Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2004 20:02:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: Songspell-26

This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of violent
behaviour between adults, references to violent behaviour between adults
and children, obscene language, 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 to 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.

I want to thank Rob for his editing work, his keen eye, and his helpful
suggestions.


                    26 Rue With a Difference

                    Ophelia: There's fennel for you, and columbines:
                    There's rue for you; and here's some for me:
                    We may call it herb-grace o' Sundays:
                    O, you must wear your rue with a difference.
                              Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5, lines 479 ff.


     "Your Majesty," Drussilikh spoke up.
     "Matron?"
     "I arranged for a scribe to wait upon you throughout each day. One to
replace the first at the third bell after noon."
     "That is well done, as it seems We cannot avoid those petitions and
demands of Our station that assail Us regardless of schedule."
     Drussilikh stared pointedly away. "Also, as your previous clerks had
been engaged by Hwil-marsidyan, I distrusted the integrity of their
efforts."
     The King knew what lay foremost in the Quillmaster's mind was the
clerical malfeasance perpetrated by Scrivener and Scrivener-kin. "We
continue to rely on you, Matron and friend," he countered as pointedly.
     "You remind Us. Mar-Telohema's ambition demonstrates how We need to
weed and cull the magisterial of its miscreants. Her confessions will help
Us, but only to repair, not restore. We can do as We have done with the
Guard, but are uncertain of the rightness of it.
     "How fare you, Lialityne?"
     Startled, the young woman glanced up and declined her head. "Well,
good my Lord."
     "We shall be needing your hand again anon," he warned.
     "I but await your pleasure, Your Majesty."
     Evendal stood and bent over to kiss Kri-estaul on the head. "Call out
if you need and I will be right beside you."
     "Where are you going?"
     "Just a few steps away. Were I to stay, I would continue to command
the conversation. Also, I would rather that you not draw the attentions of
those invidious or felonious that I must judge. I am not leaving our room."
     He turned to Gwl-lethry. "Please, tarry and share what comforts you
can."
     With a grin to Ierwbae and Metthendoenn, Evendal moved his chair past
the foot of the bed. He nodded to Falrija, who disappeared beyond the door,
only to reappear and signal a parade of five other people. Mulienhas led
the procession while a young male Guard and Sygkorrin warded against
retreat. Falrija returned to the entrance, to stare out, gimlet-eyed, and
discourage the frivolous.
     "Guard Mulienhas?"
     "Your August Majesty, pursuant to your petition, I have, with the
gracious aid of the Archate, detained the three you were most eager
toward. You see before you Retleri, Punfaesyl, and Evel-loredain, deserters
to their duties yet listed of your Guard."
     Evendal sat and frowned. Two women and one man, each with wrists
secured together and garbed in unremarkable Guard livery, knelt at the
traditional distance. "Any anomalies?"
     "Envenomed daggers strapped on the forearms, in the folds of their
winter-wear."
     "Envenomed? All?"
     Mulienhas shrugged. "Four blades, encrusted with some brown substance
that was not aged blood. The woman in the middle had no such toys."
     "Aught else?"
     "They did sport some... baubles that the Archate did discover and
retrieve." Sygkorrin, her expression grim and angry, held out a collection
of five bracelets or anklets.
     "And valuables?"
     "A few vianki each, Your Majesty. Three rings that the Priestess
expressed no interest in. Two birth-charms." Because he was expecting it,
Evendal noted the man's face redden.
     "Was there any impediment? Were they amenable?"
     Mulienhas shook her head. "Your Majesty, were it not for the offices
of Her Eminence, and the intransigence of the middle woman, we would not
have detained them."
     "How so?"
     "It would make more sense from the tongue of Her Eminence, Your
Majesty, but... Their semblance was most lowly, unprepossessing. Those of
my cohort so assigned marched past them more than once unaware."
     "So, did they adorn themselves differently? Was their carriage so
humble?"
     Mulienhas scowled. "No, Your Majesty. As I said, but for the skills of
Her Eminence, we would have failed you."
     "Peace, Mulienhas. We grasp something of what obstructed you in your
duty. How did this woman's obduracy aid you?"
     "We discovered them at the westernmost small-craft dock. As I said, we
walked past them at least twice without recognition. Then the young woman
engaged the other two in argument, demanding an accounting from them in
public. She grew very agitated and unmindful, and loudly refused to be
pacified or to diminish the volume of her displeasure. In observing this
squabble, the Lady Sygkorrin comprehended the nature of the... glamour that
kept them from our consideration, and alerted us to it."
     "Young woman, how are you called?"
     "Punfaesyl, Your Gracious Lordship." The woman's voice struck Evendal
as oddly light for her height and heft, jarring.
     "So, Mulienhas, have they been searched for more than weapons?"
     "Of course, Your Majesty."
     "Stand, Punfaesyl. Tell me about these trinkets."
     The young woman shrugged, obeying. "I made them, with Retleri. She
promised to pay me for them. I haven't seen that happen yet." She stood
taller than Mulienhas and wide, with an oval face and upturned nose.
     "What brought you to rail so in public, and draw attention to
yourselves?"
     "I did not understand what so worried my... Retleri. He said we were
in trouble, that the Guard could be englamoured to detain us. So we should
protect ourselves and leave for Minahn Island in this skiff he bought."
     " Evel-loredain, is this so?"
     Face taut with anger, the woman on Punfaesyl's left looked
up. "Yes. We were at the Bird and Bath earlier, and he had been mixing his
beer and the seasoned juniper wine. Well, I didn't expect him to say much
of anything even halfway sensible. But he looked at me in that way he does
and said, 'I don't like what I hear about this Prince. We need to watch out
for this one, too'. Punfaesyl, like an idiot, disagreed and kept arguing
all the way to the pier."
     "Hold in your perambulations," Evendal demanded. "What is 'the Bird
and Bath?'"
     "Their favourite alehouse, Your Majesty," Punfaesyl answered.
     "What made you think your glamour would serve against me? That it
would even accomplish any purpose?" The King glanced over the heads of the
detainees and signalled Sygkorrin to silence. Then, seeing Evel-loredain
draw breath, he held up his hand to mute her as well. "Punfaesyl?"
     "Glamour? What glamour?"
     "The glamour lent to people wearing the trinkets."
     The black-haired young woman looked more confused. "He wanted them
made, that was enough for me. At the time."
     "Have you nothing to say, Retleri? What purpose did my arrival and my
winnowing of the Guard intrude upon?"
     The man refused to answer.
     "You will tell Us all, and true, Retleri. Tell Us all, and tell Us
true. And a third time I ask it: Tell Us all, and tell Us true."
     Even as Evendal repeated his invocation, traces of blood outlined
Retleri's mouth. In his struggle against m'Alismogh's compulsion, he had
bitten into his tongue. "I bartered. I offered to refrain from interfering
with the people in my posts, in exchange for money or favours."
     Evendal did not miss the odd look that flitted across Mulienhas' face,
nor the sudden vacuity to Punfaesyl's expression. He glowered, focusing for
the moment on Retleri. "You will elaborate. Now."
     "I would approach a shopkeeper, and tell them that unless they did not
care should their shop and home burn, that they needs gift me with a
fancied sum each fortnight. Or, in the case of those sporting blue or red
lantern screens, they had best grant me and my friends free service
whenever we willed it. Evel-loredain received the same benefits, as she
aided me directly."
     "How?"
     "No one was willing at first. So she and I detained a few of the more
vocal merchants. We burned and fouled their stalls and lots, the same ones
repeatedly, until they could no longer afford to ignore us."
     "Do not neglect what you did all on your own, you cretin,"
Evel-loredain protested, offended at Retleri's including her in the
telling.
     "Tell Us all of it," Evendal reminded.
     "Bres-lytomnel, a butcher from Donnath-luin, disregarded our
cautions. Rebuilt after each time we burned her stall or painted it with
dung. So one night I killed her and apportioned her out, then set up select
parts on the hooks in her booth as a visible warning."
     "Effective?"
     Retleri nodded. "Very. Her daughter was more accommodating, though not
very kind. Two more such demonstrations were all it took for us to
establish ourselves."
     "Did you enlist any other Guard or citizen to your service?"
     "No, that meant less money and drink for us."
     "Who else had to die so publicly for your pelfry(85)?"
     Retleri gave up the names, and Lialityne duly recorded them.
     Through the dialogue, Evendal observed the other
detainees. Evel-loredain knelt with furious stiffness, a study in injured
merit. Punfaesyl, however, sweated in the stone-cool room, her face white
and eyes darting to Retleri and Evel-loredain in wordless horror.
     "And are you such an innocent to sudden death, Evel-loredain?" the
King asked. Retleri smirked.
     "Whatever my crimes, I have shed no life's blood," the young woman
protested.
     Lord Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam grinned flatly, closer to a
grimace. "Look upon Us and lie to Us again, Evel-loredain."
     The young woman whispered, "No. No, please."
     "You will divulge your trespass, and now."
     "My... my mother, with Retleri's guidance."
     Evendal peered at the man and woman, all but squinting in his
disbelief. "How did you accomplish it?"
     "A tisane she took for her bowels. I added bikeraiest(86)."
     Evendal nodded, feeling a bit stunned. "You were not kind to her in
your choice of poisons. And do not pretend you did not repeat your
success."
     "I... I..."
     "You will tell Us."
     Evel-loredain glanced off to her side, to the shivering Punfaesyl.
     "Her mother as well?" the King asked, incredulous.
     The woman shook her head. "No one knows who that was," she bluntly
declaimed. "Her foster-father, Punyelef."
     "No!" Punfaesyl cried, and rounded on Evel-loredain. "You overworked
whore! You heartless man-o-war's whelp!"
     Even bound as she was, she grabbed her companion by the neck and shook
her. Evel-loredain struggled, scratched, pulled, and pried without
success. Punfaesyl held to her purpose like a shark. Retleri remained
motionless but for the turn of his head to watch the assault. Mulienhas
strove to separate them, an effort that proved fruitless until Ierwbae
intruded and added his own strength.
     Evendal waited impassively until Punfaesyl desisted, panting and
red-faced, leaving Evel-loredain sprawled on the floor, gasping and
retching.
     "Why?" the King asked, not caring who answered.
     "He had Punfaesyl's utter obedience and trust," Retleri explained,
compelled yet by the geas. "If Punfaesyl told him all we had her do, the
old man would have discerned what we were about, and either explained it to
Punfaesyl or called upon a magistrate."
     "What were you having her do?"
     "People thought her our main. One of our weapons."
     "And was she not?" Evendal looked over at the overwrought detainee,
who hugged herself and wept in total silence.
     Evel-loredain shook her head, and winced. "She has never attacked
anyone. Until now. She's just... huge. And intimidating."
     "She had no idea we were anything but senior Guard. And her
friends. Which we are." Retleri glanced up at the King. "Were, anyway."
     Evendal shook his head. "How can We credit this? How could she not
have known?"
     For the first time, Retleri looked uneasy. Evel-loredain answered for
him, her voice strained. "In the Orphanage, Retleri was her only friend. Or
the only one that suffered her timidity and silences. So she told me
once. If Retleri wanted her to go visit some shop, and wait around for half
a bell until he showed, she thought nothing of it."
   Retleri laughed softly. "If I said this merchant was rude to me, she
would stand in front of the fellow's stall and frown and glower at him. In
truth, merely pouting, yet providing a menacing sight to an already
distraught dupe."
     "And the trinkets?"
     "We told her they were a way of making some vianki. Which was true. We
just made more money than she saw."
     Evendal turned briefly to Mulienhas. "They were listed among the
untroubled Guard during the pledging?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty, they were."
     "Did you three sell or give over any of these wards to fellow Guard?"
     "No," Retleri answered. "We could not trust any of them to keep
confidence. And we did not have enough time before the pledging to make
more than those we ourselves needed."
     "Can you number how many you have made since?"
     "Forty-five, Your Majesty."
     "Only so few?"
     "The making of the ornament is easy; imbuing the glamour is not."
     Evendal decided he did not want to know those details at the
moment. "Have you kept any, or did you sell them all?"
     "All but the ones we wore."
     The King glanced at Lialityne. "Then you will list those to whom you
sold such baubles."
     Evel-loredain rasped, "Your Majesty!" even as Retleri complained,
"Your Majesty, we could not recall every name!"
     "By the pledge you disdain, you, and all you are and were, are still
mine." He raked them with the glare of his countenance.
     Those nearest -- Drussilikh, Mulienhas, and Gwl-lethry -- gazed about
the room as the King's reminder lingered like a sustained note. The
Quillmaster took a deep breath in anticipation and, seeing an almost
febrile expression of glee on Mulienhas' face, wondered what her own
disclosed. Gwl-lethry looked up at the ceiling, in wonder at the
echo. Quickly Drussilikh became glad of her preparedness as the room began
to feel closer, smaller. She forced another breath, and the very air
tingled in her breast, dragged there by her own stubborn will.
     "What is happen...?" Gwl-lethry demanded in a strangled voice. But
Drussilikh raised a hand, gesturing for a cautious silence. Hawl-metthrh
gripped her father and held her other arm at an odd angle as she perused
the room for potential hazard. The brightness in the room increased, as
Evendal m'Alismogh began to hum -- and then sing -- a short repetitive
melodic line.

        I come heralding change,
        The human heart is mine.
        The elements agree.
        I am the whelming flood,
        I am Justice encamped,
        And suffer no shackle
        To hinder that purpose.

     With a curse, Sygkorrin dropped the strands she held: beads of glass,
wood, and metal, seeds and pinfeathers, all bound by red thread. As
Mulienhas, Drussilikh, Gwl-lethry, Hawl-metthrh, Kri-estaul, and Ierwbae
stared, the five bracelets decomposed. Metthendoenn's bed was situated so
that he could not see as the glass and the metal cracked, and the seeds,
wood, and feathers shredded into frail cottony fibres. The air, the crowded
feeling to the room, cleared.
     "Now," Evendal hissed. "You will relinquish those names."
     Alarmed, Retleri and Evel-loredain complied without further quarrel.
     A bewildered Gwl-lethry turned to Drussilikh, who grinned lightly and
moved around the bed to retrieve Kri-estaul's urinal ewer. The manorlord of
Tinde'keb paid no attention as Drussilikh helped her brother out, so caught
up was he in what he had witnessed.
     "Your... Your Highness?"
     "Yes?" Kri-estaul looked away from his sister's labours, glad of the
distraction.
     "What was this? What manner of man is he that can so command the
phenomenal and exact obedience?"
     The Prince frowned, not understanding. "He's my Papa. He's the King."
     "But he just sang a directive, and particulars of nature and artifice
obeyed without any other agency."
     Drussilikh glanced up. "His Majesty is the Left Hand of the
Unalterable. I do not know all that it means, but it makes His Majesty more
than just a king. One of His Majesty's nobilities is m'Alismogh, and even
His Majesty cannot say where or how he came by it."
     "M'Alismogh," Gwl-lethry repeated, ruminating to no purpose. Alert
enough to be chastened, he corrected his manners. "And the Majesty of
Osedys does not scare you with his unaccountable puissance?"
     Drussilikh's smile persisted. "I had such moments, but they passed
quickly. His Majesty is a good man, if rough and unpolished. Strangely
innocent and ignorant in the simplest matters. And were the gracious
Majesty of Osedys less than the wonder he is, my brother would be dead, and
I a more bitter creature because of it." She removed the ewer and restored
the coverlet over her brother.
     "I am stupefied, good Matron." Gwl-lethry declared. "A trifle afeared,
but more in amazement than worry. What further marvels are his? Whence his
limits?"
     "Another datum to the riddle His Majesty has no answer
for. Distinguish those events he will not affect, and those he cannot."
Drussilikh fell into a whisper. "He knew no way to undo Abduram's foul
damage and restore my brother's limbs. A failure that plagues him. Yet when
Kernost's heir ran Kri-estaul through, the plaint of His Majesty's heart
restored the boy to breath and life."
     "Come now!"
     "I witnessed it all, Tinde'keb. Like you, I have endured much
bitterness with the last nine years. I know when one is dead, and
Kri-estaul was as dead as earth. His Majesty returned his breath to him and
kept Kernost's 'til the fool suffocated. All with but words, cadence, and
tone." The Quillmaster, seeing her brother's scowl, asked. "What troubles
you, silly boy?"
     "You were talking about the first Court?"
     "Yes."
     "But you didn't tell him the exciting part."
     "What? Oh. Kri-estaul, none of it was any pleasure jaunt! Emial was
orating in exceptionally caustic form, working to draw the attention of
everyone. His heir stole out of hiding from behind the Court entrance to
the under-grounds, intending regicide. Kri-estaul alone spied the dastard
and rushed him."
     "Rushed him? How?"
     "The Mistress of Oaks had provided a wheeled chair for Kri-estaul. He
was closer than any Guard... The knife intended for His Majesty touched my
Kri... through the heart."
     "Matron, please, desist. I did not mean to trouble you so, to
needlessly bestir a painful remembrance."
     "It came about otherwise. What was meant for ill came out well. The
memory should provoke joy, for that reason alone. Could you but have seen!
The fiend died on Ierwbae's too kind blade. And His Majesty'd like to have
died coddling my brother's airless corpse."
     "Drussie, don't cry. I'm better, really!"
     "Mistress, no more, please. I credit your word of this wonder."
     But Drussilikh was not willing to be daunted or controlled by a
memory. "He railed and shouted. The foundations of the Palace shifted at
the behest of his grief, and the bare stone walls sprouted tongues of fire,
with flame blocking any escape."
     Gwl-lethry gaped. "You are overwrought," he temporised. "Sit with
me. Rest."
     "Do not cosset me, I am not so overset as to saddle a flea and call it
a horse. The Court stonework yet bears witness to my truth. But you asked
after the scope and range of His Majesty's authority. This is the best I
can answer.
     "His Majesty was ready, utterly willing, and most singularly able to
bring the Palace walls down around us all; a cenotaph to my brother, the
son he loves and cherishes.
     "His Majesty begged of Kri-estaul that he live, to grow into old age,
marry, accomplish all the hopes a parent harbours for his child."
Drussilikh shook her head at the recollection.
     "And what then?"
     "Kri-estaul obeyed." Shaken, she grinned tremulously down at her
wide-eyed brother. "The little bed-bug spewed blood, adding to the mess he
made, and breathed again. Of course, the first words out of him were a
complaint."
     "Drussie!"
     "All were astonished, His Majesty included. And when the Archate
declared him restored, His Majesty wept openly and unabashedly."
     "I didn't mean to scare anyone. I just..."
     "Shhh. You did what you thought to do. My fierce brother! I ask your
indulgence, good sir, as I would attend to the King at this time."
     "Well thought."
     "What's toward now?" Kri-estaul asked. "I cannot see him so easily."
     "Is it Lialityne?" Gwl-lethry enquired. Drussilikh nodded. "Lialityne
has taken the names of those wanting dispensation from His Majesty's
dwoemer. But His Majesty has further concerns with the former Guard."
     Retleri and Evel-loredain had complied with Evendal's will, both fear
and dwoemer improving their memory for names. But throughout their listing,
the larger detainee had remained mute and miserable.
     "And what of you, Punfaesyl? Look upon Us boldly and tell us. Have you
done aught that you would rather We not learn of?"
     The hulking Guard could not obey. She had huddled on the floor and
continued to weep without reserve. "That I... that I did not know! That I
did not avenge the murder of my father! I did not know! Oh, Papa!"
     Evendal felt a strange suspicion form, a seeming
irrelevancy. "Punfaesyl, look in my face." After several gulping breaths,
the young Guard obeyed. "How many years have you?"
     A definite pause followed before Punfaesyl answered, "I have thirteen
years, Your Lordship."
     "What!" Both Ierwbae and Mulienhas turned to the girl, open-mouthed in
shock. Sygkorrin grinned at their astonishment.
     "How many years did you have when you were granted a commission?"
     "I had eleven, Your Lordship." And Evendal could see how it
happened. A girl wanting a security she had never known. A foster-father,
playing the best gambit for his foster-daughter's survival, willing to
purchase the commission. Or perhaps hoping the daughter's position might
safeguard them both.
     "And who knows?"
     "Evel-loredain. My foster-mother. Kor-honrodan of the Archate
Orphanage. Hawl-metthrh of the Tinde'keb might know."
     From the corner of his vision, Evendal saw Gwl-lethry's heir shake her
head, still in shock. "Why?"
     "Your Majesty?"
     "Why the deception?"
     Punfaesyl sniffed. "I never wanted to do anything else. As an orphan,
few knew my birth year and I filled out young. So I was never asked my
age."
     "You knew better! We provide for those whose hope and ambition outpace
their maturity, extending tutelage until the candidate passes the requisite
age. Such protracted training would also have netted you a better chance at
advancement."
     "People joked that I should either be a Guard or part of the
Protector's wall," she protested weakly. "It seemed pointless to wait. I
was ready then!"
     "In body, perhaps. But in mind? In heart? At your age, how can you
heed anything but the changes within you? So you took some insulting jest
for an omen, a sign? See what your childish lack of wisdom has led you to,
little girl! Your childlike ignorance of adult duplicity. See what wondrous
companions you can claim? Have you a foster-mother?"
     Miserable, Punfaesyl nodded.
     "Hear Our judgement for you, tentative should further word reach Us
concerning you. You and no other shall inform your foster-mother of the
method of her husband's murder and the nature of your relationship with his
killers. You shall be accompanied to ensure your obedience and your return,
with your foster-mother. Are Our instructions clear?"
     "Yes, Your Lordship."
     "That is an incorrect address. A Guard properly mentored would know
this. You will henceforth hail Us as 'Your Majesty' or 'Lord Evendal.'"
     "Yes, Your Majesty."
     "Lady Sygkorrin, as this crime also touches on the honour of the
Temple, We ask if you are content with Our determination of innocence
toward this child."
     "I am. She was dumb, froward and naive, but not criminal or
malign. Nor did she wilfully betray her oath."
     Mar-Depalai!" Evendal called. Falrija glanced over her shoulder and
moved from the entrance, allowing the summoned Guard to pass in.
     The tart-tongued Guard approached and bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
     "We present Punfaesyl, formerly of the King's Guard but in truth too
young for the honour. If you would take her to a change of attire, then
escort her to her foster-mother's... You have heard what has been unveiled
here, have you not?"
     "Of course, Your Majesty," Mar-Depalai smiled.
     "Good. Be then Our guarantor of her obedience, safety, and prompt
return."
     "As you will, my Lord."
     "We mean now, Punfaesyl. Stand and follow this honourable Guard and
heed her direction. You both have Our leave."
     Once Punfaesyl was gone from the room, Evendal returned his attention
to the other two former Guard. "According to Our past interrogations, you
two are responsible for violence against residents and visitors to Our
home. Acting at the wishes of the dead and unlamented Telohema. You,
Retleri, shall tell me..."
     "Of course we worried them. She paid us handsomely! And she turned
deaf when, on occasion, someone would report our tactics to her."
     "Both of you attacked people simply on the whim of Telohema?" Evendal
reiterated.
     "Yes," Evel-loredain confirmed. The skin around her throat had
discoloured.
     "Again, you will list them," Evendal commanded. After the two
completed their task, the King stood. Mulienhas moved to raise the
detainees, but Evendal gestured her away.
     "Charmed or not, you participated in the pledging of the Guard. This
makes you Our responsibility. We shall condemn you by the oath you
soiled. 'As the strength of the kingdom made manifest, may my limbs fail
me, and my gifts natal and acquired, should I prove false to this oath.'"

        As your pledge to Us you scorned,
        Die as one that no one mourned.
        Let the oath you did forfend,
        Bind you to your mortal end.

     Like puppets whose strings had snapped, Retleri and Evel-loredain
collapsed onto their sides, limp, breathing lumps.
     "Your Majesty!" Mulienhas exclaimed.
     The King looked up at the distraught Guard, his expression
bland. "Yes, Guard Mulienhas?"
     Mulienhas recovered her dignity at the chill reply. "Is this a
temporary state or a fixed condition?"
     "Were We to guess, We would say permanent."
     "But who.... You have consigned innocents to thanklessly slave over
them for scores of years!"
     "No, We have not," Evendal argued. "They are Ours, forsworn or
not. They shall be left under a canopy beside the Crier's Post in their
place of duty. With word that they may be abused or tended but not killed,
for their lives and their deaths are Ours. And that this is the fate of all
Guard who so thoroughly abuse their oath or the people in their care."
     Face impassive, Sygkorrin bowed once to the King of Osedys, signalling
her approbation.
     Gwl-lethry and Hawl-metthrh stepped closer to each other as they
watched Guard carry off the two human vegetables.
     "How do you fare, Lialityne?"
     "Well enough, good my Lord."
     "Should you need a respite, let Us know."
     "Does none of this trouble you, Your Majesty? Or you, Your Eminence?"
     Gwl-lethry silently commended the girl for asking a question he did
not feel foolhardy enough to broach.
     "Which? That so many people who were capable of help, chose instead to
help only themselves? Or do you feel Our judgements cold and outre?"
     For a long moment Lialityne froze, having placed herself in an
impossible position. To speak, however poorly, what remained essentially a
criticism, or to reverse position and demonstrate a lack of trust in her
lord's mansuetude. "Not quite either, Your Majesty." Having committed
herself, she struggled for clarity. "You dispense justice as you
can. But... that you can enact such unique reckonings, inflict such
unusually appropriate and grim consequences. Does it not trouble you, how
readily you can provide them? Almost glibly?"
     Evendal, sitting again, bowed his head to entertain a moment's
quiet. "Trust me." In the silence, Evendal's request echoed. "There is
nothing glib to the decisions We make. Nothing offhand in the exercise of
Our power. Nothing easy or without remorse and doubt. We do what no one
else may. When We arrived back, after only nine years, the city was
devouring itself. The Guard was demoralised and fitfully corrupt, with
visitors seized and slaughtered, likewise citizens. Self-interest had
devolved into avarice. Each example We face must be dealt with as the
symbol that it is."
     "How will the sentence you just implemented help anyone?"
     "The former victims of those two will see that We do not suffer
anarchists. As will the Guard. The Guard will also take comfort in the
judgement."
     "Comfort? What comfort?"
     "That We will use them honestly, that We are serious in Our concern
for their honour, and that We will protect them from their own worst
behaviours in whatever way We can. Can you begin to understand?"
     Lialityne shivered. "I would not want to be you."
     Evendal grinned mirthlessly. "But for Our friends, We would not want
that either."
     Sygkorrin spoke up. "Young woman, those two wanted rights without
responsibility. They wanted to act freely without enduring consequence. And
they abused a practise the Archate provides only with clear warnings and
the most solemn promises. A skill normally taught only to our own. What I
witnessed was both just and timely."
     "I would concur," Gwl-lethry dared, in a hushed voice. "Your Majesty,
His Highness rests. Might we take our leave of you and depart for now?"
     Kri-estaul indeed lay asleep, mouth slightly agape. His ordeals had
purged his body of any baby fat long ago, and in the relaxation of sleep he
looked tired and older than eight years, more burdened adult than
child. The jaundice-yellow tinge had fled, along with the swelling in his
face. But two years with little real food or decent water had severely
affected his growth and had not done his teeth, skin, or muscles and bones
any good.
     "If you want," Evendal whispered. "Go with Our good wishes and
goodwill. And should you require aid for yourself or your family, do not be
timid. Farewell, Lord and Father of the Tinde'keb."
     "Straining Your Majesty's good nature... Matron Drussilikh, your
presence was a grace unlooked for, your converse a help and
enlightenment. I hope that I might call upon you to further educate myself
on matters that have occurred during my absence."
     "Certainly," Drussilikh replied, befuddled.
     And as Gwl-lethry and Hawl-metthrh left, Aldul and Falrija entered.
     The Kwo-edan perceived both Drussilikh's distraction and the change in
Evendal's demeanour. "He will heal!" he declared without preamble.
     "You must get tired of my fears."
     "I would if I did not share them." Aldul genuflected before
approaching.
     "He will sleep and wake, only to fall back to sleep, for some time,
Lor..." Aldul caught the scowl on his friend's face "...Evendal."
     "I suppose. The three Guard that Frichestah had implicated were
here. Two were oath-breakers. One, to my surprise, was innocent. Wilfully
ignorant and a liar, but innocent of trying to subvert her pledging."
     "His Majesty ruined the foci of their glamour," Sygkorrin
explained. "I wish His Majesty had forewarned me of his intent," she chided
with an amused grin.
     Evendal started at the voice. "My apologies for that, and for
forgetting you yet remained, Your Eminence."
     Sygkorrin shrugged. "I felt no need for attention or acknowledgement
from His Majesty."
     Again the King scowled. "What has brought on this sudden excess of
courtesy from everyone? This is not a Court Critical or Juridical, and I
have a use-name."
     "As do I," Sygkorrin replied. "And it is not 'Your Eminence.' Lord
Evendal, then?"
     "I am glad to know I am not the only one he annoys so effortlessly,"
Drussilikh interjected.
     Sygkorrin and Evendal shared a chuckle. "'Effortlessly?'" Evendal
jibed. "Hardly! It takes years of practise to achieve my mastery of the
art. And yes, that would serve better. Lady Sygkorrin?"
     "Excellent well."
     Evendal gestured for both to sit with him, and they complied. "Aldul
has enjoyed a repast, Lady Sygkorrin. Can I offer anything at this time for
your refreshment?"
     "Not presently, Lord Evendal."
     There passed several moments of quiet. Evendal stared steadily at his
sleeping son, content to watch the child's chest rise and fall
regularly. Aldul, familiar with his friend's silences, joined him in his
own consideration. After a time of recapitulation, the Archate autarch felt
the goad of an inner obligation compel her to speech.
     "Retleri was an abandoned child of a Donnath-luin priest and an
Arkeddan woman. No one yet alive knows how he came to dwell in an Orphan's
Home in Osedys. After examining our records of the Orphanage instructors,
and interviewing those few still alive, I can guess how Retleri came by his
knowledge of a skill normally limited to confirmed and sealed priests."
     The King nodded. "A preceptor struggling with age and failing into
senility."
     "Yes," Sygkorrin admitted. "Retleri spent a noted amount of time with
the old fellow, a man who had outlived his friends and contemporaries. He
died this past year."
     "So, was Retleri the only 'darling' of this aged instructor?"
     "Yes, by all surviving workers' accounts."
     "Then let us consider the matter ended, until I permit them to die."
Evendal shook his head. "When I was young, I wondered if I would ever be
capable of ordering another's death. Ironic."
     Sygkorrin sought to console. "They are not people, they are
parasites. Walking appetites without hearts."
     "No," Evendal responded. "They are people, as well as parasites. They
love, trust, cry, and laugh. They also make seemingly small decision upon
seemingly small decision, and so carve their fate into the wood of their
future."
     He continued to stare at Kri-estaul. "I still do not know where this
came from." The light of his face intensified.
     "Your son?"
     The King shook his head again. "The heart I suddenly acquired when I
came upon him. I knew anger, rage, bitterness, hope, sorrow, fear, and
satisfaction. Then I came upon this silly grubby child and... I am no fit
parent for children, but I cannot countenance losing or relinquishing him."
      He turned to his watchful friend. "Aldul, you will have to return to
your self-appointment. When your replacement administered Kri-estaul's
tonic last, and again when she cleaned him, I nearly tossed her against the
wall in my anxiety at her nearness, at her touching him, lifting him. This
blithe stranger."
     "Was she rough or unmannerly?"
     "No. Not in any way. I am not reasonable about this, I know. I am
like... I am a dragon and he is my pearl. Even Ierwbae is not exempt from
my suspicion."
     Both Aldul and Sygkorrin grinned reassuringly. "Peace, Evendal," Aldul
insisted. "You do not tell us something we did not already observe. You
have thrust yourself into a strange business, and will learn what manner of
father you will be. If Sygkorrin or I thought you a danger, neither your
estate nor your gifts would intimidate us. You seek out causes for worry."
     "It is much like when you first found me, Aldul. My own reactions
confuse and unsettle me."
     "As mine do me," Aldul muttered, flashing Sygkorrin an odd look.
     Happy to focus on someone else, Evendal pounced. "How so?" His glow
dimmed.
     The Kwo-edan did not answer for several breaths. When Sygkorrin opened
her mouth, preparing to speak, Aldul frowned at her. "No! It is for me to
say. And I shall. Evendal, I... never made friends of my colleagues in
Kwo-eda. I care for all I come across. I judge no one. I serve what needs I
see."
     "But?"
     "I will not be coerced or pushed or bribed into a bond I do not feel!"
     Startled at the vehemence, Evendal assured, "Nor would I permit anyone
here to so treat you."
     "But..." And Aldul stared hard into the golden eyes beside him. "But
at the first, I told you of my sister. Later I told you of my... of those
rapists."
     "I know. And your very openness troubles you."
     "You knew of this?"
     "Of course. Sygkorrin has been very careful and delicate in what she
says of you. Revealing nothing you have not allowed. All the same, she made
herself clear: That I held a unique place in your life. That the best way
to keep that place was to let you be and let you show whatever you
chose. That you would not appreciate someone with ambitions to 'heal' you
when you do not need healing."
     "You are prophetic, Lord. Policy aside..."
     "What policy? You know how I am, most commonly. Ignore all subtlety!
Barge in and start uttering truths no one wants spoken!"
     "True."
     "Had I felt you needed changing, or that you were deluding yourself in
some vital concern, I'd have told you or forced you into crisis. You are
Aldul, a man as complete as any man breathing, and will change or not as
you need. All I will ask of you is tangible aid and honesty. Anything more
is, and has always been, your free gift."
     "Papa?" Kri-estaul called sleepily.
     "Yes, sweetling?"
     "Nothing. I just like feeling your eyes shine on me."
     "Little imp!" Evendal grinned down at his son.
     Just then Mar-Depalai returned, escorting Punfaesyl and an older
woman. "Your Majesty, Punfaesyl, formerly a Guard. And Halenta Olm'Airedh."
     "Come." As they approached, the King saw that both had been
crying. "Speak freely before Us, Halenta. We see that your daughter has
informed you of the grim tidings."
     "Aye, Your Majesty. That my dead husband and I nurtured serpents to
destroy us in our generosity."
     "Surely you do not include your daughter in that summary?"
     "Most bitterly so, Your Majesty. The hope for our old age proved the
deadliest asp."
     "Think you so? You would blame your daughter for having an ignorance
of her comrades' intentions that you yourself shared?"
     "'I've got to be a Guard, Papa! If I don't I'll run away!' She hounded
us to permit her heart's desire, she wore us both down. Then brought my
heart's murderers into our kitchen demanding we welcome them as we did her!
She is the reason I have no husband! Her rash foolishness! What will
forgiving her get me? Half of my life is ash."
     "I have no comfort for you. I wish I had, Halenta Olm'Airedh. But your
daughter guesses, and will learn, the extent of her folly. Your
denunciation will not give you consolation."
     "You are wrong, my lord." The woman would not be refuted. "Already I
feel warmer for the prospect of turning her out. I cannot endure to be
reminded, every time I look upon her, that but for her I would yet have the
man I loved!"
     "You wrong her. That guilt is not hers alone! You sent her out,
ignorant of herself and others, to serve as a mature and trained adult in a
violent calling during a perilous time. You perpetuated her deception, by
your silence. You helped create your misfortune."
     "She importuned us at every chance. Every meal," Halenta insisted.
     "We learned from Our own royal father, to Our own adolescent
frustration, that parents can be as selectively deaf as children, if they
truly wish to be. You both saw value and advancement in encouraging her
obsession. That can hardly be argued, Halenta Olm'Airedh."
     The widow abandoned her defence. "Why did you summon me, Your
Majesty?"
     "To assure you that your husband's death is not overlooked. That his
murder is thoroughly avenged. That his, and your, daughter was indeed
ignorant of the nature of his death until today. That upon learning of
Evel-loredain's culpability, she sought to strangle the wretch. Also to
assure Ourself that Punfaesyl did not perpetrate her deception without your
aid. That she indeed obeyed Us. That she would be well cared for. Have you
means?"
     "With Telohema no longer bearing the ermine, there is finally the
chance of my getting wergild."
     Evendal nodded his head. "We shall see that the Mockingbird Hobblers
acknowledge their obligation to you. Evel-loredain was of their number."
     "Mama?"
     Halenta Olm'Airedh stared desperately at Evendal, refusing to respond.
     "Widow Halenta, your daughter is guilty of the same blindness as you
possessed. The same innocence, if you will. And her love of both you and
her father cries out loud and true. Will you not let your mutual griefs
salve both your hearts?"
     The woman shook with the tumult of her emotions. "Your Majesty," she
rasped, "perhaps in time. Right now, all I know is that her nearness
infuriates me. I love her. I know she is but a child. But, when she told me
how my husband's death actually unfolded, it was like I lost him all over
again!"
     "Time will only render the effort to reconcile harder, not easier,"
Evendal whispered. "But We are not your conscience. Nor your heart."
     "No," Halenta muttered in turn. "I lost that when Punyelef died."
     "So are We to understand that you revoke your wardship and dis-mantle
Punfaesyl olm'Punyelef?"
     "If you wish her for some lengthy labour, I could sell her for...."
Halenta saw the royal jaw tighten, saw the light off Evendal's eyes wax,
and rightly adjudged the cause. "Yes, Your Majesty."
     "Have you understood all that We wanted you to know regarding your
husband's death and the degree of your former daughter's guilt and
innocence?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty."
     "Know that if you wish to view the fate of faithless Guard, the
murderers will be on display at your annex's Crier's Post. You are free to
take what solace you may in their discomforting, provided you do nothing
mortal. And know that, though Retleri and Evel-loredain cannot respond,
they are conscious and aware."
     "I do not understand, Your Majesty."
     "You will when you see them, Widow Halenta."
     "My thanks for your grace and patience, Your Majesty."
     "You have Our doleful leave." And the woman fled through the doorway
without a backward glance.
     Punfaesyl turned about and ran to catch up with Halenta. Evendal shook
his head, and Falrija barred the girl's way. "We did not grant you Our
leave, Punfaesyl."
     "How could you? How? How could she?" Punfaesyl's face was awash with
tears.
     Evendal ald'Menam looked on the girl, seemingly unmoved by her
pain. "It is common. Grief makes all humans do cruel and irrational
things." Both Aldul and Sygkorrin turned to stare in surprise at the word
choice.
     "Papa?"
     The King looked down. "This troubles you?"
     "She made friends with two Guard who poisoned her papa?" Evendal
nodded. "And her mama blames her?"
     "And she blames herself, Kri." Evendal added. "Her father's pride in
her was a large part of her motivation." No one questioned Evendal's
intelligence.
     "Hielbrae?" Kri-estaul called.
     "Here, Your Highness."
     "Do you think she could... like me?"
     Evendal grinned. "Soft heart."
     "I don't know why she would want to be a Guard, but her crying... It
sounds like I used to feel. In the under-grounds. I can't stand it. She's
not bad. Is she?"
     "Not truly. But she will have to learn better than she has so far. Let
me sound her out, my son."
     "Punfaesyl." Evendal stood, retrieved a cup of watered wine and
offered it to the disconsolate girl. "Take a few swallows, then seat
yourself near Us."
     After recovering somewhat, Punfaesyl thought to ask in a throaty
murmur, "What now, Your Majesty? What's to become of me?"
     "That depends, of course. Do you still aspire to the Guard? Or has the
bitter fruit of your blind ambition taught you wisdom?"
     The girl contemplated her hands for a moment. "I do not know. I feel
so dumb, so worthless. How could I be anything but a liability, even were I
of age? And what is the point, if I guide someone else's death right to
their door? Forgive me, Your Majesty! It's just... he was the kindest,
sweetest, most patient father! I would I had been poisoned instead of him!"
     "We have little We can offer in advice, but it sounds a contradiction
to what We told Halenta: Lay no anger upon yourself, but on Retleri and
Evel-loredain, where it belongs. And remember the sweet times, whenever
your tendency is to blame yourself." He paused. "Kri-estaul, We present
Punfaesyl, Our new ward. Punfaesyl, We present Kri-estaul pier'Evendalh,
the brother of the Matron Drussilikh here." He indicated the woman sitting
nearby, who nodded to the girl. "Our son and heir apparent."
     "I am happy to see you recovering, Your Highness. We had wondered how
you fared."
     "Who?"
     The girl flushed, upset at the slip. "The people around Mockingbird
Hold, portside of the Orphanage. They have been anxious for your continued
health and survival."
     Kri-estaul stared at Evendal in utter confusion that people he had
never met would care about his fate.
     "As you can see, Punfaesyl, Our son is more vulnerable than most. And,
because of the offices of his dead tormentors, he is not comforted by the
security and presence of Our Guard. He suffers but four Guard well. All
others unnerve him."
     Kri-estaul could not resist asking, "Why do you want to be a Guard?"
     Drussilikh moved her seat a slight distance from King, Heir, and
ward. Evendal caught the intention of the gesture. "Punfaesyl, take a
chair, please. Sit with us for this talk."
     Flushing and hesitant, Punfaesyl obeyed. Once seated, she paid a great
deal of attention to her lap. Evendal watched Kri-estaul watch the
girl. When it became clear neither would speak unprompted, he
intervened. "My son asked a question, one We would also like to hear the
answer on."
     "What? Oh! Why I wanted to be a Guard?"
     "Yes. You must be aware of how their honour and reputation suffered
during the interregnum. We would expect people of Retleri's poor character
to have been attracted then. But your ambition seemed to be all for the
work itself, and not the opportunities for self-advancement it offered the
unscrupulous."
     "One of the... There was a Guard who used to walk the Mockingbird
circuit. I would watch him every day I could. He had learned every child's
name. He always had time to speak to us. When he didn't see a particular
face on his walk, he asked about the child, by their name. On occasion he
would carry the smallest children on his shoulders for one course of his
route. He brought treats his wife had baked for us, even after the
Orphanage ministrants forbade it. He was one of the royal Guard, so what
could they do against him? He treated with me as though I were not a
freakily tall cunt, but a genteel... girl."
     Kri-estaul frowned, uncomfortable with the pejorative from his
past. Evendal's eyebrows rose.
     Punfaesyl had forgotten her audience. "I never knew anyone like
him. He was all I wanted to be. Calm, steady, dependable, at ease with
himself. We had one or two boys who felt more comfortable in the garb
assigned to the girls than those given them. They were laughed at
constantly, beaten often. Still they persisted. Once, when I derided them,
he chastised me. He said they were simply doing what they had to, that it
made no more sense to them than my height did to me. I cried, and then
realised he could hardly care about me if he did not care about them
equally. And that he wasn't striving to be a good Guard; for him it was
being a man of true and honest heart.
     "On a day he commonly showed, a different Guard took his path. None of
us ever saw him again. But I knew... He would not have left without a
farewell, were he simply reassigned. He was... he was my model for a person
and a Guard. All he did, I wanted to do for people. I had seen so many
people hurting, I thought what better way to help than to protect them,
even from other Guard. Dumb, huh? I could not even protect my father. How
could I hope to be a true Guard like Kinmeln?"

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(85) Goods, such as are taken by force or plunder. Ill-gotten gains.

(86) (bicker-ray-est) Castor-plant poison. The symptoms of human poisoning
begin within a few hours of ingestion. The symptoms are: abdominal pain,
vomiting, diarrhea, sometimes bloody. Within several days there is: severe
dehydration, a decrease in urine, and a decrease in blood pressure. If
death has not occurred in 3-5 days, the victim usually recovers.