Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2007 16:17:35 -0800 (PST)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SS-44

This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to both sexual and
violent behaviour, along with expressions of physical affection and
compassion. 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 onto any other site without the direct
consent of the author.

I never know how well-received these chapters are. The only clues I get are
in emails from readers. Do you like the story? Hate it? Think Evendal
should take a vow of silence? Hope I have written other works? Let me know
and I'll let you know.

I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com


                         44 To Spite A Raven's Heart

        Duke Orsino: Why should I not, had I the heart to do it,
        Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death,
        Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy
        That sometimes savours nobly...
        Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief:
        I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
        To spite a raven's heart within a dove.
                          Twelfth Night Act 5, Scene 1, line 117-131


     Gwl-lethry looked over at the five ampoules and the cutter that
Ierowen had `acquired' from His Majesty's guests. "But Your Majesty cannot
be certain what those glasses contain. And that amethyst bauble is surely
too limited to serve as a mortal weapon!"
     Evendal smirked at a sharp surface no longer than the length from
thumb-tip to knuckle. "That they were all hidden deliberately, and not just
pocketed in a purse or set out as ornament, tells Us plenty. And were I so
inclined, Lord Gwl-lethry, I could kill a person in eight heart-beats with
one informed application of that toy."
     "Did you mark the owners of each?" Karondeo asked.
     "Of course!" Ierowen understandably took umbrage.
     Kri-estaul reached for the seal-cutter. "That's pretty. Is it old?"
     "That depends on what you consider `old'," Surn-meddil responded. "It
is older than you or your father. In fact, if the work is not an
homage... See how the curves of the silver juniper berries and rounded
leaves hug the stone to its cradle? That was a style popular during the
reign of the grandfather of your grandfather Menam."
     "That would have been Asurrmedd agdh'Mikeliyen." Evendal commented
absently. He set Kri-estaul's empty platter on the table and hefted the
clear vial in his hand. It held a watery aubergine content.
     "Par-shetope?" Evendal asked the Guard over his left, "Could you
acquire another chair..."
     Surn-meddil raised his hand. "Permit me to retire for the present,
Your Majesty? My old bones turned to powder long ago and could use a
respite."
     Cheselre likewise spoke up. "I also, if Your Majesty will permit, wish
to retire and see to my son."
     "You both have Our leave. Par-shetope, the chair may yet be needed."
     Once Surn-meddil's simulacrum had started for the entryway, Evendal
drew the attention of his table-companions away from the spectre.
     "Ierowen, from whom came this silverwork?"
     The lad swallowed too quickly on a piece of confectionary and coughed
an answer. "An aging gentle...hight Urhlysha."
     "The Nightingale Hobblers' Magistrate. We wonder who has their eye on
him today," the King mused. "Did anyone note his nearest dinner companion?"
     All shook their heads.
     "Par-shetope, please ask Magister Urhlysha to attend Us now. Ierowen,
this clear vial with the brown liquid came from...?"
     Ierowen did not think to correct his lord. "Magister Urhlysha carted
that as well. Your Majesty."
     "And the other four ampoules?"
     Ierowen indicated one green glass. "Mohontlen of Tarlwshan..."
     "Tal'Ulistrien," Evendal corrected. "His way of speaking may be
difficult for those not raised in the southern part of the Thronelands. He
holds an area near Our mother's, mostly savanna. And the others?"
     "One red, a lady...Eletthrha. Majesty."
     "Lord of Siara'keb. Not good."
     "Its green counterpart came off Master Aikathemi."
     The King frowned, as did Kri-estaul. "We wonder if the impulse is
greed or envy? And the last?"
     "Magister Shontrekh. Your Majesty."
     "Oh, yes. The Judge Particular for Old Aistun. A neighbour to Magister
Urhlysha, though not immediate. So he and Siara'keb defy the King's Peace."
     "Why are they different colours?" Kri-estaul interrupted.
     Evendal ald'Menam grinned, pleased. "To signify the degree of peril in
the liquid or salt that that glass contains. Red vials carry poisons, green
is for benisons and antidotes. Of the significance to other colours I am
less sure. Cobalt blue or the very rare black glass is for corrosives, I
believe."
     Aldul nodded.
     "So Master Aikathemi is not trying to hurt anyone?"
     "Well," the King temporised, "Not with what is in his vial." Almost
Evendal spoke of the wooden horse -- whose diamond-hard head had dug into
his ribs on a couple of nights. But Aikathemi's gifting, however awkward,
had presaged a lightening of the skin under Kri-estaul's eyes and fewer
heavy silences during his waking bells.
     "Why is that bottle clear?"
     "I believe that it is so a person can see how what is in it changes
when another salt or liquid is added to it."
     Gwl-lethry cleared his throat. "Unadulterated glass is best for that,
yes, Your Majesty. But it most commonly signifies content that may change
appearance and qualities even without additives, and in so doing lose or
gain that virtue for which it was capped."
     The King signalled for another Guard and had her move his chair around
ninety degrees, so that his right side was to the table. "Ask the Lady
Eletthrha to visit with Us. And the Lord of Tal'Ulistrien."
     The two so named arrived before Urhlysha and showed their
respects. The King did not grant them liberty to sit.
     The Lady Siara'keb was past her childbearing years, short and
voluptuous; not heavy from fat or slack muscle, but stout by
predisposition. Her family's stewardship was grey-haired and
honourable. Toward all but the King and the Heir she maintained a steady
gaze and forceful demeanor.
     Columns of bone pressing against pliant and supple skin characterized
the body of the Lord Tal'Ulistrien. Wide blue-grey eyes dominated an
equally spare face, giving an impression of unflagging anxiety and wariness
where in a younger man the result might have been one of innocence and
wonder.
     "Siara'keb," the King began, "you would have Us break a pledge We had
made? To accuse no member of the nobility this day."
     "How could I, your humble praefectus civitatium, incite the Majesty of
m'Os-tal to do anything contrary to his intentions?"
     "By bringing a weapon into Our Presence. By partaking of Our salt and
still planning harm to one of Our number."
     Eletthrha spread her arms out from her sides. "I wear naught but the
wool my Care is noted for, which makes a poor garrote. I bear no blades or
truncheons and my bones would crack before I could succeed at beating the
frailest into submission. What weapon, Your Majesty?"
     "The weapon of a coward, citizen Eletthrha. Poison. And it would be
more truthful to say that you had it when you entered Our home, but have it
no longer." The King twisted slightly to his right. "Lord Gwl-lethry, might
We have the use of your cup?"
     The Lord Tinde'keb readily gave up his drinking cup and Evendal poured
some cider into it. He took up a red vial and glanced at a silent Ierowen,
who nodded confirmation.
     "This fell from your possession earlier, Lady Eletthrha. Do you wish
to reclaim it now?"
     The Prefect of Siara'keb did not answer immediately. "That trinket is
of no moment to me, Your Majesty. I know not how it came to be among my
effects."
     Evendal nodded slowly. "Then We can trust that Our vassal of Siara'keb
keeps and honours the strictures of hospitality We impose...?"
     The Lady Eletthrha all but tripped over her lips in replying, "Most
certainly, Your Majesty!"
     "And We can only conclude that this ampoule contains but a harmless
tonic, of which you have no compunction partaking as we both drink to
Siara'keb's probity and prosperity." So saying, the King drained the red
vial's powder into Gwl-lethry's cup and held it out.
     With eyes that competed with Mohontlen's for size, Lady Eletthrha
gripped the cup in both hands.
     "Again, to beloved Siara'keb's continuing honour and prosperity." The
Lord of the Thronelands picked up his own drink and prepared to take a sip,
his glowing eyes on a frozen Lady Eletthrha. "Is there some trouble, honest
vassal of Our's?"
     "Your Majesty," Eletthrha began tremulously, "I fear I must abjure my
frivolous assertions of a moment ago."
     "How so?"
     "There is death in this cup, Your Majesty."
     "We are saddened, Lord Siara'keb. What is the nature of this death you
have brought here, making a lie of Our Peace?"
     Eletthrha swallowed twice before answering. "It is called Bitter
Apple. It shreds the bowels and inflames the throat and stomach. The
drinker dies from a bloody flux..."
     The King's jaw clenched and his shoulders drew back in reaction. "We
are aware of its effects. It is a vicious death you wished on your peer."
     "Do not call him my peer!" the woman spat. "No amount of wealth will
make that dung-grubber an equal."
     "Of whom do you speak?"
     "Kieralametth of the Carders Guild."
     "What has he done that you would kill him?"
     "He rendered your canton into a paupered, leeched wasteland!"
     Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam stared hard at this woman he only vaguely
recalled from courts ten years in the past. "You have all Our attention,
warden of Our people. Tell Us what brought you to this extremity."
     "Your father, Your Majesty, confirmed me in my holding, knowing its
mainstay was wool. We raised sheep, goats and rabbits, and while no one got
wealthy we yet prospered. Then your father approved Kieralametth and his
deputies, and them alone, to classify our wool, and then to oversee the
scouring and cleaning. After the lamented Lord Menam's death, Master
Polgern took umbrage at our autonomy: I would not allow his ruffians past
the limes(278) so that he might press my wards into stonehauling."
     "You defied him?"
     "Yes, and I got nothing but corpses, widows, and widowers for my
folly.  And he continued the denuding of my influence and authority over
the principal means of my canton's subsistence. Now the working of wool,
the shearing, the differing levels of cleaning for its different uses, the
felting, the classifying, and the shipment are solely the Throne-granted
right of the Fraternity of Carders. This was not all accomplished at once,
mind you. `Mean' wanted the canton itself to die slowly. He wanted to watch
my despair and savour his having caused it."
     "Could you not come to some accommodation with this Kieralametth?"
     "Your Majesty, those few who remain in their steadings survive only
because they do the work they know sub rosa and sell to an equally few
generous hearts in Kardyna and Osyma'Kalidem. The only item the duumvirate
would sanction Siara'keb to raise and market was rice."
     Evendal's mouth dropped open. "Rice? Rice won't grow in... Oh."
     Eletthrha nodded. "And many of my people actually thought they could
discover a way to grow it. When I said I governed and warded a paupered and
leeched waste, I was not overstating my home's plight, Your Majesty."
     "But to seek out one man, whose only crime seems to be accepting the
good fortune others have handed him, would not rectify anything."
     The Lord of Siara'keb shook her head in dissent. "He is the keystone
of that construct, the fire of ambition that moves the Carders. I did
approach him once, Your Majesty, to see if a private contract could be
fashioned between us. He had no patience for such talk, when it was clear
to him that the Carders would soon enough be the only wool-workers
permitted in the kingdom, and their numbers would grow along with their
coffers. And he was right. A goodly number of my people abandoned their
homes, the only homes they had ever known, to join the Carders."
     Eletthrha's speech greatly troubled Evendal. He had not looked very
far past the intransigence of those gentry, landed and crafters alike, who
baulked at attending his court. The animosity between landed and guild was
an old one, but this personally motivated consolidation -- if Eletthrha's
account was accurate -- was a new and unhealthy complication. For though
Siara'keb had always provided the finest wool, that canton had also been
but one of many sources.
     "Where does the Carders' Guild keep sheep and goats?"
     "The eastern leg of Kernost and north-eastern Kandere. They once were
Siara'keb's cattle."
     "And provided what you have told Us is all of the truth, they will be
again. Grant Us a time to address your companion. Mohontlen."
     The man started. "Your Majesty."
     "At first We thought you sported some antidote in the vial you
carried, or some emetic against whatever Siara'keb sought to wield. A sign
of a continuing blood-feud. But plainly you fear another. Do you know who
or whom?"
     "No, Your Majesty."
     "But you anticipate one of your peers?"
     The unnerved man nodded.
     The King considered aloud. "We feel moderately certain that Our mother
is not directly involved, and the Lord Tinde'keb is much too busy with over
three hundred other matters to nurture any such dastardly ambitions. What
of your kin?"
     "I. I share my responsibilities with two sisters, Your Majesty. Older
sisters. The eldest held Tal'Ulistrien through my minority, years ago, and
could have kept it had she wanted."
     "But you feel your life imperiled?"
     "Yes."
     When Mohontlen did not continue, Evendal realized the man felt a
disproportionate awe for the royal estate. "What suggests this to you, Lord
Tal'Ulistrien?"
     "Unsigned missives in an elegant hand, Your Majesty, warning me of
different perils in a timely fashion. I received one last spring asserting
that I had made an enemy. At the first, I thought the communication a
written threat. But during the spring, coming back from supplying an aging
outlier, I got lost in the bog that ensures her privacy. Twice I came near
to suffocating in the mire before I found reliable ground. The
hermes-stones that guided me to the woman's home had been moved before I
left it.
     "This past season, I found a packet that advised me to be cautious
should I hunt my lands. In Dru-stal, on my second trek scavenger-hunting
for winter, had I not been gripping the secured rope on which I drape
venison, I would have dropped into a pit-trap and impaled myself on
dung-smeared stakes. Then, near the end of Dru-stal, as I was again
hunting, someone shot at me with a long-bow or crossbow."
     "Not some hunter mistaking his quarry?"
     Mohontlen shook his head. "An animal not brought down with your first
arrow runs heedless. I hid as best I could and dodged in a large circle,
and got shot at three times. I found where the attacker had waited but
could learn nothing from it."
     "Do you have the arrows to show to Us?"
     Mohontlen grimaced. "No, Your Majesty. I recovered them, but they
remain in a secure place at my home. I did not even hope for an audience
with Your Majesty today as I had not petitioned for it."
     "Having achieved such an audience, do you bring this before the
Throne? Do you seek Our aid?"
     "I do, Your Majesty, as our pledge allows."
     "Very well. After the second attempt on your life, did you have people
search?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty."
     "Did they find other such pits?"
     Mohontlen swallowed. "Yes, Your Majesty." After a ruminative pause,
Lord Tal'Ulistrien divulged what was, for him, a troubling
consequence. "One of my people, a recent mother, fell into one of two more
we discovered. One stave pierced her shoulder; one pierced her through her
stomach. A third stave gouged into her sternum. Had she been heavier and
had the third stake not lodged against her ribs, the first two stakes would
have gone completely through her. She remains at the Temple."
     "Where were those other pits in relation to the first?"
     Taken aback that the King had no civil response of dismay or sympathy
for the woman, Mohontlen was slow to answer. "Within ten rods(279) of it."
     Evendal nodded solemnly, as though this confirmed some matter. "And
you received one more notification."
     The vassal's eyes bulged further. "Yes, Your Majesty. Telling me that
Onkira's was not the only execution planned for the day."
     "If you have those papers with you, lend them to Us."
     "I have the most recent." Mohontlen dug through the sleeve of his
tunic and pulled a square lanolined leather packet out and handed it to the
King with a bow. Ierowen bit on his lip, dismayed at missing the obvious.
     The King removed the brief missive, perused it, and then indicated
that Matron Drussilikh examine it. "What can you discern of the writer,
Matron?"
     After several breaths, Drussilikh offered, "I cannot say I recognize
the hand. But the writer is someone striving for a florid, feminine
presentment. It is a poor attempt. Someone having more than twenty years
but less than two score and ten."
     "Any other detail?"
     Drussilikh held the paper up toward one of the narrow
windows. "Yes. This piece was torn from Crier's rag."
     Mohontlen's eyes relaxed slightly to their normal startled
expression. "A Crier had visited our home within a day or two of this last
packet. I cannot remember if that was true about the earlier deposits. The
occasion was simply to apprise Tal'Ulistrien of the latest bills, edicts,
and reparations. `Twas quite a thick bundle."
     The Lord of the Thronelands shot a glance at Eletthrha. "We typically
leave manourlord mischief for the manourlords to settle. We see We have
erred in doing so." He flagged a kitchen drudge. "Do you want another
serving?" he asked his son.
     Kri-estaul shook his head. "Who is that man?"
     "He protects the lands adjacent to Our mother's, in the far
south. Someone has tried to kill him without Our sanction."
     "You give folk permission to kill?"
     Evendal nodded. "We do that with certain of Our Guard, should the need
arise in the regular performance of their duty. They must later justify,
directly to Us, the necessity. If We deem the killing unjustified, that
Guard is either executed, rendered t'bo, or given over to the dead one's
family or to those most immediately affected by the murder."
     "What about the woman beside him?"
     "She was seeking the bravado to destroy her life and end
another's. She must wait upon Us a little time."
     "I'm bored." Kri-estaul caught what he said too late and ceased all
movement.
     His father kissed him atop his head and advised him. "Breathe,
dearling. Of course you are. Point out a child who would say otherwise and
you'll be singling out a wretch whose heart and will has been ground under
foot. There is little that I can do to change that for you. If you wish I
can have Brualta place you in your moving chair and attend if you wish to
visit with one of our table companions. I would hope they know that they
can converse productively amongst themselves while I conduct Throne
business."
     The King could see that such was exactly a suggestion Kri-estaul
fancied, but could not yet ask of for himself. "Par-shetope? Brualta,
please. And Kri-estaul's chair." The Guard moved to comply.
     "I love you, Papa." Kri-estaul's tone told Evendal his was not a
spontaneous declaration.
     "I doubt that not at all. Be at ease. I shall remain right
here. Should I need to leave, you come with me. Should you feel strange, I
am a warehouse of safety, always happy to wrap, cuddle and enfold you with
no apologia needed. At your farthest, you will be but five steps away from
me."
     Reminded of Aldul's days-old advise, Evendal carefully pulled his son
from the sling, slouched a bit in his chair and wrapped both arms around
the child. The King quietly held his heir until Par-shetope returned with a
smiling Brualta and the chair. With meticulous care, Evendal settled
Kri-estaul in. He draped a sash weighted at both ends across the boy's
waist and let the ends dangle through the appropriate holes carved in the
chair's backboard.
     "No rushing about," Evendal cautioned with a grin. "And no more
trampling down my enemies."
     Kri-estaul giggled.
     Evendal waited until his son stopped looking back at him in
uncertainty. Only then did he return his attention to the gentry before
him. Behind Siara'keb and Tal'Ulistrien the King noted Urhlysha and
directed him to Surn-meddil's vacated seat.
     "Lord Tal'Ulistrien. How many years does each of your sisters bear?"
     Uncertain as to the cogency of the question, Mohontlen nonetheless
answered crisply. "My eldest, Rohirnesh, has two score years. My other
sister, Kabrosheh, has a score and ten. Kabrosheh and I were born of our
father's second wife."
     "You are younger than We thought. Do either of them hunt or ride?"
     "Both can. Kabrosheh enjoys both more often than Rohirnesh or I do."
     "And how are they provisioned?"
     "I do not understand the question, Your Majesty."
     "Your father was the former Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
     "Bironhyr ald'Menrolek. Yes, Your Majesty."
     "How did he provide for whoever would not succeed him?"
     "Rohirnesh is Lady Jenelkir but visits often in
Tal'Ulistrien. Kabrosheh is recently betrothed of Lord Bloddoen."
     The King looked to Karondeo. "It could be either one."
     "Or both," Karondeo asserted.
     "I do not understand," Mohontlen complained. "You cannot fit my
sisters for this mayhem!"
     "Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien, I present my companion and spouse,
Captain Karondeo lin'Alekrond. Captain Karondeo lin'Alekrond, I present
Mohontlen agdh'Bironhyr, Lord Tal'Ulistrien." The King strove to
clarify. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, whoever works to kill you, lives among your
people. He knows the lay of your canton and is or has someone of great
strength. He moved a number of hermes-stones into bog. This person showed
skill at either long bow or crossbow and at tracking or hiding in a
savannah."
     Mohontlen's face turned pink, his eyes again bulging. Evendal
ald'Menam's first reaction was annoyance over this man's
sensibilities. Then a second, atypical, thought reminded the King that he
had a point of reference; he himself had been as defensive, as incredulous,
when he finally confronted the perfidy and perversity of the woman he had
thought his mother. He had felt under attack. No doubt Mohontlen did
now. The audience called for ruthlessness and patience in equal measure.
     "A member of your household is culpable. This person was at hand and
prepared for your itinerary on those days he tried to accomplish your
death. On a day you chose to visit an eremitical indigent, this person
knew, and was equipped to move enough stones to serve his purpose -- and
could remain unobserved in a level stretch of land. On a day you decided to
hunt, this person prepared well beforehand and knew where you habitually
hunted." Karondeo's fingers fidgeting drew the King's attention and tardy
permission to speak to the issue.
     "All of that also suggests an unknown someone with leisure time, and
so not a servant or commoner. This unknown threatens to execute you during
a public gathering. So he can get physically close, or is familiar to
you. You yourself felt this to be so, else you would have borne a cuirass
in here, not an emetic against poison."
     Mohontlen glanced back and forth between the King and his companion,
upset at their reasoning. "Who thinks like this? Do not...! I
trust... Surely Your Majesty would not impugn my sisters merely for lack of
more accessible culprits!"
     "Your plaint is fair and just, Lord Tal'Ulistrien. Let Us not yield to
speculation and fancy, but give you a more dependable certainty." As though
he were accompanied by whistle and drum(280), Lord Evendal m'Alismogh
inhaled deeply, and chanted in a gruff voice.

        With song We snare you, hunter bold,
        Although your trail be faint and cold.
        Behold the quarry you went to kill.
        Hunter, breath flows through his body still.
        Where are you, who want his life to end?(281)
        That death from your efforts We forfend.
        Where do you wait for him and why?
        Let Our snare reveal you, draw you nigh.

     Mohontlen glanced about, gauging the responses of the companions to
the King's seemingly witless behaviour. Out of those he had the
acquaintance of, Alekrond, Drussilikh, Her Eminence and His Royal Highness
perused the room calmly, as if expecting some spectacle or
entertainment. The priest at the foot of the table, the hulking Karondeo,
and the red-headed youth at Drussilikh's right, fixed their attention on
the King. Shenrowyn's daughter, the boy two seats to the left of Her
Eminence and the round-bellied man on Drussilikh's left, looked as
bewildered as Mohontlen felt. He had hoped for a cohort of Guard to both
supplement and interrogate his household staff, or perhaps to patrol his
lime. But he did not know what to expect, or what to do, should the Majesty
of the Thronelands prove deranged.
     The youth opposite the Lord Tinde'keb tugged on Karondeo's sleeve to
complain.
     "That's not how the song goes!"
     "True," the broad-shouldered man responded softly, again ignoring
royal propriety. "And what is your brother saying in the changes he made to
the lyric?"
     After much consideration, the lad replied. "He's trying to find the
hunter. Instead of their already talking to each other, like in the
original song."
     Mohontlen could hardly credit what he just heard. The new King had a
brother? He must have overlooked that pronouncement in the ream of papers
the Crier had left. As he considered this datum, the Lord Tal'Ulistrien
noted the youth indeed had the same cleft in the jaw near his carotid as
the King had.
     The solidly built seaman, perhaps seeing Mohontlen's bemusement,
defied protocol again to address him. "Edrionwytt ald'Menam, I present
Mohontlen agdh'Bironhyr Lord Tal'Ulistrien."
     "Peace and health to you, Lord Tal'Ulistrien." Edrionwytt mangled the
title and ducked his head, mortified.
     "And to you, Your Highness. I. I appreciate the kindness, Master
Karondeo."
     The son of Alekrond shook his head. "I am master of nothing, Lord
Tal'Ulistrien, but my ship."
     "But you sit at the King's right hand."
     Karondeo grinned, his eyes all but magnifying the candle and torch
light. "He is my harbour, as I strive to be his."
     "Lord Tal'Ulistrien," the King recalled him to attendance. "Do you
know these people?"
     Backlit by what sun shone through the arrow-slit windows in the front
wall, three silhouettes walked toward the King's table. Squinting to make
the figures out more clearly, Evendal wondered at the obscuration, in as
much as Minfal coming from nearly the same direction had been readily
discernible. About four ells from the table, one figure stopped and two
continued walking until the King raised his hand, palm outward.
     "It is Estwalken. And my sister." Mohontlen answered, shocked and more
than a little uneasy. It took a moment for Evendal to filter the patois in
the worried man's hurried speech.
     Estwalken Lord Jenelkir bowed stiffly, grey eyes busy darting to every
element around him. The woman at Estwalken's side struggled to curtsey even
as she clung to the Lord Jenelkir.
     Lord Evendal contemplated the man his song had brought. The lord of
the smallest hold in the Thronelands looked a hard, lean man. His angular
face showed no sign that it knew how to smile, and the light grey eyes
under their thick brows added to the man's pitiless countenance. His hair
was nearly as black as Karondeo's, and swept up and back from his forehead.
     "Lord Jenelkir, well met." The King addressed his vassal
calmly. "'Twas good of you to answer Our summons. You also, Lady Jenelkir."
     Lord Tal'Ulistrien turned from staring at the two subjects. "I beg
your indulgence, Your Majesty. The woman at Estwalken's side is not his
wife. With much trepidation I present my other sister Kabrosheh." His
southern habit of traipsing past consonants came out even more noticeably.
     Surprise showed on the King's face. "Our apologies, Mistress
Kabrosheh. It seems We are a poor judge of age. Look upon Us, both of you."
     The lord complied, expressionless. The woman tilted her head in the
semblance of obedience, but kept her eyes shut.
     Lord Evendal m'Alismogh grinned, darkly amused. "So. You have heard of
Our facility, Mistress Kabrosheh? No matter."

        You shall not move, wench, but to breathe,
        Until your ruler gives you leave.

     M'Alismogh pointed at Lord Jenelkir.

        You, Our vassal, shall tell Us the truth,
        Fear Our justice or trust in Our ruth.

     "You need no compulsion for that, my liege. I am your good vassal and
true."
     Once again, Evendal knew surprise. The man's assertion was
unsolicited. The King's second suspicion, once apprised of the woman's
identity, was of a love triangle -- and a furthering of jointly-held
ambitions.
     "Lord Jenelkir, Lord Tal'Ulistrien has come to Us in concern for his
life. Three times an unknown agency has tried to kill him in his own
lands. Do you know aught of this?"
     "No, Your Majesty. If I knew anything of such a matter, my wife would
be the first repository of that intelligence. And Mohontlen would be the
second." What made Lord Tal'Ulistrien's rushed speech occasionally
difficult to understand gave Lord Jenelkir's measured words a lilt.
     The King paused, nonplused. Estwalken, hands extended forward, palms
up, tentatively interrupted the King's silence. "Might Your Majesty
vouchsafe a summary of those occasions to me? Should they repeat themselves
in any particular, I might be more alert and better prepared to safeguard
him."
     "Why?" Evendal blurted out.
     "I do not understand the direction of your question, Your Majesty."
     "Your wife's goodwill aside, why would you trouble yourself, and drain
your revenues, to protect him?"
     Despite the inherently hungry cast to his features, Estwalken's dismay
was unmistakable. "He is my neighbour, and my friend. He keeps me in good
humour when the Lord Pranno thinks of my land as his principality. He
is...He is the younger brother I wish I had had."
     The King nodded his acceptance of the answer. "Last spring, as Lord
Tal'Ulistrien was visiting a solitary homestead encompassed by marsh,
someone altered the placement of stones he used to guide himself through
safely. Twice, the Lord Tal'Ulistrien almost succumbed to the mire's grip
before he gained terra firma."
     Lord Jenelkir's black brows changed the shape of his gimlet eyes as
they rose. His head slowly twisted to his side and he gazed for a long
tense moment at his companion. Kabrosheh had let go of him, but refused to
return Estwalken's glare; he could not tell if her eyes were closed again
or if she stared at the floor beneath her feet.
     Estwalken swiveled his head back and forth between his king and his
neighbor lord. "Your. Your Majesty. Mohontlen! I. I. Forgive me. I beg of
you. Forgive me."
     "For what, Esti? Oh. My apologies, Your Majesty."
     The King waved that breach of protocol aside. "Answer him, Lord
Jenelkir. For what do you need forgiveness?" This had become the strangest
interview he had conducted, one over which he seemed to have little
command.
     "Last spring, during a lull in the rains, Kabi...er, Kabrosheh visited
me and asked my help. I toppled some stones, then carted them to places she
designated."
     Evendal waited, but when the Lord Jenelkir remained mute he
prodded. "Tal'Ulistrien has many sturdy citizens, doubtless willing to help
the sister of their liege in labours legitimate or otherwise. Did it not
seem strange that she accosted you for such an enterprise?"
     "She was my friend. I have always thought of her as my friend. She
told me as she would be leaving soon, to marry, she wanted to tend to a
stretch of land that had long annoyed Mohontlen. A plot of marsh that he
had been promising to drain for years...There is such a place. Mohontlen
has mentioned it before."
     "But it is not anywhere near that crofter!" Lord Tal'Ulistrien
exclaimed.
     The King raised his hand to halt any further speech. "Nevermind the
Lord Tal'Ulistrien's understandable outburst, Lord Jenelkir. You said `a
plot of marsh that he had wanted drained.' Re-placing boundary-markers to
where they will be of future use sounds a tedious labour."
     Estwalken nodded. "She insisted that, since Mohontlen... Er, since her
brother had been extraordinarily patient with her hysteric reaction to her
betrothal, she wanted to do something invaluable for him. And, wanted to
keep it a secret until the wedding, she hoped to employ willing helpers he
would not have much chance of meeting in his daily rounds."
     The King took a breath, shifted in his chair, and wrapped his next
question in a gentle tone. "Did you dig, or help to dig, three pits in your
friends' land?"
     The Lord Jenelkir nodded, his distress evident in the rigidity of his
carriage. "Last Koffut-mor,(282) to catch a baboon that had turned
killer. One that had Mohontlen's citizens too frightened to hunt him. It
took a few days."
     Evendal turned briefly to Mohontlen. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
     "A rumour got started about such an animal. Two years ago. It did
agitate some tenants, but turned out to be a child's scare. This does not
make any sense to me."
     "Lord Jenelkir, who asked you to intervene in the concern of another's
domain?"
     Shaking his head in disbelief and pain, Estwalken forced two hard
breaths before answering.
     "Kabrosheh."
     With a suddenly caustic timbre, Evendal demanded, "Did she ask you to
practise archery with her this last Dru-stal?"
     "No, Your Majesty. I heard nothing of the baboon being killed. And I
heard nothing more from Kabrosheh afterwards."
     "Tarry awhile, Lord Jenelkir," the King bade. "Mistress Kabrosheh,
speak with Us from your truth."
     Kabrosheh's voice had a pleasant, raspy quality. "What would you,
Majesty?"
     "Look on Us and tell us true and clear. Did you plot to kill your
brother?"
     The woman complied. "No. I love my brother."
     Momentarily confounded, Evendal m'Alismogh thought on the wording of
his own question and tried again. "What result did you hope for in having
those stones moved?"
     Jaw straining, Kabrosheh nonetheless answered. "For the bog to weaken
Mohontlen, and Your Majesty to invest me with the care of my home." The
woman stuck a small, calloused hand in her mouth.
     "Lower that errant hand. And what was your goal in having the three
pits dug and brutal stakes emplaced?"
     "That my brother would run afoul of one."
     Evendal was getting irritated with her spare answers. "Why?" He kept
his brassy-eyed gaze fixed on her muddy grey one. "Speak the truth freely
from your heart and head."
     The younger daughter of Bironhyr had been sweating since Lord Jenelkir
first begged forgiveness. The chill that thwarted the active hearths in the
huge room was not the only cause for her shivering. "In hopes that he would
be found too late, survive too damaged to serve as lord. Then Your Majesty
would invest me with the care of my home."
     "Who fired arrows at Mohontlen?"
     "I did. Time was flying. I could not wait much longer."
     "What did you have planned for him today?"
     Tears dragged their way down around her cheeks, but her voice came out
steady. "Cosh him over the head. Later tonight, in our Osedys
residence. Roll him onto a rug, drag it outside to a dark corner of Gentry
Row, unstring his purse and leave a few kypri lying around. All will think
my brother suffered from a thief or cutpurse angry at his poor take. Then
Your Majesty would require that I attend to my own home."
     Evendal grinned grimly; a mere stretching of the lips. "But you do not
seek your brother's death?" Mockery drenched his tone.
     "No, Majesty." Kabrosheh swallowed hard. "How can you do this?
You. You are terrible!"
     "Yes. Why did you employ Lord Jenelkir for two of your attempts?"
     "For the reason I gave him. I wanted to do something to Mohontlen. And
to keep it a secret I needed to employ willing helpers Mohontlen would not
have much chance of meeting."
     The King was not satisfied. "Why else did you employ Lord Jenelkir?"
     "Nnn." Kabrosheh struggled against the compulsion. "Have you no pity?"
     "Yes, We do: You yet breathe." The King leaned forward. "Speak your
heart. All of it, not just the acceptable parts."
     "Because he all but kisses my brother's ass in his worship of
Mohontlen. Had the pit or the bog succeeded, I could then honestly say I
did not harm my brother. But Estwalken would broadcast himself as the one
responsible for his friend's injury. And he and my sister would also have
to deal with me as an adult, as their equal. Finally."
     "You have been an adult for sixteen years."
     "I have no proof of that," the woman spat.
     "Explain yourself, and do not stint." M'Alismogh commanded, though
aware that this woman was not one to chatter under any compulsion.
     Kabrosheh lifted her right fist in the air and counted items off,
raising a finger for each one. "Mother related to everyone how beautiful a
baby Ro was at her Naming. How difficult it was to find the right
decorations, how the ceremony moved her to tears. The same for my brother's
Naming. Father spared no expense for his first son. I was Named as one of a
dozen children, in a rite neither of my parents found noteworthy or
memorable at all.
     "Dear Ro and Mohontlen yet wear their silver name-medallions. Mine was
never made. `It was a tough year, dearling. Maybe next year we can
commission one. We'll see.' Every year I heard the same cow-dung about it.
     "Ro gets a fine-blooded palfrey as her own. Mohontlen has a gorgeous
roan. I was allowed to train on the oldest beast we had, and allowed to
choose from whatever plow-horses were being retired!
     "Ro gets contracted to the boy she has panted after since she started
to bleed. Mohontlen is free to graze where he wills. I am consigned to what
our father arranged during a night's gambling."
     Evendal thought, `And I have to deal with the mess your family
created.' "Has your brother been derelict in his duties?"
     "No."
     "Then why do you act so desperately to inherit?"
     "I am to be wed soon. Will she, nill she."
     "Do you want this marriage?"
     Kabrosheh's face turned an unbecoming shade. "What is this? Someone
finally thinks to actually ask after my wants, and it is a stranger! I have
been chatelaine since before our father died. It is a task I have enjoyed,
do well at, and would continue in. From early on I protested against the
need to continue our father's marriage plan and the answer was always the
same. My...siblings echoed one another. `Why? Housekeepers are common, but
not everyone gets to run a canton. Because you don't want to is not reason
enough. Besides, you admitted how you like Lord Bloddoen.' The answer
behind their answers was that I was acting the slow and stubborn child. I
have thirty years, and they only ever see me as a child! When they see me
at all!"
     "Having asked you, We would desire that you answer Us."
     "No. I do not want to wed Lord Bloddoen."
     Jenelkir expostulated. "But Kabi, all we wanted was to see you kept in
the manner..."
     "We did not give you leave to address another," Evendal snapped. "And
We expect that this young woman is tired of being `kept'."
     "Yes, Majesty." Kabrosheh admitted. As she looked to say more, the
King waited on her.
     "If Brat...Mohontlen had died. If I had killed him, I would have
ridden here. For judgement. Straightly." And everything Evendal m'Alismogh
could employ told him that she believed what she was saying, that a great
deal of too well-disciplined emotion and will impelled the simple
declaration. Indeed she appeared surprised at her own profession.
     "How important is Tal'Ulistrien to you, young lady?"
     "It is my home."
     Evendal huffed. "The Palace has always been Our home. That does not
mean We don't wish Ourself far away from memories it holds for Us. But you
spoke of your hope that We would invest you with the care of your home. You
are indeed the older sister. Lady Jenelkir has disavowed all ties of
obligation and blood in wedding another lord. As you would have to were you
to wed a manourlord. Do you yourself want primacy?"
     "I. I do not know," was her immediate reaction, but one swiftly
substituted. "No. Mohontlen is better with the land and the renters. I am
best with matters of the hearth. And healing. It was only that...I saw no
other way to avoid this contract and..." The sob that escaped suggested
terror. Evendal was reminded of Aldul.
     The King leaned forward. "Take a full breath, Mistress Kabrosheh, then
try again."
     "I saw no other way to expunge that marriage. I could reason, shout,
scream, argue. No one saw an adult talking. And what kind of wife or Lady
would I be, wholly resenting a life I did not choose."
     Evendal slapped his hand against the armrest. "We just recalled one
further mitigator in your crimes. You were obliged by more than the
smothering ties of kinship, weren't you? We had forgotten that the walking
Abacus bound and loosed all gentry in matrimony. He sanctioned your
marriage, and allowed no cause to disallow it. Correct?"
     "Yes, Majesty." Kabrosheh looked around. "Do you imply that you do not
exercise that same authority?"
     The King waved a hand dismissively. "'Tis a power We exercise by
permitting the candidates to do so, rather than relying on Our own ignorant
impulses."
     Kabrosheh gathered herself up and spoke with steadying care. "Then
would Your Majesty, of your magnanimity, adjudicate specifically on the
legitimacy of the Lord Protector's Proclamation of Union between Bloddoen
and Tal'Ulistrien?"
     "You forget, Mistress, that you confront Us now over malicious acts
that render the wedding a dried husk of a fancy. Besides, We see no need to
peruse documents that are essentially irrelevant. Having uncovered the
depth of your feelings about this coerced union, We can only confirm you in
your authority to nullify it. There will be no joining of the Lord of
Bloddoen with the spinster sister of the Lord of Tal'Ulistrien."
     Before Kabrosheh could respond, the King continued with a seeming
non-sequitur. "Tell Us, Mistress. How did you mask the three pits?"
     It took the lady a moment to rally. "The summer had been nearly
rainless. I had Lord Jenelkir's people haul some type of browned palm
leaf. And at all three places were these dead trees with dried foliage
intact. It was no trouble to uproot them or tear the limbs from the trunk,
as though they had been lightning-struck."
     "Did not the weight of the palm fronds cause the brittle tree limbs to
break?"
     "I positioned the heavier...fronds? I placed the heavier fronds just
over the edges of the pits, bound them to older thriving trees, and covered
the twine."
     Again Evendal nodded. "And that is how you can say that you truly did
not, and do not, seek your brother's death."
     "I do not understand, Your Majesty," a wild-eyed, damp-cheeked
Mohontlen cried. "Did I not impart to you three attempts on my life by
her?"
     "Yes. Lord Tal'Ulistrien, who placed those stones in their original
arrangement?"
     "Our father did. With Kabrosheh."
     Evendal expected as much. "Your sister struggled against each attempt
she made to gain her liberty." Mohontlen flinched at the last
word. "Success meant freedom, autonomy, recognition. Success also meant
murdering you. Killing someone she loved and had guided out of
childhood. You have spent over twenty years of your life mucking about in
savanna and mire. Mistress Kabrosheh counted on that in her
stone-shifting. Likewise, had you not had your rope fortuitously in place,
she anticipated you grabbing one of the palm fronds she had set out for
you. And had she wanted her liberty more than your life, you would now be a
pincushion securing her arrows."
     "So is she the message writer?"
     The King could not resist a fast glance over the lordling's
shoulder. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, now that you know your attacker, do We truly
need to reveal who it was sought only to warn you?" The King's tone made it
clear what answer he expected from his vassal.
     Mohontlen did not feel particularly foolhardy. "No, Your Gracious
Majesty."
     "Lord Tal'Ulistrien, your sister worked to disable you, disenfranchise
you, placed you in mortal danger. Regardless of a miscreant's rank or
station, the royal judgement for that constellation of crimes has always
been death. Is that acceptable to you?"
     Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien contemplated Kabrosheh, hardly able
encompass the truth that she had tried to kill him. No matter what details
the King considered significant, she had manipulated to arrange his death.
     His long familiarity with the conditions of his land did not, alone,
insure his survival in the quagmire. Had the predominant vegetation not
been a tenacious and prolific creeper-vine, he would have died.
     Likewise with the pit-traps. Just before the forest detritus gave way,
he could and did wrap the rope around his hand, which is what kept him from
losing his grip at the sudden and surprise demand of gravity. He would not
have been able to do the same with a palm frond.
     "Yes." Mohontlen heard himself say.
     The King raised his voice. "And how do you see the matter, Lady
Jenelkir? Do you agree with your younger brother? Please come and speak
with us."
     The woman, standing behind her brother at the traditional distance of
the unacknowledged, approached on being questioned. Both Mohontlen and
Kabrosheh looked more bone and sinew than muscle and flesh; Rohirnesh,
however, shared none of those characteristics. With fine hips, noticeable
bosom, and hair and eyes an unusual brown, Rohirnesh sported no cosmetic
yet still drew the eye. She curtseyed as though she had nothing else to do
with her day. Then, when Rohirnesh stood and looked at Evendal, he
understood anew Kabrosheh's anger, envy and frustration.
     Before him waited the uncontestable mate to Estwalken Lord
Jenelkir. Indifferent to her looks, aware but indifferent to their effect,
with the gravitas of one used to responsibility and a look of quiet sadness
in the cast of her features. All this the King comprehended immediately and
knew, almost to the last word, what the noble woman would say when given
the chance. Evendal declined his head in permission.
     "I stood ready to respond to or forget what I could hear of your
counsels, Your Majesty. And I could hear all."
     "That was Our intent, gracious Lady. How do you think the Throne
should act?"
     "As Your Majesty sees fit. The Royal family in Osedys was ever known
for Justice."
     "That was true, Lady Jenelkir. But the interregnum has appeared to
shorten some memories."
     "Unlike my forgetful brother, I can think back and recall the too many
times Kabi was told or expected to sacrifice what made her happy. She never
embarrassed herself, never tried to match the excessive protests and dumb
shows our brother made when disappointed, though I knew she hurt. I myself
hope Your Majesty permits Mercy a voice of some weight."
     "We do not cast lark before dogs(283), Lady Jenelkir," Evendal
protested. "Why would We offer clemency who shows no remorse and vows no
repentance?"
     "I know I did wrong." Kabrosheh insisted. "I know that only Ir's, and
Your Majesty's, intercession have kept me from life and death as a
kinslayer."
     "And so? What does that mean for you? You had any number of other
choices, Mistress. You could have left the Thronelands. Or you could have
contracted with a guild. Then any conflict over your nuptials would have
been fought by your masters. You could have dealt directly with the Lord
Bloddoen, let him know without excuse that the bride was not willing. Do
you know why you chose as you did?"
     "No! I just know I felt strangled. Ignored like a tapestry on the
wall. Or treated like a Cinqet oaf."
     "Very passionate, Mistress," Evendal judged. "I ask again. Do you know
what pushed you and what pulled you?"
     "I suppose I... I don't know."
     "Yes you do. And if you value your life, you will admit that why to
Us. Here. A third time We ask. Why did you choose to lead your brother into
deadliest danger, put a lethal trap in his way, and play a mortal game of
chance with the wind, your marksmanship, and his life?"
     "Because he was our `silver sweetling'! My sister watched over us. I
watched over him. She got the pretty gifts and was more comely. But she
worked hard, just as I did. He not only could do nothing wrong, he could do
nothing! Now we are all adults and the only reason he won't heed me is
because of the betrothal agreement: gifts, monies, and trade-contracts. As
if the Lord Bloddoen is any better off than we are!"
     "Peace. We know to the last kypri how little Bloddoen has." The King
turned back to a wider-eyed Mohontlen. "This is an old wound you have
poured salt over, Lord Tal'Ulistrien. And a willing ear on your part would
have circumvented much trouble."
     "It has degenerated into family concerns, Your Majesty."
     "Between adult nobles, Lord Tal'Ulistrien, and so is Our concern. Do
you not see? You created this danger that you barely survived."
     "How could I..."
     "Don't whine, you silly bleater!" Rohirnesh snapped. "Your Majesty is
wise. I fear Kabi has always been the little girl I helped dress, in my
mind. I never saw her as a woman when she needed me to. And Mohontlen has
always seemed the wide-eyed raggle-taggle to be indulged. Now there is no
one to gainsay him."
     "You make it sound as though your brother were some spoiled brat. We
find instead a stubborn man. One whose sister has changed drastically
before his eyes this day. A comfortable illusion has vanished. Kabrosheh
has indeed gainsaid him in a way he cannot stomach, but he has not
responded as a thwarted prat might."
     "One point out of many that Kabi won't think to mention, Your Majesty:
This betrothal has been pending for eight years. And two years ago, Kabi
did flee."
     The King bowed his head and sighed. "Let Us anticipate you: Polgern
went after her and brought her back."
     "Yes," Rohirnesh blinked a few times in surprise. "Your Majesty. How
did you know?"
     "Because an untested and green Tal'Ulistrien, linked to Bloddoen and
to Jenelkir, would be a strong ally to have obligated to him."
     Rohirnesh lifted an eyebrow and nodded in a realisation. "Your
Majesty, have you ever engaged the Lord Bloddoen in extended discussion?"
     "No, Lady Jenelkir. Why?"
     "You will find, once you grant yourself that pleasure, that the
current Lord Bloddoen has...a very accommodating manner and the memory of a
cat."
     The King grinned at the lady's delicacy. "So he is something of a
weathervane. Any petition to him would gain Mistress Kabrosheh instant
concession that would last only so long as she was in the same room as
he. And in a period of public rapine, he would be no support."
     "As you say, Your Majesty."
     He looked back upon Kabrosheh. "You did not appeal to any guilds, did
you."
     "I did not dare, Your Majesty."
     The King nodded, beginning to comprehend this woman's mettle. He
appreciated that unless goaded, she was not one for excuses; or
manipulating others' emotions. "That was wise. Forgive Us for assuming your
actions precipitous. They were unlawful, they were arrogant, but they were
not rash. You gambled with another's life, a life you had no right to. We
shall have to think on the punishment most mete. It shall not come to pass
today."
     The King looked at the four before him and paused pointedly for a
breath. "Lord Tal'Ulistrien?"
     "Your Majesty?"
     "We trust that We have provided some succour, and done what We can to
safeguard you as Our pledge requires."
     Mohontlen but glanced at his attacker. "To both my relief and my
sorrow, you have, Your Majesty."
     Evendal straightened in his seat. "Mistress Kabrosheh, having served
as chatelaine for your family, have you tended the sick and infirm?"
     "Yes, Your Majesty. Our parents."
     "And did you do or give aught to them that sped them into Death's
embrace? Did you fail to act in their welfare, and so hurry the bell of
their death?"
     Kabrosheh hung her head, stung by the fitness of the query. "No, Your
Majesty."
     "Hear then, Our tentative judgement. Tentative only because of the
rough setting. What you did for your parents is what you shall do again as
one expression of remorse. The woman who fell into the pit of your making
shall have you as her servant and carer. And she had best survive, and
thrive, from your care. You are to tend her and, should she permit it, her
baby. If she has a spouse, you are to attend him. Their limits are that
they cannot abuse you, except verbally, cannot overburden you or demand you
labour more hours than they do, nor ask labour of you unrelated to the
duties of housekeeper, healer's apprentice, or chatelaine.
    "One of Our Guard shall reside at the Keep and daily take down report
of you, your condition, your victim's condition -- all relevant
circumstance -- and forward those to Us.
     "Should the report be favourable in the main, We shall consider
offering you the position of Chief Steward here. You will be free to accept
or refuse Our offer then.
     "Lord and Lady Jenelkir, you have Our leave at any time hence. Lord
Tal-Ulistrien, within the next two days be so kind as to inform the
unfortunate invalid what help is hers once she leaves the Temple. Mistress
Kabrosheh, you shall first visit this woman at the Temple-grounds and make
yourself and your culpability in her plight known to her. Then you may
return to Tal'Ulistrien and you alone shall see that all the mutilation
that you have made to the land is rectified, and those stakes burned if
they are not already. You and Lord Tal'Ulistrien have Our leave also."
     Lord and Lady Jenelkir, along with Kabrosheh, stepped back. Mohontlen
Lord Tal'Ulistrien did not move. "Your Majesty, I am not satisfied. My
sister gets upset and decides to kill me, and you give her almswork. My
dearest friend abets her, and you do nothing! What about me? She tried to
kill me! And you expect me to let her back under my roof?"
     "Yes, she did. Yes, We do. And yes, We penalise people who attempt
killing, and so We shall do with her. But giving death for her attempts is
not equitable. What do you anticipate We should do against Lord Jenelkir?"
     "Fine him. Challenge him as to who truly incited whom? My sister was
never so eager for me. Someone had to have poured such venom in her ear as
led her to this."
     The King raised a hand to halt Mohontlen's further protest. He sat
gazing steadily at the intense and sincere countenance. "Lord
Tal'Ulistrien, We have done what We will do! Lord Jenelkir will not give a
different answer merely because you wish one. We shall not fine him; in
this series of events he is an innocent. But We may fine you."
     "Me? I am the victim here, Your Majesty!"
     "'Were' the victim. Now you manufacture lies against your best ally
and attack him publicly because We have not satisfied your outrage against
your sister. Only the rabid and the unhinged, when frustrated, savage
everyone in sight.
     "Mohontlen," Evendal m'Alismogh began. The lesser lord frowned at the
familiarity. "Mohontlen, you heard what We dredged from your sister's
heart; anger and accusation she never expected would pass her lips, never
manifest. True? Did you ever conceive of a circumstance in which you would
deny your oldest companion? Yet here you have done so, after We have laid
out his blamelessness for you. What would We hear were We to question you
in the same manner?"
     "Your Majesty?" Mohontlen looked puzzled. The King granted him time to
think. That grace effected no change. "Your Majesty, I am the injured party
here," he insisted.
     "But not the only one, despite your delusion otherwise."
     "As the head of the family, and lord of the Tal'Ulistrien, can I not
arrange demesne and family matters as I will?"
     Evendal shook his head. "Were Kabrosheh yet a child, yes. She is
not. Though listed as a resident of your land, your authority is limited
with regard to her." Mohontlen scowled. "So, you do not like being told you
cannot do as you will?"
     "No. Your Majesty."
     "No more did Kabrosheh." Evendal saw how Mohontlen did not like the
comparison. "We cannot concern Ourself overmuch whether you manage a
rapprochement with your sister. But as he is your neighbor, We do intercede
for Lord Jenelkir."
     Lord Tal'Ulistrien frowned. "I am unmoved by protestations of his
ignorance toward Kabrosheh's motives. Her campaign for spinsterhood had
been so single-minded, how could he not have been suspicious of her
volte-faci?"
     "Shall We talk then about your own motives, Lord Tal'Ulistrien? Or
your own campaign?"
     Mohontlen's eyes bulged once more. "Your Majesty?"
     "Dare We ask you what seeded your ambition, your eagerness for her
marriage? Or ask of your wages for its accomplishment?"
     "Kabrosheh's future and prosperity!"
     Evendal grinned. "We have not asked you as yet. You have seen what
passes when We do raise questions. The truth will out. Do you want your own
actions, and their motives, unearthed?" The King tilted his head in
consideration. "Who would be the injured party then?"
     Mohontlen Lord Tal'Ulistrien's skin looked translucent.
     "We have asked you questions enough already that you have not
answered, lord. Do you want your motives and ambitions unveiled to your
sisters?"
     "No. I don't know. Have I deceived myself, Your Majesty?"
     Evendal nodded. "Yes and no."
     "That is no answer, my lord."
     "Your decision to honour your father's arrangement served more than
one want. Your desire to see your sister prosper, and yourself prosper, was
genuine. So was your need to mimic your father, to be seen making such
painful decisions as a manourlord makes. The contract was indeed a painful
decision -- but not painful for you. A child's spite, your spite, flavoured
all of it. Strongest was the desire to be undisputed, unchallenged, and
free of both sisters' influence. You were ridding yourself of your last
nursemaid. And tying your people to the nearest large source of untainted
lake-water. Taken altogether you were buying your manhood and a measure of
prosperity with your sister. Like your sister you gambled with another's
life, a life you had no right to."
     "Shall We disclose what motivates your sudden attempt at libel? `Tis
pathetic, lord. Unworthy."
     The Lord Tal'Ulistrien opened his mouth to declaim his virtue, then,
seeing nothing of fury or glee in the King's countenance, finally suspected
that the King was not attacking him. The questions were genuine and the
King would persist until the Lord Tal'Ulistrien eschewed any fury at the
Lord Jenelkir. Mohontlen knew his rage as misdirected, petty, but still
felt betrayed. "I pressed for the union for the good of those in my care."
     "For the good of all but one in your care. One who had spent the
coinage of her youth caring for you. Do not tar and scar one who loves you
and would have calmly taken the arrows you were helpless to halt."
     "Your. Your Majesty is wise. And patient. I would that I could banish
what I have already said in anger against my friend."
     "He waits behind you to plead for your kind regard." The King raised
his hand. "Make no mistake: Your sister has lessons, the learning of which
shall serve as punishments satisfactory to the hardest heart. We do not
assume, removed from the unique goads of the bonds of family, that
Kabrosheh will suddenly choose emotional abnegation over against hurting
another. But We know, better than you, what she by her nature does not
think to reveal. Had she accomplished her desire, she would not have let
herself live long."
     As Evendal had expected, even the suggestion of indirect
self-destruction was enough to make Mohontlen shy from his previous harping
for retribution. "Again, I do not understand. I fear you think me..."
     The King interrupted. "We think you Our good vassal, and no less
honourable a man than any other here. No man, or woman, ever treats family
justly. At least not in Our admittedly poisoned experience.
     "Were the marriage her invention, then she would be obliged to pay you
back for gifts sent to Bloddoen. Yes, she owes for her attacks upon you,
for destroying your serenity. But as you did lay the whole matter out for
Us to plumb, We shall determine and demand whatever price she is to pay.
Now go and think on the fact that your life is safer than it was when you
walked in here."

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

(278) The Latin noun 'limes' had a number of different meanings: a path or
balk delimiting fields, a boundary line or marker, any road or path, any
channel, such as a stream channel, or any distinction or difference. Hence
it was utilized by Latin writers to denote marked or fortified
frontiers. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limes.

(279) Rod: Saxon 'gyrd' measuring stick, might have been from 20 "natural
feet". Retained its length but redefined as 16-1/2 Roman feet after 1066A.D.

(280) ~Traditional signal-makers in Hramal hunting.

(281) ~M'Alismogh, not knowing how many involved themselves, alternates
between 2nd person singular and plural.

(282) ~ Originally Kohukt-mor - `Dog-height': roughly corresponds with
August, called `Dog-Height' for much the same reason we speak of `the
dog-days'.

(283) Similar to casting pearls before swine. Lark is an old delicacy, and
dogs would eat it in indifference.