by Amy Keeley
Six Dogs came from the entrance to the castle and walked up to the platform. Unlike other times she’d met them, a spell surrounded them, making it difficult to focus on anything but their scarlet vests and the black staves each held. “Do you know anything about this?” Daegan asked Zhiv.
“No.” And she could tell that this fact unsettled Zhiv more than he might want others to think.
Zhiv paled as the Dogs raised their staves and thumped them on the ground, a spell whistling through the air like a shriek.
“Zhiv—” Daegan began but Zhiv lifted his hand for silence. Daegan shook his head. “We must go, goodwife.”
“When the Dogs deliver judgment,” Zhiv said, “they don’t appreciate those who don’t stay to watch.”
Daegan’s nostrils flared. And yet, he stayed.
It took a moment for her to remember Zhiv’s street name. “Parlay, are they—”
“Yes, goodwife.” And the fury from before entered his eyes again. “And there is nothing to be done except watch their justice.”
They watched as the Dogs thumped the ground once more, the shriek penetrating everyone it touched until a large crowd had begun to gather. They watched as two more brought out a man in a steel cage, hands and fingers bound behind his back so that he couldn’t cast any spells.
The Dogs announced his crime: using Ornic spells to grow plants. He was a merchant (specializing in exotic building materials), and only his wife could grow anything in their home.
Daegan leaned in close enough that both Zhiv and Krysilla could hear him. “I know him. Velensi. His wife has been sick and the nobles no longer want what he sells.”
“Remember,” Zhiv said, his eyes never leaving the man.
With a wave of a staff, one of the Dogs opened the front of the cage. Another whirled his and the man, tears streaming down his face, was yanked out and forced to walk to the platform.
“But he used Ornic spells,” Krysilla heard someone in the crowd say behind her. He did nothing of the sort, she wanted to snap. He only used spells that belonged to a different trade.
“Parlay,” Daegan said, “we must go.”
“Don’t you want to see justice done?” Zhiv said, his smile twisted with anger and his eyes flashing.
Daegan’s returning gaze was calm. “Yes. But not here. Not now.”
And it was then that Krysilla caught the shine of tears in Zhiv’s eyes. Without another glance at the platform, the two men left in the direction of the Disciples’ library. Krysilla followed, unable to keep from turning back as the charges were read. Only when they asked Velensi to defend himself did they all of them stop and turn back.
“It wasn’t Ornic magic!” he shouted. “I swear it! I’ve never even seen the words they used! I got them from a spell merchant at the market.” He began to sob. “I got them to feed my family.”
“You could have purchased what you needed from others,” one of the Dogs said. “If that was too much of a burden, you could have asked for a dispensation from the King.”
“And how long would that have taken?” he spat.
“The truth is that you had other options. You did not need to break the law.”
Krysilla felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Zhiv, eyes flashing bright in the sun, jaw working furiously, about to pass her. But Daegan placed his hand on Zhiv’s shoulder and said, “We need to leave now, Parlay.” Leaning in, she barely caught the words he whispered to Zhiv. “Don’t destroy the work of years for one man.”
“It isn’t one man, Daegan.”
“Parlay—”
“He didn’t tell me this was going to happen today,” Zhiv hissed as the Dogs continued to explain why the merchant did not need to practice illegal magics. “They haven’t done this in years,” he continued, “not since I first took up residence in the Jixsin house.”
“And if you continue to make a scene, you’ll be on that platform yourself.”
Zhiv’s smile curled out at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I know I’ll find myself there someday, Daegan. The question is why.”
Concerned now, Daegan said, “We’re late, Parlay.”
“You’re late. I want to stay.” He glanced down at Krysilla, and his gaze softened slightly. “You remember what I said? Watch.”
Velensi was sobbing now, begging to be spared so he could take care of his children and wife. The Dogs’ response was simple and logical. “A criminal should not be allowed to have either. The King will take care of them.”
And then they surrounded him, staves touching the ground once more. They thumped them once, then raised them until the heads were touching over the condemned man. Light appeared among the cluster, growing bright as the sun itself. It poured down like water, covering the man but not his screams. Krysilla clamped her hands over her ears, eyes wide and wet with tears that streaked down her face. The Dogs pulled away their staves and the man continued to burn, though he had stopped screaming. When the flames died down, all that was left was ashes.
Only then did Zhiv turn away. “And you doubt,” he said to Daegan.
“I doubt the methods you occasionally endorse, not the purpose. That’s enough of that.”
“I have the feeling very soon it won’t matter what we say, in private or public.” A great sadness weighed down Zhiv’s shoulders. The wetness Krysilla had seen in his eyes had grown, and he tilted his head back, not blinking. “Where does his family live?”
“Outside the city proper, near the north creek.”
“I think some music might—yes, well.” He didn’t say anything more for several moments, not until he finally stopped staring, unblinking, at the sky. “Either way, atonement has to be made.”
“Do as you must,” Daegan said, though not unkindly. “You know where I keep my money.”
He nodded, then smiled briefly at Krysilla. “Good luck with your duties, goodwife. I shall not see either of you again until late tonight.” And with a small bow to them both, Zhiv strode toward the direction of the city’s main gate.
It wasn’t until they had passed into the Disciples’ courtyard that Krysilla was able to say anything. “Take the wages you would have paid me.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Daegan’s face softened toward her. “There’s no need for that, goodwife. Parlay wants to carry the burden himself, and he would hate both of us if he knew you went unpaid.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t use it, knowing—” Knowing I stood there and watched while their father died. And. Did. Nothing. “It was just growing,” she whispered. “I did that all the time as a farmer’s daughter. It’s small magic, nothing awful.”
“Unless you use it to cover someone in vines,” Daegan said. “Any magic can become dangerous if you know how to make it so.”
But she heard in his voice that the same guilt she knew plagued Zhiv and herself had begun to fester in him also. With that understanding, she pleaded. “Not today then. Don’t pay me for today.”
He nodded, slowly, with something akin to admiration in his eyes. “Of course not.” And she knew that the money would go to the children and sick wife Velensi had left behind. Thinking of Zhiv she said, “He didn’t know?”
Daegan shook his head. “But between that and your oath, I imagine things will be moving quickly very soon.”
They were too close to the Disciples’ library for any further conversation on that topic. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to discuss anything at all, not even something lighthearted to try and forget.
Only when they got to Hyaji’s cell did either of them say anything. Daegan announced he was there to check the locks and the door he’d built.
Krysilla looked at the stacks of books under the cloth in Hyaji’s cell, and hoped they were not Ornic books. His smile was too innocent, his eyes too bright to be standing on a platform, waiting to be burned.
“Are you all right, goodwife?” Hyaji asked as they walked up to the hidden stair.
“I’m a little under
the weather,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She was hoping the clock tower would cheer her up. Would you mind sitting with her while I examine the lock?”
“Not at all,” Hyaji said.
He’s too pure, she thought. I can’t use him the way Zhiv wants. But she had seen an execution now. She knew what the Dogs could do and she had heard Zhiv say neither he nor Daegan could stand against them if they had to fight.
But if those were Ornic books, she thought, perhaps he can be persuaded to join us. Watching Daegan examine the hidden stairs before they ascended, she tried to think of anything that might give her a reason to go back to Hyaji’s cell. Unable to come up with anything useful, she simply said, “Hyaji?”
“Yes.”
“I need to ask you a question. It’s concerning our earlier conversation.”
“Oh.” He blinked. Looking back at the cell, he nearly jumped when Daegan said, “I trust your intentions, Hon Hyaji. Just don’t be too long. I won’t need much more time on this,” before going back to examining the stepladder.
Nervous beyond anything she’d done up to this point, she didn’t relax, even when Hyaji had closed the door behind them. “Are you here for a confessional?” He tried to laugh.
Not allowing herself to think it through, she rushed forward and pulled the cloth off the books. Brilliant, golden, Ornic script gleamed in the King’s Light. The door opened and she grabbed Hyaji before he could bolt. Closing it so that he was trapped in the small room with her, she said, “I’m not going to turn you in.”
More pale than Zhiv when he’d realized an execution was about to take place, Hyaji began to shake. “They’re too beautiful. Everyone has their weakness, and I was prideful enough to think I’d overcome all of mine. But when I saw them about to burn, I couldn’t...I couldn’t let them. I came back into the library and told them I wanted to volunteer. To help gather them. I took some of the Tothsin books and put them on the bottom of the pile. They trusted my count and it looked all right, so they burned them. I burned the doctrines of my own faith,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. “I can’t even read them,” he said, the laughter of a madman bubbling up through his words. “We were never taught Ornic. These were references for the teachers who warned us against them, and they were kept so that they would know exactly what they were combating in case any of our parents turned out to have believed the same. And so we could preach against them. But the books themselves.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.
“But they were kept in the library.”
“These are the ones the teachers kept for themselves. No one else saw them. The empty shelves you saw...I couldn’t save those. Those are the ones anyone could read because they were histories that denounced Ornic ways or collections of essays on the superiority of Tothsin beliefs compared to Ornic. It didn’t matter what they said really, if they contained the word ‘Ornic’. No, what I took was worse than if I’d saved those books. That would have made sense. Not this. I will have to pay dearly for this sin.”
She looked at the beautiful script and thought of the stones Zhiv had painstakingly copied once, even though some of the writing had worn away. “Have you found out anything about the King, Hyaji?” she said, her eyes never leaving the books.
“Nothing,” he sniffed, a little color returning to his face. “There are workmen who go up to the clock tower. Soon, I think even I might not be allowed up there.”
“Then we need to get back to Hon Jixsin,” she said, and covered the books once more with the cloth. “Your secret is safe with me.” Smiling, she added, “In fact, I can think of one person who would be most interested in what you’ve found. Someone who might be able to tell you what they say.”
His eyes widened, and she knew that was a sin he would never commit. “Please, don’t tell anyone. It’s bad enough I’ve kept them. I don’t want to know what evil lay between their covers.”
Unwilling to push him any further down a path he obviously did not wish to follow, she said, “All right. Let’s go back.”
Hyaji remained pale, even after they’d left his cell, and continued to remain pale as they ascended to the clock room.
Daegan examined the lock, then said, “Hon Hyaji, may I be so bold as to ask if I may look at the bell tower?”
Hyaji looked from Daegan to Krysilla and back again, understanding growing in his eyes. “Of course.”
Krysilla stayed in the clock room while Daegan went up the ladder, his large frame barely able to squeeze through. Hyaji said, softly, “What are you planning?”
“Nothing,” she replied with all honesty. “But there is something strange happening in the courts of the King. We wish to learn what that might be.”
“Goodwife,” Daegan called down through the small tunnel. “Would you come here for a moment?”
Excusing herself, she joined Daegan on the platform under the bells. “Did it look like this when you came up here last?”
Though the one side was still missing, now there were timbers of various sizes and in various stages of construction at various points around the bells. None of them touched the bells and none of them had any obvious purpose. She told Daegan she hadn’t seen any of the timberwork when she had been here last.
He nodded slowly. “It’s a marvelous view.”
“Straight to the mountains.” She watched Daegan’s face and realized it held the same concern that Zhiv’s had shown when asked if the King planned on touching the rift.
But Daegan only thanked Krysilla and said that he was satisfied all was well with his work. They climbed down.
Hyaji was nowhere to be seen. And for the first time it occurred to Krysilla that perhaps the Disciples had a contraption as complex at the clock that might, like the Ornic magic she’d heard in stories, allow them to keep an eye on others. Or at least, overhear. “I must thank Hyaji for his time before I go,” she said, terrified for her new friend. Daegan paused as he walked, then nodded and continued down the stairs.
Hyaji was nowhere to be seen along the way down the tower. When they got to his cell, he was still absent.
Now, even Daegan looked concerned. “What did you last say to him?”
Unsure what she should say, she decided to tell him the truth. She told him about the books, and how Hyaji had saved them. Daegan’s eyes went wide as he heard her speak, but only when she’d finished did he allow himself to look at the books covered by cloth. “He wouldn’t keep them only in here,” he said.
She remembered the flash of gold when her foot had sunk into the floor. “I’m sure he has many different hiding spots.”
“More secure than this, too.”
And then Krysilla told him her fear. Daegan listening, then said, “They don’t have anything like that. Only the King listens on his grounds, and the Disciples are off—” and then he stopped, understanding in his eyes. “Purification. They would want to know they were pure.” Staring at the books, he growled in frustration. Closing the door, he said, “Let’s look for him.”
She remembered the merchant on the platform and hoped Hyaji was still all right.
“Can you find your way around by yourself?”
“Is it wise to split up?’
“No. But it’s faster, without rushing through the building like madmen.” He pointed to a corridor to the side. “I’ll look here, you take the main library. Meet at the entrance. Don’t hurry.”
“There were listening spells after all,” she said.
“No. That would imply impurity. The Dogs, goodwife. There’s a chance they search the place with their spells. That the Disciples would allow because those spells are gone when the Dogs leave.” Daegan shook his head, furious. “And there’s a cache here that some would give their eyeteeth for. Dogs are more sensitive than most. They would know.”
She knew he meant Zhiv would give his eyeteeth for those books, and that magic might still linger on their pages depending on how they were used. They split u
p and, walking with a focused, yet unhurried gait, Krysilla began to wander through the library, looking for any sign of Hyaji.
Though he hadn’t said for her to do so, once it became clear Hyaji wasn’t in the library proper, she entered a corridor and began to obviously look around. One of the Disciples noticed and said, “May I help you, goodwife?”
“I’m looking for Hon Hyaji. Have you seen him?”
“No. Oh, wait. Yes. I saw him speaking with Hon Syjimyix, down that hall.”
“Thank you.” She curtsied in respect and he inclined his head toward her. Trying not to hurry down the hall, she looked for any sign of him. The hall itself was dark and little used from the look of it. It made her feel her steps must be silent. She wished for Zhiv’s boots that seemed to swallow up the sound of their own steps when he chose. Voices drifted from an open door, one of them Hyaji. She didn’t recognize the other, but the words she realized he was saying made a chill race down her spine.
“The clock tower does not belong to you. You may not bring whoever you wish to its confines.”
Hyaji said, “I thought Hon Jixsin, since he built the lock—”
“A lock that is no longer needed.”
“But you’ve asked for the key.”
“That is ours to know, Hon Hyaji. Not yours.”
“I take care of that clock. The brethren and sisters rely on it for their prayers and meditations. The city even relies on it, and the King himself sets his time by it.”
“The King owns the tower and may do with it as he wishes. If he wished to dismantle the whole of it, there would be nothing you or I could say. Do you disagree?”
“It’s not that I disagree. The King’s rule is absolute—”
“No, it is not.”
Krysilla waited in the stillness, trying not to breath. Waiting.
“Hon Hyaji,” the voice said, in a tone that indicated he was about to explain something very important. “You have served us well. Your peers and superiors have nothing but praise for you. The only complaint I’ve heard is that you tend to spend too much time studying doctrine. Therefore, I shall explain this to you, for your sake, and for your obvious love of the tower. But you must never breathe a word of it. Not to anyone.”