I shrugged. I had no idea. But Keelan had Markos give me the thing for a reason and I felt almost certain that when he had given his son the bequest he had in some way intended that it should become part of my dress. Dthor nodded slowly. He felt the same of the Star Stone collar. Like my shiv it had become part of his daily routine to don it.
As Dthor and I wended our way through the tents towards the Court Marquee we were joined by Faedron and Maegor along with Aenar and Kylos. They, too, it seemed had received a similar request from Markos, and when we arrived in the Court it was to find Aldrigan, Korlaq and Markos’ various Councillors and nobles already assembled.
Faedron caught sight of the lectern and gave small shudder. “That’s horrible. It looks like guts. Oh. Oh! No.” The corporal went very pale. “Tell me that is not what I am thinking it is.” One look at my expression told Faedron that it was exactly what he was thinking. “Excuse me. I have to go outside and shed my breakfast.”
He returned a few moments later looking a little more settled. Maegor handed him his hipflask. “The porter will settle your stomach,” he said. “And it will freshen your mouth,” he added turning his face away slightly from the young man.
I noticed Kylos watching the M’rgaerdjinn. His lips were curled in a small, almost secret smile. He caught sight of me looking at him. “My, but those priests do not look at all well,” he observed—with no small degree of pleasure, I noted. “I suppose all night vigils do not suit those unaccustomed to true piety.”
I did not answer. The young man was taking all too much enjoyment from the suffering so far as I was concerned. Not that I could justly comment. This group were particularly reviled by almost everyone even, it seemed, by those who subscribed to the law they were there to uphold.
Markos was engaged in discussing the order of ceremony with Aidor when his attention was diverted by the Aergin. He shot the man an irritated look, excused himself and moved unhurriedly to where the man stood fidgeting.
“Sire, we need to relieve ourselves.”
Markos shrugged and indicated the thresh in front of the raised decking. “Of course, feel free.”
“Sire?! Are you suggesting . . . . ?”
Markos huffed impatiently. “Aergin Voltax,” the king growled. “Do I need to remind you yet again that your own Catechism forbids you from moving more than arm’s length from the Eternal Charter once it is in its rightful place in the Court?”
“No, Sire.”
“Then if you are unable to organise yourself and your minions to see to your needs effectively perhaps your Order should elect a High Priest who can.”
Maegor scowled at the young king as he returned to his discussions with Aidor. “By Zoar’s teeth, Meriq, Markos must really hate those men.”
“With a vengeance more deadly than I care to imagine,” I answered.
When the priests returned to their positions behind the Charter a page appeared, shovelled up the soiled thresh and replaced it with clean straw.
By the time the first horn sounded, warning of the approaching sunrise the Court tent had begun to fill. Markos showed us to our seats on the side of the elevated decking. He had placed us there, so he said, to give us a clear view of the proceedings.
Jalin appeared in response to Markos’ signal and the pair stood in what seemed quite earnest council for quite some time as nobles and military leaders took their places. Markos drew the youth away from the priests towards the edge of the high altar moving closer to us and enabling me to catch pieces of their discussion.
“Majesty,” Jalin said quietly, “you have seen me do this several times. I will be where you need me to be when you need me to be there. And I will do what needs to be done as soon as you indicate it must be done. All I require is a clear line of sight.”
And it was Jalin’s final words that filled me with such dread that I went to rise. Sensing my sudden shift of mood Dthor put his arm firmly around my shoulder forcing me back into my seat. He gave me a harsh, foreboding look. Whatever it was I had detected it was far too late to stop it now.
“This is Markos’ demesne, little dragon,” he whispered. “You dare not! You must not interfere.”
I knew he was perfectly correct in his assessment, but that did not make it any easier for me. I was not accustomed to sitting on the sidelines while I could see that someone I cared a great deal for—in this case Jalin—was probably being put in jeopardy. My feelings of dread did not diminish when he retreated to the transept and stood behind the glowing bronze brazier and I saw that he was flanked by Karyn and her First Apprentice, Olanna.
When the second signal horn sounded declaring the arrival of the sun Tariq and Jae’nt appeared side by side in front the Eternal Charter flanked by the Aergin’s guard. Not that the guard was particularly necessary—it was clear to any who had eyes that the pair had no intention of attempting to flee. They simply stood hand in hand staring unwaveringly and almost defiantly at the gold drenched priests on the dais.
As Voltax placed his hand on the great seal and went to speak, Aidor’s stave struck him across the knuckles knocking his hand from the stone.
“The King must speak first—as well you know,” the High Priest snarled.
Markos stepped forward positioning himself so that he obscured both the Charter and its hideous stand. He spoke of truth and justice and honour and all of the virtues and strength inherent in the Great God Morgul. He was careful to remind all those gathered that this was a most sacred and solemn court to be regarded with all the respect due to both the God and those men dedicated to serving His Will justly and honourably. He continued in this vein for some time and I could not help but notice that as some of the nobles and commanders in the front of the Court began to grow more uncomfortable with Markos’ apparent unconditional support of the proceedings, Voltax and his company seemed to gather strength and were beginning to look more relaxed with each passing breath. That fact alone served only to increase my own feelings that something truly catastrophic was about to occur.
The king concluded his address. “And so, I call the Great God to witness our Work this day and so that it will be His Justice and Will and not that of Men that shall be served this day.” So saying he ceded the floor to Voltax and his minions.
The Aergin placed his hand once more on the Great Seal and glared ferociously at Tariq and Jae’nt. “You will cease that obscene display at once,” he declared pointing at the couple’s clasped hands.
Tariq smirked. “Make me, you maggot.”
Faedron caught a breath. “Oh that’s such a good start. Well done, Tariq.” Maegor nudged his lover to silence.
“You will do as this Court commands!”
Tariq ignored the priest completely, looking directly at Markos instead. The Monarch raised an eyebrow. Tariq nodded. “I will do as my king wishes.” He released Jae’nt’s hand and the Prince simply responded by moving closer to the archer and placing his arm around the young man’s waist.
“I am not yours to command, priest. So do not open your mouth to me.”
The Aergin was visibly flustered by this defiance, but there was nothing he could do about it and he knew this.
He moved on to the charges that had been laid by Tariq’s own father that he had allowed himself to become embroiled in forbidden and corrupt practices that the Great God himself—through King Vaeron and the First Aergin—had forbidden under pain of death. Gaining nothing in response from Tariq the priest continued. Did Tariq deny he had been observed leaving the Prince’s tent in a state of partial dress and then permitted the young man to finish dressing him in full and public view?
Tariq smirked. “Have you ever tried lacing your own bracers while sitting in a tent? I’d like to see any archer manage that.”
Beside me Kylos stifled a chuckle. “Actually,” he whispered to me, “so would I—you need a squire to brace you properly.”
There was a short rumble of laughter in the assembly. Voltax brought his golden staff down sharply on t
he decking and silenced the assembly.
Voltax scowled. “Kalthar Tariq,” he snarled, “You are doing little to defend yourself against the accusations of depravity in the ranks of the Morlan Army.”
Tariq blinked at the man like a startled owl. “Aergin—I am not in the Morlan Army and neither have I been for the past five lunations. I have been in Lord Meriq’s Kyr-Garrin commissioned there with my brothers by my father.”
Not to be diverted by this, the priest merely smirked. Clearly he had been well-briefed on the situation—in all probability by Zarin himself. He knew full well that the titans were in Morlan colours and that he and his brothers had only taken to wearing what he disparagingly referred to as mongrel cloaks in the last settan. Such an action was an insult to the Great God and was an unconscionably blatant disregard for their heritage. The priest looked directly at me as he spoke and the intended insult was so clearly etched into every line of the man’s face that any sympathy I might have felt for his earlier plight vanished.
Since Tariq wore the colours of Morla when his corruption began he was subject to Morla’s laws. He had been seen engaging in forbidden activities with the man at his side and his own father had observed him embracing the Prince in a most intimate and improper manner.
“I must confess, Aergin, that I do not know any other way when greeting a dear friend than to embrace him as fondly as I do my brothers. Is it not the nature of an embrace that it is intimate?”
Again the stifled laughter from the assembly was silenced by the crack of Voltax’s stave against the wooden floor.
“But this man at your side is not just a “dear friend” is he?” the priest hissed, disgust dripping from over syllable.”
“Well, no,” Tariq answered reasonably. “He is also vitharin. My brothers and I made him so when he saved my life for a second time from a Black Legion assassin”.
The Aergin shot Zarin a most poisonous glare. Clearly the commander had overlooked that fact in briefing him.
Dthor leaned in close to me. “Oh now that hit a nerve!”
The priest stalked around to the front of the podium, careful to be certain that one of his men had a hand still on the great seal. I noticed Markos smirk. The priest could clearly feel his victory was at hand and was not going to allow one tiny slip in protocol to rob him of fresh gut gold. I could almost feel his hunger for it.
Voltax leaned heavily on the staff, pushing his head forward. He smiled like a striking snake. And was it not true, he demanded, that his own father had observed him kissing the Prince—on the mouth—in public in a manner that was profoundly offensive.
“No-one objected,” the archer replied, “I do not think Prince Jae’nt found it profoundly offensive, and some of the on-lookers even seemed to enjoy the view.” Tariq turned to Jae’nt and grinned. A response which vexed the Aergin greatly for he raised his stave brought down on Tariq’s shoulder with such force that I thought he might have broken the Kalthar’s collar bone. Fortunately the main shock of the blow was absorbed by the metal chest caging.
“Strike my Consort again,” Jae’nt said with clear, quiet menace, “and priest or no I will rip off your arm and slythe you with the bloody stump.”
Tariq recovered himself quickly. “Peace, ‘b’zaddi.”
“Aergin Voltax,” he said, “you are quite correct. I have been seen to kiss Prince Jae’nt on the mouth. Frequently, in point of fact, by—well—I should imagine by almost everyone in this gathering and a few more besides. But I am his declared Consort approved by both my Commander and King Janir—so by definition I am his lover—it would seem a rather empty thing if we did not at kiss!”
The Aergin almost danced in delight. Tariq had just condemned himself to death. He made Tariq repeat the fact that he and Jae’nt engaged in acts of sex forbidden under Morlan Military and moral law. Tariq shrugged off the priest’s outrage.
“Three, maybe four, times a night.” Tariq responded blithely. “My consort is—energetic, and pleasingly demanding. I do not think such activities are forbidden in the ranks of the Kyr Garrin.”
“The Great God forbids it, you misbegotten pervert.”
“Strange that He never told me Himself.” Tariq answered glibly.
Dthor leaned close to me. There was real concern etched into his voice now. “Tariq is deliberately baiting the hook.”
I nodded. For my part the feelings of dread were merely getting stronger.
“You are a depraved, disgusting monster, Kalthar Tariq ul-Zarin. A disgrace to your family name and this nation.” Voltax declared.
“No I am not, you sad, pathetic little non-man. For it is not Love that is the crime and it is not Love that is the sin. It is the absence of it!”
Someone shouted “Hear! Hear!” from the centre of the hall. Behind me Faedron laughed. “It’s true, of course.”
“The saddest thing for me, Aergin,” Tariq continued, “is that you will never be able to know love and warmth. You will never be able to endure the soft touch of the man or woman you might have loved because of what your depraved order does to you and your brethren to transform you into the monsters you become.”
“You dare try to judge me even as you admit your own vile calumny?”
“Not in the slightest. The Great God will judge you—of that I have no doubt.” The archer said. “You have what you need now. Do what you are here to do. I will die having known what it is to love and be loved by a powerful and honourable warrior and a man who has consented to share his blood with me. And I will die satisfied with the knowledge that when your time comes you will die dry and bitter and alone and in the dark with no loving hand to comfort you.”
Voltax returned triumphant to his repugnant lectern and placed his hand on the seal. “Commander Zarin have you anything you wish to say to your errant son before sentence is passed.
The soldier rose from his seat and walked to the dais. He stood before the Charter and then turned to face Tariq.
Before the man could speak Tariq took as step from the protection of Jae’nt’s embrace. “Before you step on this particular path, Father, remember I have the Right of Reply.”
The man stood staring ahead as if he had heard nothing and then turned the most hateful gaze I had ever seen one person give another on his own son. “You are a disgrace and a stain upon your mother’s very soul. You are a paragon of depravity and an example of all that is a blight on our great nation. I shall celebrate your death with each breath I draw and I will have a ring forged from your gut gold and wear it with pride knowing that I at least kept Faith.”
Tariq stood impassively enduring the diatribe while his brothers stood ranked behind me bristling and muttering.
Tariq turned slightly, bowing slightly to the Aergin—the first sign of any respect he had shown. He looked beaten and unhappy, a demeanour that clearly pleased Voltax no end.
“Kalthar you may exercise your Right of Reply.”
“Eminence.” Tariq bowed again. There was a deathly hush; none had been expecting such a sudden shift in the young archer. He had embraced the inevitable having condemned himself with his own words.
“Commander Zarin,” he said, “You are mistaken in the first instance concerning my mother. All gathered here know that Morgul himself stated that only a Morlan woman can bring forth the real man. Morlan women cannot produce flawed offspring. Do you not agree that this so?” Tariq did not wait for a response. “Since the Great God is infallible, any flaws that occur in our children we know can only come from the Sire, for as the good priests’ catechism teaches, men alone have flaws which they may pass to their progeny. I say to you now as I embrace my fate that your reasons for directing such hatred and menace and maliciousness towards me is not because I have given myself in love to another man, but because you see this as a flaw in me and know that it is you who have placed it there. You know that this love that I feel for my Consort is also yours and that you alone are the only wellspring from which it can flow. What you now hate in me is wh
at you fear in yourself. You have my forgiveness—and my sympathy. For all gathered here can only know that I speak the truth.”
So saying Tariq fell silent and stepped back into Jae’nt’s embrace. The silence following Tariq’s rebuttal slowly began to give way to a dark muttering and a restlessness in the marquee that began to sound like the start of a windstorm. Only Markos stepping forward and raising his hand brought stillness once more.
Voltax reached for Charter only to have his hand knocked away again by Aidor. “It is now for the king to speak again. You know this.”
“What is there to say?” Voltax demanding.
Markos turned slightly. “Before sentence can be passed we must join in the Great Invocation must we not? On the third speaking you must raise up the Charter to the Great God that he may deliver his verdict.”
Voltax scoffed slightly. “That has not been practiced for over fifty cycles.”
“Which is why your judgments could be called into question, Voltax.” Markos said with quiet menace. “I made a pledge to the people of Morla that Justice would be served in the fullness of its letter and spirit. I intend to see that I honour my word and that you fulfil your Catechism as it should be done.”
Markos moved forward and addressed the crowd reminding them of his pledge to uphold the letter and spirit of the Law to its fullest extent. “To that end, Morla, join me in the Great Invocation so that Morgul’s True Judgement shall be mete.”
He began.
“By Rain and Fire, By blood and bone
By maiden, mother and sacred Crone
By earth and air, By Sword and Stone
The Great God’s Will we beg be shown.”
And as he began again the chant was picked up by those gathered. It became a relentless sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us and I was surprised to find myself joining the call.
On the third call to the God Voltax raised the Eternal Charter from the lectern and in his fervour seemed to find the strength to raise it high above his head. Markos increased the volume and speed of his chant, stamping out the rhythm and spurring the gathering on to almost fever pitch.
A Rising Darkness Page 55