Date: Sat, 19 Apr 2003 20:04:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SongSpell-9

                       9	Nature's Livery

                       Hamlet: So oft it chances in particular men
                       That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
                       As in their birth, wherein they are not guilty,
                       (Since nature cannot choose his origin)
                       By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
                       Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
                       Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens
                       The form of plausive manners, that (these men,
                       Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
                       Being nature's livery, or fortune's star)
                       Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace,
                       As infinite as man may undergo,
                       Shall in the general censure take corruption
                       From that particular fault.

                       Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 4, Line 32


     Kri-estaul, huddled fearfully in Evendal's arms, got hugged and kissed
by everyone. Drussilikh vowed to have a declaration of adoption or
adrogation ready for the royal seal before noontide. And to put the
announcement up, beside the Scriveners note of acceptance of the Royal
Charter, on every Crier's post in the city. Sygkorrin suggested that Aldul
come back later to examine Kri, at a less festive and hectic moment.
     As Evendal sat holding Kri-estaul, he thought again about the
obstacles this child...his child faced, just in the commonplaces of every
day. However dreadful the reason, this marvel weighed next-to-nothing; a
condition Evendal vowed to change. Kri-estaul would need a tutor, one with
a gentler manner than Evendal's own had had. Safe foods and loose but warm
clothing. Loving attention and honest encouragement. The situation,
politically, had to change for Evendal to be able to provide any of these
necessities on a consistent basis. It was changing, and for the better, but
not quickly enough to best serve Kri-estaul's needs.
     With Kri-estaul bundled warmly, Evendal visited the Woodwose Guild,
and spoke with an elderly gentlewoman, detailing what he wanted for all the
pissoirs in the Palace. Faced with a casualty of the Inter-regnum in need,
Pohul-halik dared not offer the transparent excuses she had previously
written the Prince.  So what began as a commission for the jakes in the
Palace, segued into a Woodwose commitment to attend Council. Pohul-halik
proved so affected by Kri's shy manner, haunted reactions, and affectionate
nature, she promised a makeshift chair would be sent to the royal precincts
that day, sanded smooth and safe.  Pohul-halik had Kri-estaul sit in a
number of chairs of differing upholstering, for a wheeled chair to be made
in the future.  While the boy seriously tested one overstuffed seat,
Pohul-halik took Evendal aside.
     "You are a cagey young man, and no doubt about it." She chided. "But I
could still have refused you with little effort."
     "Why didn't you, then?"
     The lady snorted. "Your eyes intimidate, and almost scream of a power
best not challenged. As you expected. They, alone, will get you through any
door. But any anxiety I felt passed when the first words out of your mouth
were a petition for... that urchin. That child is even sharper than
you. And obviously adores you. Poor love, with all he's been through. It's
also clear he has you where he wants you. I'll trust you with my people and
myself, because he wants to trust you. Silly as that sounds." Pohul-halik
paused, and she was not short of breath.
     "And I am trusting you." The last words were a reminder and a warning.
     "Makes perfect sense to me." Evendal replied, grinning wildly. "He's
amazing, isn't he?"
     "A wonder," she agreed, smiling knowingly back.
     "My sophomoric attempts at coercion aside, thank you for indulging
me."
     "Believe me, it is my pleasure. I wish I could put his smile in a box
for my bad days. Are you planning on taking him everywhere you go?"
     "He won't leave my side. He objects to being held by anyone else. He
may not get much rest around me, but his distress at my absence would undo
any benefit such rest might provide. And to tell the truth, I don't want
him away from my side. He is my heir."
     Pohul-halik clutched her cane and laughed, loud and long. "Oh, gods! I
like you, Your Majesty. And I like very few. Between you and your son, you
make me feel almost young."
     Kri-estaul wanted to know what was so funny.
     "Lady Pohul-halik was just..."
     "I can answer for myself, young man." She snapped. "Lord Evendal just
told me congratulations are in order. I am delighted that he was wise
enough to adopt you for his son."
     "Oh?" Kri looked uncertain, doubtful of the explanation.
     "Yes. I think you'll do him a world of good."
     Kri-estaul contemplated his lap in his confusion but smiled, ignoring
the pain of it.
     "Goodness! You are going to dazzle people if you keep doing that."
     Pohul-halik's comment was met with shocked silence, then Kri ducked
his head. Evendal was beside him in a breath. He lifted the boy's head
up. "Remember what I said, little man. You are beautiful, and every scar is
a mark of honour."
     The lady's voice came out weak, plaintive. "Forgive me, child. At my
age I see things differently. All I saw was you. Your scars don't hide the
fact that you are a beautiful child."
     Kri-estaul sniffed, but could not hide with Evendal holding his
chin. "I don't understand. I know what I look like. I don't understand."
     Pohul-halik nodded. "Then trust me, trust us both, that when we say
you are beautiful, we are not lying and we are not ignoring your
scars. Listen to me, Kri-estaul, and believe this if you don't believe
anything else: Anyone who doesn't see more than your scars, is someone not
worth your time, anger or care."
     When they departed the Woodwise, Kri-estaul slept on Evendal's
shoulder. The King took advantage of the child's exhaustion to walk a
circuit around the Palace. He walked with a careful gait from the Court and
Records buildings past the Laundering and Storage houses, the Guard
quarters and Ward, and around the residences to the second kitchen. Little
had changed, near as Evendal could recall. Then Evendal entered the
deserted secondary kitchen and proceeded through every section inside the
Palace complex. When he got to Records, the King noted how the floor stones
had come to resemble cobbles, a hazard.  As the King scuffed a boot against
a protruding stone Kri awoke. "What are we going to do now?"
     "High Priestess Sygkorrin reminded me of a duty I neglected. So we are
going to visit some of the people who, like you, were imprisoned in the
under-grounds."
     "Oh. Okay."
     They made their way back again to the apartments.
     "Who's there?"
     "I am called Kri-estaul, I am here with my papa."
     "How are you called, young man?"
     "Estalevrh."
     Kri-estaul looked uncertainly at Evendal, then hid his face in the
King's shoulder. So Evendal enquired."How is it with you at the moment,
Estalevrh?"
     "Its great to feel a breeze again. I was afraid I was destined to die
in the under-grounds."
     "Do you have family in the City?"
     "I did. But..." he swallowed. "I don't know if they still live, or if
they fled the City, or died."
     "Have you asked anyone?"
     "As far as I know, the only visitors I have had have been to fill my
water and empty the chamberpot. And the Guard, of course."
     "The Guard would be the ones to ask."
     Estalevrh laughed. "Not if I want to continue breathing."
     "You do them an injustice. With the Inter-regnum past, they have
resumed their traditional purposes."
     Estalevrh cocked his head. "Who are you?"
     "We are Evendal ald'Menam."
     "He's... He's dead."
     "If We were, you would not be here. Who blinded you?"
     "Pol... the Lord Protector. When I criticized his methods of divide
and conquer, he decided I saw too much."
     Kri-estaul made a strangled noise, and leaned back against Evendal.
     "Oh, I am getting better,... Kri-estaul? My weight will come back, and
one of the people with the water said they had a blindfold I can use until
the wounds heal. Don't worry about me. I... I just never thought I would
grow up to beg on the street, or make my home in the Cinqet."
     A request in his eyes, Kri looked up at Evendal, who smiled and
mouthed 'We'll see.'
     "Wait on the Lady Sygkorrin's assessment of your condition, good
Estalevrh, and bend the ear of a Guard. If you do not find a willing ear,
let the Lady Sygkorrin know. She will inform Us."
     "You mean that, don't you?"
     Kri-estaul blurted out a reply. "Of course. He came looking for me in
the under-grounds and even though I can't walk and I'm scarred, he's my new
papa."
     Estalevrh laughed. "What?"
     "It is true, Estalevrh. Kri-estaul was kind enough to consent to be my
son. The Beast hamstrung him, more than once, and he had been down there
for two years, alone."
     "You're a tough kid, and a lucky one."
     "So are you." Again, Kri-estaul stopped suddenly, as if just realizing
he had spoken, and burrowed into Evendal's shoulder.
     "What do you mean? I am blind."
     "So, Kri-estaul can't walk. And you're both still breathing."
     "Is there anyway we can help more?" Evendal asked.
     "Come back?"
     "As we can. I will not vow."
     They passed to the bed on the other side of the apartment. A young
woman sat up in the bed, watching them warily. Raised vertical ridges of
scar tissue covered her face from nose to jawline.
     "Greetings and health." Kri-estaul wished. "I am called Kri."
     "Greetings and health." She whispered. "I heard you from over here. I
am called Soandrh."
     "How is it with you, good lady?"
     "Aside from the remains of my face, and the mutilation of my clitoris
and breasts?  My now dead husband forced to watch me get plowed by the
Beast and half of the Guard? I am glowing with good health and happiness."
Bitterness dripped from her singsong tones.
     Kri-estaul, pale face paler, whispered. "Plowed?"
     The woman inhaled to reply, but the Prince spoke first. "They forced
their hardened penises into her, against her will."
     The boy began to tremble once again, his hands clutched at Evendal's
arm. His breath started to come fast and shallow.
     "Kri. Kri, rest easy. She is safe now. None will harm her again."
Evendal turned to Soandrh, sadness toward her and fury at her
mingled. "This, however late, I pledge to you, lady."
     "Like... Like with... with me?" Kri-estaul stammered.
     "Kri?"
     The child did not hear Evendal. "The Terrible... Abduram. He forced
his pee-stick into you, too?"
     "Yes," The anger etched in Soandrh's scars vanished, replaced by
surprise, then pain. "Oh, no! That vomit-sucking, worm-laying,
diamond-hearted, bastard!"
     Kri-estaul began to cry, not the soft body-trembling sobs Evendal had
witnessed before, but loud, gut-wrenched, throat-burning wails. Evendal's
efforts to draw Kri's attention, to soothe, failed repeatedly. The Prince
was reduced to gripping the shaking, breath-gulping boy and rocking him,
knowing like a weight in his heart that nothing he did or could do would
help. Heartbroken for his son's ordeal, frightened at the child's lack of
response, Evendal sank down beside Soandrh, oblivious of anyone else but
the breathing wound in his arms.
     "Kri, please... You're safe, love. You're safe. Talk to me. Beloved,
please... Talk to me."
     "Prig! Let him cry." Soandrh spat, tears swarming down the ridges of
her own face.
     "You don't understand." Evendal murmured. "Kri could cry the moon
down, as long as he knows someone is there for him. But this
hyperventilating... vomiting or diarrhea could throw what fragile health he
has out the window. Oh, Kri, please."
     "Here, give him over." Soandrh ordered. Evendal looked up at the
woman, doubting her sanity.
     Soandrh sat with every ridge of her face glistening, arms
outstretched, a mix of emotions in her eyes. Slowly, uncertainly, Evendal
transferred his precious burden. That Kri-estaul made no protest worried
the Prince further. Soandrh held the wobbling, shuddering child for a
moment, then laid him - stomach down - beside her.
     "Wet the washcloth and hand it to me, please?" Evendal looked about,
found the item, and obeyed.
     "Hand me the metal box beside the basin, please?" Evendal complied.
Soandrh opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. Without fanfare,
Soandrh took the washcloth, lifted the child's gown, and proceeded to
cautiously, expertly, clean the child's buttocks.
     "N... No!" Kri wailed, trying to turn over.
     "Shhh... Easy, child. Relax, I know. Believe me, I know." Soandrh
hushed. Purposefully or not, Soandrh began to hum, a low sonorous, soothing
vibration. Kri-estaul began to shake more forcefully, but stopped trying to
escape.
     And quickly enough, Evendal also knew. Soandrh's efforts revealed an
ugly draining wound on the right cheek near the anal opening. "Oh, Kri. My
boy!" With great care and a steady hand, the woman cleared away the
morning's mucus and blood.
     Kri, who had quieted under Soandrh's humming and gentle hands,
whispered into the bedding. "Am I? Am I still your boy? Even though
I'm... I'm so bad?"
     Evendal was grateful the child lay on his stomach, so he could not see
the King's face. With unsteady fingers, he patted down the boy's bristle of
straw-like hair. "I love you, Kri. More than my own life. More than my
kingdom. You are my own good, sweet boy. You are not bad!"
     Soandrh looked up when Kri spoke, to see this man's response, and saw
two suns blazing in an anguished face. "Oh, my Lord! You are Lord Evendal."
Evendal made no response, all his attention on the exhausted child.  As
Kri-estaul's eyes closed, Evendal turned his gaze on a poorly prepared
Soandrh.
     "What..." his voice failed him. "What caused this?"
     "My lord," Soandrh whispered. "The Beast, or some lackey, tore the
child's intestine buggering him. When that happens, sometimes it heals;
sometimes the tear creates a channel through muscle to the outside. Dirt or
detritus infect it. You were wiser than you knew to insist on calming
him. If he gave himself the flux... unstopped, it could kill him."
     "You have seen this before?"
     "Yes. Among some of those wounded at Mausna, we received a few who had
been captured by the Islanders, but had managed to escape later. Buggering
your enemies is a common way of degrading them."
     "We?"
     "Yes," Soandrh replied impassively. "My husband and I had been
healers. The Beast decided my 'beauty' was too great a tease. He wanted
me. I refused to cuckold my husband. The Beast does not accept refusal."
     "Nothing I say or do can help. I am grieved for the devastation you
have endured, lady. If you find anything which gives you any degree of
consolation, let me know and it is your's."
     "Anything?" Soandrh glanced down at the child sleeping.
     "No. He is not a bargaining counter. He is my son."
     "You jest." Soandrh's tone dripped corrosive. "A damaged guild-brat
with a spine of water?"
     Stung, Evendal spit out. "A strong and brave boy who endured two
years, hamstrung, in the under-grounds."
     "I don't believe it! Am I face to face with a ruler who hasn't left
his heart in the midden? What oyster were you pried out of?" Seeing the
pain dominating Evendal's features, Soandrh desisted.
     "Forgive me, lord. I am an angry, bitter widow. I have every right to
be! My one dream of consolation in the under-grounds was the fancy of
burying a dagger in what the Beast had for a heart."
     "I did it instead. In fact, he ran at me and skewered himself on my
blade."
     "In truth?" Soandrh chuckled at the image and, for a moment, wonder
replaced the resignation in her eyes. "Lord. This sore need not plague your
son. However..."
     "However?"
     "What needs to be done is hard, painful, and will overtax the boy's
patience. Is Sygkorrin still in primacy?"
     "Yes."
     "She knows what needs to be done. I would trust her over anyone
else. But after she is done, the child will need you right there, every
moment. For an extended recovery."
     "He will have me beside him every moment." Evendal vowed quietly.
     Soandrh shook her head. "Why does he mean so much to you?"
     Evendal shrugged, imitating Aldul. "Because."
     A shadow startled Evendal, and he turned to see the bemused face of
High Priestess Sygkorrin. "Greetings and health, Soandrh. Greetings and
health, Your Majesty." Aldul, behind the Priestess, nodded in turn.
     "Aldul. Good to see you. Lady Sygkorrin... Would you be so kind as to
examine Kri-estaul? Now?"
     The Priestess raised an eyebrow, taking in the dampened features on
both faces, and the discarded cloth and basin. "Why do I think what I find
will be no surprise? Lord Evendal, if you would move aside for a moment?"
     Evendal complied, and watched as Sygkorrin took out what looked like a
large coin. First, barehanded, she ran her fingers lightly over Kri's
supine body. Starting at the crown she tapped twice on the back of the
head, once on the neck, once near the heart and three times in a line below
the ribs. Sygkorrin hesitated with the last tap she made, over the
coccyx. Next she took a clean cloth and dampened a corner of it. She rubbed
the coin across the fingertips of both hands, dropped it, and spread the
boy's buttocks. Looking up at Soandrh, she nodded, and the widow placed one
hand on the child's nape and an arm securely across the legs. Once Soandrh
was in place, Sygkorrin probed around the sore.
     Kri-estaul awoke and tried to thrash, thwarted by Soandrh. Sygkorrin
finished quickly, using the cloth to wipe the mucus that had emerged from
her pressuring. Soandrh removed her arm and hand, and Kri-estaul flipped
over, legs atangle.
     "My apologies for surprising you, Kri-estaul. But I needed to examine
you. And that sore."
     Kri-estaul looked up, pain and fear bunching up his face. When
Sygkorrin extended her hands, Kri batted them away. "Don't touch
me. Please."
     "Kri-estaul," Soandrh called. The boy looked up at the
widow. "Sygkorrin understands. Take her hand, please."
     Timidly, face full of rebellion, Kri-estaul reached out to touch the
Priestess's outstretched hand. When Sygkorrin made no other move, Kri
grasped her hand.
     "Hmmm. Some toxicity. He's not only exhausted, he's depleted. The
fissure stems from the small bowel. Other than that, nothing we weren't
aware of."
     "Can you rid him of it?" Evendal asked, softly.
     "Yes. But not right away. First he needs to get more rested, flesh-up
some. Get rid of the tremors. And there is something you are going to have
to do, Lord Evendal, which Kri-estaul is not going to like one bit."
     "What is that?"
     "Every time he empties his bowels, you clean his bum. Not so much with
a cloth, but rather with water only whenever possible. The less irritated
that area is, the better all around."
     Kri-estaul began to cry again, softly. Evendal returned to smoothing
the boy's hair.
     When the child quieted, Soandrh looked at the Priestess,
concerned. "Are you planning a slice-up?"
     The Priestess shook her head. "I am hoping that that cutting won't be
needed. The bodies of children can be made to forget what was done to them
a lot more readily than their hearts can." Without warning, Sygkorrin sat
down on the floor in front of a bewildered Kri-estaul. "The legs will have
to be amputated, but not right now."
     Evendal felt his stomach clench in dread.
     The Priestess addressed Kri-estaul. "I'm afraid you are not going to
like me very much."
     "Why is that?"
     "Because I want you to eat stuff you may not like. Soft, mushy stuff,
and a lot of it. And don't guess whether something is okay to eat. If I
haven't listed it, you don't eat it. Understand?"
     Kri nodded, ruffling the bed linen.
     "It hurts when you clean your backside, doesn't it?"
     Kri nodded again. "That's because I am bad. A bunch of times, when I
was bad, Lord Abduram stuck his pee-stick up there.  It hurt so much I went
to sleep. Since he stopped, it doesn't hurt as much." He took a harsh
breath.
     "Please don't put me down there again, I'll try to be good. Please."
The plea came out in a murmur.
     "What can I do?" Evendal asked. "I've told him he's not bad."
     "Keep telling him." Soandrh replied.
     "And showing him." Sygkorrin added. "You have been doing well, it's
just going to take quite a while before he understands that you mean it."
Soandrh nodded.
     Evendal whispered to the supine form. "Kri-estaul, do you know what
you are?"
     "W... What?"
     "You are my son. I could have chosen any child in the City, and with
an exchange of money, they would have given me dozens of children to
adopt."
     "You could?"
     "Yes. And who did I choose?"
     "M... Me."
     "Yes. Do you see a dozen children flocking around me?"
     "No. But... "
     "Shhh. And you won't. Because no matter what Lord Abduram said, no
matter what he did to you, I choose you. Every bell of every day. Do you
hear me?"
     "You... you still want me?"
     "Yes!" He thought a moment, and added the assurance. "As my son."
     With a herculean effort, Evendal dredged up a smile. "Now, what's my
name?"
     "Evendal."
     "No. What's my name?"
     Kri-estaul thought. "My friend?"
     "That's my nickname. What's my name?"
     "I don't know."
     "Yes, you do. Its Papa."
     "I think I'm going to be ill." Soandrh said, but she was crying still.
     "Do not ever doubt that, Kri. Ever. And I count myself the luckiest
King who could ever have been." The eyes, which had dimmed slightly, now
flared. "There is no part of you, no thought or deed, which is evil. Not
your hand, not your mouth or eyes, not your bum. Do you hear me?"
     "Yes."
     "Yes, what?"
     "Yes... Papa."
     "Do you believe me, Kri?"
     "I... I get scared. I don't know what to do."
     "Just hold on to me. If I don't know, I can pretend real good."
     "Okay. I like doing that." Kri hesitated again, then whispered so low,
Evendal barely heard. "Papa."
     The Prince picked up his child and nestled him against his
chest. "Rest now, my son. I love you. Everything will be fine."
     As Kri-estaul wiggled about, trying to get comfortable, Soandrh
objected. "My lord, you have meetings, judgments, people to finesse, a
thousand decisions to make. Your son would take all your time, surely you
can appoint an au pair..."
     "No." Evendal glared at the widow. "Those I meet must simply accept
that I am the father of more than just Osedys."

     Pohul-halik's first chair arrived that afternoon. And by the following
day, the Palace buzzed with woodworkers targeting every nook and cranny of
the Palace, mapping the locations of the pissoirs. The whole effort became
the source of courtier humour for quite some time. Evendal, far from
indifferent, passed along some of the jests, once he realised Kri did not
take them personally.
     "So what if they say 'Every toilet is now a throne, every shitter now
a King'? That's just stupid stuff."
     "The one I like says I got lost for nine years because I went looking
for a perfumed latrine."
     Kri-estaul's constant companioning of Evendal survived every entreaty
to propriety, common sense, or custom.  Bruddbana pointed out the possible
emotional impact on the boy should meetings and councils turn
abusive. Evendal countered that the child's presence could be a mitigating
factor at such highly charged confrontations.
     The whole conversation, spoken with Kri-estaul seated in Evendal's
lap, had Bruddbana sweating.
     "My lord. It would be so easy for Emial of Kernost to hurt a child
like Kri-estaul. He eats fire and breathes acid at these Councils. All he
would have to do is say that Kri's condition is the way you want Osedys -
crippled and... dependant on Royal largesse."
     "You mean a beggar." Evendal corrected, grinning.
     "And that you adopted him because of your own inability..."
     "You mean he would get as personal as he can. Interesting man. That
you can tell me these specifics means that he already is saying such. Who
else?"
     "He is the worst," Bruddbana reported. "Most of the others had kin or
vassals returned from the under-grounds. So both gratitude, and an
awareness of how special Kri-estaul is, would civilize their tempers. But
Emial is the most forceful and voluble speaker during councils. Opposition
to any proposal or edict you make will be presented by Emial."
     Evendal pondered a moment. "Come this Council, We must relinquish the
Wise Counselor to the Cinqet. He is theirs, so it shall be done. What do
you want to wager, Emial is testing his poison as a preliminary to that
event?"
     Bruddbana grew thoughtful. "It is possible. He and Jek-kandere have
always had dust on their noses from kissing the traitor's heels. So Falrija
insisted."
     When Evendal did not respond immediately, Bruddbana looked at
Kri-estaul who looked right back at him. Taking advantage of the King's
distraction, Kri stuck his tongue out at the Guard and crossed his
eyes. Bruddbana smiled, then growled menacingly.
     "That's enough, you little imp."
     "Yes, Papa." Kri said sweetly, sticking his tongue out a second time.
     "Bruddbana, how far away is Kernost?"
     "Two bell's walk east from the City proper."
     "And those thirty or so Guard that did not respond to the summons to
clean out the under-ground, what do you dare to wager most hail from
Kernost?"
     "I would not dare at all, sire. But I can confirm it quickly
enough. And will."
     "There are a few other things We want before the meeting. Have the
Guard cover the doorway to the Chamber, as traditional. But tomorrow, We
want things done a bit differently, a bit of insurance, if you will. We
intend to interview the Most Wise Counselor prior to relinquishing
responsibility for his person. But in private first, today, and a second
time in the meeting. Do you have some Guard who are good runners?"
     "Yes, my lord. Four I can think of."
     "Kernost will be here early, might even be here now. Chatting up his
enemies and friends. If those absent Guard indeed have ties with Kernost, I
want to meet with them today, also. We will want one hundred of the Guard
to start out, as quickly as they can be assembled, for Kernost's
demesne. If thirty are from Kernost, they can do the actual searching, the
others held ready in case they need help. Its not a very large fief, so We
expect that the manourhouse and immediate grounds will be all your men need
to search. No one is to be hurt, roughed up, or threatened."
     "I keep that many in readiness. More, actually."
     "What?" Evendal looked wide-eyed at his Guardsman.
     "In preparation for this Council, in case of trouble in the Chamber,
or surprise attacks to secure P... the traitor."
     "Sharp man!" Evendal looked down at his son. "Kri, listen. Even I am a
bit afraid for you. You could take a nap in our room, and I'd be finished
before you would know I'm gone."
     The child looked up briefly, then back down into his lap.
     "Kri, please. Talk to me. Say the first thing that comes into your
head. It is safe, I promise you."
     "I'd know." Came the softest of whispers. Kri-estaul tensed, hunching
his back.
     Evendal kissed Kri on the back of the head. "So would I. Okay. But if
I hand you to someone, you go with them. Hear me?"
     Kri-estaul nodded.
     "Now brace up, we have a bit of a walk ahead. Do you need to use the
jakes?"
     Kri nodded again. Humming softly, Evendal took Kri to the nearest
jakes, sat him down, then left to stand outside the door. Despite the
impersonal necessities Sygkorrin delineated, when Kri had to urinate, he
timourously had asked for privacy. It was a gesture, a sign of
consideration, which Evendal felt only too happy to give.
     "I'm done." Kri called. Evendal re-entered, and Kri pulled up his
undergarments at the same time the King lifted him by gripping him under
his arms.
     The King, the Prince, a scribe and two Guard proceeded north into
Khanderif.

     "I fear I cannot offer you refreshments, the kitchen-staff here is
appalling." Polgern drawled. "I know what you are styling yourself. The
hapless Prince Evendal the Forgettable. But your... companion is new to
me."
     "Prince Kri-estaul, meet the man who had my father murdered, Master
Polgern son of Morruth."
     "How charming, a bastard princeling? The Evendal I knew did nothing
without Mother's approval. And she was saving the boy for herself. If
you're Evendal, you astonish me!"
     "Mother is retired to Arkedda. Her health required a change of
scene. More honestly, my health required it."
     "Hmmm. And you have a backbone, too. Why do you bother me today?"
     "You know tomorrow's Council will prove pivotal."
     "Oh, yes. When you feed me to the canaille."
     "How you wish to view it is your concern. Your actions have left me
with a lot of questions, Polgern." Kri wiggled a bit, and used his arms to
look over Evendal's shoulder.
     "Well, of course. I am a man of many parts. A mystery."
     "No," Evendal replied coldly. "Not a mystery. An unimaginative idiot!"
     "How dare you! The Evendal I recall would hardly stoop to childish
insults."
     "I don't insult, I assess: You seriously thought that you could
intimidate or control any man who did an assassination for you? You
seriously thought that the populus, however sheeplike you deemed them,
would simply roll over and let you suck the life out of them? Shenrowyn,
Sygkorrin, Alekrond, the late Quill-master, all testify to the fact that
you are an idiot. As does the fact that between you and the Beast, only one
third of the Guard had to be retired. Despite nine years of effort on your
part. And your empty-headed fantasy of creating an empire!" Polgern's head
shot up in astonishment.
     "You tax an already wounded and grieving city beyond its breaking
point, create an atmosphere where only betrayal and graft endure, abusing
citizens left and right. Plotting and planning in case of reprisals from
the other provinces, for when you send out other incipient Abdurams. You
were creating an empire that would have been a wasteland even the Kul could
not compete with! You. Are. An. Idiot!"
     Polgern stood frozen for a long, serene moment.
     "And your reason for visiting me is to enlighten me before I die?"
     "No, I want to understand. How you accomplished your coup."
     "You mean who I conspired with."
     "Yes, Master Polgern. You can do this with or without your dignity
intact."  Kri-estaul giggled, still supporting himself with his arms.
     "Your Majesty," Polgern replied, all indulgent smiles. "I am about to
die. I have no intention of confessing my crimes, my triumphs or my
collaborators. And my dignity cannot be taken from me, no matter what
tortures you adapt."
     Evendal returned the smile. "Master Polgern. As a t'bo, you are
without the rights of the citizens you destroyed. But torture is hardly
necessary."
     	Speak, you baseborn traitor,
	Let no silence remain
	What you've hoarded unveil,
	Who you worked with make plain.
     With the same drawling tone, Polgern enunciated. "Pylan-drest, the
Militia Comptroller, she supplied the arms We have been
stockpiling. Gres-lauri placed Abduram beside your father in battle. Horest
the Stone-smith, and his apprentice, planned the city defenses. Mar-Elionir
of Kandere and Emial of Kernost, infiltration strategies, barracks and
expediters. Fieronith the Metal-smith made Our under-ground toys."
     Polgern's abuse of the royal plurality was not lost on Evendal. "By
expediters, you mean assassins."
     "If you wish to be crude about it, yes."
     "Thank you, Master Polgern. It has been a very enlightening visit."
     Polgern squinted, blinked rapidly, and gasped. "What have you done?!"
     "What I must. Prepare yourself for Council, Master Polgern."
     When Evendal and Kri-estaul had left the Tower, Kri looked up at his
father. "Papa,"
     Evendal stopped walking at the thoughtful tone. "Yes, beloved."
     "That was a nasty old man."
     "Yes."
     "But who was the man standing beside you? You never even said a word
to him."
     Evendal's heart beat faster, but he maintained an outward calm. "If I
were to make a guess, Kri, I would reckon you saw Surnmeddil, a former
ruler of this land. He was an ancestor of mine."
     Kri-estaul smiled. "He was funny. We made faces at each other. It was
a lot more fun than what you were doing."
     "Yes, I dare say it was. I am afraid I didn't see him."
     "But he was right behind us. You walked past him when we left that
room."
     "Yes, but I didn't see him. That tower is special, Kri. Its his home,
I think. And if he doesn't want a person to see him, they won't."
     "Oh. Okay. How come I saw him?"
     "Because he liked you, of course. Who wouldn't?"
     Kri-estaul hid his face in Evendal's shoulder. They resumed walking.
     "So, is that other man going to die tomorrow?"
     "No. I don't think so, but he will soon. Tomorrow I hand him over to
his executioners."
     "Good." Kri-estaul decided, and said nothing more for the length of
their walk. Evendal had not known how ruthless children could be.
      Back at the Palace, Bruddbana awaited. "My lord. You should hire out
as a soothsayer."
     "Kernost. Are they gathered together?"
     "Waiting in the next room for orders. I told them there has been a
change. They assumed I meant the duty roster."
     "Good work. Kri,... " The boy looked at Evendal
solemn-faced. "Nevermind."  With a deep breath, Evendal followed Bruddbana
into the allotted room.
     "Alright, you louts! Pipe down."
     When the crowd recognized Bruddbana's companion, they knelt without a
word.
     "Less than a week past, the command went out for all Guard to report
in. Every corner of the city rang with the Crier's Call. Where were you?"
     Silence met his question.
     "You will notice, We did not ask, 'Why did you not report in?' That is
because We know why." He let quiet linger before he spoke again.
     "That you kneel here today is proof to Us that you do not, in and of
yourselves, harbour ill-will toward Our reign. You did not report in, for
fear that the residents of the under-grounds would point you out as the
jailers who apprehended them on the authority of the Master of
Kernost. Jailers who had taken them to further the personal purposes of the
Master of Kernost, not of the duumvirate. Torn between two loyalties, you
decided to do nothing. Tell Us We are wrong."
     Silence met his challenge.
     "Today. Here and now. We must know whom you stand loyal to. Who claims
your honour? Once before We granted a clemency unwarranted."
     From the middle of the kneeling group, one woman looked up and
whispered. "You speak truth, Lord. We did not know what to do. Our lord of
Kernost has been doing alarming things. But no one named him as anything
but friend of the Court. Our presence would implicate our sponsor into the
Guard."
     In a voice whisper-soft, Evendal sang.
	With the light mine eyes glow,
	Show for whom this is not so.
     To Evendal's relief, Kri, Bruddbana, and the Prince's two Guard,
alone, shared a faint nimbus of amber, which quickly faded.
     "Let Us tell you what alarming things the Lord of Kernost has been
doing. Conspiring with the Most Wise Counselor to assassinate the Heir of
Arkedda. Training a select group to masquerade as an embassy to Arkedda, to
be an usurping force at the moment of greatest turmoil."
     "Whence came this intelligence, good Lord?"
     "From the lips of the Wise Counselor, himself. The Court Critical
shall hear him tomorrow." The Prince surveyed the gathered Guard with a
grim countenance and stony expression. "Regardless of your reasons, you
failed a summons, when We most needed the comfort of your steadfastness and
dependability. The ruler depends on his Guard, as He depends on no one
else. By choosing to do nothing, not even sending word, you made a
decision. You discarded Our hope and trust in you. By forcing Us to... to
corral you here in order to learn your justifications, you further
demonstrate how little you value your oath, Our trust." Evendal halted for
a moment, hating what he had to say.
     "When We accepted your oaths, We gave the oath-breakers their
lives. That was not a grace to be repeated at each betrayal. We cannot
function without reciprocal trust. By your own admissions, with your
silence giving confirmation, your lives are now Ours!"
     A woman toward the front stood, eyes flooded, and cried. "Lord, we beg
you! If no word reached you, it was through no waywardness on our
part. When we agreed to abide, rather than rally, we sent a messenger to
both report our dilemma and return with orders. He never returned. I think,
now, that he turned coat and fled for Kernost. But at that time..."
     Evendal nodded. "All you knew was that your messenger never came
back. Which, under the previous rule, meant he had been executed by a ruler
displeased."
     "When the next day passed, and no reprisal came, we again did not know
what to do. We would not put another of our company in possible
jeopardy..."
     Evendal glared at the speaker, incredulous. "There is a device called
'the chain of command'. It exists for that purpose."
     "But when neither comment, nor reprimand, came down that chain of
command... we feared some trap." The woman explained, face lowered.
     Thunder and Lightning! How did anything get accomplished here? Evendal
wondered. "And now?"
     The quiet throbbed.
     "Our decisions as a company have been a succession of errors, lord. So
I will speak only for myself." The woman drew in a long breath. "These last
few days have been unbearable. As I should have from the outset, I abide by
your wisdom and will in this, my error. You were our lord. Our
responsibility was to you, for good or ill. And we spurned the kindness you
had demonstrated."
     "Who else would say the same?"
     The woman standing turned to look over the company. As her gaze
roamed, each head nodded.
     "Then understand this, believe it. We do not punish uncertainty, or
the natural gratitudes accumulated in one's life. You are Our Guard. Our
Guard. No one can be what you are for Us, for me." Evendal stopped,
clearing his throat.
     "We said earlier that your lives were now Ours. But that has always
been true. If We say that We see before Us a Guard that strove to find an
honourable means of resolving a difficult dilemma. If We offer a means of
demonstrating your honesty and fidelity, in a service no other company can
provide as well. A gesture to redeem your honour and standing. And if We
say, We give your lives back to you, to do what you will. What will you?"
     The woman standing again looked about her, then slowly, matching gazes
with the Prince, approached to within ten feet and knelt. "I, Mulienhas,
pledge my life in service to your will."
     Evendal took the woman's hand, as Kri-estaul watched, and replied. "We
accept your service and your gift. Henceforth stand in Our Presence,
Mulienhas of Osedys."
     One by one, in precise order, the thirty walked up and pledged their
faith. Their oaths received, Evendal nodded to Bruddbana to give them their
marching-orders, resettled Kri-estaul, and left.
     When the sun set, Evendal and Kri-estaul took their supper. From his
own sense of equity, Evendal shared Kri-estaul's diet of oatmeal and
cranberry juice. As the King anticipated would happen repeatedly, Kri began
to shiver in a sudden fever. Evendal applied some oil of camphor to promote
skin circulation and wrapped the tired, miserable child in blankets. They
slept the first night in a pillowed, high-back chair.

     The next day, after a quiet fast breaking with his son, Evendal left
his apartment to review Guard detail with Bruddbana, then settled into a
fitful discussion with Ierwbae, Metthendoen and Aldul.
     "I cannot advise you on this, lord. The idea troubles me, but the
alternative is unacceptable." Metthendoen claimed.
     "This is not like taking the Guard oath. These people come to Court to
rightfully represent their own interests. But..."
     "But believing their wants are equivalent to Osedys' needs is
dangerous arrogance. It is treason, perhaps the most subtle." Aldul
affirmed.
     "The Council meets for the good of the common weal. That is, perhaps,
the line you can draw. And equity in verity." Ierwbae tendered.
     "So, with those limits, what I plan does not trouble you?"
     "What you propose does not coerce those of goodwill, nor even the
indifferent. So, no, not overmuch." Metthendoen assured.
     "That confirmed, I have only one other reservation." Evendal glanced
down at the boy asleep in his arms.
     Aldul smiled. "How many times have you fought that battle, and lost?"
     The Prince did not smile back.

     Council traditionally commenced at noontide, with the King as the last
to enter. Evendal saw no reason to change the order of things. So, with a
wide-eyed Kri-estaul beside him, seated in Pohul-halik's new wheeled-chair,
Evendal waited for the outside doors to be closed, and the court scribes at
the ready, before making his entrance. Kri-estaul preceded him, wheeling
himself to the side of the Throne.
     "Attend! Attend!" Henhyroc shrilled, cutting through every
conversation echoing through the Chamber. "His Majesty, the Left Hand of
the Unalterable, Sword-brother to the Sea, Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam a
Onkira, Heir of Osedys and the Thronelands, has come to sit in
judgment. Draw near, let justice, equity and wisdom rule in this place and
time." Henhyroc's high thin piping rang through the astonished throng.
     And Evendal strode in, removed the trident once more from its stand,
and sat on the Throne. As the King sat, so did the Council. For this, a
Council Critical, the regular display of nine High Council seats, usually
flanking the Throne on the dais, had been removed.
     "Greetings and health to you all." Evendal began. "Most of you are
unfamiliar to Us, though We see a few faces from Our past. Let Us begin by
saying that Our return home has been educational, and distressing in the
extreme. It has taken Us nine years to come back from places and paths best
left unremembered, and We return to find desolation and infamy. For those
of you who cowered in your manors over the past few weeks, let Us apprise
you: We returned to find the man who conspired to assassinate Our father,
Lord Menam, sitting as co-ruler with the assassin. We found the City
devouring its citizens, betraying its purpose, on the whims of these few
imbeciles. And no one, no one of you, willing to co-operate in defiance -
until We had rid you of their threat."
     A roll of protest and bluster moved to and fro through the
Chamber. People shouted, raised their fists and cursed at the King, some
began to snap at each other, assigning blame with comic fever. The noise
ebbed and crested at different places and moments, until Evendal sang
out. "Silence now." And that is what he got, along with a sea of stunned
and angry faces.
     "Then the lengths it took to get you brave people to assemble for this
Council! Well, having dragged you here by nonsense and coercion, let Us
tell you what the Council agenda is today." When Evendal nodded, Heamon and
Ierwbae came through the Royal entrance, a manacled Polgern in tow. "This
is not a Court of Honour, nor a Court of Equity or of Chancery. Those of
you hoping to mouth empty words for the restoration of your privileges are
condemned to dis-appointment. In Us you have a court superior and of
competent jurisdiction unconditional."
     "That assassin some of you labeled 'the Beast' is dead by Our
hand. The deluded elder you called 'the Most Wise Counselor' sought to kill
Us, with no success, and has been our quiet guest since."
     One man, short, barrel-chested, stood and called out. "So that is all
you called us for? To witness the murder of our leadership?"
     Evendal smiled. "And you are called?"
     "Emial of Kernost. Unless you have suddenly decided Kernost is your's,
too. Or Kandere, or the Tinde-lands. I have a grievance, Your questionable
Majesty. I have a grievance. Over these few years I have sponsored some
thirty kids to the Guard. Come to find out, because they did not jump when
you whistled, you gathered them in under threat of Royal displeasure. What
have you done with them? What have you done?"
     "As the King's Guard, they were Ours to do with as We chose. Though
they had failed their oaths, We were merciful. We dispatched them yesterday
evening."
     The crowd's hushed dismay magnified with the Chamber acoustics,
sounding like the roar of the surf. Yet Emial had not finished.
     "And is this pip-and-squeak one of the reasons you executed thirty
sons and daughters of my vassals?" he asked, pointing to Kri-estaul. "Who
is this, Your Majesty?"
     "This is Our son, by adrogation, Kri-estaul. A survivor of the Beast's
tender mercies, and two years down in the under-grounds. You know of the
under-grounds, Master Emial... You directed those thirty Guard to consign
your personal enemies to that same under-ground. I told you I 'dispatched'
those Guard, I did not execute them. I dispatched them to your manor, Emial
of Kernost, to report what they found there. You conspired with Master
Polgern in a plan to assassinate Arkedda's sole male Heir. You have been
arranging for a private Guard, with sufficient arms for over one thousand,
and barracks, on your manor-grounds."
     "That is a lie. You come out of nowhere; accuse a man who has grown
old and gray in service to the Thronelands of the worst of
perfidies. Appoint some leprous half-wit the Heir, malign hard-working
loyal sons like myself. And expect us to applaud the return of the
Kingship? Spouting outrageous accusations does not make them true. Show us
proof! Show us proof!"
     "I can do that." Evendal snapped his fingers, a pre-arranged signal,
and a fresh-faced woman in Guard livery stepped out. "Guard Mulienhas,
formerly of Kernost. Report on what you found in the Kernost
manor-grounds."
     Emial shouted. "No!"
     Kri-estaul, though as engrossed as the others in all the hysterics,
caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his chair slightly,
he saw the doorway to the under-grounds ajar, and a man in Guard livery
poised behind the Throne, raising a long knife. With a cry of "No!" he
launched his chair at the threatening figure. The man saw the attack
coming, jumped back and swung his blade, losing it in Kri's
breastbone. Kri's initial movement had alerted Ierwbae, who abandoned
Polgern to skewer the attacker. Evendal turned in time to see Kri's chair
hit the wall.
     The King was beside that chair in a breath, but the breath was not
Kri-estaul's. As Evendal gathered up the motionless bundle, the attacker,
gasping on the floor, stretched his hand out to Emial and gurgled
out. "Father!" With two soggy pants, the attacker died.
     When Evendal m'Alismogh turned from the chair, Kri-estaul cradled in
his arm, his eyes incandesced. "Your son!" he thundered, focusing on Emial.
    The courtier, eyes swimming, nodded, opening his mouth to protest.
     "You cannot speak!" Evendal shrieked. And Emial found that to be so.
     "You may not breathe." And after twenty heartbeats, Emial's face began
to darken to a red and blue. Slowly, Evendal advanced down from the
dais. Aldul hurried over to try and calm his friend, but found he could not
get near. As Evendal marched down to the seats, it became clear the only
people allowed in his Circle of Presence would be the dead child and the
Master of Kernost.
     Carefully, as gently as he could, Evendal pulled the blade from Kri's
motionless chest. Grimacing, with eyes holding Emial captive, the Prince
wiped blood from the blade onto Emial's lips, then his purpling cheeks. In
a soft singsong, Evendal ordered. "Breathe, Emial."
     And the Manourlord took one shuddering lungful, then a second.
     "You may not breathe." Evendal hummed. And Emial again struggled in
vain.
     "You lowly dung-loving, water-spined cretins!" Evendal's voice boomed
through the Chamber, vibrating the stones.  "So you want an Abduram? An
Emial? Well, henceforth may it be as you wish. We are the Left hand of the
Unalterable.  From this moment, that is all We will be. And Our judgment?
We grant you all that you have striven for. Let Our home be a City of the
Dead. Osedys! The Great Necropolis!(21) Jackal-spawn Emial's death-song
will be simply the first melody in Our Cycle of Chaos and Pain. Of Justice
without Clemency! Congratulations, you comfort-blind imbeciles! You are
getting what you deserve. Death! Pain! Pain..."
     Even as Evendal declaimed, the door to the Chamber, to which the Court
had been moving, burst into flame. As Emial asphyxiated, the song of his
passing wracked Evendal's body, and flame crept up the stonework. "Oh,
Kri!" Evendal shouted. The Kul-stone ceiling became wreathed in orange and
blue. "My son! My brave boy! My heart! My heart..." Evendal began to sob,
and the stones began to crack with heat.
     The court scribes had stopped their efforts when the door sprouted
fire. Drussilikh fought her way through the clustering mass and, unable to
approach, sobbed out her own pain.
     From the Royal entrance, Sygkorrin strode off the dais and through the
Circle of Presence that so hampered the others. "Evendal. Oh dear man."
     "No! Get away. I can't! Don't ask mercy, there is none!" He saw the
scribes and nobles headed to the dais and the Royal entranceway.

You shall not leave here.
That door is closed to you.
You shall remain.
There is no other avenue.

     Ignoring the Priestess, Evendal rocked the still, small form. His
tears washed the child's forehead and dripped on the bloodsotted chest.
     "Oh, Kri-estaul. My brave man. Don't be dead. Please! Live, by
Thunder! Live. To marry, have children, and grow old. Whatever you will.
Just live! I need my boy." m'Alismogh's eyes became twin suns. Sygkorrin
shielded her own eyes too late to spare them the green after-images.  "I
need my brave son, alive." And the Songmaster sank to the floor, weeping.
     "Evendal, we are in danger."
     The words struck Evendal like a strange echo, a deja vu in a deeper
voice.
     "So? Run. I strive for justice and I get paid in treachery. He's dead!
Do you think I want to live? Why would I care who lives?" He looked up at
the Priestess, who could not meet his bright gaze. "Oh, very well."

Those who never sought more
Than the welfare of their people, their home,
May walk from this hall,
Free to bicker, free to rant, free to groan."

     The flames disappeared. Sygkorrin knelt down beside Evendal and
motioned Aldul forward. The Kwo-edan rushed to his friend's side, tears
wetting his tunic. Manourlords, so anxious to exit, tarried; astonished
that anyone would approach the dread creature.
     "Aldul?" The Prince dully focused on the man beside him.
     The Kwo-edan nodded, unable to speak.
     "I failed to keep him... safe." Evendal looked down again at the child
in his lap, but could not see a thing. "I loved him more than my life. And
I couldn't..."
     With a lurch, Kri-estaul vomited blood onto Evendal's lap.
     No one moved for a long drawn out breath. With trembling, encrimsoned
hands, Evendal touched Kri-estaul's chest, only to feel it press forward in
a shallow breath.
     "I don't feel so good." Kri murmured, sleepily. "Papa?" He turned his
head, to peer up at a breathless Evendal. "Papa? Are you okay? Did I stop
him?"
     Seeing a like astonishment on the faces of Aldul and Sygkorrin,
Evendal presumed his own sanity. "Yes." He gasped. "Yes, you did. My brave,
brave, man. I am proud of you, and don't you ever do that again!"
     Kri-estaul smiled, smug. "Why am I all sticky?"
     "You... You died."
     "Oh. Okay. You're all messy, too. Can we get cleaned up?"
     "As soon as Priestess Sygkorrin looks you over."  Hands shaking,
Evendal lifted a protesting Kri-estaul into Sygkorrin's arms, then managed
to stand with Aldul's assistance. He lurched over to the Throne, leaned on
it for support, and raked the Council-members with luminous scorn.
     "You will be back here in two bells. This Council is not over."
     Heamon, Polgern's shadow, smiled.
     "But, my most puissant lord, this room is not safe!"
     "Here. Two bells. This room is much safer than We are." Evendal
reminded.  The King smiled, an expression devoid of warmth. "Now, those of
you who can, may go. Until then."
     All but four of the Manorlords left, scurrying in silence until out of
earshot. The court scribes did not know what to do, and the Matron didn't
care enough to direct them. Drussilikh sat beside her brother, smiling
through the hollows that grief had etched on her face. Bruddbana bound
Jek-kandere, Horest Stone-smith, and the Militia Comptroller, then settled
them beside Polgern.
     Sygkorrin stood with Kri-estaul in her arms, walked to the wall,
adjusted the wheeled chair and set the quiet child in it. The two of them
returned to Evendal, who slumped into the Throne.
     "He is as you see him." Sygkorrin declared.  "Tired, shocky, weak from
blood-loss, proud as a peacock to have saved his Papa. And the only scars
on his chest are verminous."
     Evendal, who had thought himself too exhausted for any further
emotion, lifted Kri-estaul out of his chair, cuddled him to his heart, and
wept.

---------------------------------------------
(21) Lit. - Fortress of Corpse-Ashes