The Judge was addressing Shilly, not Sal, and she fought to control her surprise in order to speak clearly. Othniel had been more than he had seemed. Why not the young woman before her, too?
“We, uh, well, we came here to find Mage Van Haasteren. Not this Mage Van Haasteren. His father. He was my first teacher’s teacher, and I thought he might be able to help us.”
“Help you how?” asked a woman in full robes like the bearded man. Her hair was pure black in the moonlight.
“By teaching us. Or just me. I don’t know. Sal had family here, and I had no one. That was all I had to hope for: to learn.”
“What happened to your first teacher?”
“He—” She stopped. “I thought he’d died helping us escape. We learned on the way here that he hasn’t died at all, but become a golem. He’s in the Haunted City now.” His body is, she amended to herself. I’ve no idea where he is.
“Are we talking about Payat Misseri here?” asked a young, white-clad man to Shilly’s left.
“Yes,” said the woman near Sal—the one referred to as the Mage Erentaite.
“How ironic.”
“We aren’t here to discuss his case.” The bearded man frowned at his colleague, then turned back to Shilly. “Forgive us if we ask you a lot of difficult questions, child. Although we already know some of your recent history, there is much we need to clarify in order to make our decision properly. You came here seeking teaching, you said.”
“Yes.”
“Even though you possess no talent of your own?”
“Of my own, no, but—”
“She is an Irregular,” said the Mage Van Haasteren, “with residual predilection for the higher techniques.”
“She’s great with patterns,” piped up Skender. “You should see her. She—”
“Not you.” The man’kin silenced the boy with a gesture. “Your turn will come. Go on, Mage Van Haasteren.”
“The truth is that, if she had the Change, she would be a powerful talent. That she does not is a tragedy, for she desires it greatly.”
“Could you teach her?” asked the black-haired woman.
“Yes.”
“Does her head and heart agree?”
“She…” The mage glanced at Shilly. “No, they do not,” he admitted regretfully. “I can train her, but not fully.”
“You took her in, anyway. Did you do so to gain access to the boy?”
“In part, yes. He I am able to train, and he needs it, badly. But I took them both in because they are suited. They complement each other almost perfectly. It seemed simpler to keep them together until I worked out what they needed as individuals.” The mage took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not being as clear as I’d like to be. And in truth this insight doesn’t belong wholly to me. Part of it has come to me second-hand from the girl’s first teacher, who recognised that the two of them are linked.”
“Payat again,” snorted the white-clad man.
“Yes, him. He haunts us all, apparently.”
Warden Behenna raised a hand. “May I speak now?”
“No.”
“But I have something to—”
“You brought this matter before us,” said the man’kin. “You therefore speak last.”
The warden subsided again, reluctantly. Shilly could feel the urgency radiating off him like heat.
“The boy will not speak for himself. I find this strange and unhelpful. Why has he made this decision?”
“As a protest against this proceeding,” said the woman standing at Sal’s side. “He will not willingly return to the Strand under any circumstances.”
“Perhaps understandably,” said another of the Judges, “given the effort he expended to get away from it. He has family here and he is best trained here. Why would we even consider making him leave?”
The question was directed to no one in particular, but it was Radi Mierlo who answered it.
“His father—his real father—is in the Strand,” she said, her voice slow and dignified. “His great-aunt, Syndic Nu Zanshin, spent several years trying to find him while he was on the run with his de facto father. It was this man, Dafis Hrvati, who raised him to despise and fear the Sky Wardens, in ignorance of his heritage and potential.”
“No training at all?”
“None.”
“That explains his wild talent.”
“Such ignorance was, perhaps, justified,” said the Mage Van Haasteren. “Sal explained why when he arrived at the Keep. The reasons are complex and beyond the scope of this hearing. I ask you to note that Sal has retained his adoptive father’s name, Hrvati, despite everything he has learned in recent weeks. He has taken neither his mother’s name nor his true father’s, nor their married name.”
“What else did Sal tell you?” asked the Judge with black hair. “Is there anything else we should know?”
“That I have little faith in those who say they would care for him.” The mage prowled around the centre of the circle, pointing as he went. “His grandmother, for starters, seeks nothing but personal advancement from him.”
“Nonsense,” said Radi Mierlo. “I would freely abandon my holdings here to protect him if he has to return to the Strand.”
“Exactly. And we all know how well the Mierlos have been received here since they returned from the Strand, ten years ago.” The mage moved on to Tait. “This one betrayed his own brother’s confidence to reveal that Sal had not left Fundelry—also in order to advance his own interests.”
The journeyman shifted his feet awkwardly at Shilly’s side. “I was doing my duty.”
“Like any good warden.” The mage came to Behenna. “Yes. A good Sky Warden knows where to draw the line. He doesn’t abandon his constituents in order to go off on a half-baked quest to bring back one errant boy unless there’s a very good reason. It’s a big risk to take. Who knows what it might cost? But that’s duty. Yes, indeed.”
The Judges as one stared at Behenna as though he was something repugnant, and Shilly was reminded of the frill-necked lizard hissing at him. She didn’t know what the Mage Van Haasteren was implying, but the Sky Warden glared right back at him, his lips a tight line. There was a hunted look in his eye that hadn’t been there before, as though he was keeping his response carefully in check, for fear of what he might do.
“If these people truly have Sal and Shilly’s best interests at heart,” the Mage Van Haasteren concluded, “then I am not my father’s son.”
Shilly wondered what his case had to do with her, since most of it revolved around Sal. But she kept her mouth shut.
“That is your argument, then?” asked the man’kin, its wings shifting position with the sound of rock crunching underfoot. “That the children will be improperly cared for if they return to the Strand?”
“Primarily, yes.” The mage nodded and backed down. “I see little need to jeopardise their wellbeing when we can give them all they need here, at least until they are old enough to choose for themselves.”
“Is there any extemporal information regarding these two that we might consult? Dreams? Prophecies?”
“I, ah, suspect,” said the thin, white-bearded man, “that these children might be of significance to certain concerns, both here and in the Strand.”
The man’kin stared at him with its blank, marble eyes.
“I would prefer not to be more specific,” he added.
The young woman next to Sal stirred. “Some desire Sal and Shilly in order to gain strength for their Line or Clan. This is likely to be true in Radi Mierlo’s case. Others have a similar interest in their fate.”
“Would you care to name these people?” asked the man’kin, turning heavily to face her.
“They know who they are.”
The young woman looked around the circle of Judges. Shilly was reminded of the Weavers, and the warning the Mage Erentaite had given Van Haasteren at their first meeting. They are everywhere, yet nowhere. Their work is of vital importance to both our l
ands, yet is conducted in absolute secrecy. They destroy as often as they create, and they are not to be crossed. Were they, she wondered, the ones who were being hinted at here? Was one of them present, and did that explain why everyone was being so cautious?
What on Earth did the Stone Mage Synod have to be frightened of?
“I fail to understand,” the man’kin said. “Do these mysterious third parties wish them here or in the Strand?”
“That I don’t know.”
“If neither their intentions nor their identities are clear, I do not see how we can be expected to take them into account.”
No one said anything for a long minute. Shilly noted that some of the Judges were unsettled by the topic. Others kept their faces completely blank, as though nothing of any significance was being discussed. One, a square-faced woman of middle years, seemed bored, and it was she who broke the silence.
“Can we move on?” she asked. “Hints and rumours will get us nowhere. The interests of the children are all that should concern us.”
“I agree,” said the Mage Van Haasteren. “We can only base our decision on the facts, not speculation, and our time is not unlimited.”
Shilly looked up at the moon. It hung frozen in the sky.
“What else needs to be said in favour of keeping the children here?” asked the man’kin, looking around the small group before it, one by one. “Is that argument complete?”
“You just can’t send them back,” said Skender. “That’d be crazy.”
“Why so?”
“Because…” The boy looked surprised that he suddenly had the man’kin’s permission to speak. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair. They want to be here, so why shouldn’t they be allowed to stay?”
“It’s not that simple. There are many things to take into account apart from their desires.”
“Such as?” Skender took on the role of questioner with all the reckless confidence of a small dog barking at a very large man. “Who are you to decide what’s best for them? How can you hope to know everything about them in just one sitting—especially when Sal won’t even talk to you? What gives you the right to take over someone’s life and change it in a way they don’t want? They’re not criminals. They’re not refugees. They came here to learn from us, and you’re actually thinking of turning them away. That’s why I think it’s crazy!”
He subsided, breathing heavily, as his father put a hand on his shoulder.
No one said anything. The night was still, poised on a cusp Shilly could half-sense but still wasn’t quite sure she fully understood. Then:
“Sky Warden Behenna.”
The warden stepped forward at the mention of his name.
“How do you respond to this? Why do you come to us to make this decision for the children?”
“My response is simple.” His gaze roamed the circle and settled on her. They were bright, eager for a fight. “Shilly? I want to ask you a single question. Do you want to stay here? Tell us now so we can all hear. Are you convinced that that would be the right thing to do?”
All attention turned to her. Her automatic response was to say yes because that was what Sal wanted, but the word wouldn’t come out. It didn’t feel right. The unexpected hesitation prompted a storm of emotions. What did she want? She hadn’t found the security she had wanted in the Interior, and she had been seriously hurt. She might not walk properly again, despite the Mage Erentaite’s ministrations. The Keep didn’t offer the right sort of education—as Van Haasteren had admitted and Tait had demonstrated—whereas Warden Behenna had offered her a teacher in the Strand and access to talent more suited to her nature. Was it really such a bad thought, to go home, where Lodo’s body lay waiting for her to rescue him? Was she convinced?
Sal was watching her—she could feel it. But she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I thought I was, before, but now I don’t know what I want. I’m sorry.”
“But—” spluttered Skender. “But—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Behenna said, almost gently, ignoring the boy as though he wasn’t there. “It’s not a bad thing to be confused, especially at your age. Finding out who you are and what you should be is no easy process, and sometimes we take steps in the wrong direction along the way. Not usually as large as yours, I’ll admit, but it’s the same thing in principle. And it’s never too late to turn back.” He held her gaze for a moment then turned to address the Judges. “May I speak freely now?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me say this. Everything I have heard so far convinces me that I have done the right thing. Only one person has said anything sensible, and that is the one person I thought least likely. How dare you—who presumed to speak for these children without even knowing what one of them wanted—accuse me of not acting in their best interests? You can see the lengths I have gone to in order to ensure their safety. I have followed them a long way and at great personal cost. Are these the actions of a man who has only his self-interest at heart? Aren’t your misconceptions proof that I am more fit to make this decision than you?”
Across from Shilly, Sal’s eyes narrowed, but he could say nothing.
“Go on.”
“Well, to begin with, I come from the same place as them, so I know what they’re leaving behind. I also know the full story behind Sal’s parents. I suspect that the version of events he has been told will turn out to be true only in fact, not in essence. He is too young to appreciate the subtleties. Exposure to his true father and the rest of his family, waiting for him right now in the Haunted City, will allow him the opportunity to make an informed decision about his future. Denying him that chance would be no better than caging him.”
Behenna took several paces around the empty space between the Judges. “You question my motives, and I allow you that. But such questions can swing both ways. Mage Van Haasteren’s grip on the Keep has been weak for a generation, since the Payat Misseri scandal. What better way for him to firm the school’s reputation than taming a wild talent? I am not questioning his ability as a teacher but pointing out that his motivations are not necessarily so pure. He himself admits that he offered to teach Shilly because he wants to keep Sal. Is that the judgment of a man who has the best interests of the children at heart? If he was as ill-mannered as his own son when he was younger, it’s no wonder his father wanted to divert the lineage elsewhere.”
Veins stood out in the Mage Van Haasteren’s neck, but he said nothing, and one strong hand on his son’s shoulder kept him quiet too.
“He says that my journeyman betrayed his own brother.” Behenna continued his stroll around the circle until he was abreast with Shilly. “Well, there’s no denying that Tait did betray a confidence. But does he realise that Tait’s brother, Tom, is the only candidate I have ever seen to turn down Selection directly to the Alcaide’s face? What does that say about his judgment? Add to that the fact that Tom then helped Sal and Shilly escape in a vehicle that had been legally confiscated by the town’s Alders in order to prevent just such an escape, and ask yourself again whose judgment is poor.
“My journeyman acted in good faith to protect Sal and Shilly from the lies they have been told. The friendship he has shown Shilly since demonstrates further that his heart is good. Don’t be fooled by the surface. Do justice to what’s at stake and dig deeper to find the truth.”
He turned on Sal. “You, my boy, are the one I feel sorriest for. You despise me, steal from me and you seek to wound me, but I know that you only do so out of severe misunderstanding. It is not through any fault of your own. You deserve at least to know what your options are before you trap yourself here forever. You need to meet the rest of your family in order to know who you might become. At least let us take you that far. You should know by now that you can trust me to do only what is good for you.”
Sal shook his head, slowly but definitely.
“Think of Shilly, then,” the Sky Warden said. “I saved your fr
iend’s life. I’ve offered her a place in the Haunted City, where she will be taught as she deserves to be. All you can offer her is isolation and alienation. Allow me to show you the alternative before you drag her off on another pointless adventure. Would you deny her the chance to achieve her true potential in the place she calls home?”
Sal hesitated, his defiance undermined.
“I see a clear dichotomy between the needs of each child,” interrupted the man’kin. “Is separation a possibility. The girl goes south with you while the boy stays here?”
“No,” said Behenna, turning to face the man’kin. “That is not a possibility.”
“Why not? Why must they be kept together?”
“Their fates are linked,” said Van Haasteren. “I feel this, and so did Payat Misseri. Although I disapproved of his methods—” The Stone Mage glanced in disdain at the Sky Warden. “—I’m not surprised that Behenna agrees.”
“To break that bond,” said the young woman standing beside Sal, “might have greater ramifications than we can see at present.”
“But it is the simplest solution to the moral dilemma before us,” said the Judge with dark hair, frowning. “Can we be expected to see beyond that, to follow hints and hunches in the face of hard facts?”
“We must consider all possibilities,” said the woman who had looked bored earlier. Now she was paying close attention to proceedings. “How would the children themselves feel about studying apart?”
All eyes turned again to Shilly, since Sal was forbidden to speak. A surprising sense of dismay rolled through her at the thought of being separated from Sal. It was the same feeling she had felt during the storm, before Behenna had announced that Sal wasn’t going to escape after all. They had known each other only a short time, but he had had such a powerful effect on her life. The sense of togetherness they had shared for a brief time had carried them such a huge distance that it was easy to see why everyone thought they might do even more, one day. Turning her back on that possibility would be as hard as it had been to leave Fundelry.
Judging by Sal’s expression, he was feeling much the same way. His jaw worked as he waited for her to answer, and his blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
The Sky Warden and the Sun Page 37