by A. C. Ellas
Jisten watched him with a stony expression, making no move to either interfere or assist. “For S’Ioli?”
“Yes, he is hurt. Tree branch fell on him, knocked him out cold.” Rak shook his head. “He was lucky it was just a branch that clipped him, rather than the whole tree.” He took the medicated wine into Ioli’s bedroom and helped the young priest to drink it. He waited for the medicine to take effect. Within a few minutes, Ioli relaxed, his eyes closed, and he slept.
Rak checked the young priest for injuries. He found multiple cuts on Ioli’s arms and legs and instead of stripping him and dressing each individual cut, Rak summoned night flames and set them loose on the younger priest. The flames danced, consuming the blood and healing the flesh. None of the cuts were too deep for the flames to deal with. After a while, Rak gently rolled Ioli to allow the flames to work on Ioli’s back.
The flames danced on Rak as well, healing most of his injuries and leaving a sensation he could only describe as a deep comfort behind, as if his God were there, embracing him. He had a few cuts on his arms and one on his thigh that were too deep for night flames—the flies had focused more of their numbers on him than on Ioli. He would also have to check his wings, he’d felt impacts against them, but the wings lacked the pain sensors that would alert him to cuts there.
Ioli relaxed into a deeper sleep, and Rak returned to the parlor and the patiently waiting Jisten. “He is sleeping.”
Jisten pointedly asked, “And now will you tell me where you went and what you were doing?”
“We went to look at the ruins of the chaos temple,” said Rak. “Why? Do you think I would murder someone and then return openly and in broad daylight?”
“Why would I ever think that? You are so open and honest. And look, off you went in the deepest hours of the night only to come back bleeding and riding like you were chased by Katzrevia herself!”
“I was not being chased by the Unmaker, only by the officious oafs of the City Watch. How dare they think they have any right to command me as if I were some civilian under their jurisdiction.”
“They have every right to try to stop a bleeding man from riding through the city and drawing every katrami for miles. The city wards only have enough power to discourage them from hunting. If they scent blood, they can and do force their way through.” Jisten prepared fresh cloths for cleaning, using the contents of the healing kit Rak kept in the suite. “What were you up to last night?” he asked again.
“I doubt you would believe me,” Rak muttered, slumping. Now that the shock had worn off, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. The evidence of his senses seemed suspect. The sheer amount of power that would have been required was staggering to even contemplate. How could even the Unmaker have afforded to fling so much power about so casually?
“Yes, I am one of those unthinking, vapid sunnies.” Jisten pursed his lips as he peeled the ripped silk of the tunic off Rak’s arms.
“I never called you that, but you persist...” Rak shook his head. “It has nothing to do with your preference for house of worship. I was there, and I have trouble believing it. We went to inspect the chaos temple because if anyone has a motive to frame me for murder, it is the chaos mage. When we got there, all was laid ruin. Not one stone stood atop another. We could not even find the hive of the flies.”
Jisten stopped his preparations to look at him. “Then how did you get hurt?”
“The flies set an ambush. They hid themselves in the grass until we turned to leave, then they attacked us.”
“The flies!” Jisten looked truly alarmed. “That’s not good! S’Rak, they lay eggs in flesh!”
“They did not lay any eggs. They were intent on killing us, and the cuts are only cuts. Trust me, I would know if they had. But that is a side issue. The amount of magical power that temple has at its disposal is beyond rational belief. It should not be able to do the things it did. I saw the temple reform. The ground itself moved to attack us.” Rak paused, reconsidering. “Or perhaps we were incidentally in the way. The ground swells continued even after we were in the air, and each of those waves pushed the reforming temple up higher, the power working to make it more complete. A tree fell on S’Ioli; he was in the forested section when a massive swell passed under him... S’Pajel did not make it. He went down in the first ground wave, the flies got him, and I could not reach him in time to save him. I was not even able to retrieve his remains.”
“Shit.” Jisten was silent for a long moment. Then, he inspected Rak’s cuts again. “Any poison? Or can I suture these up?” He started to apply numbing oil.
“Just suture them,” said Rak, amazed that Jisten had accepted his report so calmly. It wasn’t as if Pajel and Jisten had been friends, they’d hardly spoken to each other, but still, Rak had expected more of a reaction. Jisten’s sutures were neat and quick. Rak said, “Thank you,” absently, most of his mind still considering the implications of what he’d seen. The chaos temple was his enemy and had most probably framed him for this murder, but how? Did the chaos mage live? At the moment, Rak thought it likely, but he had no proof.
“You’re welcome. Just don’t go off without guards again,” Jisten said.
“Excuse me?” Rak stared at Jisten in surprise. Surely he’d misheard?
“Stop haring off on wild expeditions and getting hurt. Now, let me see your other arm.”
Rak pulled away. “I will do as I please. I am a high priest and will do as I must.”
“You must go off to chaos temples alone?” Jisten challenged.
“Alone? I had S’Ioli, S’Pajel and Scorth with me. How is that alone? Besides, that temple should have been a ruin, desolate and abandoned.”
“The temple you think is self-aware? The temple you know had a chaos mage living in it not that long ago? The temple that has tried to kill you repeatedly? The temple that just killed a skilled priest who specialized in studying chaos temples? Why would you ever think it was harmless or abandoned?” Jisten snorted. “S’Ioli is passable with a blade, but he needs a great deal of seasoning. S’Pajel... I didn’t really know him, but if that temple is strong enough to take down someone of his caliber, then we haven’t been treating it with nearly enough respect. Nevertheless, it was foolhardy to even consider going to the chaos temple without armed escort. Your personal guard is gone. I am assigning guards to you until they return!”
“Blades are useless against chaos magic unless they’re blessed on the altar of night, as you well know. An armed escort to the chaos temple would have ended up as meals for the katrami and, as such, less than useless. Besides that,” Rak snarled, “I am not your responsibility. I am not a member of your precious court. I am not one of your people.”
“You are my responsibility, like it or not. We are bonded, or have you forgotten that?” Jisten fired back with ice coldness. “I command the guard here. And I will command my guard to guard you.”
“What gives you the right to have your guards intrude upon me? What gives you the right to invade my privacy?” Rak glared, wings half spread in agitation. “I refuse to permit your men to follow me about, annoying me, questioning me and watching me.”
“If you want to stay in Koilatha, then you will. And since you don’t have the sense Si’Yeni gave a stone to leave this kingdom after this past summer, then you’ll have a guard.”
Rak snorted. “Oh, really? Let me see your order from the king.”
“You don’t think I can get it within the hour?” Jisten crossed his arms on his chest. “Try me.”
Rak offered a cold smile. “Until you have that order, Captain, I will not permit any guards in here.”
“I’ll be back within the hour.” Jisten spun on his heel with military precision. “Try not to be collared by then.”
“My odds of remaining free are higher in the absence of the palace guards,” Rak shot back.
Jisten stomped out of the suite, boots clicking.
Chapter Eleven: Council Meeting
Jethain surveyed
the gathered council with a jaundiced eye. Almost everyone was reacting to Kazia’s death according to their natures. Lord Kezil was fuming; Lord Peneron appeared gravely sorrowed. Lord Breavey had a calculating expression on; Lord Deviol appeared mildly concerned, while Lord Keron looked smug. Lord Maziel, on the other hand, was not in character. Usually calm, the recent widower was just about foaming at the mouth to extract vengeance on the man he was convinced had murdered his wife.
The non-noble council members, such as the head of the Merchant’s Guild, Baorik, and the speaker for the crafters and artisans, Danvir, appeared concerned, even worried, but they were silent as Maziel continued his diatribe calling for Rak’s balls. Forael looked like he wanted to protest, but Maziel wasn’t about to relinquish the floor anytime soon.
A stirring at the door caught Jethain’s attention, and to his astonishment, his mother Queen Jezaia slipped in and headed toward an empty seat on the other side of the king. The queen never attended council meetings. Maziel had stopped speaking and was staring at the queen open-mouthed in surprise. She took her seat, smoothed her skirts and said, “Please continue.”
After a moment, Maziel shook himself and said, “I want the dark one arrested immediately and tried for the murder of my Kazia.”
“I agree,” Jezaia said smoothly, her gaze focused on her husband. “The dark one murdered a lady of our court, one of my ladies in waiting. He must be held accountable for his actions.”
“There’s no proof,” Owain protested.
“That’s not true,” Maziel countered. “I’ve spoken to Commander Vrathis. Kazia’s body was mutilated, desecrated with evil symbols carved into her flesh. Those foul runes can have only one source: the House of Night.”
“While that is not strong evidence, it does implicate them,” Lord Peneron said, stirring at last. “Might I suggest that, instead of outright arresting them, we require them to submit to an examination by the justicers? That would resolve this issue, wouldn’t it?”
* * * *
Jisten found King Owain in his study, reading reports and munching on candied figs. He stepped in, closed the door gently then bowed respectfully. “Sire.”
Owain glanced up. “Captain. Is Araken okay? He made quite a stir this morning.”
“Yes, and he needs protection, especially while his own guard is gone. I respectfully ask permission to assign a guard to him.”
“He doesn’t have one?” Owain looked surprised.
Jisten shook his head. “An unfortunate oversight, but since he is a foreign envoy, I do need signed orders, Sire.”
“Yes, of course.” Owain opened a drawer and shuffled papers, looking for something appropriate. “He, and that other priest, they must have guards keeping an eye on them, particularly given the unfortunate recent circumstances.” The king found what he was looking for and set the parchment on his desk.
“I’ll assign guards to S’Rak, S’Ioli and Lord Scorth.”
“Yes, yes. Lord Scorth as well.” Owain found what he was looking for, filled it out, signed it and stamped a wax seal on it. He filled out a second form as well, and although Jisten craned his neck, he wasn’t able to get a look at what the king was writing. He settled, knowing he’d have his answers before long.
Owain paused after he stamped the second form and considered Jisten soberly. “Araken is considered a woman under the law, you know, since he is a freak able to bear children. As his husband, you could be held responsible for his actions.”
“Ah, we’re not married,” Jisten said cautiously.
“Of course you aren’t, you’re both male, so how could you wed?” Owain waved a ringed hand, brushing the technicality aside. “However, I am well aware that you share that racial bond, and furthermore, since Araken was your slave for a time, it’s obvious which of you wears the pants. Araken is your wife and you must control him, Captain. I suggest that you chain him immediately. You may even beat him, should it prove necessary.” The king held out both sets of orders. “See to this at once. The palace slave trainer, Gebiet, has chains available should you need any.”
“Yes, Sire,” Jisten said and bowed again. He rushed out as Owain returned to his report and the figs. As soon as he had reached the relative privacy of a back corridor, he read over both sets of orders. The first was what he’d hoped for—permission to place guards on all known dark servants around the clock, effective immediately. The second made him even happier. S’Rak, S’Ioli and Lord Scorth were all required to submit to examination by the justicers to ascertain their involvement in the murder.
* * * *
When Jisten returned to the suite, with five other guards, he found Rak in the parlor, dictating something to Ioli, who looked much better than he had earlier. Ioli wrote nearly as fast as Rak could speak, but the high priest stopped speaking as soon as Jisten and the guards entered. Jisten wondered what Rak had been saying, but it would be rude to ask. He hoped that by being there for the first shift, he’d be able to diffuse the situation.
“The orders that you requested, S’Rak,” Jisten said politely and offered the first order to Rak.
Rak took the paper and handed it to Ioli.
Ioli opened it, read it and nodded, fingers flashing. “The king has ordered guards on both of us and Scorth. All dark servants in the city, actually.”
Rak pursed his lips and nodded once.
“Also, there is this.” Jisten held out the second order. “The king has ordered us to escort you to the Hall of Justice and requires that you submit to an examination by the justicers. Where is Lord Scorth?”
“He is elsewhere,” Rak replied flatly. He took the second paper, glanced at the seal and handed it to Ioli as well. Once more, the junior priest opened it, read it, and told Rak what it said. If anything, the high priest looked even more annoyed. “I suppose we are expected to go now?”
“If you wish, or you can wait for Lord Scorth’s return.” Jisten didn’t see any harm in allowing Rak that much of a delay.
The look Rak gave him could have peeled paint. “We will wait. I am not eager to return to your so-called Hall of Justice.”
“Myself, Sedreal, Kal and these three will be spending the next several hours with you,” Jisten said, trying to maintain a calm, encouraging front. The mark on his arm throbbed and burned unpleasantly, but he kept his other hand at his side, refusing to rub it. “There are two guards assigned to each of you. I hope that the time can be spent enjoyably.”
Rak’s jaw clenched. “Very well.”
“May we sit?” Jisten asked.
“There do seem to be many more of you than there are of us,” Rak observed. “I care not what you do. Piss on the altar if you wish.”
Ioli winced.
“I would not dream of such sacrilege,” Jisten said. He motioned to the guards who took various seats. “We have no desire to restrict your motions. We are here to guard you, not imprison you.”
“Of course you are. Your very presence here speaks of mistrust.”
“I mistrust the citizens of this kingdom,” Jisten said. “But if that is your concern, perhaps we should go see the justicers now. If you’re innocent, as you have maintained, then why not prove it?”
“The justicers cannot read me,” Rak reminded him yet again.
Ioli’s fingers flashed. “Can’t the Lord of Night chose to let the justicers read us?”
Rak shrugged a shoulder. “I would assume that is in His power, yes. We can pray, petition for such, but that is no guarantee.”
“It’s something, at least,” Jisten said, feeling suddenly encouraged. “If the justicers can read any of you and confirm your alibi, then you’ll all be safe.”
“I doubt that, Captain, but if it will shut you up on the subject, we will go see the justicers.” Rak motioned for Ioli to prepare.
Chapter Twelve: Hall of Justice
In Rak’s opinion, they were ready to go in far too short a time. He had no interest in returning to the Hall of Justice and no confidence that Zotie
n would permit his memories to be read, but he led the procession out of the envoy suite nonetheless. The sooner started, the sooner done, he told himself. He reached for his dragon, but Scorth was hours away by direct flight and could do no more than offer a sense of comfort and support.
The trip to the stable was short. Rak was able to procrastinate further by healing the injured avtappi. He undid the work of the stable hands by peeling off bandages held in place with dabs of sticky honey. He concentrated, calling his power as Ioli looked on. The younger priest had difficulty using his power to heal. Not all Thezi received gifts in equal measure, though in this case, Rak thought that Ioli might be able to learn healing if he practiced enough. Ioli was able to assist in a healing by adding his power to the one performing the miracle, but that wasn’t required today, the cuts weren’t deep although they were numerous.
Scrupulously, recalling Jisten’s words on the matter, Rak was careful to verify that there were no fly eggs in any of the cuts. Once Gun and Vyld were healed, he turned to Pondiki, but she had taken the fewest cuts of all, so healing her was the work of minutes. Saddling took little time, so that less than an hour after deciding to go to the Hall of Justice, Rak found himself riding through the palace gates yet again. He glanced to the right as they headed down Palace Road. Virien’s manor hulked majestically beside the palace, the largest mansion in the city—it was now Rak’s, a sort of backhanded apology from the king.
He wondered if he were to move all his people into the mansion, would they be able to shed the unwelcome presence of the palace guards? But then, he didn’t have enough people here to staff it, and he had plans for the building come the winter solstice. They reached the Sun Plaza, notable for the large fountain with four rearing hippocampi shooting jets of water at a resplendent russet and ochre gryphon that looked uncannily lifelike. Most temples to the gods were situated along Temple Road, though there were two exceptions to this: the Temple of the Twins and the Temple of Death.