by B. T. Narro
The king warned us he was about to announce his verdict, giving us a moment longer to finish what we could before it was fed to the animals. Then, at the speed of a practiced routine, the tables were cleared until the room appeared as it did at night. Clear…too clear. The great hall became vast and wanting.
Hundreds of us huddled around the center as servants brought in the dais. Swenn had entered the room and now approached King Quince. He lowered his head as a guard nearby bound his wrists with manacles, a lovely sight I didn’t want to ever forget. Gram was next, the guard showing little care for his splinted finger as he quickly locked the manacles in place.
“Neeko,” Quince called out.
The smile dropped from my face as I noticed a third pair of shackles. I walked through the crowd and stepped onto the dais, the burn of all their eyes on my back. Would I ever become accustomed to the glimpses of so many at once? It felt like a hole was boring into me.
“Behave,” Quince muttered as his guard locked my wrists together. He turned and took his familiar formal stance, making his back rigid while gesturing for Gram to step forward.
I remained next to Swenn. Glancing over, I noticed he was no longer giddy or sleepy. The one eye I could see shifted to me. I waited for some clue to his thoughts, but he simply looked back out over the audience.
“This man,” Quince announced, lifting his arm toward Gram, “has chosen to hide behind fear and almost committed an illegal act because of it. But he did not break any laws of the kingdom. Therefore he will not be imprisoned.” A guard stepped forward and unlocked Gram’s manacles. “However,” Quince continued as Gram touched around his broken finger apprehensively, “he has dissolved the trust I have in him as an officer. He is to leave this castle forever, no longer a member of this army.”
“Sire, please.” But two guards grabbed Gram by the shoulders. He struggled, yet they easily overpowered him, pushing him around the crowd and toward the door. He looked back at his king, silently pleading. Quince paid him no mind, gesturing at Swenn next, who confidently stepped forward.
“This man,” Quince announced, “has broken no laws of the kingdom. He admits to theft, but the psychics have given us a rare glimpse at the truth of his intentions. He was trying to do good.”
The guards undid his shackles. Gods, no.
“This man has told many tales. Some of which would have been apocryphal if not for the psychics. He is a smart man, and he has done excellent work as the master of coin. But he is also a cunning man.” Quince paused to study Swenn. “My father once told me that smart men can either be wise or cunning, depending on their scruples. I do not want a cunning man as my master of coin. I want a wise man. Therefore, Swenn Hamres is to leave this castle forever, no longer a member of this army.”
“I did nothing wrong!” Swenn fought against the guards who took his arms. “Get your hands off me before I break them!” He thrashed, his elbow driving into one man, who keeled over while the other let go to draw his sword. Soon both had their weapons pointed.
Swenn wasn’t afraid, glaring at the king as he yelled, “You must reconsider! I’ve saved you thousands of dalions already. You’ve admitted it. No one is as wise as I am with the money of the kingdom.”
“You mean cunning,” Quince corrected. “Another word and I will order your death.”
Swenn’s eyes became slits and he spoke no more. He let the guards take his arms, but then he pulled them toward me. To my surprise, he offered his hand.
Messily, we managed to shake despite my shackles. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t think you’ve won.”
I felt nothing. I couldn’t even smile when they pushed him into the courtyard, never to step foot in the castle again. At least not legally. That was why his expulsion gave me no joy, I realized. Laws, rules—even dictated by the king—wouldn’t stop Swenn from carrying out his plans, whatever they may be.
My chest stirred as I wished the king would hurry with my sentencing. If I was allowed to stay, it needed to happen soon. I wanted a glimpse at the direction Swenn chose. I stepped forward to show I was ready.
“When I first met this young man, I could see the pain in his eyes and feel the hatred for evil in his heart. I believed him when he told me he strived to bring peace to this kingdom.” Quince looked at me firmly. “And this I still believe. The chaos you have caused will cease now that Swenn is gone.”
The fact that he addressed me directly caught me off guard.
“It will,” I promised.
“To those of you still concerned about this young man”—a guard unlocked my manacles as Quince spoke—“his loyalty has been tested, his morals have been scrutinized, and his training has indicated a set of abilities invaluable in this war. The next time a concern about Neeko burdens you, think about the thousands ready to burn our cities and kill your family and friends. Think about Neeko standing with our army against them. You have my promise that his control over pyforial energy will only be used for the North, and a king’s promise is as good as law.”
His quick speech elicited applause. I had little idea until then that some in the castle still were concerned about me. People are naturally afraid of unknown power, I reminded myself. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Quince shook my hand but leaned in to whisper like Swenn had. “If you make me into a fool, your punishment will be ten times the severity of the last two men who stood up here with you.”
“I will train hard and break no rules.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“And if Laney is sent back to prison, you will not interfere.”
No matter what I actually would do, there was only one thing I could say. “I promise that as well.”
The king left the dais to speak with Jaymes. Noticing the congregation dispersing, I took it as my chance to hurry up the stairs to the second floor. I ran until I reached a window I knew gave me a vantage point over the outer courtyard to the south as well as the city that stretched out from it.
Swenn had just mounted his horse. He gave the animal a swift kick to the side and off it galloped, speeding through the crowded street and nearly trampling those in his way. He certainly seemed to know where he was going.
Now if only I knew.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I returned to the armory and trained until my body was at the point of exhaustion. I didn’t want to think about Swenn because my only thoughts would be worries. There’s reason to worry when there’s something to solve or do. But I’d already considered my options after the trial. I couldn’t leave the castle until it was time to march to battle.
I spent hours controlling two clusters of py at once, proud of how quickly I was improving. It helped that I’d worked with py for the last eight years, making nothing I did in the armory feel completely new.
When I found myself yawning, I retired to my room. I glanced out my window and saw nothing but darkness. When will this rain end?
A tempting thought came to me, and the more I thought about it, the more I began trying to convince myself not to do it. The struggle became harder as I paced and thought of Shara alone in her room. I wanted to stop this growing distance between us. The gesture I had in mind would help even if it didn’t quite work.
It was a bad idea, this I knew, but I still couldn’t convince myself not to do it. As a distraction, I picked up the book she’d gotten for me. Pyforial Council of Quosae, by Rin Teller. I opened to the first page and read, hoping the words could pull my interest. I skipped through the first chapter, which introduced the author and his sources, trusting Shara wouldn’t give me a book she thought to be inaccurate.
The second chapter did its task of distracting me. So did the third, then the fourth. What I read grabbed hold of my attention and refused to let go until my eyes struggled to stay open.
Everything in the book was based on accounts from men and women who’d been approached by someone recruiting for the Pyforial Council of Quosae. Each person
had been given an alias to protect his or her identity, for each had at least some ability manipulating pyforial energy.
I became curious how PCQ members found these people, let alone the author, so I forced myself to stay awake and read the first chapter I’d skipped. Rin Teller theorized that members of PCQ have recruiters all over Sumar. They blend in with townspeople and constantly feel for pyforial energy usage. Teller found pyforial mages after word spread that he was writing a book about the PCQ and looking for anyone who might know something about it. Too intrigued to stop reading, I ended up staying up and finishing the entire book.
I discovered that when PCQ members approach people, they offer them the chance to ask one question, with the caveat that certain queries won’t be answered and they won’t get a chance to ask a second. It was through the answers to these questions and the short introductions the recruiters of PCQ provided that the book could exist.
There are many mountain ranges in Quosae and one of them is home to a group of powerful pyforial mages. It’s unknown how many there are, though their intentions are clear. They’ve charged themselves with watching over Sumar. When asked why, their answer is always the same. They have power, so it’s their responsibility.
That made me question my own motives. My first priority had always been making sure Swenn couldn’t harm anyone else. But he was only one man. How much damage was this war causing in comparison to him?
Teller’s book explained that PCQ members are people of deep faith, often bringing the gods into their recruitment pitch. But their beliefs can’t be the same as the priests of the South or the North. Quosae was sacred land. Disciples of the god of life and human sacrifices on their way to the white waterfall are the only ones allowed, so say the laws.
There have been no known political incidents caused or influenced by PCQ members so far, which is why neither king has sent an army over the hallowed ground to find them. Anyone who believes the land is sacred also believes we don’t need to protect it because the gods will punish those who trespass.
Teller shared his own thoughts after interviewing the mages, the most worrisome being how if PCQ members were to take a side in a war, their backing most likely would go to the more religious kingdom, the South.
I fell into a slumber with Shara on my mind again, telling myself that I should be proud for not acting on my earlier idea. But if that was the case, why did it feel like I’d done something wrong?
I awoke the next morning and looked out my window. Still raining. If it continued until night, giving me the cover I’d need, I wouldn’t try to stop myself from carrying out my idea. So I’m leaving it up to the gods.
The gods, I mused while I dressed. I didn’t actually believe this rain was they’re doing, but many people did. They think of the rain as wrath for discontinuing the sacrifices. How unfortunate for King Quince. The last thing he needed was more pressure to give in.
The weather was the only topic of conversation during breakfast. If people weren’t joking about the god of life punishing us for withholding sacrifices, then they were seriously concerned about it.
Shara set her half-eaten bowl of soup down beside me. I’d seen her sitting with Darri when I came in and kept my distance.
“I know we’re not supposed to give people the impression we’re involved,” she said, “but I can’t stand listening to Darri talk about the gods anymore!”
I barely heard a word she said, too distracted by the lurch of my heart. Gods, sometimes it hurt to look at her when I couldn’t act upon my urges.
She nervously touched her face. “Is there something wrong? You’re staring.”
“Sorry, I’m tired.” I’d learned this could be an excuse for anything so long as it was said in the morning or late at night.
“The book kept you up?”
“That and other thoughts.” I gave her a clue by letting my eyes fall to her lips.
She didn’t get it. “How much did you read?”
“All of it.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you could read so quickly.”
I feigned insult. “And why is that?”
“You seem…easily distracted. You have one of those endlessly wandering minds. I can tell.”
“Aren’t you astute. If I didn’t have to worry about Swenn, I’d show you how much easier it would be for me to focus.”
“But now you don’t have to worry about him.”
It saddened me that she actually thought that. “He’ll be back, Shara. He whispered to me that I shouldn’t think I’ve won.”
She considered my words as she put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. “Well…horse piss.”
That made me laugh. I was surprised how easily Shara had done it, considering everything on my mind. “Why do you like that line so much?”
She smiled wide. “Because it’s so disgusting but it has such a nice, crisp sound to it. Horse piss!” She seemed to have lost consideration of her surroundings for the moment, for her words came out loud enough to turn everyone’s head nearby. Shara’s face burned red, remaining that way even after everyone returned to their breakfast.
“I think I’ll finish my soup as quickly as I can and run out of here,” she said, her mild-mannered tone in complete contrast to her hurried slurping that immediately followed.
I was still smiling by the time I got to the armory for training. Jaymes forced me and Laney to spar once again, repeating his threat that holding back would result in the other person spending the night in prison.
I was pleasantly surprised when she got her py around my leg almost immediately. Just like I had, she’d improved quickly, yet I still yanked her off her feet by pulling her arm. This gave her the chance to catch herself unlike last time. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to have the strength with only one hand.
She braced her fall, but doing so just made her bounce onto her shoulder when the weight of her torso fell past her extended arm. She covered her face and turned away from us. At least she knew to try hiding her tears.
“You’re fine,” Jaymes assured her. “Do it again.”
Gods, he’s harsh.
She fell harder the next time, but at least she got a knee down. “I’m sorry, Laney,” I said.
Jaymes yelled, “Don’t apologize! Do it again.”
After I knocked her down a third time, she got to her feet slowly, tears running down her cheeks. All the fight was gone from her body.
“You’re fine!” Jaymes scolded. “Get ready to go again.”
She didn’t move, just stood there looking completely defeated.
“She’s not ready yet,” I argued.
“Go!”
Laney didn’t even draw in py this time. I got mine around her leg but hesitated. “She’s not fighting,” I informed Jaymes just in case it wasn’t already clear by the lack of spirit in her stance.
“If you hold back, she’s going to prison!”
I grumbled as I pulled her off her feet once more. Her body slapped against the hard floor as she yelped. I ran to her.
“I’m—” I stopped myself from apologizing. “Are you all right?”
She wasn’t wailing like yesterday, but she still shook with sobs nonetheless, trying to hold in her pain. I helped her up. She leaned into me, squeezing me tightly as she cried against my chest.
“Let go!” Jaymes demanded. “You’re going again.”
“This isn’t helping her improve!” My anger spilled out. “These battles are cruel and a waste of everyone’s time. They do nothing but hurt her!”
“Again!” Jaymes yelled. “And if you talk back once more, she’ll spend two nights in prison.”
I knocked her down over and over. Each time, I worried she’d finally been broken. I didn’t exactly know what that would look like. Would she scream? Would she refuse to get up? Would she leave the armory? Any of those things would tell Jaymes what he evidently was trying to prove, that she should be sent back into a life of solitude.
I struggled to hold back
my anger. I offered to stop and let myself be the one who spent the night in prison. Of course Jaymes wouldn’t accept that.
We went on for possibly the longest hour of my life. My worries increased that she’d break a bone or slam her head, but she seemed to get used to losing toward the end of that terrible hour. She started getting up quicker, no longer appearing as sad but angry instead, determined. She even started wrapping py around one of my limbs a few times before I pulled her down.
“You’re done,” Jaymes finally told us.
“One more!” Laney demanded, her pants, shirt, and hair covered in dust, including one side of her face and the tip of her nose.
A smile lifted one corner of Jaymes’ mouth.
“Look, Laney!” I pointed at our commander. “He’s almost smiling because of you.”
Jaymes flattened his mouth, and Laney didn’t even offer a polite giggle at my jape.
“I’m going to knock you on your rear, Neeko! I’ve figured you out,” she claimed.
I knew I shouldn’t be grinning, but I just couldn’t help it. “I’ll give you my salary for this period if you do,” I teased.
“Get ready,” Jaymes said. “Go.”
I did what I’d just done about fifty times before: I drew pyforial energy into a small cluster and sent it over to Laney, shaping it into a ribbon on the way. But as I aimed it at her leg, she fell into a squat, getting her one arm in front of both bony legs.
I wasn’t prepared for this. In the time it took me to lift the py to her shoulder in an attempt to push her over, she’d gotten hers around my ankle. Her py squeezed me and then pulled with tremendous force, giving me no chance to keep my footing. My back hit the unforgiving floor and pain shot through me.
I groaned as I held my back while Laney ran over to me. I thought she would make sure I wasn’t injured, as I’d done countless times to her. Instead, she jabbed her finger at me and boasted jubilantly like a child.