Judge

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Judge Page 3

by R. J. Larson


  Ela watched him instead, looking as if she wanted to speak but no longer had the strength. He nudged Beka toward Ela, then joined their circle. Settling himself, Kien studied Ela. If only they were married. He could hold her. Comfort her. Instead, as a mere friend and erstwhile suitor, he had to be content with ridiculous formalities and tame questions. “You look as if you want to tell me something. What is it?”

  “You’re about to be tested.” Her low, somber prophet voice. Warning him. Raising the hairs along his scalp. “Obey the Infinite. Don’t stray from the tasks He’s given you.”

  Now she sipped from the clay goblet. Kien waited for her to say more. She didn’t. “That’s all?” So much for Ela loving him enough to be distraught. “Those are my complete instructions?”

  The faintest sad hint of a smile lit her big brown eyes. “Shall I repeat them?”

  Xiana tittered. Nia fluttered her lashes.

  Kien grimaced. “No, thank you. I’ll repeat them to you instead. I’m about to be tested. Obey the Infinite. Don’t stray from the task He’s given me—which is ToronSea. Which, incidentally, has been swayed by Atea-worshipers from Siphra who may not react cordially to my news, and I risk ritual strangulation. Did I remember everything?”

  “Yes.” Her weak smile had already faded. She set down the goblet and rocked Tzana as if the little girl were a baby. Before Kien could persist in questioning her, General Rol’s personal chariot, driven by his ancient household charioteer, clattered around the clearing, its little horse becoming skittish at Scythe’s monstrous presence.

  Accompanied by Xiana Iscove, Nia stood and smiled. “Safe journey, Kien. I mean . . . return home soon. Ela, thank you. Rather, I’ll see you later, maybe. . . .”

  Xiana sang out, “Come, Nia, that’s enough, dear!” She aimed a dart of a smile at Kien. “It’s a pity we won’t see you at your mother’s reception tonight, Kien. We’ll miss you.”

  He grinned, pleased they were departing. “My apologies. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

  Another chariot rattled alongside the ruins to retrieve two more students—a pair of twin-like sisters who, in Kien’s opinion, seemed dazed and glad to leave. Only Beka remained, and she sat quietly with Ela. Kien glanced up at the sky. Midmorning. He still had time. “Ela, I don’t intend to quarrel, but I need information. If you can’t tell me anything more about ToronSea, then tell me why Belaal would attack Parne. Remote as Parne is, what could Belaal gain?”

  “Gems. Gold, which they’ve promised to the Agocii and Eosyths. And, most of all, new ores for dangerous weapons.”

  “Ores similar to the ones we use for Azurnite?”

  She shook her head. “I wish they were Azurnite.” Her gaze rested on his sword, concealed in its black military scabbard. “May we see your new sword?”

  “You knew I would receive it?”

  “Yes . . .” She seemed ready to say more, but hushed, sad-eyed.

  Wondering at her wistfulness, Kien slid the exquisite blue sword from its scabbard. The early-autumn sunlight shimmered and danced against the blade, showing off the metal’s rich forged pattern of dark blue and deepest gray waves.

  Tzana scrambled from Ela’s lap and plunked herself down beside Kien. She crooned over the sword, “Ooooo . . . it’s so pretty. I wish I could have one.”

  Kien smiled at her fragile old-woman features, wishing she could indeed have an Azurnite sword. It would mean she had the strength to carry a sword—or anything of a similar weight. It would mean that Tzana was healthy. The proper size and height for a near-adolescent girl. She had such spirit. . . .

  Ela sighed shakily. “I saw you with this sword. I’m glad you have it.”

  Kien eyed her. No, she wasn’t entirely glad.

  Ela looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the glitter of tears. Beka hugged Ela. “Don’t be upset! Everything will be fine—you’ll see.”

  “I have seen.” Ela mopped her face with her coarse mantle, then patted Beka. “It won’t be fine. But thank you.”

  Kien couldn’t endure her misery. He slipped the sword into its scabbard, crossed the space between them, and sat beside Ela. Tamri Het joined them, wringing her embroidery between her aged fingers. “Is there anything we can do, Ela-girl?”

  “Pray. For all of us.” Ela’s gaze turned distant, pained and frightened, as if absorbed in some nightmare. “And for Parne.”

  On impulse, Kien wrapped an arm around her in sympathy. Ela didn’t ward him off, which was alarming. Usually improprieties provoked her to feistiness. Now, however, she looked defeated. Kien jostled Ela gently. “Why are you so scared? You’ve faced equally dire situations before. You can manage this one.”

  She remained silent, and Kien continued. “Is there a chance the Infinite might forgive Parne?”

  “Forgive Parne for what?” Tzana demanded.

  “For turning against Him, though they know better,” Ela murmured. To Kien, she said, “The Infinite is always willing to forgive—if offenders truly regret their offenses and change their hearts.” Ela looked Kien in the eyes. “I’m not concerned with Parne alone. Please . . . don’t stray from the Infinite’s plans.”

  “I won’t. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” He watched her, hoping for details or some encouragement regarding their respective missions. And, perhaps, their future.

  She shrugged, on the verge of crying. Had she seen what would happen in ToronSea? Kien said, “Let’s walk a bit.”

  Tamri Het shot him a fierce look. “Sir, you remain where I can see you.”

  Kien didn’t have to become a prophet to see Tamri running him through with his own sword if he misbehaved. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He helped Ela to stand, then set a slow pace. Despite her earlier temper, she was still ashen. Kien wished he could carry her. Cuddle her until she’d recovered. Tamri would kill him. He wasn’t sure about Ela. Opting for a slightly safer alternative, Kien led Ela to the stone base of a fallen pillar, made her sit down, then sat beside her. He enfolded her cold hands in his, rubbing warmth into her fingers. “Ela, when the bravest person I know is in tears, I’m worried.”

  She glanced away. “I wouldn’t be so weepy if you weren’t being so sympathetic.”

  Meaning she felt safe enough to be vulnerable with him? “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  “I should have known you would.”

  “Should have?” Kien couldn’t resist teasing her. “Not much of a prophet today, are you?”

  She sniffled noisily, but gave him a fierce nudge. “I’m never much of a prophet where you’re concerned. You know that.”

  “Yes. And I’ve wondered why. Perhaps it’s because our futures are so closely intertwined.” Wait. Had he sounded too suggestive?

  Ela’s dark eyes went huge. She blinked at him, then reddened. Adorable. Kien grinned. Obviously, he couldn’t kiss her, but . . . He leaned down until he could feel the warmth of her blush and inhale the scent of her skin. “I see the perfection of my theory has left you speechless.”

  She returned his stare for a lingering breath of time, then managed, “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Not while we’re both alive.”

  Ela leaned away slightly—not enough to convince Kien she was upset with him. “You need a new theory.”

  “No. I’m pleased with the one I’ve just developed.”

  “I’ll disprove your premise in Parne. I doubt I’ll survive.”

  “But you aren’t sure,” he argued.

  She looked away. “In my vision, I was entombed. Surrounded by the stench of death.” Her hands went cold again, and her lovely blush faded to the ghastly pallor induced by her vision. Deathlike. Particularly now, as she shut her eyes and retreated into silence.

  If Ela hadn’t just foreseen her own demise, Kien feared he had. Sickened, he began to pray.

  “What were you studying?” Kien asked as he walked with Beka down Temple Hill’s shaded dirt road. He needed a distraction. Something lighthearted.
A cheerful discussion to make him forget his fears for Ela. Not to mention Scythe’s testiness at his departure. He hoped the destroyer wouldn’t uproot every tree on Temple Hill in a fit of resentment.

  While Kien would have welcomed Scythe’s presence in ToronSea, Ela’s situation in Parne was more dangerous, and more distant. She could ride the destroyer to Parne. And Scythe would protect her on the journey. As would the Infinite, he prayed. Kien pushed back his fears for Ela and concentrated on Beka, who was answering his question.

  Unsmiling, Beka said, “We’re studying one of the Books of the Infinite. Wisdom. Do you think it will help?”

  “Those who have wisdom are always eager for more. Those who need wisdom rarely gain it.”

  “And, often, those who have wisdom need to use it!” Beka snapped.

  “Meaning what?” Kien raised an eyebrow at his sister. “That sounded like an attack.”

  “It was. And is.” Beka mimicked his lifted eyebrow. “You and Ela love each other. Genuinely love each other. My friends have all recognized it.” She stopped on the road’s edge. “I say you two should marry.”

  “Instantaneously? As you married Jon?”

  His sister turned pink and huffed. “Our marriage wasn’t instantaneous. I’ve loved Jon for most of my life, as he’s loved me. You’re changing the subject.”

  Kien’s throat tightened. “Some subjects are best left alone.”

  “And some subjects are too important not to discuss. Marry her, Kien! Today. Twist Father’s arm for special permission. Twist Ela’s arm—nicely.”

  Did Beka know what a wound she was opening? Kien listened to his boots crunching against the gritty dirt road as he and Beka resumed walking. The decision was Ela’s, actually. But he wasn’t about to twist her arm, as Beka had urged. Not yet, anyway.

  At last, protective of Ela, he said, “We can’t marry. Imagine the two of us together. Today, for example. Ela’s been sent to Parne. I’ve been sent to ToronSea. One or both of us could die.” The strain in his throat worsened. His voice rasped. “What if we marry and have children? They’d be orphaned.”

  His sister was quiet for about ten paces. “Jon and I would cherish your children while you’re gone. You know we would.”

  “Thank you, but that doesn’t help.”

  “Even so, it’s true. We’d protect your children.” Then, as if summoning courage, Beka blurted out, “Jon and I have been married for seven months, and I’m still not pregnant! We—”

  Kien flung up a hand. “Stop! Spare me the details—I don’t want to hear.”

  “Well . . .” Beka quavered, “we’ve w-wanted babies. . . .”

  “Beka!” He softened his scolding with a fond shake. “Hush. You’ll be wonderful parents. Just allow me to be a proud, ignorant uncle, and we’ll leave it at that.” If he survived ToronSea.

  Her lower lip was out. “I suppose I don’t blame you for being grouchy.”

  “Grouchy doesn’t begin to describe my mood.”

  “You’re worried about Ela.”

  Surprise. “Yes.”

  Beka kicked at a pebble. “Jon and I could accompany her to Parne. We’ve been eager to travel with our destroyers, and she’ll have Scythe, so it’s ideal.”

  Kien linked an arm with his little sister’s. “It’s not ideal. There’s going to be a siege.”

  “We’ll leave before then,” Beka promised. “And you’d feel better, wouldn’t you?”

  “I might.” But only a hint. Certainly not enough to make a dent in his fears for Ela. Plus now he’d fret about Beka and Jon’s safety while they were in Parne.

  They marched into East Guard and tramped through its main streets to the quiet residential area Beka and Jon called home. Though a long walk, it did little to settle Kien’s nerves.

  The instant they passed through the stone-arched gate leading to Jon and Beka’s huge private courtyard, Commander Jon Thel bounded out of the house, grinning, while armed with his new Azurnite sword. Smiling, Beka kissed her husband’s cheek. “Dearest, cancel your military leave. We’re traveling to Parne.”

  Jon’s dark eyebrows rushed together. “What?” He glanced at Kien for clarification.

  Kien punched his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “Good luck with the siege—and enjoy your new sword. I’m leaving for ToronSea. I hope to rejoin you within a few weeks—and find some way to assist Ela.”

  “What?!” Jon yelled after him, “Hold on, Kien!”

  Kien pretended to walk off. But then—as Jon bellowed again—he turned around. No doubt Beka would invite him to share a meal while they talked. And they needed to talk.

  Surely the Infinite was testing their loyalties to Him, sending them all on hazardous missions with virtually no information. In silence, Kien begged his Creator, Be with us!

  4

  In Kien’s tower room, Father stared as if Kien had grown a second nose. “Siege?”

  Kien almost chuckled despite his bad mood. Rade Lantec, preeminent member of the Grand Assembly, prided himself on his network of spies. Well, they’d clearly failed him here.

  “Ridiculous!” Rade protested. “The Tracelands has nothing to do with Parne. Or Belaal!”

  “Ela said new ores have been discovered in Parne. Ores that can be used to create weapons. Ores dangerous enough that Belaal is preparing to attack Parne for them, while Istgard and Siphra will fight to protect their own interests.”

  Garbed in a comfortable tunic, boots, and a cloak, Kien buckled a dagger onto his sword-belt. After checking his sword, he gathered a spare tunic, sandals, a small tarp, a cooking pot, his flint and metal fire kit, fishing net, and packets of dried fruits and meats, and shoved them into his knapsack. “The Infinite will allow Parne to fall.”

  “The Infinite.” Rade pursed his lips and looked up at the tower’s roof beams.

  Kien ignored his father’s disdain. Though Rade and Ara Lantec refused to believe in the Infinite, Kien hoped to eventually change their minds. Finished packing his gear, he pulled about a third of the coins from his pay bag, dropped them into the pouch slung from his belt, and handed his father the balance. “I promised Mother I’d make restitution for the damage to her garden. Here’s the initial payment.”

  Rade blustered, “We don’t need your money!”

  “It’s a matter of honor, sir. Have you seen the garden?”

  “Of course not. Your mother ordered it curtained off for this evening. Did you get rid of that destroyer?” Rade looked hopeful, not quite managing to disguise his loathing for Scythe.

  “I’ve left Scythe with Ela. She’ll ride him to Parne.”

  “Oh. Well. I wish them a good journey.”

  And glad to see them go, Kien knew. He slung a waterskin over his shoulder, then landed a fist on Father’s shoulder and gave him a ferocious hug in farewell.

  Rade thumped Kien’s back. “Let’s go find your mother.”

  Downstairs, Kien halted Mother’s reception preparations just long enough to kiss her and murmur, “I’m sorry. Father has my first payment for repairs to the garden. I hope to see you in a week or so. Until then, be safe.”

  Ara’s big gray eyes misted. “You be safe, dear. I’m sorry I lost my temper this morning.”

  He grinned. “After seeing the garden, I thought you restrained yourself admirably.”

  Mother hugged him tight. “Oh, my boy, I miss you already!”

  “I miss you too.” He gave her a final hug and another kiss. Before she could add to the ruin of his day with sobs, Kien fled outside to the stables.

  He approached the low, long stone building and looked over the selection of Lantec horses. Handsome creatures, every one. But even the best was nothing compared to Scythe. “C’mon, you mouse,” he muttered to the sturdiest beast. “You’ll have to do.”

  A year ago, Kien would have been overjoyed at the thought of escaping one of his mother’s parties by way of a week-long jaunt on a horse. But now, as Kien rode through East Guard, the horse’s puny snufflings and the
minuscule clipping sounds of its hooves against the street pavings made the notion ridiculous. Really, he must pity the horse, who was—after all—one of the Infinite’s creations.

  The thought didn’t help.

  As he turned the beast south onto the coast road, Kien studied the cliffs on his right. He could see the ruins above on Temple Hill. Was Ela watching him depart?

  How could he leave her to face Parne alone? Surely there was something he could do to ease her situation. Remembering her deathly pallor, and her tears, Kien shut his eyes.

  You are about to be tested, she’d said.

  In what way? He’d been given no instructions whatsoever. Was he supposed to be tested for his willingness to warn a town full of obtuse Tracelanders against spiritual corruption? Was his courage being measured? His love for Ela? Or perhaps his good judgment was being tested. What about his abilities as a military judge? Might they be the true focus of this test? If so, which situation was more critical? ToronSea or Parne?

  Besides, what if ToronSea’s citizens ignored his warnings? Would he be blamed? Kien scowled, puzzling out his options.

  You must obey the Infinite, Ela’s voice whispered in his thoughts.

  Fine. He would go to ToronSea. But then he had to help Ela.

  Wasn’t ToronSea on Siphra’s border? Kien would use his connections in Siphra. He’d hunted with the rebel Akabe “of no other name” before the young man became king of Siphra. Despite his now-regal status, Akabe would certainly remember Kien and grant him an audience.

  An uncomfortable shiver slid upward along Kien’s backbone. Doubt nudged his conscience.

  Would it be wrong of him to somehow interfere in Parne?

  No. He refused to think of it.

  He would ride this pathetic little horse to Siphra the instant he finished with ToronSea.

  Holding the branch, Ela watched General Rol turn loose his destroyer in the clearing. The destroyer, Flame, a striking but fierce creature Ela had always admired, immediately charged into the woods.

  To eat, Ela hoped. Not to fight with Scythe. Nor to pester Tzana and her little friends—girls who frequently visited from the dwellings scattered over Temple Hill’s lower slopes.

 

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