Date: Thu, 31 Jul 2003 18:08:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SongSpell-18 (Revised)

This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to violent
behavior, medical procedures, 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.


               18 Worse Remains Behind

               Hamlet: So again, good night.
               I must be cruel only to be kind.
               Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
                              Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 4, Line 178


     The Temple had rung the sixth bell of night when Evendal awoke. He
waited, ears straining, but no sound intruded. Just as he decided his own
dreams had awakened him, he realised his arm draped a wet, too warm,
bundle. After slipping from the bed, he greeted the Guard outside the door
and took a torch from the hall sconce to check his son. Kri-estaul
continued to sleep and sweat, his legs puffed and splotched.
     "Ottily!" Evendal hissed. The Guard looked in.
     "Get Aldul. He'll know why."
     "But my lord, then you would be alone."
     "What purpose do you really serve if you cannot serve? I have more
defenses than you. Go! Quickly!"
    The Guard stopped arguing and fled. The Temple had not yet wrung the
quarter when Aldul arrived, with company, carrying a cloth-bound frame.
     "Ierwbae? What? Wherefore?"
     Aldul snorted, the King had procrastinated long enough. This was not a
crate being dragged through a forest. "You know."
     Faced with the decision, Evendal resisted. Again. "No. Its still too
soon!"
     Aldul knew what his friend feared, but knew that was not what he had
to fear the most. "If you want Kri-estaul to claim a ninth year, you will
accede to this tonight." He stated baldly.
     "Is that a threat?" Evendal demanded. He straightened from crouching
over his son. The golden eyes brightened.
     The question shocked Aldul, who turned his consternation into
ruthlessness. "No," Aldul denied, then pointed to the child's swollen
thighs. "But that is. A serious threat."
     "Blood and swash!" Evendal m'Alismogh shouted. Aldul heard a world of
frustration in the cry. "Bloody Thunder!" And the sound echoed through the
building.
     "Papa!" Kri-estaul cried out, frightened awake by the yelling.
     Quickly, Evendal knelt down and cocooned his son. "I am here, my son."
     "What... Is it time to get up?"
     "It's still early yet." Evendal replied, staring pointedly at the
Kwo-edan. Aldul forbore commenting, his friend knew better.
     Aldul shook his head. "Evendal. Kri-estaul weighs less than two
stone(53), at eight years old. He is not going to weigh any more, so long
as his body has to fight with both the fistula and those legs and their
demands."
     Aldul's bluntness, usually helpful, abraded. Kri-estaul did not need
to be reminded of his problems, the things he had no power over. "Aldul, I
am so happy to discuss this with you. And Ierwbae. And Kri-estaul. And
Ottily. How about Pohul-halik? Or Iesaldim? Anyone else you want to
invite?" Realising what may have been obvious to him might not have
occurred to the child, Aldul flushed in dismay. Kri-estaul thought himself
a burden; he did not need to have that belief confirmed.
     "Papa. Are all those people really here?" Kri-estaul's look changed
from sleepy to panicked. "Why?"
     Evendal sighed. "No, Kri. They are not. I was being silly. And not
very nice." Again, he glanced up at Aldul. "I apologise." Aldul grinned his
understanding.
     "Oh." Kri-estaul did not know what to say to that. "I'm sorry,
Papa. Was it... Was it something I did?"
     "No. Nothing you did, beloved. You are the best of boys."
     Kri-estaul's shoulders went up in a hunching.
     "You are, to me." Evendal insisted.
     "Is this about my damned... about my legs? They are hurting again. I'm
sorry."
     "Yes, son."
     "Then I am glad Uncle Aldul spoke. I would want to know what is
toward."
     "But, I had hoped... You've been through so much, Kri!" Evendal knew
he had no argument with Aldul, but that did not help the turmoil he felt.
     "What. What has that got to do with them?"
     "Aldul... Aldul says it is time to remove your legs. That it has to be
done."
     "Oh. Alright. Does that mean a nasty drink?"
     Confronted with the child's pragmatism, Evendal folded. "I
just... kept hoping it wouldn't be necessary. I hoped that at some moment I
would garner the right lyric to heal you, or at least make the amputation
unnecessary."
     "Is that why you kept looking at them?"
     "When did...? Nevermind. Yes, Kri. That is why."
     Kri-estaul took a deep breath, then stretched out his
arms. Cautiously, careful of his son's aching body, Evendal held his child.
     "Papa," Kri-estaul whispered, unheard by anyone else. "You mend and
amend, Papa. You aren't here to un-do what has been done."
     Evendal felt a shiver up his spine. "How... How do you...?
Kri-estaul?"
     The King's befuddlement and unease must have shown on his face, and
Aldul responded by stepping closer to the two royals.
     "Do you... Do you love me, Papa?"
     "Yes, my son."
     "Even if I am half a boy?"
     Aldul shook his head in amazement. After years of consideration and
counseling others, Aldul had learned tools and tricks to get people to
eventually reveal their inner turmoils or hidden drives. Again and again in
his brief vocation in Osedys, Aldul witnessed his friend, this seeming
neophyte, accomplish the same result without resorting to the skills or
indirection that Aldul relied on.
     The King pulled back to face the child, who refused to meet his
glowing gaze. He didn't know what just happened, but he had a very worried
boy on his hands. Priorities.
     "Kri-estaul," Evendal murmured. "Look at me, my too-wise silly son."
     "I'm afraid."
     "Of what? Of me?" Kri-estaul shook his head, and then nodded. "Oh,
Kri! I know what you call your legs."
     "You do?"
     "Those damned burdens. Right? And I know who had you call them
that. Nisakh. Right?"
     Kri-estaul nodded.
     "I can imagine!" Evendal snorted, furious. "He told you they were your
damned burdens, as you were his damned burden."
     Wide-eyed in amazement, Kri-estaul nodded again.
     "Another lie, Kri-estaul. You are not your legs! You are not like your
legs have become. You are no burden. You are a too quiet, bright, lovable
boy. And your legs still serve you, though you may not know how."
     "Aldul is right. You should have gone to the Temple some time ago. I
had fancied I might make your calves functional. But I don't think I can,
safely. You may never ride a horse, or walk down a hall or street. Or climb
a flight of stairs. You know that, right?"
     Kri-estaul nodded again. Evendal's face twisted in something like a
grin, a sad expression of equal parts affection and relief: he understood
most of what held his son's mind.
     "I myself knew it from the day after I restored you to your
sister. Before I asked to adopt you."
     "You... You knew?"
     "You were hamstrung more than once, my son. That pretty much settled
the question."
     "But."
     "But... What?"
     "But you still adopted me."
     "Yes. That is so."
     "Oh."
     Oddly hesitant, Evendal explained. "Kri-estaul... I do not love you in
spite of your troubles and needs. There is no 'in spite of' involved. I
love you. As simple as that."
     To Evendal's bewilderment Kri-estaul started to weep, holding tightly
to him. "Easy, now, beloved. I will be there. No one is going to touch you
without me standing right beside you."
     "I know." Kri-estaul mumbled. "I love you, too, Papa."
     "I know. You show me all the time." Evendal reassured, his voice
thick. "Where, Aldul?"
     Aldul started, but answered promptly. "Not here, my lord. I apologise,
but the Lady will need her tools and people immediately available."
     "I will indeed be right by his side." Evendal warned as he bundled
Kri-estaul in some rugs and settled him into the carrier.
     Aldul smirked, hoping his friend would get his way - and thankful he
himself was not the one Evendal had to confront. "My friend, I will not
fight you on that. And I would not expect otherwise."

     The King, and his escort, walked with Ierwbae and Aldul to the Temple
precinct. The border between the Temple grounds and the civic demesne was
marked by hermes-stones spaced over two body lengths from each other. Five
ells in from the hermes-stones, the hard-packed ground gave way to
tightly-fitted stone of differing types; even the dark night could not hide
the odd colour variations.
     The Temple was not any one building. It had originally been a
six-tower complex, the tallest structures in Osedys, but that had been over
a millennium ago.  If the sixth and central tower still existed, it was no
longer visible. The people of the Thronelands and the Temple preferred to
expand outward with buildings rather than upward, so all other Temple
construction radiated ever outward in all directions like the petals of a
misshapen chrysanthemum. The five sensible towers remained the tallest
structures in Osedys.
     It was to the towers that Aldul directed the King and Guard. The
three-storey edifices immediately adjacent to the towers looked to be an
amalgam of brick, stone and old wood. Aldul had managed to avoid entering
any of the buildings until he had guided the royals to within fourteen
hundred feet of the towers, and it was into one of these three-storey
buildings that he steered them.
     "What is that?" Kri-estaul asked, once Aldul escorted them inside.
     "You feel it?" Aldul asked, startled.
     "I'm sorry. Am I not supposed to? I'm sorry." Kri-estaul gripped one
of the blankets cocooning him, clutching it tight in his distress.
     "No. It is simply that few people feel anything but the lack of a
draft."
     "What do you two speak of?" Evendal asked, uneasy.
     "It feels like... Like my butt feels sometimes when I move after I
have been sitting too long in one position. A strange tingling, all over,
but no pain."
     Beside the doorway, in a wall recess, hung a series of coloured
cords. Aldul pulled on a purple-lavender cord, waited, then pulled on it
again. Aldul then directed Ierwbae and Evendal further into the building;
through another door and down a corridor, through a large if empty room and
into another, smaller room with a few tables and a bed set up high - above
waist level. Each wall had a door set in its center. The 'bed' had no
rushes, and no padding except where the recumbent person's head would
be. The area where the torso would lie looked like a solid slab, but the
bottom half of the bed entailed two removable slats of varnished wood. The
most remarkable item in the room was a fountain; a seemingly constant
forceful upwelling of water against tiered troughs, two channels of which
flowed out of the room through runnels in the stone floor. Now into the
first stages of winter, the fountain's hot cascade gave off a thick
mist. The sound of falling rain and running water seemed incongruous inside
the windowless room.
     The King was interrupted from further examination by the arrival of
the Priestess and her retinue.
     "Your Majesty," Sygkorrin nodded, with a slight bow; sovereign to
sovereign.
     "Your Eminence," Evendal returned. "We have brought Our son, clearly
at his limits from his durance. We admit that while We might could numb his
pain, in perpetuity, We cannot restore his legs' virtue. So, We... I come
to you, at Aldul insistence. Forgive the hour and Our willfulness."
     Sygkorrin stared long at Aldul. She had come prepared for anger, for
threats, for silent confusion or attempted coercion through Evendal's
glamour as Left Hand of the Unalterable. She did not, at first, know what
to make of this distant and archaic formality. Aldul squinted and
finger-signaled for patience.
     'He needn't have bothered,' Sygkorrin thought wryly of Aldul's silent
intervention. "Kri-estaul, do you know what is toward?"
     "My legs hurt. They are too broken and need to be taken off."
     "Yes. That is why you are here instead of home. And do you understand
what will happen here?"
     "No, not really."
     "You will go to sleep for a few bells, and when you wake up your legs
from here..." Sygkorrin pointed to just above the knee. "From there down
will be gone. Nothing there anymore. And you will be in a lot of pain. You
will need to take a potion for the first few moons. But not so much after
that. Not like now. The worst part is that you will be bed-bound for over a
fortnight. Not be able to accompany your Papa anywhere.""
     "But what if I have to pee? Or use the jakes?"
     "You will have to piss into a ewer and excrete into a krater. On your
bed."
     "Are you punishing me? Was I bad again?" Kri-estaul's eyes ranged
repeatedly over the Priestess's face, seeking some clue how he could
appease this woman. "I know I am a sorry excuse for a boy."
     "No. And, you are not. And that is not why. Your legs are so broken,
its like carrying around broken glass or a poisonous snake. You could die
if you keep them. But after you've healed, you will have very little pain."
     "It won't hurt like it does?"
     "No. Not even a tenth of how it hurts now." Like a non sequitur,
Sygkorrin belatedly understood Evendal's formality: a royal's masque; a way
of hiding pain and hiding from pain.
     "I won't have to take those drinks any more?"
     "Maybe every once in a while. Not like you have had to. Not like you
will have to during the first fortnight."
     "I'm... I'm scared."
     Sygkorrin nodded. "I would be also. We, Aldul and I, are going to take
good care of you and your Papa. We will put a cloth over your face, you
will fall asleep. I will do the work. And then you will wake up." The
Priestess explained.
     The High Priestess stared at one of her attendants, blinked and
gestured with a finger. The attendant retreated through the door to the
left of the one Evendal and Aldul entered by. Evendal could have sworn that
it would open to the outside, but the brief glimpse he caught was of a
firelit room.
     "Kri-estaul, this is Lumetra," Sygkorrin introduced a willowy short
woman with an impish grin. "This is Yurehal-mah," a man of Lumetra's height
with a triangular face who bowed. "They will be helping me, if you are
comfortable with them. There will be no Guard here."
     "Where can they wait?" Evendal murmured obligingly.
     "Over there. Through that door." Sygkorrin indicated the door that he
and Aldul had come in through.
     "There is nothing in there." The King protested.
     "Look again."
     But Evendal shook his head and signaled his escort to retire.
     "Are they acceptable?"
     Kri-estaul nodded. "Do you mean it?"
     Sygkorrin did not even blink. "Yes. No Guard, sweetling. Now, I would
like to talk to your Papa alone for a moment. Is that agreeable with you?"
     "Will Aldul stay... with me?"
     "Yes, Kri-estaul. Aldul is not going anywhere without you."
     "Is it right with you if I... Can I hold on to you?"
     For a moment Sygkorrin looked confused. Then Aldul answered. "Yes,
Kri. That would be good. Are you having a hard time staying in this bell?"
     "Please?" the child pleaded, pitch rising.
     Aldul moved carefully up to the bedside and held out his
hand. Kri-estaul's hand shot out and gripped hard to four of Aldul's
fingers. "See? You are here with me, my Prince." To Sygkorrin's look, Aldul
simply said. "Sensate throw-backs to his time under-ground."
     The Priestess nodded again. "All this windowless stone can get
tiresome, even for me." She grinned sweetly at Kri-estaul. Watching,
Evendal felt his heart pound almost painfully as he suddenly became aware
of Sygkorrin's dark-haired pale-skinned beauty. "I will be back with your
Papa after we talk." She promised, and all but dragged Evendal to the door
she had come in from. Beyond that door stood a very wide hallway, from
where they paused the roof slanted upward as the hall extended away from
the towers.
     Sygkorrin wasted no time. "So. Can you loop and secure at least three
working arteries?"
     "What? No."
     "Are you prepared to saw through Kri-estaul's femorals?"
     Evendal did not understand the purpose to Sygkorrin's almost angry
queries. "I... I would have a difficult time, knowing they were his, but I
think so."
     "Would your... gifts permit? Or incapacitate you?"
     "Oh..." Evendal blinked, and reconsidered. "It would depend on how
close to death he draws. I think."
     "You do not know. That would make you a danger in a dangerous
effort. Do you know how to make a skin-and-fat lip that will cover the
remaining leg despite swelling?"
     "I am not Niem Dir. I have no experience in that."
     "This is not to badger you, Your Majesty. It is simply to make clear
how much of a... burden you would be, were you to oversee Kri-estaul's
amputation."
     Evendal stared wall-eyed at the Priestess. "How did you know I
demanded to be at his side? Aldul had no time to tell you."
     "Your Majesty," Sygkorrin patted a stray lock of hair away from her
face. "The surprise would have been if you had not."
     "He is my son!"
     "No one in this kingdom disputes or criticizes your just affection for
your son."
     "You want my child docile? Amenable?"
     "Of course,"
     Evendal merely raised an eyebrow.
     Sygkorrin scowled. "Then return, but leave for the room you came
through after he slumbers. If he does not ask you, you need not tell
him. Because I can assure you that you will find the amputation
harrowing. Not because it is grisly or gruesome or perilous, though it is,
but because it is damage being inflicted on your son."
     "No." Evendal started shaking his head before Sygkorrin had
finished. "If I have to sit curled in a corner, I will. But I will not
deceive my son, even for his own peace-of-mind."
     "But how would he know...?"
     "You, the Right Hand of the Unalterable, try such misdirection with
me? He would know. We both know better. And you diminish my respect for
you, Sygkorrin. What truly passes here?"
     Sygkorrin sighed. "Lord Evendal. Do you know how many years these
towers have?"
     "At a guess, from what records survive in the Royal archive, close to
one thousand years. Why?"
     "These six towers are as old as Hrioskunra."
     "You know of Hrioskunra?" Evendal asked, then answered. "Of course you
do."
     "Just as Hrioskunra, they have their own... strengths. You might
catalyse or direct those strengths in the midst of my wreaking."
     "No."
     "No, what?"
     "Whatever happens, my presence will not endanger Kri-estaul."
     "How can you be so certain?"
     Evendal smiled for the first time that night. "I have it on good
authority. Two very knowledgeable sources. One of them is older than these
towers."
     "You are determined?"
     Evendal shook his head. "I am pledged," he corrected.
     "Then do exactly as you suggested." Sygkorrin bade. "Stay in a corner,
watch or don't, as you wish. But not one word or tune from your lips, once
Kri-estaul is asleep."
     They returned to the strangely accoutered room. Evendal rushed to a
sobbing, flailing Kri-estaul and a besieged Aldul. "Kri! What is toward?
What?"
     "Papa?" Quick as an eyeblink, Kri-estaul stilled.
     "What is toward?" Evendal asked again. Sygkorrin smirked
briefly. Kri-estaul twisted his back to hide against Aldul who stood beside
him. "Kri?" The child kept motionless.
     Evendal assessed the tableau, and cursed himself quietly. "Kri?
Forgive me. Please?"
     Kri-estaul swung his shoulders back and glared, sodden-faced, at
Evendal. "Forgive? F... For what?"
     "I left you just now. When you needed me. When I walked back in here,
I realised how you might feel right now. I should not have left you when
you are in pain, in a strange place, and knowing you are about to be hurt
worse than you hurt now." Expecting his son's timidity, the King kept a
hand under the boy's chin, so Kri-estaul had nowhere to look but at his
father's face. "Being scared is acceptable, Kri. Ir knows, I am all the
time."
     "You?" Kri-estaul choked.
     "Yes. You thought I was leaving you? That I would not return? That I
was leaving you here, to gain another heir?" The child thrashed about
weakly, trying to hide his head. "Kri-estaul, stop. I understand, my
son. And you forget, I have no say in the matter; you are my son for as
long as you yourself wish it. Come now, let me bear you until you fall
asleep." As Evendal had hoped, Kri-estaul had an opinion on that idea.
     "I am not a baby!"
     "No. You are my son. A wonder. You survived two years in darkness and
pain, beset by evil, waiting and hoping for me. You died protecting me, and
came back alive. You do more to keep me steady and... keep my heart from
turning into a stone. Please. Let me hold my son until he falls asleep. I
vow that I shall be right at your side until you awaken. And after."
     Kri-estaul's arms stretched out. "Pl... Please, Papa!"
     Evendal lifted Kri-estaul carefully and, once he had the child
secured, hopped onto the cot and rocked the tired and pain-dazed
boy. "Thank you, Aldul."
     "I tried, but I am no substitute for his father, my lord."
     "I thank you, even so."
     Aldul gestured at a sealed gourd and swath of cloth he had waiting.
     "Kri-estaul," Evendal murmured. "It is time to go to sleep. Let Aldul
pull the wool over your eyes. I am not moving. I am going to be holding
you, and not letting go. Understand?"
     Kri-estaul nodded, and rested quiescent - until he felt the cloth at
his nose. Lightning-swift Kri-estaul began to struggle, panicking and
desperate. "No! No! Please... Stop! I'll be good. I promise! I'll be
good. I'll be good! Please! Please! Papa! No! Papa..."
     Every shriek was like a sword slicing into Evendal's gut, ripping
through his heart. But it was the King's own hand that held the
spirit-soaked wool to his son's face until the muffled protests finally
faded. Aldul turned to Sygkorrin, and both breathed a sigh.
     "Help me..." Evendal whispered. And Aldul gingerly held Kri-estaul
while Evendal stood. Without hesitation, Aldul set the child back on the
'bed' and stripped him. The room stayed warm by virtue of the
fountain-flow, nonetheless Aldul draped a linen cover over Kri-estaul's
torso. The Priestess turned to the fountain, dipping her hands into one of
the basins.

     The next four bells passed as Sygkorrin said. Evendal's heart was
rent, twisted and tested. The attendant that had left the room had gone to
rouse Drusillikh. From her, Sygkorrin took blood through what looked to
Evendal like urchin's spines, some animal's intestine, and a large glass
mug with bone or horn tubing jutting through its cover. Sygkorrin explained
only as the mood struck her. She made liberal use of a tourniquet, and a
small stiletto-type knife in cutting the skin, after she had wiped the
child's legs down with some leaf-green paste-like solution.
     "That is to numb the nerves before we severe them. It is quick-acting
and lasts a long time."
     There was, in Evendal's worried mind, a lot of blood coming from the
cutting, though it pumped forth at an impossibly slow rate. Nonetheless
Sygkorrin, Lumetra and Yurehal-mah worked quickly and ruthlessly. At one
point Kri-estaul's bowels relaxed, but Yurehal-mah cleaned him up without
even a facial expression.
     To Evendal's dismay, Sygkorrin was right; he turned his face away when
Yurehal-mah and Lumetra braced the first leg while Sygkorrin used a
bone-saw. He supposed they would have simply used a sword or axe for speed,
had Kri-estaul's bones not been so fragile from two years of neglect and
little food or movement. Lumetra, face impassive and intent, tied off
arteries. But the King thought too much blood yet leaked from his Heir. At
one point, a mystified Evendal watched Sygkorrin cauterise the exposed
bones. The whole procedure tried Evendal's nerves and endurance beyond his
breaking point. And still he stayed.
     Then Sygkorrin, with no pause, grabbed another tourniquet and started
on the second leg.
     The son of Menam hunched in a corner and wished the entire ordeal
ended, wished the uncertainty to Kri-estaul's survival resolved. After
securing the arteries exposed, Lumetra had retreated to the head of the
bed; she kept a finger over Kri-estaul's carotid and a hand hovering over
his chest.
     "He's slowing up but his heart is racing." Lumetra announced
obscurely.
     "Thunders!" Sygkorrin cursed, then glared. "Both need to
slow. Lumetra...?"
     The petite woman nodded, took her one hand away from Kri-estaul's neck
and thumped the back of her hovering hand in a calm and steady rhythm. "I
cannot do this for very long."
     "If I could do that for half a bell, as an apprentice, you can
certainly keep at it long enough for me to find the problem." Sygkorrin
snarled.
     "Yes, Your Eminence." Lumetra whispered.
     The Priestess began creeping her way, with prodding and deliberately
trembling hands, up Kri-estaul's thigh. She stopped mid-stomach. "Of
course!"
     "What is toward?" Yurehal-mah asked. He had just finished sewing the
skin and dropping a moss-patch on it.
     "A nasty blood-clot... far from home."
     Lumetra and Yurhal-mah sighed but said nothing, though Lumetra stole
poorly hidden glances toward the King then back to Sygkorrin. The Priestess
remained poised over Kri-estaul's torso for several long breaths.
     The Priestess failed to move when Yurehal-mah started cleaning the
bone-forceps, suture-needles, and the slotted capital saw. She stayed
motionless at Kri-estaul's side when Lutrema assisted a very weak
Drussilikh out of the room. Finally, Evendal could not take her statue-like
stillness and stepped up to the 'bed'. "What is toward? Why do you not
remove this clot?"
     "More than one now. I would be happy to. Once you show me how to do so
without creating more."
     Evendal's nerves came out in temper. "You did not think to give him
atropine before cutting into him? Diminish the chances of a clot traveling
so far uninterrupted!"
     "Yes, I did; else the clot would have reached his heart or his lungs
before I found it."
     Evendal wondered why he had heard and felt nothing, then realized that
his gift would hardly recognize 'threat'; and that was all that was
involved until the clot stopped the child's heart. Too late, then. "You can
keep it where it rests now?"
      Sygkorrin nodded. "And hope that the flow of the blood will break up
the clots."
     "No. That is no hope whatsoever." Evendal hissed. He pounded on his
head with the heel of his hand. "What does his body need in order to do the
dismantling for itself? No, that won't help! I would never understand what
you mean. I only know about clotting from Mausna and the field-chirurgeon."
     Evendal m'Alismogh's eyes dimmed briefly. "I care more about the life
of this child than any imagined danger between two powers, Priestess..."
     Sygkorrin looked up from her post. "What are you thinking, Your
Majesty?"
     "Unless you have a better option," The Priestess shook her head. "I
will do what I know to do." m'Alismogh knelt down beside the linen-white
body of his son. He had not noticed, seeing him constantly, that Kri-estaul
was no longer moon-faced, what with the slow healing of the infectious
bites. He ignored the chill from the blood staining his knees, and the
stiffness of the cloth at his side that was the Priestess's gown. Hunched
as close to Kri-estaul as he could get, he settled both of his hands on the
damp but warm flesh, encompassing the area Sygkorrin's hand hovered over.

        Little nomads...

     m'Alismogh's voice broke. He had to swallow three times before he
could try again.

        Little wanderers fleeing
        In this body I deem dear.
        Little gatherers claiming
        A fair province not your own.

        You do your job too well,
        Your goal is accomplished.
        Disband goodly cohorts,
        Stand down, I say, stand down.

        I abjure you, beg you:
        Break up, diffuse, disperse.

        You do your job too well,
        Your goal is accomplished.
        Disband goodly cohorts,
        Stand down, I say, stand down.

     After six unsteady, tense breaths, Sygkorrin spoke. "I can no longer
hold the clotting."
     "No!" Evendal shouted, shocked and distraught.
     "Rest easy, my lord." Sygkorrin placed her hand on Evendal's shoulder,
a familiarity she would not have permitted herself but for the moment's
demand and the absence of Guard. "I cannot hold them because they obeyed
you. They are too small for me to sense any more."
     "You know how to give a ruler gray hair, Priestess!"
     Sygkorrin grinned. "You should witness how I humble self-involved
journeymen and first-level adepts!"
     Lutrema, returned, grunted a laugh.
     "What must be done now?"
     "Yurhal-mah will keep watch for any more vagrant clots, though I
suspect your song remedied that. Kri-estaul will sleep until he awakens."
     "Here or at the Palace?"
     The Priestess stared long at the King, who simply stared back, waiting
for an answer.
     "You are not sane. You realize that, don't you?"
     Evendal nodded, suddenly abashed. "Since the first day home. What have
I said that demonstrates it?"
     "Priestess!" Lutrema protested, scandalized at the Priestess's
tactlessness.
     King Evendal grinned. "My perception of nature, my reactions to my
environment and to other people, my presumptions, are radically different
from those of the people I serve. Not in all matters, though, or else you
would be incomprehensible to me. Now, what have I said that proves this?"
     "Kri-estaul will be in no shape to be carted to the Palace for many
days."
     Evendal shook his head. "That fountain is not mere decoration. You
take supplicants off that slab and cleanse them in that spring. As he can
survive that, he could endure being carried to the Palace."
     Sygkorrin shook her head in turn. "Yes, that is traditional, but if we
placed him in the fountain, it might undo some of the benefit of the
atropine, and increase the swelling. He stays on the Temple grounds for the
present."
     "As you will," Evendal agreed. "Have you a residence like unto this?
One with a large room adjacent?"
     "I anticipated this. Yes." The Priestess visibly hesitated. "The first
few days, Kri-estaul is likely to not know his own name from the
painkillers."
     As Sygkorrin spoke, a young woman entered the room and addressed
her. "Your Eminence?"
     "Yes,... apprentice. Your reason for entering a yenkriul(54) room
without sanction?"
     "Two concerns, Your Eminence. Gwl-lethry attempted suicide, Your
Eminence."
     "How? I take it he did not succeed?"
     "No, Your Eminence. Asphyxiation. He tried to stuff his tunic shirt
down his throat."
     Shocked, Evendal interrupted, uncertain he had heard correctly. "You
have Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir?"
     "Yes, Guard Frielh remanded him to our care over a fortnight ago."
Sygkorrin acted indifferent to the hapless man's state. "And the second
matter?"
     "For a brief time, Your Eminence, we had six towers. Again."
     "What?" The Priestess lost all aplomb. "What do you mean?"
     "For less than even a twelfth of a bell, the central tower was clear
and plain for all to see, Your Eminence. And glowing like it was baking
under the midday sun."
     To Evendal's concerned eye, the Priestess looked badly shaken and
bewildered. "Is it still visible?"
     "No, Your Eminence."
     "When did this... vision occur?"
     "Less that a quarter bell past."
     Sygkorrin stared at the King.
     "A harmless result, I would deem. And blessedly temporary." Evendal
offered.
     "And utterly unprecedented." Sygkorrin retorted.
     Evendal shrugged. "I am more concerned with Kri-estaul and with
Gwl-lethry."
     "As you should be." Sygkorrin replied, rallying. "You left us with a
right proper headache in that man, Your Majesty. It became obvious early on
that he was guilty of nothing. But we did not know if he was here for
punishment or for his own safety from some undisclosed threat. He tried to
speak to anyone who walked by his cell. It upset all of us. For he
deteriorated quickly."
     "How? In what way?"
     "First singing to himself. Then shouting and crying. Then talking to
himself. And lastly, striving to burrow his way through the rock and
metal-bound wood of his cell. If he survives this incarceration, his hands
may never recover. This is his first attempt at suicide, but I have been
expecting it for the last three days."
     Evendal felt ill.
     "Your face betrays you." Sygkorrin exclaimed. "What did this
Gwl-lethry do to warrant this?"
     "He... He annoyed me and, by his own confession, plagued
Wytthenroeg. A mindless, vapid barnacle."
     The Priestess stared at Evendal in amazement. "His pretense annoyed
you?"
     "Pretense?"
     But Sygkorrin would not be distracted. "You detain the lord of one of
the largest holds in the kingdom for over forty days without diversion or
report - so that the only thing he has to dwell on is the impending hour of
his death... because he offended your sensibilities?!"
     "What do you mean 'the impending hour of his death'?"
     "Your Majesty. What would this courtier know of you, on the day you
apprehended him? Nothing save that you could do so, would do so, even to a
harmless fool. After nine years with two men who showed the same
ruthlessness..." Evendal winced. "You can be certain that Gwl-lethry, a man
much esteemed by your mother, has been expecting a knife in the dark for
the last forty nights. Now I understand his rapid deterioration: You!"
     "You say admired by my mother? How do you know of this?"
     Sygkorrin sighed, expressing her own annoyance and impatience. She
began cleaning Kri-estaul with linen dipped in the fountain. "Your
Majesty. The Temple is the only society that the Throne cannot command or
compel: by tradition, by history, and - before the interregnum - by mutual
agreement between the Throne and the Temple. So, with the continued
depredations by the Throne, some manourlords came to us to manage the
disposition of their properties in the event of their death. Gwl-lethry
made allowance for as many contingencies as he could encompass; this
included his detention. Have you not wondered why you heard nothing from
any steward of the Tinde'keb? We tend it for now, until such time as
Gwl-lethry emerges into the sun of royal favour, or Wytthenroeg recovers
her health, or one of her children inherits."
     "He gave his demesne over to Wytthenroeg? Or her children? That means
he knew she had children; one of the best kept secrets of the past nine
years."
     The Priestess nodded. "He was quite clear in his will and order of
disposition. He had other contingencies if none of her heirs survived to
assume authority for the Tinde'keb."
     "That is not the effort of a witless dilettante who despises his
tutor." Evendal muttered.
     "No. How do you think he survived for these nine years? By seeming too
mindless to be a threat. Too amenable, generous, and amusing, too much a
part of the facade of the Court, to simply destroy."
     A pair of solidly built priests entered, with fresh blankets, and
carefully covered the Prince, then carried him out of the room on another
sling. Sygkorrin and Evendal followed. They came to a fair-sized room with
an oversized bed, three chairs and two tables. One wide window took up most
of a wall, but set high, so that a person could not climb out without
skilled assistance.
     "Safe, and pleasant." Evendal confirmed.
     "And here he will stay, for the troubles are still numerous. His lungs
will be weak, and prey to dampness and fluid. His bum and the fissure will
get irritated and inflamed. Eliminations will be a trial for both of you,
at first. And sleep."
     Evendal bowed. "It shall be as you choose. In all this I do not know
what is best for him. You know better than I."
     Sygkorrin stared at the glowing-eyed ruler, her demeanor uncertain. "I
will do only what seems best for your son. This I pledge."
     "And so I understand, Priestess. I mean only agreement, submission to
your will for his well-being. No threat or warning is intended or offered."
Evendal gripped the frame of the bed, knelt shakily down and kissed
Kri-estaul on the forehead.
     "Now that I have a few concerns which do not involve Kri-estaul, how
long will he sleep?"
     "Most, if not all, of the day that has begun."
     To Sygkorrin's continued bemusement, Evendal looked dismayed,
annoyed. "Could you endure but a bell longer in my company, Your Eminence,
as I strive to make amends?"
     "Grant me a moment to change into less soiled garb, Your Majesty, and
I shall be your shadow for that time."
     "Please," Was all that the King said. And Sygkorrin returned in less
than a quarter of a bell, looking as though she had not spent the last few
hours of the night in a grueling struggle with blood and main. 'Diviner
grace has never brightened this enchanting face,' he thought, and wondered
whence his own quotation.
     "Do you know of Gwl-lethry's cell?" Sygkorrin nodded. "Then let us go
there, rather than have him escorted to us. Thus he avoids the impression
that he is being taken to execution." Evendal began to exit, then stopped
himself at the door.
     "Your Majesty?" Sygkorrin spoke, bewildered at the seeming indecision.
     "I pledged to remain by his side. And so I shall." The King explained,
then turned his troubled, glimmering gaze to the Priestess. "Can you have
Gwl-lethry brought here? With all courtesy?"
     Disbelieving, Sygkorrin shook her head. "Readily, Your Majesty. But
you take things to extremes." She turned to the quiet priest at her
side. "Aldul. Scintilla section, Ward two." The Kwo-edan raised his
eyebrows, nodded lopsidedly, and left.
     "I 'take things to extremes', Lady Sygkorrin?"
     The Priestess corrected herself. "My initial impression of you was of
an impulsive, emotion-driven, boy. Your glowing eyes aside, that is how you
appear. Your adoption of this waif, your killing of the Beast the very
night of your arrival in the City, your refusal to have an investiture
ceremony, your re-apportioning some of the Court stations to unknowns when
some courtiers defied you. All very strong brash moves, Your Majesty,
capable of alienating many."
     The High Priestess of the Temple Archate smiled ruefully. "Then I
pondered your motives and realised I had been thinking like a courtier. You
are not acting out of whim or mere emotion at all, are you?"
     "In the main, no I do not, I cannot. But I did with Gwl-lethry. He
approached me on my second morning here. As pathetic a mindless courtier as
anyone could possibly imagine, gushing and enthused over
inconsequentials. Practically baiting me with slurs against Rw-addruan and
Wytthenroeg. I consigned him to as utter a solitude as my Guard could
fashion.  And I still find it hard to credit his cleverness."
     "Could you not recognize his artifice from the very strength of your
visceral reaction? Only two types of men survive... survived in the Court
of the interregnum, Your Majesty. Those smart enough to appear trivial, and
those with their noses up one of the co-rulers' nether-regions."
     "What shall you do if..." Sygkorrin faltered on a cough. "If his
segregation proved too much for him?"
     For a long time Evendal gave no response, unable to reply.
     "I do not know. It infuriates me that I did not try to look any
further than his face powder. And that I spouted such an arbitrary
judgment! I had no right!"
     "You judged as you saw." Sygkorrin consoled. "No matter what you wish
for yourself, you remain as fallible as the rest of us. That holds more
comfort for me than it does for you, I imagine. Here they are."
     Lanterns in metal-caged recesses scattered throughout the room
provided sufficient light for Evendal to see a rumpled man barely able to
stand. Either a noise or his motionlessness must have alerted the figure,
for he straightened quickly and looked about. Recognition of his hosts did
not calm him. Evendal could see that the man had lost weight in his
confinement. With face powder absent, Gwl-lethry displayed the haggard
features and understandable pallour of a young man pressed to his
limits. That Gwl-lethry's throat had swollen to equal the width of his head
tore at the King's conscience.
     "Your Majesty," Gwl-lethry whispered, then winced. "Your servants
frightened my guests. I had no notice of your audience; else I'd have
better titivated myself. Forgive my dishabile, I beg you." The Temple had
provided clothing against the cold of winter and stone and, after the
suicide attempt, assured its condition by binding Gwl-lethry's hands
together and away from his mouth, with a short chain encircling his waist.
     "What guests?"
     "Why His Royal Highness, Prince Rat, and his entourage. They left in
fevered haste upon your attendants' arrival. I ken he is a cautious
monarch, fearing enemies at every creak and squeak. I regret he is a
monarch without an entourage, else I'd offer you a better semblence than
this." He demurred, gesturing to his attire and lack of adornment.
     Evendal noted gouges and shadows that were all but black under the
man's eyes, the quick pulse quivering at the courtier's temples, and knew
what Gwl-lethry had been about before he had been summoned. Thus the
despairing countenance when Gwl-lethry saw who awaited him. Uncertain how
to respond, the King approached the ragged man, disdaining Ottily's move to
precede him. Gwl-lethry kept his gaze lowered and shifted toward the right,
bowing economically. The tension in the courtier's frame, wary, vigilant
for any sudden move, confirmed Evendal's perception.
     "To spare your sensibilities, Most Puissant Majesty, I shall refrain
from obvious jests on how your Presence brightens the room..."
     Evendal's mouth quirked. "Our thanks, good Gwl-lethry." He whispered.
     "If," the ragged man continued. "If you would be so gracious as to
'enlighten' me on the reason for such a audience. Not wanting to lose the
sun of your favour, but in my admiration I tremble in the dark as to what
such a meeting could signify."
     "Cease your verbal peregrinations, Gwl-lethry. We have found, and
recovered Wytthenroeg of Alta."
     Gwl-lethry lowered his head, striving to hide his face. "But of course
you did! Who could hide from the glory of your shining countenance? The
gift of your shining splendor reaches into all that is dark and obscure,
finding out... "
     Without warning, Gwl-lethry legs failed him. As quick, Evendal had an
arm about the courtier's waist and guided him to the nearest of the three
chairs. At their first meeting, Gwl-lethry's chalk, brow-tar and kohl had
masked him effectively. At this meeting the harrowing and desolation had
created a second mask, obscuring the manourlord's youth and
vulnerability. For it was an awkward youngling that stared up at the King
of the Thronelands, pleading.
     "Did... Did you have to? Was it so necessary? She was just a
sharp-tongued old woman. Dying. All but broken anyway. Would it have hurt
you to leave her alone?" The manourlord's voice grew weaker with each word.
     "Yes," Evendal replied. "Ottily, Lady Sygkorrin, if you would be so
kind as to grant Us a moment of privacy with Our manourlord?"
     "Your Majesty...!" they protested in unison.
     "We do not mean later." He waited. As Sygkorrin moved toward the
entry, Evendal added. "And, should you need to, reassure Kri-estaul of my
love."
     "What?" Sygkorrin glared at the King, and realised his intent. "Are
you unmanned? Don't make such a gesture, Your Majesty, with a man who has
no inkling of the consequences of his own actions!"
     "He will," Evendal promised, and waited until Aldul grinned his
understanding and closed the door.
     The King lifted a thin knife with a hand-length blade from his
wrist-sheath and offered the hilt to Gwl-lethry. "As a protege of
Wytthenroeg, you learned lore. You know the price a ruler pays for
transgressing against the person of one under his protection?"
     "I will... not kill myself... to spare you... the effort."
     "But you sought to do just that already." Evendal pointed out. "You
are not listening. Here, take this and do whatever you feel just." Evendal
knelt on the floor and placed the knife on the courtier's lap.
     "'Tis a trick."
     The King shook his head. Gwl-lethry, challenged, picked up the blade.
     "I may get satisfaction... Only to die from your Guard."
     "No. But I warn you. You will be responsible henceforth."
     Gwl-lethry, a tense expression on his face, leaned forward to rest the
knife against Evendal's throat. No one rushed in to rescue the King. "You
speak so obscurely. You are the one responsible... You have Wytthenroeg in
your hands,... and myself, and you... play games,... thinking us sheep."
     Evendal waited Gwl-lethry out.
     "Why are you here? Why did you come here, if not to kill me?"
     "As a courtier accosting me with benign intent, you were a guest with
the right to safety and the freedom of the gentry. Had I destroyed you, my
own life would have been forfeit. Such is the Rule of Osmaredh."
      "No one has found... a viable copy of that Rule! No one abides
by... that code!" Gwl-lethry sputtered and rasped. The blade wobbled, and
cut.
     "The King must so abide! I must, or else I become the only man whose
life is of worth. And that was Polgern's delusion. So, what do you say,
Gwl-lethry?"
     "What?" the man wailed, confused.
     "What would be fit recompense for my abuse of your freedoms? Here I
am. Do you wish to hold me here, as you were held? Is there a monetary
recompense you would prefer? Or some dream whose accomplishment is within
the compass of my authority?"
     Gwl-lethry could not speak to this volte-faci, utterly bewildered by
it.
     "Let me apprise you of what you cannot know as yet. We are the Left
Hand of the Unalterable."
     "No. How?"

     "'Through instruction outside the circuits of Nature.
     'Where time passes differently or not at all,'"

     Gwl-lethry continued to look stunned, but his eyes widened even
more. His face twisted with pain, the courtier continued. "'So that
Contraries meet,... the novice to nurture,'"
     Evendal ald'Menam concluded. "'Till adept he becomes, heeding
Justice's call.'"
     "What? But. There is no... closing line to that quote. The oldest
texts... are incomplete!"
     "We are the Left Hand of the Unalterable, Gwl-lethry, making what We
did to you even more unconscionable."
     "You torture me further! Goading me into speaking... when I can barely
breathe!"
     "Then dispense with words. Just know Lord Gwl-lethry. Our submission
to your just complaint, and Our offer of redress, remains. If you wish, We
will repeat it before witnesses."
     Gwl-lethry was not ready to think about the ordeal that seemed to be
over. "Where is. Where is Wytthenroeg?"
     "Recuperating here at Temple. From pleuritic lungs."
     "Not likely to... recover, then."
     "She had better, or We shall give the Temple reason to fear
Us. Currently she is their concern."
     "Like I am?" the man grunted, his face red. "Your hospitality, again?
Isolate... until the fellow's forgotten... then quietly execute later?"
     "I am not likely to execute her."
     "Why?"
     "Why what? Why spare her? She is my mother, the late King's love. Or
why did I mistreat you so?"
     The courtier nodded, Evendal's confession of his lineage did not even
warrant a raised eyebrow. 'Did everyone in the Palace know except myself?'
     "You know what manner of woman Onkira is?" Again, Gwl-lethry nodded
with a grimace. "I had just the night previous had to deal with her
hypocrisy, pretense and manipulation. Then, the first face I see the next
morning is the very mold of falsity and artifice. And you spoke so foully
of one I revered, the only person whom I knew indeed loved me, listing your
gestures of ingratitude."
     Gwl-lethry tried to giggle; it came out a rasp. "So, are you
saying... I was too convincing?"
     Evendal did not nod for the knife at his neck, and the trickle of
blood already felt. "Yes."
     "And I can just walk... out of here, unmolested?"
     "Yes."
     "And I'm the... She-King of Arkedda!" Gwl-lethry lifted the blade from
Evendal's neck, only to place it over the King's left breast and jab for
emphasis.
     "Gwl-lethry, you can slam the blade here," Evendal pointed to the
center just below his collar-bone. "With sufficient force, and press
downward with enough determination, and proceed to blood-eagle me, then
walk out of here. Or you can simply walk out, ask the nearest priest, and
be escorted to where Wytthenroeg is resting. Or walk out of here, reclaim
your lordship from the Temple, and head home."
     "This little bauble... could hardly break bone!"
     "I myself have used it to, successfully, many years ago. But, again, I
warn you. You will be responsible henceforth."
     "What do you mea...?"
     "You kill or injure me mortally, and my estate becomes your's: The
beginning of a new royal house. And should you fail someone under your
care, oh ruler-in-waiting, that person has the same right and
responsibility I am granting you now."
     "You are insane!" Gwl-lethry whispered, appalled.
     "Yes. I am King. Unless you want to be."
     "No. No!"
     "Then choose from the last two options."
     Gwl-lethry retracted the knife as from a burning flame. "The first of
the two. The first! And... escort of priests... into my home!" He offered
the knife back. His flinch when the King grabbed the hilt said he expected
to see it hand-guard deep in his own chest next. Evendal wiped the blade on
his sleeve and resheathed it.
     "Lord of the Tinde'keb, there is much you must know, much that has
happened since We unjustly detained you. Before you leave and learn, let Us
offer this paltry gesture toward amends..." And Evendal me'Loema, ald'Menam
a Wytthenroeg, sulen ureg is'dah, slowly placed his hands carefully
on both sides of Gwl-lethry's neck, just barely touching the man's skin.
     "This, likewise, was a gift of the royals that Wytthenroeg discussed
in her lessons, good Gwl-lethry." Evendal muttered as the swelling in the
courtier's neck visibly diminished, even as his throat briefly flushed a
dark crimson.
     "Guard!" Evendal shouted. As Ottily rushed in, Evendal asked. "Your
waterskin, if you would be so kind?" The Guard offered a flask to the
courtier. Evendal raised an eyebrow. Ottily bowed her head.
     "I needed something a bit sturdier, Your Majesty. It takes knife
thrusts better."
     "Sensible."
     Gwl-lethry turned a more interesting shade than crimson. "Kumys?" he
gasped.
     "So the drink needs to be sturdier as well, eh?" Evendal jested. The
Guard shrugged with a smirk. Aldul likewise grinned.
     "Now, good Gwl-lethry, go see to Our mother and then reassure yourself
of the Temple's care for your heritage. Then, return within the next few
days, please, to keep Us company here."
     Gwl-lethry looked confused again. "Here?"
     "Our son remains here for several days, a supplicant of sorts."
Sygkorrin turned a sour look on her King.
     "Your son?" To Evendal's surprise, the courtier turned to the High
Priestess. "Lady of the Heights, is this a man of probity, in your
reckoning?" The man's voice emerged without physical strain.
     "He is. An upright man of honesty, honour, passion and compassion. The
Temple is at the service of Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam."
     Ottily looked ready to protest Gwl-lethry's rudeness, but Evendal
carefully motioned her to let it pass. The last person the courtier would
want to continually address would be the man who incarcerated him.
     "And how... Whence the son?" Gwl-lethry asked calmly.
     "The child of ?mmas-dawyl and ?nosien of the
Keh'my-ralur(55). Adopted by Evendal, with the benison of the child's
surviving sister, the Quillmaster."
     "Why is he here? Really?"
     Sygkorrin looked at Gwl-lethry without expression. "Do you recall
nothing regarding a child named Kri-estaul?"
     Gwl-lethry nodded. "Died two years ago. It made me sick to my
stomach. Sweet child as I remember. Livened a room without trying."
     "He did not die. He ran afoul of the Beast, who later awarded him to a
sycophant. They kept him in the under-ground for two years, hamstrung
twice."
     Gwl-lethry nodded again, and grimaced. It was easier to talk, and
think, seated. "And I am to credit all this... affability I am witnessing?
The latest usurper is a man of honesty and good intent? He has adopted an
unfortunate, who wondrously managed to live for two years in a hole no one
else had managed to survive two months in? This wonder of a child, who will
be legless, is his Heir? His mother, my mentor and... is merely recovering
from a bout with a winter cold? Did someone finally find a price for the
Archate or am I hearing fear talking?"
     Sygkorrin scowled at the young man, jerked him out of his chair and
pushed him up to the bed upon which Kri-estaul lay.
     "Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir elthra'ma Tinde'keb, I present to you
Kri-estaul agd'?mmas-dawyl, pier'Evendalh, sulen nis-ureg
isadah." Spitting the words out with a fury of impatience and
exhaustion, the High Priestess lifted the blankets covering the sleeping
child. "I draw your attention to the bite marks, still healing on his face,
his shoulders and his chest. That you can count not only his ribs, but can
also track many of the veins around them, is due to the diet he shared with
the roaches, rats and mice of the fourth level of the under-grounds. The
swelling of his testicular sac, caused by both vermin and abuse, is a
condition we are concerned about, but not certain how to treat as yet. I am
not about to flip him over for your edification, but let me assure you that
he has an anal fissure stemming from the large intestine. And, as you may
also note, he no longer has any leg from just above where his knees had
been. This last was accomplished a bell ago."
     "Yes," Evendal spoke up, but the one word came out harsh. "He is too
fragile, at this time, to move him back to the Palace. And feels safe only
when I am at his side. So here I remain for the present."
     Gwl-lethry stared at the drugged child; if he heard Evendal, he gave
no sign. "I remember those eyelashes," he whispered. "I thought them
ridiculously long and dark for a child. And his energy. You are not simply
destroying and humiliating the Keh'my-ralur ?"
     "The Quillmaster herself has stood as defender of the Palace, of her
own initiative, when she thought Us in peril. Alongside the Mistress of
Oaks and the Typika of the Eikhonists. Do not make my error, Gwl-lethry,
and judge without knowledge or consideration."
     The courtier reached out to touch the sleeping youngster. Only after
Gwl-lethry retracted his hand, his gesture uncompleted, did Evendal realise
he had tensed, prepared to intercede. His eyes unfocused as Evendal
acknowledged to himself that he was utterly irrational and proprietary
regarding Kri-estaul. Territorial. Aldul and Sygkorrin knew and had treated
his attitude with levity, but the degree of... of his urge to protect and
defend whelmed him at that moment. Whatever the expression on his face, it
made Gwl-lethry grin briefly.
     "I want to believe you. I want to hope I may live to see my old age."
Gwl-lethry hissed, looking at no one.
     "Sit down again before you fall down." Evendal snapped. Shakily,
Gwl-lethry obeyed.
     "We cannot give you peace-of-mind. We could only take it away. We wish
it were otherwise. Lady Sygkorrin, can and are you willing to provide
Consecrated, with offensive skills, to escort Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir
to his home and abide with him until such time as he discharges them?"
     "I have kept a list of possible attendants since you first tried
digging your way out of your cell. Three stand ready to accompany
you. Aldul? Please alert Hod-kenest, Liant-elrodd and Prifentelest of their
new duties." The Kwo-edan left the room.
     The courtier turned a relieved grin on Sygkorrin. "So the Court comes
to the Temple? That is going to be a prolonged headache for you, Your
Eminence."
     "You have a nose for the ridiculous and a gift for understatement,
Gwl-lethry." Sygkorrin snapped back at the man. "His Majesty is not a man
for joyless fetes for the sake of a pretense at prosperity or normality. So
there will be no pointless social gatherings or assemblages."
     Evendal amended. "If the courtiers wish to celebrate, they must give
the citizenry reason to do so, and then celebrate together. Until such
happens... they will know only Courts Juridical and Courts Critical."
     "You have a rather austere view of courtiers, manourlords and
guilds. Your Majesty." Gwl-lethry tendered.
     "Yes."
     Sygkorrin grinned a slight, feline grin. "Have you other concerns that
my presence requires, Your Majesty?"
     Not at the moment. We appreciate your patience and care, Your
Eminence. You, of course, do not need Our sanction to come and go, but
accept Our gratitude."
     "Most humbly. Then I shall retire, Your Majesty."
     After the High Priestess left, the King simply stood and watched his
son breathing.
     "You have naught else to say? Your Majesty?"
     Evendal hesitated, then forced himself to attend the man. "We have
much to say, Lord Gwl-lethry. First that We shall have published, as We
hinted, the manner in which We have wronged you. Second, We would ask of
you the same questions We have asked of other manourlords and
guildmasters."
     Cold and implacable, the Left Hand of the Unalterable turned his
shining eyes on the Lord of the Tinde'keb. "Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir
elthra'ma Tinde'keb... What have you done to comfort the grieving? To heal
the wounds inflicted by the two traitors? What measure of defiance have you
offered as citizens and strangers were press-ganged, imprisoned, tortured,
starved, raped and killed?"
     "Have you asked this of every landowner?"
     "All who have come before Us." Aldul returned and nodded to the King.
     "Then I must wait, for one who has not yet approached you. The answer
is not only mine to give."
     Evendal ald'Menam, Seners me'Oatelharh(56), stared hard at the
courtier sweating before him. "We ken that you are demonstrating honour,
Lord Gwl-lethry, and shall accept your deferral. Your answer also assures
us that you were not indifferent to the... leeches feeding on an already
frail kingdom. Thus acknowledged, you have Our leave and favour."
     And Gwl-lethry fled.
     "That went well. Another friend of the Throne." Evendal's tone held
all the aridity of the Kul Wastes.
     Aldul, silent throughout, shook his head. "Just as you yourself
recommended to him, Evendal, give him time and consideration. That young
man is not going to love you for a long time, nor should you expect him
to. Ever."
     "Explain, please."
     "You can sympathize and empathize with many, but you have no idea what
isolation and abject fear, in concert, can do to a man."
     "I tried to be as considerate as I dared..."
     Aldul waved at him to desist. "What did I just say, ...Your Majesty?"
     Evendal took a breath, then another, and realised that Aldul had given
an observation, not an accusation. "This is true. While I ken isolation,
the only creature I feared in my solitude was myself. That seemed
sufficient cause for dread."
     Aldul let out a tired, long-suffering, sigh. "Evendal, how long was
Kri-estaul in the undergrounds?"
     "Two years," Evendal replied. But Aldul shook his head.
     "No, Evendal. He was there... his whole life! For an eight year old,
to be incarcerated for more than a few months, much of anything before that
time is rendered less than a memory."
     Once again, Evendal found himself wanting, with utmost care, to flay
the heartless Nisakh handspan by handspan. Aldul interrupted the fantasy.
     "Do you understand?" With a start, Evendal redirected his attention.
     "That I was asking too much of a child, so soon." Evendal tendered.
     "No," Aldul huffed. Out of patience, and at a loss for words, the
Kwo-edan said the first thing that came to mind. "Evendal, do you know what
Gwl-lethry will be about when he arrives home? Take a guess."
     "Reassuring his staff and servants?" Evendal knew he did not know. His
mind filled with fruitless worry over Kri-estaul, he felt hard-pressed to
care about anything else.
     Aldul looked on his friend with disdain. "He will be securing his
manour, or finding a place more defensible. He will be sitting or pacing
most of tonight, waiting for a noise unaccounted for, a knife in the
dark. He will be waiting for your henchmen to come and make his
disappearance permanent. He will do this for many nights. He will do this
until he sleeps out of total exhaustion, or because he has managed to
convince himself he is safeguarded from all possible attack."
     "And this is my responsibility...?" Like a moment of prescience,
Evendal saw all that his friend tried to explain: Gwl-lethry. A man whose
wit had betrayed him, who doubted his mentor, his own judgment, and his
safety. Perhaps waiting, shaken, in a darkened room in his home - or
waiting among a crowd of people and compensatory noise - for the sound of a
door forced or a window violated.
     "Primarily. My friend, neither you nor I have any comprehension of
what life has been like for the courtiers of Osedys. You, because the past
nine years don't exist in your memory. I, because Kwo-eda did not have the
same ambitious vermin gnawing at its foundations as Osedys had. Or, perhaps
I should say that we had vermin with different ambitions than those here."

     The Temple tolled the third bell of the day when a tired Ottily
returned to Kri-estaul's apartment in the labyrinthine halls of the
Healers' annex.
     "Ottily, see that Metthendoenn's protection remains, and that he and
the Palace are alerted to Our change of residence and audience. Until the
Archate announces Kri-estaul recovered sufficiently, Metthendoenn remains
my voice in the common concerns and Bruddbana remains Commander of the
Guard."
     "As you say, Your Majesty. What of the cause of His Highness's
infirmity? And what of your foster-mother's aspersion?"
     "Thunders! That will have to be delayed." The Lord Absolute of the
Thronelands thought on the Dowager, and the very idea of her abiding any
longer in the Palace under-grounds left him queasy. "Who takes your
assignment?"
     "Ierwbae, Your Majesty."
     "Good. When he arrives, send for another as you retire. Also, have
someone notify both the Criers and the Maritime Counsel that Onkira's
execution shall be delayed, so that both ruler and heir may attend."
     Ottily nodded. "And Nisakh?"
     "That shall wait for Ierwbae's watch."
     Ottily nodded, bowed, then stepped outside the door, to stand and
Guard.

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(53) A stone equals 14 pounds.
(54) Can mean 'shadow' or 'base', 'fundamental'.
(55) (Hem-mas-da-will & Ian-no-see-in of the Cay-me-raloor); Keh'my-ralur:
Clan/House of the Chamelion.
(56) Left Hand of the Unalterable.

Here is the re-write I promised/threatened. Please let me know what you
think. I do not intend to leave Nisakh or Onkira "hanging".