by Ann Wilson
befits the oathbreaker your thakur's actions proclaim you; if you donot understand what that means, ask the lady Arden. I will see you inapproximately six hours."
Six hours, Dana thought as Killian's image disappeared. That meant shemight live seven or eight, depending on how badly the beating hadweakened her.
"Do you understand?" Arden asked.
Dana turned to the w'woman, fear growing as her shock faded. "What'sin the text-tapes, yes. Not the details of the . . . execution."
"Those can vary; they depend on the clan-chief." Arden looked almostsympathetic, Dana thought. "You know, then, that you will receive nomore pain medication, that no one will speak to you unnecessarily, andthat when your escort arrives you will be placed under restraint."
"Yes." The restraints were a formality, especially in her case--a signof condemnation, like the silent treatment--but the lack of medicationwould have her uncomfortable, at least, even before the executionbegan.
"Chief Killian has granted one concession, since you were hurt beforeyour thakur dismissed you. If you wish, I can give you a stimulant tocompensate for your injuries."
Dana thought about that offer briefly before she spoke. "Let me try tostand and walk. I'll take the stimulant if I can't."
"Reasonable." Arden moved to help as Dana sat up and swung her legsover the edge of the bed. That brought on a wave of dizziness, andwhen she cautiously slid off the bed, her knees gave way. Arden caughther and helped her back onto the bed.
"It looks like I'd better take it," Dana said shakily. She hadn'trealized she was so weak--it wouldn't do at all for her escort to haveto carry her! "A strong dose, please."
"A twelve-hour dose, as strong as you can tolerate," Arden agreed."Are you allergic to energine?"
"No, that'll be fine." Dana would have refused such a dose if she'dexpected to have to go through the aftereffects; energine would keepyou going through almost anything, but you paid the price later--andshe was also on rapid-heal, which made demands of its own. But bothwould be academic in a few hours. She watched Arden prepare aninjector, her thoughts going to what would be happening to her shortly.She didn't know the details, no, but she was fully aware that it wouldbe at least as painful as the attack--and more humiliating, because shecared about the Sandemans' opinions as she hadn't about the attackers'.
Arden gave her the injection, then said, "It will take effect in a fewminutes, and once it does, I will also have to start treating you as anoathbreaker. However, I told the Alanna that there was more to thisthan appears on the surface, and he has agreed to contact Torrance forthe interrogation reports, then watch a copy of the monitor tapes fromhere that I will send with his warriors. That will probably have noeffect, but this is an unprecedented situation; it could make adifference." She hesitated, then went on in a low voice. "I breakcustom by saying this, but I don't think you dishonored. I pray thegods will grant you a swift death, then rebirth as a warrior-casteSandeman to you can earn a place in their ranks." Then she turnedaway, leaving the room before Dana could frame a reply.
As the energine took effect and her strength returned, Dana clung toArden's words. They meant there was still a trace of hope forher . . . if Clan-chief Killian agreed with the lady Arden.
But that trace of hope wasn't all good; it was easier to hold fear atbay if you had no alternative to what you were afraid of. That traceof hope, tiny as it was, let the fear start to grow again. She beganpracticing one of the pre-combat calming exercises she'd come across inher studies of Sandeman, pleased to find that even with her lack ofexperience it helped.
The next time she tried to stand, she felt almost normal. She had noidea how long it would take the Alanna warriors to get to her--she hadno idea where she was, other than in a hospital--so she decided she hadbetter get dressed.
Doing so replaced what fear her exercises had left with sheerfrustration. To begin with, bandages made clothes that had fitcomfortably before so snug they would have been hard to get into evenif she'd had her hands free instead of in casts. As it was, the effortof just getting them on, not to mention closing the buttons and zippersshe preferred to magseals, was more of a challenge than she appreciatedright then.
Not too long after she managed to make herself presentable, fourwarriors wearing Alanna arms on their drab coveralls--and more heavilyarmed than usual for peacetime--entered her room. She bowed to them,acutely conscious of the scab forming on her cheek. They didn't returnthe courtesy, of course; instead, two of them secured her arms behindher back. They weren't especially gentle, but she was obscurelypleased that they also weren't as rough as she'd expected them to bewith an oathbreaker.
And during the flight to the Alanna clanhome, she was both pleased anda little puzzled by the warriors' continuing lack of overt hostility.Even given the ingrained politeness of a Sandeman, she would haveexpected some jostling, or unpleasant comments.
The flight also gave her time, and energine gave her strength, to thinkback on the attack and Jason's dismissal of her. She still didn't wantto believe that the man she'd chosen to devote her life to had set herup for such a painful, degrading death, even to give her the illusionof dying for the best reason a thakur-na could have. But she couldn'tavoid the truth: from all the evidence she had, that was precisely whathe had done. And then when that had failed, he had deliberatelysentenced her to the death of an oathbreaker.
She shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position with herarms fastened behind her. She failed, and that discomfort combinedwith the wearing off of the painkiller to make her begin to resent herformer thakur. Maybe she did deserve to die, she thought bitterly. Notfor the dishonor he admitted she wasn't guilty of, but for hermisjudgment of him--when it came down to first causes, that was why shewas being flown to her death. While Jason would live, as wealthy,comfortable, and influential as ever . . .
* * * * *
Dana wasn't able to appreciate either the crisp autumn weather or thefunctional beauty of Alanna's clanhome when the plane landed and herguards, their weapons drawn, escorted her into the warriors' hall. Themixture of fear about what was to come, anger at Jason, and the ache ofher injuries had her irritable, wanting to get the whole mess over withso she wouldn't have to think about it any more.
Killian was waiting for her, sitting at the judicial-looking Chief'sBench at the far end of the hall. Some clans had theirs ornamented, tovarying degrees, but Alanna's was plain: glossy jet-wood, the onlycolor on it the arms of Alanna's chief.
Dana's heart sank as she realized that Killian was clad in leather asblack as his Bench, again relieved only by his arms, rather than theusual warrior-drab. She hadn't known he'd earned that--been acclaimedby his peers as having honor so uncompromising it couldn't bequestioned. So much for the lady Arden's--and her own--hope of someclemency, Dana thought. Yet Arden must have known the Alanna wasentitled to honor-black . . .
Urged forward by one of her guards, Dana approached the Bench and,before she could be prompted, knelt. A Sandeman knelt only to the godsand to @'s thakur, if @ had one, but this was a special case; Killianwas acting on Jason's behalf, so she had to show him the same degree ofrespect. She heard a quiet sound of what seemed like approval from thewarriors and w'women beginning to gather in the hall, but didn't darelet it reawaken her hopes.
She returned Killian's silent gaze. She would continue to abide by thecustoms she had tried so long to observe--she still didn't see how shecould change that now, whatever the circumstances--but she had decidedduring the flight that she had done nothing to be ashamed of, andwouldn't act as if she had.
Killian nodded once, then accepted the tape her senior guard handed himand slipped it into a viewer in the Bench. Dana could hear only amurmur from the speaker as he played the tape, but she could seeKillian's face clearly, and she had seldom seen such an expression ofrevulsion. Surely she hadn't done anything disgraceful enough to meritthat!
When Killian looked up from the Bench screen, his fa
ce was set and grimenough to make Dana shiver. He looked at her steadily for severalseconds, then rose and came around the Bench to stand in front of her,gesturing to one of the bystanders.
"Da, Glavniy?" the w'woman who approached said.
"Speak English," Killian said. "Contact the Miklos for me, please, andtell him that a serious question of custom has arisen that must bedealt with immediately. I would like him to call a conference of allavailable on-planet clan-chiefs as soon as possible, for that purpose."
"May I give him details?"
"Show him the tape I just watched; that will be more than enough."
"Yes, Chief." The