was not right for an eight-year-old. "I miss her, I think. That
first day back at the house... She came to look in on me a lot, but there
was no one would stay with me."
     The child obviously thought he had explained, but Evendal let his
silence goad.
     "I have thought about it." That statement alone sent off warnings in
Evendal's head. "I would be alone. A lot. And when she was with me, she was
all funny."
     "How so?"
     "Like she was afraid to touch me. Would go all weepy when I tried to
tell her what had happened. She didn't want me to even think about it. She
could not talk to me like you do, and Uncle Ierwbae and Uncle
Metthen... Metthendoenn do, but like I was a 'Cinqet oaf'."
     Evendal laughed, he could not help it. He was fairly certain
Kri-estaul did not know what a 'Cinqet oaf' was - a congenital idiot. "Oh,
Kri! She did not mean to. And I know I did the same thing at first."
     "So? It hurt. But you stopped." That so-adult restraint had
disappeared in Kri-estaul's effort to be understood. "And I mean, she
wasn't being Drussie. She wouldn't talk to me. She wouldn't listen. I
wanted my sister. And I have watched people talk at other people hurt by
the Beast... So I know she would still act like that when I got well. But,
being with you... When she comes here, she is my sister around you. I love
her when she's being Drussie."
     "I know what you mean. She's a strong person then."
     "Are you getting tired of me?" The tension was back in Kri-estaul's
body. "I know I need a lot of help. I try to do as much as I can..."
     "Oh, Kri. No. I love you. You are full of nice surprises. I have said
it before and I will say it again: I need you. I need you right here beside
me... or in front, actually." Kri giggled a bit. "And yes, you need a lot
of help. So do I. I have never been a father before, and I don't want to
treat you the way my father treated me. You would not survive it. Let me
tell you what the priestess and I talked about." Evendal picked the boy up
and carefully settled himself in a chair.
     "Kri, I have never had any friends until I came back here. I have
never... kissed a girl, or a boy. I never had anyone to hug me like you
do. I have never been real close to anyone. Never. I meet you and I am
suddenly a parent. And I want to be."
     Kri-estaul looked confused.  "You were scared? You think you are a bad
Papa?"
     Evendal nodded. "Yes. Sometimes."
     "Never! You love me, even though I'm a dirty, evil..."
     "Kri, stop that! You are not evil. You were never bad."
     Kri-estaul shook his head, frantic. "You don't know. You don't know."
He sat up as straight as he could and stared sad-eyed at Evendal, then
frowned. "I guess... need to talk about the under-ground, and the Beast. Do
you think? Should we? You won't get all angry at me, or burn things, will
you?"
     Evendal took a deep breath. "I can't promise I won't cry. But I
promise I won't be angry with you."
     "You won't hate me?"
     "No, Kri. I won't hate you. I may hold you and want to kill the Beast
all over again. But I won't hate you."
     "Well, that's..." He blinked, and added hesitantly. "Now?"
     Evendal shook his head. "Only when you feel you can."

(23)twitch - a length of looped rope or chain at the end of an 18-inch or
24-inch handle. Used to restrain horses by drawing upper lip into the loop
and twisting to tighten.

(24) Alumni - Oblates ("ones offered up"), infants or minors given or
claimed by manour or guild that had achieved their freedom.


A map of the reefs mentioned in this chapter can be found at
http://www.homestead.com/evendal/Kelotta.html