by Roger Taylor
‘I am, your Excellencies.’
It was another of the clerks. He stood up, turned to face the Gevethen and bowed. Jeyan noted that his robes were of a different style to those worn by the others and of a conspicuously better quality. Further, his voice indicated a superior education. Anger began to curl inside her. A lawyer of some kind, she surmised. Are you one of those on whom my father leaned for support only to be abandoned? she thought viciously, memories flooding back to her.
‘Have you anything to say that will prove your innocence…?’
‘… your innocence?’
The voices, addressed directly to the prisoner, brought Jeyan sharply back to the present.
Fear filled the man’s face. He looked towards the lawyer who had stood up on his behalf but the man was apparently engrossed in some papers.
There being no help from this quarter, the man spoke for himself though with difficulty through his swollen mouth. ‘I’ve not done anything, Excellencies,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ve always supported you. I helped in the riots… the liberation… when the count… the outlaw Ibryen… was exposed and driven from the city.’
‘How are you here, then?’
The man shot another glance at his Pleading Voice, again to no avail. ‘I don’t know, your Excellencies. I was nowhere near the place where Lord Counsellor Hagen was…’ he faltered, obviously searching desperately for the word that had been used. ‘… where he was translated. I kept the curfew that followed. I was sitting peacefully in my house when, for no reason, the Guards broke down my door and started smashing everything and beating me and my family.’
The Gevethen leaned forward.
‘If this is so, then it may be that you have indeed been brought here unjustly. Order is our way, citizen. We cannot tolerate random and arbitrary behaviour by our servants…’
‘… our servants.’
Jeyan started and glanced quickly from one to the other. Their harsh tones were suddenly avuncular and concerned. The man became pathetically grateful. ‘Thank you, your Excellencies. Your justice is legendary. I knew you’d see that a mistake had been made when it was explained.’
A reassuring wave from the Gevethen silenced him and their voices became harsh again.‘Bring the Commander responsible for this man’s arrest before us so that these accusations can be put to him.’
There was a short pause, then Commander Gidlon appeared from somewhere at the side of the Hall. He moved hurriedly to the side of the prisoner and bowed deeply to the Gevethen.
‘You have the official account of this man’s arrest, Commander?’
‘I have, Excellencies.’ He held up a thick file of papers.
‘Read it then. In full. Omit nothing. Serious allegations have been made against the men in your command and they must be answered…’
‘… be answered.’
Their voices bore down on Gidlon powerfully and he began to look decidedly uncomfortable. The prisoner however, was brightening at each word, looking from the Gevethen to Gidlon in growing triumph.
Jeyan, orphaned by the Gevethen and moulded by the Ennerhald, watched the man in disbelief. Surely he couldn’t be taking this black charade at its face value? She did not know exactly what was happening, but she wanted to scream out to him, ‘Don’t listen to them, they’re taunting you! There’s no justice here, only treachery and death! Spit in their faces!’ But she knew that if she moved, either the hands of the servants or the Gevethen’s strange power would pinion her to the chair before she could utter a word. Yet, something else was restraining her. Then, from the darkness within her, where murder had hatched, it came. It was unexpected but not unfamiliar. It was a withering contempt. The man was a fool. He deserved whatever was going to happen to him. He’d been stupid enough to get himself arrested and he’d grovelled before the Gevethen and now he would see the measure of their gratitude. Watching him learn would be amusing.
Gidlon began to read. ‘The prisoner refused to open the door to your Guards, making it necessary for them to force an entry. He then assaulted them, injuring two before being overpowered. On searching this house, extensive evidence of his support for the outlaw Ibryen was found. Subsequent to his arrest, freed from the fear of his dangerous presence, witnesses have testified that on numerous occasions he has actively tried to persuade them to join him in plotting for the overthrowing of your Excellencies and the reinstatement of the outlaw Ibryen.’
His voice was brisk and formal and he stood smartly to attention when he had finished.
As Gidlon spoke, the prisoner’s face registered first disbelief and then indignation. Still having difficulty in speaking, he spluttered. ‘Lies! All lies! That wasn’t what happened. I never refused to open the door. I didn’t even know they were in the street until they smashed the door in. And they set about me… and my family… without any provocation.’ He turned to Gidlon. ‘You lying…’ He stopped himself and after a struggle to regain some composure, looked up in hopeful appeal to the Gevethen. ‘Your Excellencies. The officer is mistaken. Perhaps he’s confused my name with someone else’s. There was a great deal of confusion following Lord Counsellor Hagen’s… translation.’
‘Indeed,’the Gevethen agreed with sympathetic nods. They motioned to one of the clerks. There was a brief exchange between the prisoner, the clerk and Gidlon followed by a comparing of documents, then the announcement, ‘There is no error, Excellencies. All the papers are in order. Commander Gidlon’s report refers to this particular accused.’
The prisoner burst out, ‘Your Excellencies, you must believe me. This man is lying to protect himself. His men looted my house, beat me and my wife and son. And you can ask anyone who’s ever known me – my neighbours – my friends – I’ve never spoken against you, ever. You have no more loyal subject…’
But the little game was over. Jeyan sensed the mirror-bearers moving behind her. The Gevethen were themselves again, and the man’s words were frozen in his throat by whatever it was he was now looking up at.
‘Be silent. You add to your offences by continuing to lie thus and by impugning the integrity of our officers.’
‘We have already spoken to many of your friends and neighbours.’
‘They have denounced you.’
‘As a liar.’
‘As a follower of the outlaw Ibryen.’
The prisoner’s mouth dropped open as his gaze swung between the two Gevethen, then he turned to the lawyer. The Gevethen followed his lead.
‘Pleading Voice, is anything to be said to mitigate the guilt of this man…’
‘… this man?’
‘I’m guilty of nothing, Excellencies,’ the prisoner protested.
He was immediately the focus of the Gevethen’s attention.
‘You are perfect?’
‘Without flaw?’
The questions were spat out, their vicious tone striking the man like a spear. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came. Not that the Gevethen were waiting for an answer.
‘All are flawed, thus all are guilty. All that is to be determined here is the extent of your guilt.’
‘That is the law.’
‘Pleading Voice, what is to be said for this man?’
The lawyer slowly stood up and turned to the Gevethen. ‘Excellencies, the prisoner begs forgiveness and throws himself upon your mercy,’ he said portentously.
Jeyan suddenly found herself being addressed on either side by the Gevethen.
‘Thus it is, Lord Counsellor.’
‘Such are the imperfections that we have to deal with.’
‘Flawed…’
‘… Flawed.’
Their tone was confiding, encouraging, and hung about with the pains that the responsibilities of office brought. It told her that she was one of them now – or soon could be. One of those who held the power. But there was a question there also.
Jeyan looked down at the prisoner; his battered face was a mixture of anger and fear which gave it a sulky appearance. His mann
er invoked no sympathy. The man shouldn’t have got himself in this predicament. Her mind was racing. What was she being asked? She knew nothing of such proceedings, still less what she was doing here. What grotesque farce was being played out as part of her punishment?
‘He betrayed the usurper Count.’
‘Now he betrays us.’
‘He is on the verge of betraying those same neighbours and friends whose goodwill he just referred us to.’
‘What is the worth of such?’
‘He and his kind betrayed your father.’
‘Sentenced you to the Ennerhald.’
‘Denied you your place at our side.’
‘Should not the stable be cleansed, Lord Counsellor?’
‘Made pure?’
The disdain in their voices chimed with the contempt that, despite her own fear and confusion, was still dominating her thoughts. They were right, she knew. It was the likes of the man before her who had rallied fearfully behind the Gevethen when they had seized power. Had they shown some spirit, some determination, some loyalty to the Count, then perhaps the Gevethen’s coup would have foundered. But they hadn’t. They had run before the sight of the disloyal Guards, then they had bent the knee, and the Gevethen, having once taken hold, assiduously tightened their grip daily.
What did it matter if this wretch was disposed of? Left to linger in a dungeon somewhere. He was not the first, nor would he be the last, whether she was there, masquerading as Lord Counsellor, or not. The thought of the death pits passed suddenly through her mind, but she turned away from it. It wasn’t relevant. Whatever she said, this man had done nothing that would warrant execution, surely?
Her thoughts hardened and her contempt for the prisoner merged into that which she had for the Gevethen. Whatever else happened, she must keep the privileged position that they in their arrogance, or folly, or rank madness, had thrust her into. Sooner or later, an opportunity would present itself for her to destroy them.
The Gevethen were leaning towards her, staring intently. Once again their words returned to Jeyan.‘As you judge, so shall you be judged.’
‘What is your will, Lord Counsellor…?’
‘… Lord Counsellor?’
Jeyan hesitated, uncertain what she should say, then, almost as if someone else were speaking, she said coldly, ‘Betrayal cannot go unpunished, Excellencies. Nor can defiance.’
‘Ah!’
The two moon faces swam away from her as the Gevethen sat back in their chairs again.
‘Guilty,’they said.‘Send him to the Questioners to discover the extent of his betrayal then bring him before us again.’
Jeyan felt a coldness inside her at the word, ‘Questioners’, but she steeled herself. The Gevethen would do what they wanted to do and nothing she said or did would make any difference except to cost her her new-found advantage.
The two Guards closed about the man and marched him away. Just as they passed out of sight, Jeyan saw him stumble and to the sound of the marching was added that of feet being dragged over the close-timbered floor. She closed her ears to it.
* * * *
Several hours later, Jeyan was back in her room sitting dully in front of a lavishly spread table. The Gevethen had accompanied her there in a formal train.
‘You have learned much, Lord Counsellor.’
‘You will be a worthy successor.’
‘Eat.’
‘Rest.’
‘More are to be judged tomorrow.’
As she sat motionless, the happenings of the day passed relentlessly through her mind, over and over. An endless line of prisoners paraded before her. She could feel their eyes on her still: expectant, contemptuous, angry, a few full of hatred, most full of fear. As for her own part in the proceedings, she was still no wiser. There had been some sadistic toying with each prisoner by the Gevethen, ably assisted by the clerks and the Guards, then she had been turned to for‘her will’. Each time she had intoned to herself, ‘As you judge, so shall you be judged,’ and then uttered the condemnation that she knew was expected. And each time the Gevethen had passed sentence as though they had been enlightened by her in some way.
Alone in the silence of her room, other thoughts came to trouble her, for, more than once that day, she had found herself enjoying the tormenting of the prisoners, enjoying the revenge she was taking on the people who had betrayed her and her family and the old Nesdiryn, and who now found the new Nesdiryn betraying them in their turn. She could not avoid relishing the idea that from where she now was, vengeance could be taken on more than the Gevethen.
Nevertheless, though she drank a little water, she ate nothing and she spent a restless night.
The following day was no different, though this time several of the prisoners had been to the Questioners and were being returned for sentencing. They were in an appalling physical condition and Jeyan wilfully gazed past many of them rather than risk meeting their gaze. Each one however, freely admitted a raft of crimes against the Gevethen and bowed when they were sentenced.
It came to Jeyan during that second day that whatever else they were doing, the Gevethen were showing her one of her own possible destinies. It strengthened her resolve to retain her present position at any cost.
That night she ate, and she slept more quietly.
* * * *
It was before dawn when she was awakened. The servants were moving about the room with unusual urgency and she was dressed before she was fully awake.
‘What’s happening?’ she managed to ask eventually.
Even as she asked the question however, the Gevethen were in the room. Though their round, pale faces were expressionless, there was an agitation about them that she had not seen before, and indeed, the mirror-bearers were transforming them into a trembling crowd.
Fearfully she dropped on to one knee and bowed her head.
‘Lord Counsellor, you have judged well…’
‘… judged well.’
‘But there is a lack.’
‘A vision is missing.’
‘Hagen has not taught you well enough.’
Memories returned of falling through the darkness with Hagen’s spirit all about her. But what were they talking about? Though Hagen’s presence had undeniably been there, he had communicated nothing to her. He had simply been there.
And so too, in whatever passed for distance in that strange world, had been Assh and Frey – hunting. Though she could not understand what had happened, the idea began to form that in some way the Gevethen’s intentions in taking her into the world beyond had been thwarted, and they were not aware of it.
Not yet! The realization brought her fully awake. ‘Excellencies, have I failed you?’ she asked. ‘My wish is only to serve.’
There was an agonizing pause during which Jeyan saw herself being dragged to the Questioners and returning to confess in the Judgement Hall, looking up at the Gevethen and admitting to any crimes that were put to her.
‘Hagen must complete his work. We will hold Vigil, now. Come, rise.’
As Jeyan stood, the Gevethen moved to her side, and the two large mirrors came together in front of her.
Chapter 25
‘What do you mean, gone?’ Ibryen growled bad-temperedly as he pushed the Traveller’s hand away and made to roll over.
‘Gone, as in, not here any more, left, departed,’ the Traveller retorted, scarcely more sweetly. The words shook Ibryen fully conscious. As he reluctantly disentangled himself from his blanket the faint light enabled him to see the Traveller trying to waken Rachyl. This proved to be only marginally less hazardous than waking Ibryen for, with a throaty chuckle, she rolled over and, seizing him with a powerfully affectionate arm, pinned him down by her side.
It took him some effort to free himself, during which time Rachyl came to full and dangerously indignant wakefulness. Holding her at arm’s length he blurted out his news very quickly.
Then, with the aid of a lantern, the three of them were examining where
the Dryenwr had lain and speculating as to why he had chosen to leave silently.
‘It’ll be for some honourable reason,’ the Traveller told them. ‘He’s Warrior Caste, and a Soarer.’
‘He’s also in a world he knows nothing about,’ Ibryen said. ‘Warrior or not, honourable or not, he’ll not survive long without our help. We must find him.’
The Traveller agreed. Rachyl, stretching and rubbing her eyes, looked up at the sky. ‘We might as well wait until the light’s better,’ she said. ‘The terrain’s difficult for him. He won’t have gone very far.’
Though it was the correct decision, neither Ibryen nor the Traveller found the waiting particularly easy.
‘Sit down, the pair of you,’ Rachyl ordered eventually. ‘Pacing about like that you’ll destroy whatever tracks he’s left.’ She looked pointedly at the Traveller and flicked her ears. ‘Wouldn’t you be better employed listening for him?’
‘I’ve done that,’ he said testily. ‘There’s nothing to be heard.’
‘Which means?’ Ibryen asked.
The Traveller thought for a moment, then frowned. ‘Which means he’s either a long way away or…’
‘He’s not moving.’ Rachyl finished his reply. She levered herself to her feet and swore. ‘I knew I’d end up carrying someone back off this trip. Well, poor light or not, we’d better start looking for him. You two stay where you are until I pick up his track. Pass me the lantern.’
‘I’m not exactly without experience in tracking, you know,’ Ibryen said, mildly irritated by Rachyl’s manner.
‘True, but you’re not as good as I am, and you’re still half-asleep or you wouldn’t be debating the point with me,’ Rachyl replied brutally as she began slowly and steadily circling the place where Isgyrn had slept. ‘Here,’ she said after a little while, though her face was puzzled. ‘He seems to be very light on his feet for someone his size.’ Then she shrugged and became practical. ‘It looks as though he’s gone uphill. We might as well break camp, take everything with us. I’ll go first. Ibryen, will you keep close behind and confirm sign with me? I don’t want to go lumbering past anything.’