Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2003 19:51:45 -0800 (PST)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SongSpell-22

This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of violent
behavior between adults, references to violent behaviour between adults and
children, and expressions of physical affection. 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
and uncanny.

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 direct
consent of the author.

I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com

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


                    22 Where Love Is Great

                    For women fear too much, even as they love,
                    And women's fear and love hold quantity,
                    In neither aught, or in extremity.
                    Now what my love is, proof hath made you know,
                    And as my love is sized, my fear is so.
                    Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
                    Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
                                   Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2, Lines172ff.


     "Now that We have begun, dear Warden, might I retire some of your
entourage to a place where they may rest?" Evendal inquired.
     "Your Majesty plays with me. They are residents of your new annex, and
Your Majesty's to dispose."
     The son of Menam scowled. "That is merely a legal fiction, temporary
and hardly necessary between us."
     Niem Dir shook her head. "No, Your Majesty. It is not. It dare not
be."
     With a glance downward, Evendal reconsidered the truth in her
insistence. Kul. Ir. His recovery by a man with a discipline, perception
and vocation equal to his own. The manner in which his father's murderer
died. All about him, symbol and reality conjoined without obvious
intentionality. His 'gift' relied on just such conjunctions. Respecting the
limits he and his allies might create for themselves, especially when out
of convenience or what seemed like expedience, was imperative. In his
realm, in his rule, 'legal fictions' deserved more than mindless disregard.
     The Guard that Evendal had requested of Mulienhas came through the
door and bowed. The King gestured her closer. When the woman neared, the
King enquired. "How are you called?"
     "Britlyen olm'Bryondh, Your Majesty."
     "Britlyen, be so kind as to send for Drussilikh, reassuring her that
all is yet well, and send for a scribal attendant to this apartment. This
after you have escorted these gentleladies to their rest and refreshment."
     "Now, gracious warden of Ours, please acquaint me with these vassals."
     Niem Dir nodded. "The woman in taupe is Lyselth olm'Eliserat, daughter
of my old tutor and a sagacious advisor." The woman nearest the door bowed
her head. "The woman to my right is Rhokelbrenih Olm'Bren-nag, a dear
friend and comfort in my trials." This for the woman with the resemblance
to, and a possessive hand on, the youth. "My personal attendant, Kyree
len'Olekrai." A young lady in pastel blue bowed her head. "And lastly,
Eirath-harl, a young man who serves as my herald and page." The boy jerked
his head nervously.
     "Welcome all to Our Presence, however brief your attendance needs must
be. We asked to be introduced to you, so that We might later know who has
attended Our friend in her hour of distress. For now, We grant you leave of
Our Presence. Lady, it would be most improper for a widow of your lineage
to remain in my company without agreeable companionship." Evendal declared,
his left eyebrow raised in wry assessment. "Let Eirath-harl ald'Niem Dir
abide with us, and you other good and gentle folk move to the rooms at Our
left. There you will find chairs and cushions sufficient for your comfort,
and We can have stewards see to your refreshment."
     Niem Dir moved to stand, then stopped at a bland glance from the King
of the Thronelands. She slowly lowered herself back into her chair, then
gripped her hands as they began to tremble. "Your Majesty," she began, but
could think of nothing to say. 'Please don't hurt him!' or 'Why do you
think him mine?' only delivered insult.
     Striving for a lighthearted soprano, and failing, Niem Dir
ventured. "I have been told he resembles Rhokelbrenih."
     Evendal grinned gently. "In overall appearance, perhaps. But he
retains your eyes and brows, and what will prove to be your aquiline nose,
once his face grows a bit more. And you keep him secret in the hopes that
he will indeed live to do so. No?"
     "I did not lie to you, Your Majesty." Niem Dir protested passionately.
     "No, Hwil-marsidyan! We did not grant you leave as yet!" Evendal
called as the Master Steward sought to follow Britlyen and the Warden's
companions out the door. Evendal m'Alismogh twisted the words of a serenade
to suit his needs.

        For if you flee the sun of Our regard,
        All light from your eyes will also take flight.
        Without Our consent you blind yourself, hence.
        Without Our pardon you see only night.

     Unruffled, Evendal turned back to Niem Dir. "We know that, Our
friend. But We have grown in Our gifts so that We hear not only what is
said, but often what is not said, when others speak. Is the father living
yet?"
     "Yes."
     "We will not task you with questions impinging on your confidence. But
tell us what you would while we wait. Come closer, youngling."
     Eirath-harl proved a plump child in dark-gray sporting a wary
expression. In one hand he gripped a swath of hunter green cloth like a
talisman, white knuckled. He stepped up to just behind Niem Dir's chair
and, after a quick pleading glance to the woman, knelt.
     "No, no. Up, please." Evendal directed.
     Eirath-harl obeyed.
     "How many years have you?"
     "Eight. How many do you have?"
     Eirath!" Niem Dir exclaimed, embarrassed. Eirath-harl started, and
shrank back behind the chair.
     Evendal grinned. "I claim twenty-four years this month. You are the
same age as my own son."
     "Wh. What's his name?"
     "Kri-estaul,"
     "Has he ever been to my mother's house?"
     What Evendal heard in the silence before and after that question wiped
the pleasure from his countenance. "I don't believe so." He turned his head
away, as though distracted, and gazed at the large bed bearing its small
burden. Hielbrae glanced over at her king and nodded with a brief grin,
signifying that all was well with her charge. Evendal flicked a briefer
grin in acknowledgement and turned back to stare at Niem Dir's last-born
child.
     Eirath-harl shared gazes, a too-adult sorrow fountaining from his gray
eyes, then looked down and away. The child's skin flushed healthily, his
face unmarked, and his hair rested soft and black like his
mother's. Eirath-harl's features shared nothing of Kri-estaul's, yet when
Evendal looked at the nervous ambulatory child all he saw was a sad and
depressing resemblance.
     "Eirath-harl, be welcome in Our Presence at all times, regardless of
circumstance, without herald or appointment, from this hour onward."
Evendal ald'Menam declared. "My son has just had a serious cutting. He
cannot walk."
     "I'm sorry for that," Eirath-harl replied unprompted.
     "That woman over there is his friend and Guard. Would you be so kind
as to go and keep her company for a time, and keep company with my son if
he should awaken? She can tell you much about him."
     "If you... And if my mother permits."
     Niem Dir nodded. The child started to shuffle away.
     Up from his crouch, Nisakh sprang, to grapple the boy and then fall
back to the floor with the wriggling child on top of him as a
shield. Ierwbae advanced with his blade but Evendal stood and waved him to
abeyance. Niem Dir rose also, following protocol for when a monarch stood.
     "A child's neck breaks readily." Nisakh huffed. "Keep still if you
want to live, brat! And I have listened to you, Most Luminous One. Keep
still! I have heard you clearly. You value these little animals."
     Evendal m'Alismogh's eyes bulged, and their glow flared as a rush of
energy flowed up in him. He began a hum, a monotone broken only by his
inhalations.
     Oblivious, a blind Nisakh wrapped one arm around the boy's rounded
waist. "Even this little fatling, I am wagering."
     M'Alismogh's humming stopped when he pounded his chest one time with
his fist. Nisakh's squint of effort disappeared, replaced by alarm as his
throat and chest locked-up. Desperate for air, he released Eirath-harl and
frantically clutched his own neck. The ex-Guard's ruddy complexion turned
darker as he found himself unable to force a breath. Freed, the child
rolled away to curl up in a ball and sob his fear out.
     Throughout all this Niem Dir tensed with anger but made no move. Her
eyes conveyed apprehension, but turned back to the King and waited on him
in silence. When Nisakh began to asphyxiate, Niem Dir's expression matched
Nisakh's for wide-eyed surprise. And when Evendal felt assured that Nisakh
would be no further impediment, and sat back down, Niem Dir followed, as
was custom.
     "Ierwbae, nevermind Nisakh. Bring Us the boy." The Guard obeyed, and
Evendal cuddled a child too big for the chair, rocking him as best he could
and murmuring to him as the boy shook. The child had, throughout the
assault, held fast to his swath of green cloth. Ierwbae, though not wanting
to abandon his lord, tugged the subsequential corpse off toward the jakes,
to ornament the area near a disquieted Hwil-marsidyan.
     Niem Dir looked on, attentively silent. Watching her watch him, with
no glance to spare for her son or her son's attacker, Evendal knew what she
waited on. The Warden sat in eager anticipation for His Majesty's Guard to
return from the Dark, everything and everyone else around her served as an
incidental, a distraction. From the moment she realised the threats to her
way of life, all else had become irrelevant. After nine years of move,
counter-move, uncertainty and loss, Evendal could understand the attitude:
Don't believe you've won until you hold the purse. But still...
     With some bitterness the Lord of Osedys reviewed Niem Dir's
comportment and silently admitted that he had deluded himself. He had
warped his emergent memories of an undeniably courageous and valiant Niem
Dir to serve his emotional want. He had invested her with more wisdom,
power and trust than she, at least currently, displayed, while making no
allowances for the effects of time or mutability on people and on his own
memories. He had no doubts of Niem Dir's nobility, but had allowed her
little fallibility.
     What he saw, however, of mother with son evoked his own more vivid and
painfully unvarnished memories of himself and his father and foster-mother.
     "Niem Dir." He spoke her name to recall her attention, only to realise
her regard had not wavered. "Do you remember Our advisement, about the
dread gift that Our travail at Mausna evoked?"
     Nisakh's all but soundless death, just then, ran a conflict of chords
through m'Alismogh's ear. He shuddered.
     "Yes. That by it you can coerce truth from anyone."
     "Coerce, glean, draw forth. Both when people speak and when they are
quiet. A combination of people or of people and place or emotion can prompt
Our perceptions. So far they have served to further Our goals and
purposes."
     "You are, then, the most fortunate of rulers and I am, in turn, the
most fortunate of neighbors." Niem Dir replied in utter sincerity.
     "Our perceptions are not always welcome, Niem Dir. We comprehended one
just a moment past, which told Us something of what you value. We know, to
the last kypri(70), how much your youngest child is actually worth to you."
     The black-haired woman froze, eyes widening again. She made no
immediate reply, but stared at a point on Evendal's chest.
     "Are you familiar with the reach of the Throne, as it involves
families and children who are not orphaned, sold, or abandoned?" Still,
Niem Dir said nothing.
     "We have a precedent, identical to the marital law of
saevitia(71). Only it applies to children, not spouses."
     "Your Majesty?" Niem Dir swallowed her surprise. "Are you threatening
me and mine?"
     "No. Trust Our word in this, friend. We have no need to." Evendal
pointed to the corpse on the floor. "You thought your youngest son safely
hidden in plain sight, from Us as well as your extortionists. Are We
correct?"
     "Yes," the woman replied, alert and attentive, fearing her friend saw
yet another adversary she might have overlooked.
     "And We tell you, as truly as waves strike the shore, Frichestah agdh
Efryho had already enjoyed unsanctioned liberties with Eirath-harl's body,
and well knew his lineage."
     The news caused Niem Dir to bow her head as she reviewed its
likelihood. When she raised her head again, her violet-gray eyes dimmed in
outrage. "Then grant me sac(72)!"
     Evendal stared at the woman, sad-faced, and snapped his fingers at her
as if to wake her up. "Did you heed Us at all, Warden? We know whence this
anger of your's, and We give it no purchase in Our considerations. What of
your son?"
     "Your Majesty! This man trespassed grievously. Grant me the right."
     "Your anger owns from the abuse of property, Warden. Tell Us
otherwise, if you can do so honestly."
     "What do you mean?" Niem Dir pressed back against her chair-frame, her
body radiating affront. "He misused the child."
     "Yes," Evendal ald'Menam agreed. "He did. After you gave him
opportunity. Tell Us, Niem Dir, what is Eirath-harl to you?"
     "He is my last-born. He was to be Eirahe's guardian and defender, were
Nehaleidda to die and Eirahe became Warden."
     "You had another name for him. What is Eirath-harl to you?"
     "He is all I have of Eirahe. He is a last opportunity of preserving
the bloodline should you fail. What else do you mean?"
     "I ask a third and final time, Niem Dir. What is Eirath-harl to you?"
     "He is... the little pig." The Warden found herself confessing. Her
use of the definite article confirmed for Evendal what he already knew.
     "This, everyone in your domain and in his life well understood. In
your heart you habitually glossed over the fact that it was not an
endearment from you. He was not 'your' little pig. He was 'the' little
pig." Evendal clarified. "You created the means, the weakness, that
Frichestah exploited."
     "Your Majesty cannot be serious! How can you revile me for what that
weasel did?"
     "We do not. And you try to evade responsibility, Niem Dir. Such is not
the mettle of a ruler or warden. You deny your persistent neglect of this
boy? Very well. Tell Us. We shall ignore the scabs and scrapes little
children collect like rewards. How would he have come by a scar on his left
cheek?"
     Niem Dir exhaled heavily through her teeth. "That happened when he had
six years. I was showing him how to feed a goat, and it nipped at him. At
first I thought a simple bit of marigold-paste on the wound would serve,
but he scarred. It worried me, at the time."
     Evendal's shoulders sagged. When Frichestah left, Aldul had drawn a
line under what he had scribed. Once again he took up his tablet.
     "We both know what you said, Niem Dir. Now here is what else I just
heard. The incident you described did happen, yes. But it happened between
you and a daughter. Yes, it did worry you. But she did not scar. You made
certain of that. You do not know about any scar on Eirath-harl, because
since long before Eirahe died you have not looked close enough at him to
know the colour in his eyes, let alone any wens and scars of his. There is
no scar on his left cheek."
     Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam stared hard into the clench-jawed
countenance of Niem Dir. The glow off his eyes turned her exquisite
features into an impassive mask. "By the authority of both your vassalage
this hour, and your self-incrimination, we evoke saevitia. He is not 'the
little pig,' and not "your" 'little pig,' hence."
     "Do you want him?" Niem Dir blurted out. "Do you seek an
heir-in-reserve should Kri-estaul die? You are welcome to him! All you had
to do was ask!"
     The King of the Thronelands stood up again, yet holding Eirath-harl in
his arms, and suddenly no one but he could see for the light flooding the
room. Aldul, blinded, dropped his tools and fumbled forward from his chair,
searching for Evendal with his hands outstretched, fingers splayed. His
only thought, concern for his friend in the grip of high emotion. When the
Kwo-edan came in contact with what he thought was Evendal's arm or
shoulder, he jerked his hand back in pain for the pinch felt in his fingers
and the tingling that lingered after.
     "Our son shall live to govern you and this your heir. For clearly
someone must." Evendal's voice pounded out from the brilliance. "The
liberty We granted Eirath-harl does not extend to you, Niem Dir. As you
cannot distinguish honour from pride."
     Niem Dir squinted and scowled. "You have no understanding of our ways,
Your Majesty, to lecture me. Just as you are, here, I am absolute in my
authority in the Eastern Dark... And he is not my heir. Nehaleidda is."
     "You do not hear Us, Niem Dir. We do not want or expect you to be a
miniature of the Thronelands. We give you a warning." Light diminished to
bearable and navigable brilliance. Evendal continued to cradle
Eirath-harl. Aldul, bent forward, stood a hands-breadth from his
friend. "In every sense of the word, We are giving you a warning. At this
moment, look at Eirath-harl and you see an unhappy, fearful, but loyal and
loving boy. Continue with him as you are, and in eight years he will be
naught but a vessel of rage ready to spill out on all you wish to
preserve. And you will have made him thus!"
     "If only he had..." She did not complete her thought aloud.
     Evendal did that for her. "If only he had been a daughter." Niem Dir
shuddered as if slapped, her fixation verbalised. The King sat back
down. "You punish him for his gender. Have you no sense?"
     "No. I have never punished him! I told you. You do not understand us."
     "Then strive to explain, this moment, as you are Our vassal."
     "We are the final authority in our lands. We are the Eastern Dark. As
Nehaleidda shall be, after me. Each ruler needs one male friend, a man she
can trust to be the counter-voice to hers, to be the warrior if warfare is
not one of her strengths. To execute justice within the family if
needed. To sire her heirs if her husband proves sterile. Niar-lles serves
that purpose for Nehaleidda. And had Eirahe survived, Eirath-harl would
have been her guardian."
     "So, with Eirahe dead...?"
     "I have a use-less pumpkin of a child."
     Aldul sat down, a stunned, almost hurt, expression on his usually
expressionless face.
     M'Alismogh could hardly credit that statement either. "Now I
understand what I am hearing. Behind your words and in the silences. While
Eirahe lived and resided with you, you punished Eirath-harl for Eirahe's
temper and disobediences. His value depended on her's, and your vassals
sensed this, even if they did not understand the code behind it. Now she is
dead, and his value is not even that of a t'bo. Unthinking, they demean his
every effort to serve. Almost offhandedly, they heap scorn on his every
utterance. Every unrelated frustration they feel laid upon them they, in
turn, unburden upon him at every opportunity. He is convenient, without
status, and without advocate."
     Evendal m'Alismogh paused. The shine about his head intensified once
again. "I hear one voice, your's, vent resentment to someone else that he -
a child only now having eight years - failed to protect his half-sister
from his adult half-brother. Ah! At one time you did, indeed, pay attention
to him... When you poured out your rage over Eirahe's death completely on
his narrow shoulders in every way you could fancy. You let him know his
extraneous status. You told him how he is utterly without value. That. That
he still lived in the Eastern Dark simply because he reminded you of his
dead sister. Niem Dir, you showed your vassals the pattern, the attitude,
and they followed unthinking. Having given everyone in your demesne the
example, what did you expect would become of him?"
     Niem Dir gave no reply, but Evendal heard it anyway. 'I expected
nothing. I did not, cannot, care.'
     The weary rage he felt sank into hiding, and Evendal leaned forward to
gaze hard at the Warden. His tone became conversational. "After this long,
you knew Our repute. You had been told of Our gifts and Our perilous
nature. You came before Us aware of Our deftness. Why?"
     "I had no options but two. Hope to overpower the enemy I knew
about. Hope I could... convince him to give an honest accounting of the
enemy I did not know, and of my children's location, in exchange for his
life. Hope, naively, that my enemy had no other agents in my demesne ready
to report Frichestah's capture. Hope that my people could reach..."
     "We understand the tenuous nature of that option, vassal of Ours."
Evendal interrupted.
     She continued. "You were the other option. Any alliance with another
courtier or the Temple would not have helped to secure my heir or
maintained the sovereignty of the Eastern Dark. I was not certain that you
could. But I had heard much of your honour, and of the wonders that have
accompanied you."
     Evendal let the explanation alone. "Tell Us, Niem Dir. Why should We
perpetuate a rule steeped in inequity?"
     "I do not understand."
     "If you so neglect your issue simply because he is an ungenerative
male, how do you treat with the male children and grandfathers who are not
your family?"
     Niem Dir said nothing.
     "What would We find, were We to journey through Our new-won
principality? Hmm?" The Lord of the Thronelands grinned, mirthlessly and
with no trace of forbearance on his glimmering face.
     Niem Dir said nothing, but stared wild-eyed into the King's golden
eyes.
     "Healthy, discontented women, fretting over other women's gestures
toward them of acceptance or exclusion, ignoring the joys their own
children could give them and obsessing over their girl-children's future
estate? Tired, stressed, ricket-ridden men, dying younger than their
spouses from exhaustion or indifference or deferred dreams?"
     "You sound like Lyselth olm'Eliserat."
     "Who? Oh yes. Your advisor."
     "She reminisces endlessly. How her husband wooed her. What a treasure
he was. And how we don't raise our daughters to respect men. I do not know
what she expects me to do about other people's nonsense."
     "I can tell you that." Aldul interrupted.
     Both Evendal and Niem Dir looked over to the priest in surprise.
     "She expects you to not mirror it. She expects you to do better than
them, different from them. Aside from your 'guardian'," Aldul
challenged. "Name a man you respect."
     "Lord Evendal," Niem Dir answered.
     Aldul snorted his opinion of that answer. "That is conditional on his
success, isn't it? Give an honest answer, Warden."
     Niem Dir said nothing.
     "No," Evendal declared. "We have let you keep silence too
often. Answer the emissary of the Paramenate and Archate, Aldul of
Kwo-eda."
     "I cannot name a man I have ever respected."
     "And thus is half your realm ignored. By you." Evendal
concluded. "Again We ask. Why should We support a rule steeped in
inequity?"
     Niem Dir could not find an answer.
     "Do not think We react against you, or against a woman with power."
Evendal advised. "You knew, perhaps, that Osedys allows only a
monarch. That the royal consort has respect and honour equal to the
monarch, but not the authority or puissance."
     "Yes," Niem Dir answered, puzzled.
     "We hope you also knew that that ruler could be female, and the
consort male or female. The ruler simply needs be the firstborn surviving
child of the previous monarch. Or the child consecrated-to-rule by the
previous monarch. We Ourselves are both."
     "No. That I was not clear on."
     "Menam had no sisters. And Onkira was careful to eschew power in the
face of Polgern and Abduram's ruthlessness. So it would not have been
heralded. What We are saying is that Osedys has precedents and protocols
allowing the passage of power and influence without regard for gender,
though the popular bias was to show greater deferment toward men."
     Niem Dir looked amused, though it was hard to know for
certain. "'Was'?" she echoed.
     Evendal grinned, still gripping Eirath-harl. "Well, with the
duumvirate no longer, and women outnumbering men after Mausna, I don't
expect that bias to survive long."
     Again he insisted. "The Eastern Dark is not a miniature
Thronelands. Nor do We want it to be. But surely it could be Our
counterpart? A place with precedents and protocols allowing the passage of
power and influence without regard for gender, with the popular bias
showing greater respect for women?"
     For a long moment Niem Dir said nothing. Eirath-harl coughed,
startling his mother who stared as though she would engrave his features in
her mind. "I do not know. What you say sounds only sensible and calm. But
it knots my stomach and enfuriates me. I force myself to restrain my anger,
and I get fear."
     From the doorway Guard Mulienhas bowed, then limped inside. "Your
Majesty," The solid form of Ddronhelim waited at the door.
     "Report, Mulienhas."
     "We came upon Guard Ddronhelim's contingent just now in the halls. We
have recovered the heir and her brother. We detained Mar-telohema and
several accomplices. Saemand Telohema was docile, but a few of her... peons
became violent. Two of the quiet ones were Stonewrights who had
disappeared."
     "Why the totter?"
     "A pair of the aggressive ones used long-tailed whips, Your
Majesty. They made up in ferocity what they lacked in accuracy. Your
Majesty, might I speak with your guest?"
     "Of course, Mulienhas. We shall address Guard Ddronhelim while you do
so."
     "Your Grace, as I reported, we have recovered both your children. I
would prepare you, however. Neither child was capable of accompanying me on
their own."
     The scarring along Niem Dir's throat stood out as a mauve knotwork
against alabaster white. "What do you mean? What has she done to her?"
     Evendal, hearing this over his conference begun with Ddronhelim,
winced.
     Mulienhas explained. "Your daughter, when we found her, had been left
unshackled and unattended in a small room with a sizable bed. I said
'unshackled' because the posts of the bed had shackles pegged into
them. From the discolouration on her wrists and ankles, it was plain that
she had previously been restrained for a long stretch of time."
     The Warden of the Eastern Dark said nothing, but her eyes glittered
with tears of rage.
     "The first person to find her, a young Guard-man," Mulienhas twisted
the language to doubly emphasize the gender. "led her from her room without
difficulty. But upon becoming aware of my presence, your daughter
grew... distressed. Terrified. She knelt on the floor, on all fours,
and... And tried to kiss my feet!"
     Mulienhas composed herself again, then resumed. "When she looked
around she began to cry. At first, I had no idea why. I am still not sure,
but I think Telohema had trained your daughter to fear her."
     "I do not understand."
     "Warden, three fifths of His Majesty's Guard are women. My cohort is
fairly representative."
     Niem Dir glared up at Mulienhas, but the Guard felt certain the Warden
was not seeing her.
     "So we arranged a male escort to surround your daughter, and met our
next obstacle. Your Grace, I do not know what she did or used, but the
reason Telohema no longer bound your daughter was because she is virulently
agoraphobic."
     "What," Niem Dir's voice cracked. "What did you do?"
     "We found several pouches of black chenille. We placed one over her
head and secured it as best we could under her jawline without strangling
her. It was not completely successful." The Guard looked pleadingly down at
the Warden's stony countenance.
     "We had to tie a short length of cording between her ankles her and
force-march her half of the way back. The effort to walk with the rope kept
her too occupied to throw another tantrum."
     "She grew amenable halfway?"
     Mulienhas shook her head. "She fainted."
     "Blood and thunder!"
     Evendal looked up from the papers Ddronhelim had been showing him,
then returned to them. Though attending the Guard before him, he yet caught
the gist of Mulienhas' report.
     "Your Grace," Mulienhas plowed on. "She was utterly hysterical. She
will be alert and attentive, then fade. She has said little beyond 'Please,
mistress', 'I love you', and 'I'm your's'. I felt it best to prepare you."
     Niem Dir nodded. Mulienhas approached Evendal to apprise him, then
strode momentarily out the door and back in again. Ddronhelim left his
spoils with the King and returned to his twin's side and Metthendoenn's
bedside.
     Three male Guard, with another trailing behind, entered half-lifting,
half-dragging, a fitfully animated young woman-child heavily bundled in
winter-rugs. In a moment of apprehension, Evendal stood and grasped Niem
Dir's hand, reclaiming her attention. As Mulienhas strove to calm and
unwrap her charge safely, the King moved back to the chairs and hissed in
the Warden's ear.
     "It might be wise, given Mulienhas' warning, for you to stay at a
distance. At first. We shall advise Mulienhas, Guard Rhoswyl and Guard
Hielbrae to do likewise." Evendal glanced over to his left, at the woman
near Nisakh's corpse. "And Hwil-marsidyan is occupied with keeping her
lunch secure, so she shall not approach."
     Initially, Niem Dir bridled at the suggestion. But the sight of her
daughter blindfolded, and concern for the turmoil the Guardswoman had
hinted at, jarred her into allowing Evendal to draw her toward the back of
the room. As soon as the Warden demurred, Evendal called out. "Rhoswyl,
Hielbrae, stay up by the wall you are nearest to. Mulienhas, when you have
done, post in front of the door. Ierwbae in front of her. If you
would. Ddronhelim? Darhelmir? Please remain where you are."
     Mulienhas nodded, pulled the last blanket like a shield before her,
and untied and lifted the bag from around the heir's head. Hiding behind
the rug, the Guardswoman retreated to the door, then draped the cloth over
her arm.
     Someone had chopped at the mahogany brown hair along the left side of
Nehaleidda's head; deliberate butchery to balance the burning that had been
done to the right side. The chenille pouch must have provided indifferent
cover, for the young woman hardly blinked or squinted with its
removal. Nehaleidda's eyes, pine-bark brown, scanned the room. Niem Dir
stood anxiously beside the table Aldul had used earlier. Evendal stood
several steps in front of the Warden, waiting behind his chair. The woman
closest to the Warden's daughter now guarded the door, compelling
Nehaleidda toward the center of the room by her very proximity.
     "Nehaleidda?" Evendal intoned.
     The heir to the Eastern Dark was garbed in a long-sleeved flannel
bedgown, with cloth slippers too big for her. It appeared as though her
captors had not trusted her with a belt for the gown, of any material,
making the loose garment bell out with the paunch her enforced inactivity
must have created. She continued to peruse the apartment, eyes grazing
indifferently over everyone. After a long moment the young woman untensed
enough to ease her breathing. She sat down on the floor and rested arms on
her knees and her head on her arms.
     Then did Evendal move to his right, past Niem Dir, to Guard
Hielbrae. "He is a bit weighty," the King whispered, transferring his
sleepy burden. "But do not let him down just yet. He likely has not had a
gentle hand on him in many years." Evendal expected his voice to carry, and
had grown weary past caring. He turned briefly to Niem Dir.
     "How long since you had her company?"
     "Since... Since before summer, my lord."
     So anxious and focused was the Warden she did not attend her own
verbal submission, to Evendal's fleeting amusement. He turned once again
and, as quietly as he knew how, approached the heiress.
     "Nehaleidda," Evendal crooned a second time.
     The girl-woman turned to the voice and grinned lightly,
demurely. Something to the cast of the girl's features troubled Evendal. He
shuffled noisily around the young woman, so as not to startle her, and a
third time called out. "Nehaleidda,"
      The young heiress turned her head sharply about, and the fall of
light from both the window and the sconces created a shadow on the
close-shorn side of her head where one ought not be.
     "Mistress, it hurts." She whimpered in a childlike soprano warble.
     Carefully, keeping in Nehaleidda's direct line of sight, Evendal
stepped up to her. Slowly, with muscles protesting at the degree of
control, he knelt before Niem Dir's oldest acknowledged child and raised
his hands to touch her head, framing the portion shadowed. Nehaleidda
jerked in expectation of pain, then stilled. The shadow, now clearly an
indentation, showed vestiges of bruising about it. Someone had cut around
the damage, trying, through the application of their ignorance, to repair
what could not be so readily healed.
     Cringing inside, Evendal replaced one hand on the other side of
Nehaleidda's head and, again with slow and deliberate movement, kissed her
on her forehead. The touch that had served well for Gwl-lethry did not
accomplish much this time. Nehaleidda tracked Evendal's retreating face,
then leaned forward and embraced him, laying her head on his bony chest. As
Nehaleidda rested her head, she likewise rested her bladder. The flannel
absorbed much of the spill.
     Tired from a day and a half without sleep, Evendal wanted to
cry. Instead he stood, in all care, then grasped Nehaleidda's hand and
lifted her to her feet. That much achieved, the Lord of the Thronelands
escorted Nehaleidda to the chair her mother had occupied and bowed her into
the seat.  The young woman acted with all the coquetry of an ingenue toward
her first dance partner.
     Until her gaze fell inexorably on Niem Dir, against the wall her chair
faced, and both women tensed. Still with the utmost deliberation, Evendal
interposed himself between the two, facing Niem Dir.
     "Warden," the King hissed. "She has not been taught to fear the
outdoors. About her fear of women, we both will see how true that may
be. But, what Guard Mulienhas mistook for agoraphobia..." He took a deep
breath, almost mindlessly furious and unable to explain why. Why the plight
of this family touched him so. "What she mistook was the eye's sensitivity
to bright light that comes from a serious concussion and damage to her
head. She was not whipped into submission, nor did her mind go from abuse."
     Niem Dir pushed to hurry past Evendal, to comfort her daughter as she
had not comforted her son. Evendal refused to move. "No! Wait. Do not rush
upon her. Her mind is not whole. Patience."
     Finally Niem Dir nodded her understanding, collected herself, and
walked with Evendal toward her too quiet daughter. Before she got halfway,
Nehaleidda grinned uncertainly and greeted her. "Health, mama. Are you
angry with me?"
     "Why. Why would I be angry with you, sweetling?"
     Nehaleidda shrugged. "I don't know. I have not been good. Mistress
Telohema commanded me to stay in my room. Health, your lordship." She
addressed Evendal, widening the angle of her legs and rocking in the chair.
     Aldul approached, having exchanged one set of tools for another.
     "Nehaleidda, this is Aldul of Kwo-eda, a priest of the Archate. He
would like to examine your head."
     "It hurts. It's hurt for a long time."
     "I imagine so," Evendal said, standing behind his chair. "Will you let
him look?"
     "Very well," the young woman said. She then pushed herself upward,
balanced on the balls of her feet, and tugged her bedgown up over her
head. Her bulbous breasts swayed unsupported, while urine yet dripped off a
dark metal cover fitted over her pelvis. The girl's bulging gut pressed
against, and slightly over, the ill-fit chastity belt. Niem Dir gasped and
strode to Ierwbae and Mulienhas, then came back and wrapped a blanket
around a vigourously rebellious Nehaleidda. Evendal merely raised an
eyebrow. Aldul, peering closely at the girl's belly, nodded to himself.
     "I can look her over, if you wish. But it will not be necessary for a
diagnosis and prognosis."
     "How soon?"
     "At a guess, ten more weeks."
     "The other... Permanent?"
     "The head injury? Yes. A sharp object pierced through her skull,
disrupting delicate matter and precious humours. Corrupting balances
established in birth. Yes, permanent. Someone will have to teach her how to
eat properly again. When and where to eliminate. She will be prone to
temper. Be sexually precocious and aggressive."
     Niem Dir listened to this as she struggled to wait out her daughter's
rage. Eventually her patience dissipated. The Warden locked one arm around
the flailing girl's lean form, then raised the other over her head. Ducking
around the King, Aldul reached out and tapped Nehaleidda lightly in the
ribs, again and again. Niem Dir lowered her hand in bemusement as
Nehaleidda began to giggle, thrashing less energetically and for an
entirely different reason. After a moment of wriggling and laughter,
Nehaleidda settled down quite contentedly with the rug wrapped around her.
     Aldul and Niem Dir stood facing each other, breathing hard.
     "That was kind of you," Niem Dir tendered.
     Aldul shook the grace aside. "She will often talk and think like an
adult. But her feelings, her reactions will be a child's. A spoiled
child's. Social rules mean nothing to her, and never will. She will get odd
humours, insisting someone who loves her instead wants to hurt her, may
offer her body to a friend, family-member or stranger. She will refuse to
obey and will revolt. When all else fails, spanking and tickling may
distract her. Only if that fails would I restrain her. But then I have an
personal hatred of bondage for any cause."
     Some of the strain on Niem Dir's face eased. "My thanks. This is
beyond my experience."
     "Warden," Aldul hesitated, but thought to deliver all the ill tidings
at once. "Your heir will not improve sufficiently to govern. She will be
much as you see her now. Like a child. But not like the child she had
been. And she will not 'grow up'."
     Niem Dir, Warden of the Eastern Dark, looked up at Evendal Lord of the
Thronelands and hissed. "You. Challenging how I raised my children. Did you
know this had been done to her?"
     "How could I have known?" Evendal m'Alismogh replied. "I would not be
so stony. Had I known, I would have been reluctant to broach the
problem. She is not merely an heir, she is your daughter."
     Drussilikh, Quillmaster, accompanied by a young woman, paused at the
door and curtsied. The King grinned and motioned them in. He caught the eye
of the Guard that had escorted them, patted the back of his chair and
raised two fingers. The Guard moved to obey. She returned quickly with two
chairs, which Evendal directed behind his.
     Drussilikh and her apprentice bowed a second time upon closer
proximity, then sat where indicated. The young woman, blushing terribly,
pulled out items from her satchel. Amused, Evendal made introductions.
     "Matron Drussilikh, Guiding Hand of the Scriveners and sister to my
son, We present Niem Dir, formerly Warden of the Eastern Dark and now Our
good vassal. The young woman beside her is her daughter, Nehaleidda, who
suffers from the consequences of a head injury." Nehaleidda paid no
attention to either woman. Niem Dir declined her head.
     "I wish you both all health and better fortune," Drussilikh
returned. "Permit me to present my helper Lialityne olm'Eruidin. By your
grace and favour, Your Majesty, she would serve as scribe for whatever
business you require."
     "We thank you for providing in Our need. We know We taxed good Aldul
into such service, but We had other need of him as well." Then Evendal
smiled at the Matron's punctilious behaviour. "Feel and be free to move as
you will, Matron. Our son rests on that bed. Please satisfy yourself as to
his survival as you need." And that quickly was Drussilikh out of her
chair.
     The Lord of the Thronelands faced the Guard at the door and
nodded. "The ordeal is not ended." He warned Niem Dir, then turned briefly
to Lialityne the scribe. "As We present Our arguments, record them. Any
judgements or decisions. Likewise any names, locations, self-incriminating
revelations those present and detained may utter."
     A short man walked in the room, head bowed and fists draped across his
stomach. The dark gray of his trews and overtunic hid only some of the
varied stains and splatters dried on him from chin to sandals. A second,
longer look revealed the bowing visitor to perhaps have fourteen
years. Aldul frowned.
     "Health and, finally, peace to you, Niar-lles." Evendal bade.
     Niem Dir tightened an arm around Nehaleidda and scowled, distancing
herself from her son with a glare up and down his shaking frame.
     "Warden, you may step away from your daughter," Evendal ald'Menam
advised, pointedly gazing at the suddenly miserable young man before
him. "And warmly greet your new heir." Lialityne started scribbling.
     Niem Dir flashed a furious look of confusion at her host. "Nehaleidda
is..." She looked down at the wide-eyed girl now distractedly rapping her
knuckles against her metal undergarment.
     "Unfit." Evendal concluded, sitting down once again. Nehaleidda smiled
at him as they sat facing each other.
     "My lord," a surprisingly deep voice wended its way from the young boy
as he waved his fists in a circle or two. "I cannot. I cannot grip a
sword. They cut at... my tendons and... I could not even kill myself!"
     Evendal flared, aghast. "Why would you want to, now?" Then he noted
Niem Dir's immobility and understood. Niar-lles had known what was expected
of him. "Oh. Warden," The fury in his voice added a rasp its tone. "We
grant you your fondest wish. Your daughter Nehaleidda for your
care. Niar-lles and Eirath-harl are not for you to neglect any longer."
     "What do you plan for them?" Niem Dir enquired, a spark of anger in
her eyes and in the stiffness of her body.
     "Why do you ask?" Nehaleidda grabbed Evendal's hand and caressed the
palm.
     "You take my children from me and then ask such a question?"
     "Of what value are they to you? You have all of your concern there in
your hands. Even Guard Mulienhas knew which child to inform you of. She
knew that any report on the agony of Niar-lles would fall on indifferent
and impatient ears. That she could have paraded him in first and you would
be shoving him aside in hopes of glimpsing your daughter. That your only
concern, besides Nehaleidda, was that these extortionists not get the
better of you."
     Nehaleidda grinning gently, pulled the royal hand she held up to cup
her exposed breast and rub the aureole. Niem Dir bit her lip in wordless
mortification. With a fleeting, distracted kiss on her grasping fingers,
Evendal retracted his hand.
     The glow in Evendal's eyes remained steady and bright. "Hear Our
initial judgement."
     Aldul guided Niar-lles to the foot of Kri-estaul's bed, so that Niem
Dir would have had to turn her back on her daughter to glare at her
son. Settled for the moment, the priest began carefully testing the
flexibility of Niar-lles's fingers. At Evendal's words he looked up from
his task, but the King waved for him to continue with the boy.
     "This We can repeat for the record, later, without much effort." The
King assured Lialityne, then turned his attention to the Warden.
     "You maneuvered Us into accepting your fealty. You submitted yourself
and your lands to Us, and insisted We honour your submission to Our
authority. We do. We ourselves adjudge you guilty of saevitia, and remove
Niar-lles and Eirath-harl from your wardship and custody. They, just as
your lands, are Ours to settle on whomever We choose." Evendal declaimed.
     "Mother of your lands, see what your indifferent mothering has wrought
for you?"
     She treated the question as rhetorical. "What do you intend to do?"
     "We asked you a question first. Answer. What has your mothering
wrought for you?"
     "With my heir unfit, in your judgement, and with no sister or sister's
kin, the election would fall to Niar-lles." Niem Dir's tone of voice made
it clear to all what she thought of that concession.
     The Lord of the Thronelands was not through. "And were Niar-lles to
govern the Eastern Dark?"
     "I have no idea what misfeasance would ensue."
     "And why is that, Niem Dir?"
     In that moment, the Warden of the Eastern Dark hated her new liege for
forcing a more personal concession from her: giving voice to an inequity
she had perpetuated, the admission of which made her nauseous. "Because I
have not raised my sons except as one would chattel, servants and
underlings. Granting them no understanding of revenue and taxation and the
various aspects of governance. With no cause to deal kindly with anyone,
equal or menial."
     The solemn, impassive expression on Evendal's face told Niem Dir she
had best complete her thought. "With nothing to offer back to others but
bitterness and self-hate. What I, and those obedient to me, have nurtured
them with."
     "And do you say this because you have made yourself Our vassal?"
     Evendal could see that Niem Dir wanted to shout 'Yes!' to his
query. To his great surprise, well aware of how he pushed the woman, she
did not choose to claim such coercion. Not for him to know how aweful his
glowing and inscrutable brassy gaze, coupled with a care-lined yet young
visage, seemed to the Warden; how the frightening juxtaposition of familiar
and fey unnerved her.
     "No, Evendal. I say it because it is truth." Then she rallied. "So,
does Dhu-etslef get his ambitious thirst quenched after all?" Niem Dir
asked, furious and resigned, aware that she had created the situation she
found herself in. "What will you do, Lord Evendal?"
     "What We can." he promised. "Ierwbae? Mulienhas? Bring the judge and
her minion."
     From behind and beside him, Evendal heard. "Greetings Drussie!
Who. Who are you?"
     "I am called Eirath-harl. And you are His Highness, true?"
     "Yes, I guess." Came the shy, uneasy reply. "Papa?"
     "Here, my son." Evendal called back. "I have some idiocy to deal with,
then I'll be..." Then he reconsidered, and took his chair to rest between
Metthendoenn's cot and Kri-estaul's bed. Nehaleidda tracked his progress,
and pouted when he took his chair away from her's. He passed Niar-lles and
Aldul, and paused to lay a well-meaning hand in comfort on both their
shoulders. "I am right here, my boy." He announced, leaned over to kiss his
son on the cheek, and then sat down.
     Ddronhelim stood on one side of Metthendoenn's cot, quiet Darhelmir at
the other. Rhoswyl alth'Rostwylyn now stood at Evendal's back, while
Mulienhas waited at the door with Ierwbae beside her. Aldul stood with
Niar-lles at the foot of Kri-estaul's bed, Hielbrae and Eirath-harl on the
other side of the bed, by the windowed wall.
     Evendal realised that the arrangements and the number of people
attending was getting out of hand. "Darhelmir, step out from there,
please. Ddronhelim, Rhoswyl, might you be able to move Metthendoenn's cot
over a trifle, closer to that wall?" He pointed to the corner of the
door-bearing wall, at his left. The two Guard considered and
nodded. "Please do so. Matron, if you would retrieve your chair and bring
it here, adjacent to Kri-estaul's bed, and we can share our vigil. Gracious
Lialityne, if you would join us also, but beside this gentle convalescent's
cot. This will grant Our Guard room to move as they need to, both before
and behind Us."
     The Kwo-edan left Niar-lles and stepped over to Evendal to whisper by
his ear. The King's brows rose and he spat out a clearly enunciated "Blood
and swash!" before signaling the Guard behind him. They conferred, and
Rhoswyl left the room twice, returning the first time with a chair, the
second time with two chairs. Evendal directed them to be placed either side
of Hielbrae, and sternly gestured for a fretful Niar-lles to occupy one and
Hielbrae or Eirath-harl to take the other. Aldul claimed the third seat.
     "Dear Niem Dir, it might be sensible for you and Nehaleidda to move
nearer the opposite wall."
     "So that the dastards backs are to us?" Niem Dir demanded. "So that we
do not get to truly confront those who have brought me and my family to
this pass?"
     The Lord of the Thronelands shook his head. "No. So that Nehaleidda is
not constantly face to face with a man who attacked her and a woman who
subjugated her."
     Silently acknowledging the wisdom of this, the former Warden of the
Eastern Dark guided her acquiescent daughter to a spot against the wall of
the jakes. Mulienhas hurried from the door and moved the remaining chair
from the center of the room for their convenience.
     As Evendal clenched his teeth, weary and frustrated at Niem Dir's
continued intransigence, Kri-estaul took advantage of his father's
distraction. He had heard a lot of words that didn't make a lot of sense in
his daze. Sounds that took too much effort to concentrate on or puzzle
out. That he heard his father's voice, angry or not, had calmed him
initially. Of course it was nice that Drussie was here. Now his Papa was at
his side, and had kissed him awake, so he knew his father was not angry at
him. He was there, like he had promised. This big and energetic man was his
Papa, and loved him, and had never left him. Kri-estaul snuck his hand out
from his warm bedding and grasped three of Evendal's fingers.
     The direct and undemanding possessiveness of the child's simple
gesture moved Evendal to take a steadying breath. And another. On his third
deep inhalation, Frichestah was brought in a little the worse for his
travels. Behind his ragged semblance, Mulienhas escorted a woman who could
have been Henhyroc's sister, complete with Henhyroc's demeanor of calm
self-assurance. Her gray hair bound in a ponytail, her garb of silk-lined
wool bespoke affluence. Every collar, edge or cuff sported ermine, the mark
of her office; her coat, her overtunic, her skirt, her blouse, even the cap
she wore under her hooded, ermine bordered, cape. Her unfamiliarity with
blindness spoiled the impressive effect.
     Ierwbae prodded Frichestah, and Mulienhas arranged Telohema so that
the two faced Evendal.
     "Your Majesty," Mulienhas reported. "I also detained six others in a
similar state. Two mercenaries, fled from the Dowager's camp before our
sortie. Two stone-wrights who possessed documentation that Telohema had
pardoned them, on condition of their serving her. One woman, whom, it would
seem, was kept against her will. And a child of a stone-wright."
     "A child? Of the two stone-wrights you mentioned?"
     "No."
     "Have you any further intelligence regarding this child, then?"
     "She is the daughter of two other stone-wrights, late residents of
Telohema's steading."
     "They would not yield?"
     Mulienhas shook her head.
     "Let them wait. So long as the child is as well as she can be. How
many defied you?"
     "Eleven, Your Majesty. We also detained the adjudicator's sister. The
only professed kin there."
     "So she was not passive or catatonic?"
     "She was not, Your Majesty."
     "Did she give her parole?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty, readily."
     "How many of those who resisted were stone-wrights?"
     "Four, Your Majesty."
     "How many dead?"
     "Seven so far, Your Majesty."
     Evendal frowned. "How many people did you find?"
     "In total, including the dead and the child? Twenty-nine, Your
Majesty."
     "Blood and Thunder! Saemend Telohema?"
     "Aye, Your Majesty." The woman bowed. The dwoemer clearly did not
affect the minds of those influenced, merely placed restrictions to their
liberty.
     Evendal frowned and nodded once to Mulienhas now standing behind her.
     Telohema found herself tripped and pressed downward
simultaneously. When she lifted her head again, it was lower than the tired
countenance of a still frowning king. "You can see." m'Alismogh
commanded. "You are not here to deliver some mendacious report on
conditions near the Cinqet. Guard Ddronhelim has informed me that he
perused sufficient titles and deeds to demonstrate your culpability in
malfeasance toward half the families in your borough. Much of what you have
done, at the least, falls under malicious abuse of legal process. Now comes
an accounting."
     "Your Majesty, how did you accomplish my blindness? Why? Such an
undeserved attack! Your agents misunderstood what they found. As a saemend
of some experience my tenure in office entitles me to many emoluments."
     "Emoluments? A widow and grieving mother disenfranchised from the
comforts Our father had instituted and guaranteed before he embarked on his
campaign. We recall the Widow Gaelyand olm'Agalyssa, whom you
disenfranchised. We also have testimony of murders you had commissioned out
of apparent avarice. The ministri regis was not sufficient honour? Aldul?"
     The Kwo-edan had left his chair earlier, to divert and examine a
restive Nehaleidda. "Your..." The King threw him a look. "Evendal?"
     "Pause in your ministrations for a moment, please." The Kwo-edan moved
quickly to comply. "Drussilikh? Niem Dir? Attend, please." The woman,
kneeling beside her seated daughter, straightened, grief and rage
commingled in her. Telohema started on hearing the name from Evendal's
lips.
     "Telohema, look at me directly." The woman obeyed, thinking she did so
of her free will, to demonstrate her courage and sincerity. She found her
attention caught and held.
     "Had you arranged the acquisition, for personal use, of monies and
property originally allocated to widows, war-orphans, and grieving
families?"
     "Yes,"
     "Did you use those funds to purchase work-places, first and second
generation family trades within your juridical territory?"
     "Yes,"
     "Did you then relinquish the adult workers and have it heralded that
you would hire minors, as live-in labour, for half the wages of the
original workers?"
     "Yes, though I made it clear that I offered no apprenticeships or
training." Telohema protested.
     "Of course not, you dared not suffer the guilds' attentions. You are
responsible for destruction of property?"
     "Yes," Telohema's silks began to display the moisture of her nervous
sweat as her mouth functioned independent of her self-interest.
     "Fabricating false pension writs?"
     "Yes,"
     "Arranging burdensome per quae servitia(73) tenancies?"
     "Define 'burdensome'?"
     "We'll take that as a 'Yes'." Evendal continued. "Subrogation with
Frichestah as your proxy, having intimidated, detained or killed the
original claimants?"
     "Yes,"
     "Did Polgern enlist you to hold and tend the children of Niem Dir?"
     "No. Dhu-etslef was for outright slaughter, to leave his mother no
alternative but himself. But that was utterly absurd. You never back your
enemy into a corner, you let them do it to themselves. So I suggested the
idea. I had empty buildings and small bits of property I could hide them
in. Sufficient for any relatives of other intransigents."
     "And were there others?"
     "No," Telohema replied. "For some reason, the Lord Protector did not
ask for any further acquisitions."
     "Perhaps, because you could not ensure the well-being of the two you
already absconded with. How did you become involved? You're authority does
not extend anywhere near the Eastern Dark."
     "The Lord Protector knew of my skill in acquiring property, and
approached me about ways of acquiring the Eastern Dark. Dhu-etslef thought
me... comely. Later, I mediated for him when the Lord Protector tired of
his plaints."
     "How did this occur, the wound to Nehaleidda?"
     "Frichestah. He was all for making himself Lord of the Eastern Dark at
the new homestead one night. From what I understand, the girl was less than
enthusiastic, going at him with knees, elbows, nails and teeth. He threw
her off, toward the fireplace, and her head struck a spike of the grate and
fireback."
     Niem Dir's eyes darkened as she contemplated the ragged young man
surreptitiously pulling burrs from his clothes. "So," she hissed, her mind
awash with indignation. "You thought to deflower a Marshall of the Eastern
Dark."
     The young man made no response.
     If only to spare himself the task of relating her every comment to one
she had the right to confront, Evendal commanded. "You hear and respond to
Niem Dir also, henceforth, Frichestah and Telohema. But neither of you may
turn to face her."
     Telohema's minion looked up and laughed uneasily. "Deflower? No. That
honour went to another. Her brother did not want her first time to go to
some unappreciative stranger."
     When Niem Dir stood and turned to a wary Niar-lles, Evendal had had
enough. "Show some sense, Warden. If that is possible. He refers to
Dhu-etslef. If Niar-lles were not such an immediately available target, you
would have understood that without a second thought." The King turned to
Telohema, but paused at sudden movement from his friend.
     "Aldul?"
     Aldul, seeing a vulnerability, had simply moved his seat to where he
had previously stood, at the foot of Kri-estaul's bed. He waved at Evendal
to continue.
     "Now, Telohema. As Warden pro tem of the Eastern Dark, We find you
guilty of extortion, sedition, abetting violence against Our agents,
conspiring unsanctioned detention of Our agents, and unnecessary cruelty
toward same. As Lord Absolute of the Thronelands We declare you Our enemy,
guilty of malfeasance, murder, conspiring at murder for profit, and
extortion. At misdirection regarding royally granted privileges and
fees. Forestalling royal edicts, altering decrees, deliberately and
knowingly thwarting the lex regia and interfering with the lex
terrae(74). Of working counter lex et consuetudo regni(75). We suppose We
have neglected some of your mischief against Us, even with such a list. The
results for you will be the same regardless."
     "Our sister in like sovereignty and autonomy, sometime defender of Our
person, has been most eager for your detention. Once We have learned all We
desire from you, We may freely make of you Our gift to her. We do freely
make a gift of Frichestah to her, if she so desires it."
     "Yes, Your Most Puissant Majesty." Niem Dir purred.
     "Before that happy hour," Evendal added wryly. "You, Frichestah, shall
list the names of those you have killed and subjugated, the reasons, and
whereabouts of those yet living. Lialityne, if you would be so kind?"
     "In all good will, Your Majesty." The young lady whispered. "I am
ready."
     When that was accomplished, Evendal had a question. "Frichestah, what
is Mar-telohema to you that you do her bidding?"
     "She has been a good friend. We take care of each other. Several times
she has kept me from becoming dedititii(76). And I have removed her
enemies, been her strong arm, and played guardian or watch-cat on
occasion."
     "Telohema, is all that we have heard so far accurate?"
     "Yes." Came the reply, weightless and bald.
     "So tell Us, Telohema, what else have you done that is contrary to the
laws and equity you were pledged to enforce? What have We not mentioned?"
     "I have avoided the distress so many others are in financially. By
charging defendants for every decreet absolvitor, every dismissal of a
claim. By subtracting my own fee from demurrage owed to ship owners... By
learning, from the King's Guard, when and where Polgern's lieutenants were
scheduling a worker-sweep, and bartering non-existent protection to the
most likely targets there. Once when the owner of a ship died - and twice
when the owner of some cargo died, I had a respondentia forged; a contract
claiming the shipment or ship was pledged to me as security for a loan."
     "I have violated the wills and bodies of citizens and entitled
strangers, adult and pubescent, in private and in community... but not
solely through sudden death. I have employed someone to do bodily harm to
another over two dozen times."
     Evendal felt a trifle dizzy. "Hold a moment. Telohema. Those
violations committed 'in community...' Who else participated?"
     "Frichestah. Three Guard..."
     "You mean former-Guard."
     The saemend shook her head. "No."

-----------------------------------------------------

(70) Much as the ha'penny used to be. An incremental measure in copper.
(71) Latin. In the law of divorce. Cruelty; anything which tends to bodily
harm, and in that manner renders cohabitation unsafe.
(72) the liberty to try trespassers, and exact payment.
(73) Latin. A real action by which the grantee of a seignory could compel
the tenants of the grantor to attorn to himself.
(74) The royal or imperial law and the law of the land.
(75) The law and custom of the realm. One of the names of the common law.
(76) An approximate term from Roman law, applied here. Criminals who had
been marked in the face or on the body with fire or an iron, so that the
mark could not be erased, and subsequently manumitted.

This is, perhaps, the most 'convoluted' chapter so far (I agree, Rob). More
to come.