She read the notes and looked at the maps again. Would they be infected by Ashok’s lies? Would they try to tell her a tale of innocence, when she knew Ashok to be guilty?
His eyes had tried to tell her the same tale. Ilvani remembered the pain in them, not from the wounds she’d inflicted, but from the thought of her suffering.
Ilvani clenched the pages in her hands. Deceiver. He wants you to pity him.
“That’s not true,” came a voice.
Ilvani started. She looked wildly around the room, but there was no one else there, only the long shadows staring at her from the corners of the room. They always stared at her, but she ignored them as usual.
It must have been her own voice speaking. She just hadn’t recognized it.
She folded the maps and held them in her hands. Nothing had changed. Ashok’s guilt was written in his own hand. All that remained was for her to take the evidence to Uwan. She should do it now while everything was clear.
“He was ready to die for you,” came the voice.
“Stop it!” Ilvani said, covering her ears with her hands. She knew that voice, and it wasn’t hers. It was the voice of dead hopes, of the person she used to be.
“Please look at me, sister. There is not much time.”
Ilvani choked on a sob. She forced her hands down to her sides and turned unwillingly to look at her brother.
He stood at the foot of the ladder, looking up at her with a smile. The pose, the affection was so familiar she felt she was being ripped in two.
“It’s not real,” she said. She found herself using that phrase a great deal when she was alone. When Natan was around, he used it for her.
“I’ve seen you many times this way,” Natan said. His skin looked healthy, and he’d put on weight. He’d always been beautiful, her brother, even when he’d stopped taking care of himself so he could talk to Tempus. She’d always resented the god for taking her brother away from her.
“You’re in the box,” Ilvani said. “I saw them put you in and cover you up. They buried you with swords. I wanted to bury you with silk.”
“You know me best,” Natan said. “Sister, you must set him free.”
“He’s a liar,” Ilvani replied. He deceives beyond death, she thought. How powerful was Ashok?
“He told you the truth,” Natan said. “And you know it, else I would not be here.”
“You think you’re putting the words together in my mind for me, but you’re not,” Ilvani said. “It’s a trick.” She scooted back against the window and wrapped her arms around herself. “I know what he did.”
“He rescued you from something worse than death,” Natan said. “In doing so, he betrayed his own people. He will never forgive himself for that, just like you will never forgive yourself for what happened to you in that cage. You’ll both hate and condemn yourselves until you destroy yourselves.”
“You don’t know,” Ilvani said. “You don’t know either of us.”
“I know you, sister,” Natan said gently. “More now than I ever have. I see your mind, and I know what it’s like to live inside you. You must forgive him. If you don’t, everything that has happened will be for nothing.”
Ilvani clutched the parchment sheets against her chest. Her eyes strayed to the candle beside her. Its wavering flame held her gaze as Natan’s words held her in thrall.
“No!” she said. She shook her head to break the spell. “He killed you. No forgiveness for that.”
Her brother sighed, an exasperated expression Ilvani knew well. It almost made her smile through her pain. “You were always the stubborn one,” he said. “Look inside yourself, sister. You know the truth. He’s been trying to tell you, but you’re blocking him.”
“I’m not,” Ilvani said hotly. She crawled to the ladder and shook a rung. “He’s never liked me. Not my fault.”
“Now you’re being absurd,” Natan said. “He knows what you endured in that cage. He holds you in the highest honor. You are stronger than you know, Ilvani. He thinks you are a wonder, and so do I.”
Ilvani laid her forehead against the ladder. Tears ran down her cheeks and neck. “I don’t want you … to see me,” she sobbed.
“You are beautiful,” Natan said, “powerful and wise beyond the limits of your mind. No one can take that away from you. Open your heart, Ilvani, and it will show you the truth. I will always be here when you need me.”
The ladder moved beneath her. Ilvani looked up, wild with hope that her brother had come up to embrace her, to make everything all right again.
There was no one there.
Sobbing, Ilvani crawled back to the window. She took up the evidence against Ashok and held the sheets over the candle. The parchment darkened and curled. Orange flame licked up the sides, consuming ink and surface so fast Ilvani had to drop and stamp them out with a cup she’d left by the window. The ashes flew up into her face.
She gathered them and the unintelligible scraps that remained and put them in one of the empty boxes in her satchel. When she closed the lid, the lock slid into place without her touching it.
“Ashok box,” she said. “Has all the ashes. Are you happy, brother?”
She flung out a hand. The window glass shattered, and the shards dug into her hand. She bent over the box, sobbing anew.
Too late. She’d done it-given her brother’s murderer his freedom. What a worthless, worthless sister, an ugly failure.
“I won’t forgive you,” she cried, and wiped her hand across her face, streaking tears and blood. “Won’t … won’t.”
The box snapped open.
Ilvani stared at it. The locks were magical. They only answered to her. She reached for the lid, but it wouldn’t move. She tried with both hands, but it wouldn’t shut. Grunting, she put her full weight against the hinges. Nothing.
She looked inside the box. The ashes were gone. Instead, she saw something that shouldn’t have been there.
Within the box, she saw Tempus’s chapel. Two tiny figures moved around in the scene like dolls. She recognized Natan sitting on the steps, and she thought it was Ashok next to him, but when she looked closer she realized it was Vedoran.
The tiny dolls were speaking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Natan looked upset, not at all as he’d appeared in her room. Ilvani wondered what the cause was, and hoped it wasn’t herself.
What she saw next nearly made her throw the box out the broken window.
Vedoran leaned toward Natan and put his hands around her brother’s throat. He squeezed, and Natan’s eyes widened in panic.
“No!” she cried. She clutched the box, shook it, as if she could make the tiny Vedoran doll let her brother go. But the figures kept on and ignored her shouts and pleas and thrashing. She watched her brother die-at Vedoran’s hands.
Natan’s body fell across the steps. Vedoran looked as stunned as Ilvani felt. He staggered away from the body, and the scene blurred. When it came back into focus, there were other dolls present, though she didn’t know them. They removed Natan’s body, and when one turned to speak to Vedoran she saw the symbol of Beshaba at their breasts.
“All the misfortunes in the world belong to me,” Ilvani said. She thought it might have been the words to a song she’d once heard, but there were so few songs in Ikemmu that weren’t battle hymns, she couldn’t be sure.
She closed the box lid and listened to the wind whistle through the broken glass shards. She knew who had sent the vision. “Thank you, Tempus,” she said, “for putting the truth in the boxes.” She added, “But stay out of them now. I can do it myself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ashok awoke to the guards chaining his hands behind him. He was blind again, and weak as a newborn, but the searing pain in his chest and neck was gone.
“Ilvani?” he said. He could barely hear his own voice.
“He’s fading,” one of the guards murmured, as if Ashok wasn’t present. “Good thing we’re moving him now, or there’d be nothing lef
t for the trial.”
The guards each grabbed one of his shoulders and led Ashok forward. It took him a few steps to be sure of his footing. His feet felt large and numb inside his boots.
“Ilvani,” he repeated. “Where is she?”
“She’s been gone a while,” one of the guards said. “Left you in pretty bad shape. She called a healer for you.”
“Mad witch,” the other guard said under his breath.
“Where are we going?” Ashok asked. They were leading him out of the tunnels. The air grew warmer; Ashok could smell the forge smoke. Back to the world of the living, if only for a little while.
“We’re to take you to the top of Tower Makthar for judgment,” the guard said. “It looks like the whole city has turned out to see what will become of you.”
Ashok could tell when they reached the mouth of the tunnel. Crowd noise swelled and filled his ears with a mixture of cheers, jeers, and speculative murmuring. On the issue of his guilt, Ikemmu seemed equally divided.
“Part the way!” the guards shouted. “By order of Uwan, stand back!”
Their pace slowed almost to a halt. Ashok felt the heat of bodies pressing close. The voices grew louder and louder, and Ashok found himself thinking of the nightmare being paraded through Ikemmu in a cage.
Something hard hit Ashok in the shoulder. Numb pain shot up his arm, and one of the guards shouted, “The next one to throw a punch or a stone will be on his knees before Lord Uwan! Do you all hear?”
The other guard kept Ashok moving forward. More hands touched Ashok, but with gentleness.
“Tempus bless you!”
“We believe.”
“Free the emissary!”
Ashok tried to pull away, but he couldn’t escape the hands. He stumbled, fell, and was dragged up again to the march that would never end.
Finally, the guards stopped. A fist pounded on a door, which opened on creaking hinges.
“Inside,” a familiar voice said. “Give him a rest before you take him to the stairs.”
“Weak as a babe,” another voice said, and Ashok’s heart lifted. “Did I not teach you anything?”
“Cree,” Ashok said. “Skagi.”
The hood came off, and Ashok found himself being guided to a bench against the wall by the brothers.
“Uwan ordered he be hooded at all times,” Ashok’s guard said. “I won’t take responsibility.”
Cree snorted. “We’ll take it, if it comforts you, but look at him. He’s not got the strength to walk on his own, much less teleport out of here.”
“Your heads,” the guard said, and they left the tower.
When they were alone, Skagi sat down next to Ashok and leaned against the wall. “Well, you know how to attract the most attention, I’ll give you that,” he said.
Cree put a waterskin in front of Ashok’s mouth. He tipped it up and let him drink deeply. Ashok had never tasted anything so sweet and cold. He started to feel stronger, and his head was beginning to clear.
“How long has it been?” he said.
“Since they put you in the dark? Three days,” Skagi said. “We thought you’d be in better shape than you are. Uwan thought so too. He was pretty upset when he saw you.”
“Uwan was in my cell?” Ashok said. He had no memory of the leader being with him since he’d made his confession. “What happened to Ilvani?”
“She’s waiting for us at the top,” Cree said.
On hearing that, Ashok stood. “Let’s go,” he said.
“We can take some time,” Cree said. “Uwan told us to be certain you were strong enough to make it to the top.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ashok said. “We all know what the outcome will be. Let’s get it over with.”
Reluctantly, Skagi and Cree fell into step beside him, and they started the climb. Ashok had never been bothered before by the height or the hundreds of steps that wound up the towers, but that time he felt each burning step as he pulled himself slowly up the risers. Looking down made it worse as it forced him to count each step. He tried looking up, but the effect was so dizzying he had to stop and clear his head. Cree and Skagi steadied him, and they went on.
After walking in silence for a time, Ashok said, “Why did you come?”
“Uwan asked us,” Cree said. “He wanted you to see some friendly faces.”
“Is that true?” Ashok said. He caught himself holding his breath, hoping. “Is that what you are?”
Skagi sighed. “We were unfriendly for a while-would have been a lot easier if you’d told us what you knew in those caves.”
“I know,” Ashok said. “It was selfish, and it almost got us killed.”
Cree nodded, acknowledging the words. Skagi said, “But when we talked about it-understand, I don’t intend to admit this more than once-we realized you were the only reason we made it out of there alive. You picked your side, and that’s good enough for us.”
“We aren’t the only ones who feel that way,” Cree said. “Most of the military feels you should receive clemency, but then there are the Beshabans and the few Sharrans that have come out of their holes to protest that you should be executed. Vedoran stands with the Beshabans now, and shouts loudest. But there’s been”-Ashok thought Cree sounded smug-“a development nobody expected.”
“What is it?” Ashok asked.
“No time; we’re here,” Skagi said. He looked at Ashok warily. “If I leave the hood off, will you promise to behave? I’d hate to have to chase you outside the walls again.”
Ashok smiled briefly at the memory. “I’ve got nothing to run from anymore.”
At the tower summit, the wind howled as Ashok had never heard it before. He had to bend into the wind to move forward. Lightning from Tower Makthar’s spikes played above their heads and struck the stone spikes in irregular intervals. The air was charged and smelled of fire. The shadows seemed close and black like hovering demons.
Across the tower from them stood several figures, including Uwan and Ilvani beside him. Ashok had to look twice before he recognized the witch.
She was dressed in a simple, long-sleeved black dress, and her hair was tied tightly at the back of her head. She wore a long black cloak with an overlay of silver chains, and at her belt she wore her green satchel. Her hand kept straying to it as if for comfort. She glanced at him and quickly looked away.
Uwan wore a neutral expression as Ashok, Skagi and Cree came across the tower to stand before him. He had his greatsword in his hands, its point downward between his spread feet. Next to him, but clearly apart, stood Vedoran and a group of male and female shadar-kai. Ashok didn’t know them, but he saw the holy symbols they wore.
Beshaba and Shar-goddesses of misfortune and night. To my left stands oblivion, Ashok thought, and to my right salvation. He stepped away from Cree and Skagi and approached both groups.
Below them, the crowd noise swelled to a rumbling thunder. A storm created by the shadar-kai was about to burst.
Uwan spoke, and his voice was magically deepened, amplified to carry across the city. “I call upon you, shadar-kai of Ikemmu, to hear evidence against Ashok, a shadar-kai who is accused of treason and willful deceit of the city of Ikemmu and its citizens. I call upon Vedoran to stand as accuser and to present evidence for his claim. Step forward, Vedoran.”
Vedoran came forward, and the contingent of clerics followed close behind him. He approached Uwan, and Ashok could see that something was definitely amiss. Vedoran looked agitated, more so than Ashok had ever seen him. When Chanoch had disobeyed orders, he hadn’t looked so undone. Vedoran turned a black glare on Ilvani as he approached, but the witch stared through him as if he were made of smoke.
“My Lord Uwan,” Vedoran said, and his voice too was amplified to carry. Ashok could see it took all his willpower to spit the words of respect for the whole city to hear. “I regret to say that I am unable to produce evidence against Ashok.”
Uwan looked grave. “You bring a serious accusation to bear against
your fellow shadar-kai. I trust you would not waste our time with pretenses?”
“I would not, my Lord,” Vedoran said. He stared at Ilvani with pure hatred, so intense that Ashok and Uwan each took a step forward. Skagi came forward and put a hand on Ashok’s shoulder to hold him back.
“The evidence which I intended to present to you has been lost,” Vedoran continued, “taken, though I have no proof of that claim either, save my word.”
“Your word the city once held good,” Uwan said, “but now it is called into question. The claims you make are substantial, yet they go unsupported. Based on the lack of evidence, what judgment can I hand down?”
Cheers and anger came from the crowd, and Vedoran didn’t immediately answer. Behind him, one of the Beshabans, a man, stepped forward.
“My Lord Uwan, if I may?” he said.
Uwan nodded. “Speak, Traedis, servant of Beshaba,” he said.
“The evidence, or lack thereof, has been rendered moot by the accused’s own confession. From his lips you heard the story of his deception in the caves where our people were being tortured and butchered. You heard him say that he planned to give vital information about the defenses of this city to his enclave. He has confessed to all the crimes of which he stands accused. Nothing remains but sentencing.”
“We hear you, Traedis of Beshaba,” Uwan said. “Yet I would put forth the following to dispute your argument. You claim Ashok betrayed Ikemmu, yet I have here”-he reached inside his cloak and pulled out several sheets of parchment with scrawled writing in various hands-“written testimony vouching for Ashok’s character, testimony offered without coercion by no less than three shadar-kai in good standing with this city; one human merchant, Tatigan, who is known to all; and a halfling, Darnae, a prominent lady of business in the trade district. What say you to their words? They speak in praise of Ashok’s character.”
Ashok felt a swell of warmth, the first hint he’d had that there was something still alive inside him. He couldn’t read what was written on the parchment, but seeing the ink Darnae and the rest had spent in his defense bolstered him as nothing else had.
“My Lord,” Traedis said, and he sounded amused, “I could produce twenty, fifty such accounts for and against the accused, simply by sifting my hand through the crowd below. The opinion of the people does not prove guilt or innocence.”
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