by Lori Martin
The second show of hands was called.
It was not enough. Like all compromises, it satisfied no one. But the royal couple accepted it, as the last – and best – they could do for their daughter.
Dalleena and Rendell had been barred from the final proceedings. When in the end they were finally led into the Hall, Dalleena noticed its emptiness. Only the councilors and the remaining high priests and priestesses – just four in number, now – had taken part. Rendell’s beard had grown in thicker. He looked calmer than she felt, somehow easy. If they killed her, they would be killing the child. Surely Nialia would protect them? It had been her will?
The king and queen were standing. Raynii read slowly from the documents they had just signed.
“... in this year of Nialia in the Sixth King’s Hold, in the season of summer, by the god-given power we wield as holders of the scepter, we, the undersigned, the king and queen of Lindahne, do hereby pronounce sentence.” Her father refused to meet her eyes. “This sentence has been reached by rightful debate of the council in a truth-seeking, and passed with due justice. The crime is blasphemy and grave impiety as well as treason. The lawful penalty would be death to all parties. But the council has taken into consideration the background, royal blood, and probable misguided motives of one of these criminals.” He paused over the word. “Criminals. And in the interests of justice, and equal punishment for equal crime, both shall suffer the same sentence. The penalty of death is commuted for both, under the approval of the king and queen.”
Dalleena closed her eyes. It will live, it will live –
“Yet also the council knows that this our country of Lindahne must be protected above all. To remove all threats from us, it is hereby ordered that the criminals be banished from Lindahne for the rest of their natural lives. Should they return over our borders after their exile has begun, the punishment shall be immediate death.”
She lost the thread of it. Exile. Banishment. East and south lay the Sea. North lay the thick woodlands and the raging Valtah. To the west was Mendale. Mendale, a country that would have little use for luckless Lindahne royalty. To live among heretics – was that what they thought was suitable justice for a blasphemer?
Rendell, numb, looked up to see his father’s face among the councilors. Even this far away he could see that the shock had further eroded his health. If he dies, and I am gone, what will happen to Pillyn? She’ll be left to him, that brother who is no brother.
“... in keeping with this mercy, the king and the king’s council rule that the criminals shall be free to wander among us, and settle their affairs, for the time of one moon. They will neither speak to nor be spoken to by any Lindahne, noble or common, nor will they require anything of or be required of anything by any Lindahne, noble or common. At the time of the falling of the leaves they will depart from our homeland, and will not return. To this I have signed my name, Raynii, King, son of King Reenis and Queen Leita, that it will be known by all.”
A half-summer left of freedom, Dalleena thought. A half-summer of life.
“I’ll come tomorrow even’,” Rendell told her, and kissed her. “I’ll have to take your horse home. Are you certain they’ll let me in to see you?”
“They said we’d have complete freedom. I’d come with you, but –”
“No, stay home and rest. It’s enough without you having to face my father. Besides, you look exhausted.”
“I am,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to be away from you any more.”
Rendell took her by the shoulders. “You won’t have to be. Dalleena, we don’t have much time here in Lindahne, but we do have all the rest of our lives to be together. Think of it. By Armas, that’s more than we could even have dared to hope for! Exile, punishment they’re calling it – and it’s nothing but a wonderful gift.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Don’t you see it?”
She shook her head. “Seeings – I don’t see anything, nothing beyond – You fool of an Armasii. You’re not even frightened.”
“No, I’m not. And before the gods I’m telling you that when I come back tomorrow I want to see you feeling better.”
“Now he’s giving me orders,” Dalleena told the air. “All right. Go safely.”
He kissed her again. She watched him as he went, the sadness returning to her face. “I don’t want to be away from you,” she murmured.
Rendell approached his home with apprehension and guilt. It would have been better to stay in chains than face this, he thought. I never thought I’d go through this door as a criminal.
In his father’s room Boessus was bent over double in his chair, coughing. Pillyn squatted beside him, trying to wrap a blanket over his knees. She had demanded a fire, summer heat notwithstanding. The room was littered with their unpacked baggage.
“Father?”
Boessus halted in mid-cough. Blood rushed into his face. “You dare –” he choked.
But Pillyn ran to him. Rendell felt an instant relief as she threw herself into his arms. I knew it wasn’t in her to turn away, he thought. But I was afraid.
“Pillyn, come here!” Boessus barked. Her small hands clutched into Rendell’s shoulders, then released him. To avoid upsetting her father she returned to his side.
“Are you well, Father?” he asked.
“Am I well! A fine welcome you’ve given me! I was fine enough, until I entered my own country and learned what had befallen my house!” Boessus glared. “A fine pair of sons I have.” He had demanded perfection from Rendell, just as he had always expected Temhas to be wrong, when he thought of him at all. The old man felt angry and betrayed; he was incapable of helping or understanding his elder son, and the younger had never counted. “Do you have anything to say?”
“Did they tell you what the relas said in the Hall?”
“You mean that nonsense about the will of the goddess? Yes, they told me. It’s beyond belief how many tongues were eager to tell me so many things I didn’t want to know. Strangers telling me about the public shame of my son, and his blasphemy.”
“It’s not blasphemy. It’s the truth.”
“Convinced yourself, have you? You’ve told the lie so often you believe it yourself.”
“Father –”
“Don’t you dare address me that way!” He hacked violently. “The great and strong Armasii, the pride of my house, you couldn’t even manage to keep yourself from acting like a rutting animal!”
“Oh,” Pillyn said softly. Rendell’s face went white.
“I am not ashamed of my actions. I’m telling you.”
“And I’m telling you that you are no longer my son! Any girl, any girl you could have had, save one in a yellow robe, but that wasn’t good enough. Did you never spare a thought for your family, never a thought for your sister, who’ll carry the shame and disgrace for you all your life?”
“That’s not true!” But it was, and he knew it. After a crime such as his the entire family would be shunned. He’s right, I never thought of it. I’ve ruined her life. I’ve ruined her life.
“My son! My son!” Boessus spat. Pillyn winced away from him. Saliva had formed at the corners of his mouth and his frail body was shaking. “I was cursed with sons! You, you’re corrupt, black to the core – and Temhas, that crawling dog who takes scraps from Sillus’s table. Together you’ve dragged us through filth. A criminal and a traitor, those are the sons I begot with your poor mother. Glad I am that she didn’t live to see this!”
Pillyn put a hand on his arm. “Please don’t enrage yourself this way –”
“And you!” Suddenly he turned on her. “What did you mean, running to him like that?”
“But he’s my brother –”
“Not anymore!”
“I love him –”
“Yes, more than me, I suppose, who’s been a law-abiding upright man all my life. My daughter’s as worthless as my sons!”
Pillyn began to cry. She pushed past Rendell and s
lammed out of the door. In the ensuing silence Boessus coughed desperately for breath. When the fit finally passed he was calmer.
Quietly, Rendell said, “You shouldn’t have said that to her.”
Boessus fixed his eyes on the fire. Now he sounded weary. “I know. She’s looked after me all this time.” The flames crackled. “She looks like her mother.”
Rendell approached the shrunken figure, miserable in his chair. Moving slowly, he bent and kissed the gray hair. Boessus did not resist. Rendell paused, wondering what else he could say, but there was nothing.
When he left, his father was still staring into the fire.
A half-summer, Dalleena thought. And glad I am to take it.
They were shunned, and it was total and absolute. No one, commoner or noble, servant or councilor, spoke to them – no one acknowledged the very fact of their existence. If she came into a hallway no one bowed or curtsied, no one looked at her; a group of servants would continue chattering and going about their business, leaving her to dodge out of their way, because they did not turn aside for her. Phenna waited now on the queen. Adrell, true to her threats and feeling the disgrace deeply, had gone home to her mother on the Second. When Dalleena opened her door and looked down the staircase, no one was there – her faithful guard had gone. Even the torches were extinguished. Someone who does not exist does not need protection.
Lilli petitioned for a royal exemption from the council’s order; she could not be asked to turn her back on Dalleena. The only reason she could think of was that the former relas needed her help in “settling her affairs,” which, after all, had been permitted. It was weak, but the king accepted it, prevailing over the objections of Councilor Kellstae. The rest of the council let it pass without comment. The long arguments of the truth-seeking had wearied them.
But the next day, Lilli’s own parents would no longer speak to her.
She drew water for Dalleena, opened and closed her draperies, swept her floors, tried to keep her robes clean. Dalleena wore only blue, inappropriate now that she had been stripped of her rank, but better than the Nialian yellow. Yet Lilli, after all, was noble-born herself, and used to having servants, and she did what tasks she could inexpertly and clumsily. “I don’t think I ever appreciated how much went into these things,” she told Dalleena. It proved to be good training, for what came later. One thing Dalleena would not let her do: go down into the kitchens. Someone who does not exist somehow still needed food, and if it wasn’t brought to her a certain portion was at least set out on a sideboard. Dalleena would descend, enveloped in heat and cooking smells, past huge ovens and open fires, past boys with straining muscles churning butter, past cooks encased in flour and deep in argument, past dozens of people who suddenly turned aside to other tasks at her approach, to the plate of meat and soup. By the time she returned to her apartments it was always cold. To all the stares or – more common – averted eyes, to the whispers she heard following behind her, to the shock of being despised by kitchen help, she felt immune. Only one day, when she was safely back in her rooms, she lifted the napkin and found that someone had hidden a flowering relasii beside the bread. She cried, for the unknown kindness.
As hard as it was for her, she knew it was harder for Rendell. All her life she had been a public figure. She was used to being watched, used to being a subject of discussion. Even while still a child she had learned not to heed it, and that indifference stood her in good stead now. But for Rendell it was new and unsettling, and he could not insulate himself. Every hard look came as a poisoned dart.
Once or twice he stood in front of the temple of Armas, knowing he could never enter again. If he had stepped over the threshold, the priests – his former friends – would have broken the council’s silence, in order to keep him from polluting the sanctuary. Dalleena could only guess at the disruption on the First Hill, after the crushing death of Inama in such circumstances, and the terrible disgrace of a gifted priestess. They would be choosing a new high priestess, one of the senior women, she supposed, who would be terrified of the responsibility. And aghast if she tried to offer help. For both of them it was their first taste of exile.
But for all of it they had the freedom they had never known before. Rendell came and went at Marlos-An as he pleased – and stayed the night, though there would be no breakfast portion for him on the waiting sideboard. In the early morning mists they saddled up their own horses and went riding, and did not return until moonrise. Cantering the horse through the soft high grass, exhilarated and breathless, she would let her hair stream out on the wind. Later they spread their high-sun meals on warm stone and shared a flask of wine. She waded brooks, skirt trailing in the water, while he climbed a tree and shook fruit down. A deep-red sunset bathed the sky; she sat beside him, cradled against his shoulder.
There was pain behind them, and she knew without a seeing that there would be greater pain ahead. Sometimes they spoke of it. But for this time at least they had their joy, and she was content. Glad I am to take it, she thought again. She had given away her life, all that long ago, on a Hillside in the winter of the year. Now they had their summer.
The Mendale camp was huge and crowded, divided into several areas. It stretched across open fields, the rear section swarming as the organizational operations were conducted. In front, to the right, the men drilled with swords and the heavy gahls, the long and vicious spears that could be thrown or driven into the chest of an enemy. On the left the women wheeled on their horses, practicing their precise and poisoned archery.
A real army had not been assembled since the last war, but the pieces had long been in training. Like Lindahne, Mendale had not been willing even in the peace to put down every sword. Every Mendale went through training and retraining periodically; those who wished made a career of the military, teaching others and competing for rank. “Just in case,” the Assembly had always said. Now they had decided to put the pieces together and use the whole. The foot soldiers were the eager young men, and any older ones who proved themselves still capable of handling the immense gahls. The mounted women were exceptional and deadly archers, just a little older, younger ones allowed to join only if they had no infants at home. Married couples were permitted to train in the same camps, but once at war they would be assigned to different bands. Discipline was strict.
Nichos rode into camp and presented himself to the senior officer, a brittle and energetic man who waved him into a chair. “You’re the one from the Assembly?”
“I’m the one the Assembly sent, yes, Commander. I’m the herald.”
“And you’ve got a fistful of instructions for me, no doubt.” The commander stuck his head outside the door of the hastily erected shack and bellowed, “Chilhi!”
His second-in-command answered at once. She was a mature woman, cheerful and ambitious, who had risen to the rank of chilhi only recently. The word had originally meant “second,” but now it referred exclusively to these assistants, the mainstays of their commanders.
“Assembly’s sent us this man – name’s Nichos, he’s the herald, this is my chilhi – with a list of rules as long as the Valtah shore,” the commander told her.
Nichos acknowledged the introduction and smiled. “Actually, it’s only one scroll’s worth.” He offered the document to the commander, who waved it aside. The chilhi took it and broke the seal. While she read, Nichos took notice of their clothing. The chilhi wore a one-piece garment that appeared at first glance to be a belted long skirt. A second look showed him that the “skirt” was in fact wide-legged, loosely flowing pants, an adaptation for easy riding. The commander’s clothes were similar, but like the rest of the men’s it was a two-piece that clung to his knees and slid into the top of his high leather boots. The marks of his rank were pale stripes, running from his shoulder to his belt. Both outfits were dyed black; everyone in camp, with the exception now of Nichos himself as a civilian, wore the same color.
“Well?” the commander demanded. “What does it say?”
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“It’s another delay,” the chilhi answered, scanning it. “They’re sending out more officers to us.”
“In the roar of the high wind,” he said in disgust. “It’ll be winter by the time we move out. I’ve told them over and over this campaign ought to begin before the cold. The journeying through snow will hurt us before we even get to Lindahne.”
“We need the officers,” the chilhi said. “And you know we’re not really ready yet, Commander.”
“Why is that?” Nichos ventured.
“A bit more training will help, I think. Some of the younger men hadn’t used gahls before, and they’re hard to get used to. And I can’t seem to get the women to understand that they’ve got to handle their horses as well as they handle their arrows.”
“Will you be staying with us long, herald?”
“Perhaps a week, Commander. With your permission, I’m to inspect the camps and report back to the Tribunes. And of course I’ll be happy to carry any messages from you to the Assembly.”
“Inspect as much as you like, but I’m afraid I’ll have very little time to show you around myself.”
“I understand.”
“Well now, chilhi, where shall we house him? I won’t put you in the men’s tents, herald – they’re packed eight to a tent and are extremely uncomfortable. My first ambition when I was a boy was to be promoted to the next rank, so I’d be in a three-man tent. The few officers we have at the moment are in shacks like these – knocked-together hovels, as you can see – and they’re all occupied.”
“But he’ll have to go in with one of them,” the chilhi said. “I’m afraid it will certainly be crowded. Do you know anyone in camp that you could impose on?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Are there any listtels among the officers?”
“Oh, several,” the commander said. “I suppose you know them. Good. Down by the stream you’ll find Teleus’s headquarters. He could probably put you up.”