“What is it Crymm?” he said. “I was in the midst of some pressing business and was told there was some sort of emergency.”
“Sir,” Crymm said, standing at stiff attention, “I have brought Jecta prisoners per orders of Labhras, sir.”
“Prisoners?” Mahon said. He turned his attention to where they stood. “What are the charges?”
“Thievery, sir,” Crymm replied.
Mahon marched past Crymm and approached the three, his eyes narrowing in recognition of Reiv. He stopped before his former nephew and scowled. “By the gods!” he said. “What—” Then his eyes fell on Dayn and the words dissolved on his tongue.
Mahon moved toward Dayn, his realization of the boy’s resemblance to Whyn all too apparent. He walked around the prisoner, looking him up and down.
“Who is this?” Mahon asked sternly, staring hard into the face of the boy now quaking before him.
“A Jecta thief, sir,” Crymm said. “I do not know his name.”
“Well, boy, what is your name?” Mahon demanded.
“Dayn, sir,” Dayn’s barely-level voice replied.
“Where are you from, Dayn?” Mahon asked, moving in for closer inspection.
“I—we—”
“He is from Pobu,” Reiv interjected.
“Silence from you,” Mahon shouted, glaring at Reiv’s suddenly downcast eyes. Mahon turned his attention back to Dayn. “I said, where are you from, boy?”
“Pobu, sir,” Dayn said.
Mahon turned to inspect Alicine. “So, Jecta thieves, eh?” he said. Then he returned his gaze to Dayn, and stared at him intently.
Dayn averted his face, and the rose-colored birthmark on his neck suddenly surged into view. Mahon’s breath caught audibly as an expression of horror swept his face.
“I thought the same thing,” Reiv said, stepping forward. “He looks much like the Lord Prince, but I assure you, it is coincidence only. Nothing more, sir.”
Mahon narrowed his eyes at Reiv, then nodded, grim-faced. He turned and marched back to Crymm, who was still standing at attention. “Crymm, you say you have brought them here on Labhras’s orders. I need to speak with him immediately. Take the prisoners to the holding cell while I send someone to fetch him.” Mahon glanced momentarily at Dayn, then turned and walked briskly from the room.
Crymm grinned at the three as he approached them. “This way, thieves,” he said. “Or shall I let the princeling lead you there? He certainly knows the way.”
Reiv pushed past and led Alicine and Dayn down the dim, narrow corridor. He shot a glare over his shoulder at Crymm who wore an expression of fury.
“Here it is, is it not, Crymm?” Reiv said as he stopped in front of a barred room.
Crymm reared his fist as if to strike. Reiv lifted his jaw, challenging him to go through with it.
“No!” Alicine cried.
Crymm smiled and relaxed his fist. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “I would not want to be considered cruel now would I?” He pulled down a cluster of keys from a peg on the wall and shoved his way past Reiv, nearly knocking him off of his feet. “In you all go,” he said, pushing them into the small, unfurnished cell.
“What about our hands?” Reiv said as Crymm pulled the door closed. But the man only laughed and turned to walk away.
“What will the Commander say to you not letting your prisoners see to their personal needs?” Reiv shouted through the bars. Crymm could make up a variety of excuses for why he needed to leave bruises on them, but even he would have trouble explaining why he left their hands tied at their backs in a holding cell.
Crymm halted with a growl, then stormed back and unlocked the door. He pulled his sword from its sheath and strode toward Alicine, all the while glaring at Reiv.
“Shall I just cut the ropes?” Crymm said, eyeing the tip of the blade. “Or shall I . . .”
Dayn rushed forward and pushed into Crymm, shoving him against the wall.
“Why you piece of—!” Crymm spat, lurching toward him.
Reiv leapt between them, his eyes flashing. “Let me remind you, Crymm, that I may not be what I once was, but I still have enough information on you that notice will be paid!”
Crymm gnashed his teeth, understanding Reiv’s implication, and marched over to Alicine. He grabbed her by the arm, spun her around, and sliced the ropes at her back. Then he turned to Dayn and ran the sword between his bindings, cursing him under his breath. Lastly he cut Reiv’s ropes, but not before digging the blade tip into the back of Reiv’s arm.
“We will see who pays notice to what,” Crymm hissed. Then he shoved Reiv away, knocking him against the wall, and marched from the cell, slamming the door behind him with an echoing clank.
Reiv grabbed his forearm and held it tight.
Alicine rushed over to him. “He cut you? Here, let me take a look.” She reached her hand to his arm, but he pulled away.
“It is nothing,” he said.
“Don’t be stupid. Let me see.”
Reiv removed his hand and lifted his arm so both he and she could take a closer look. Dayn walked over and leaned in, staring at the trail of blood now dripping into the straw.
“God,” Dayn said, looking rather queasy.
“It is not that bad,” Reiv said.
Alicine reached down to the hem of her sarong and tore off a strip of cloth, shortening the garment to above her knee. She glanced up at Dayn, noting his disapproving stare. “It’s only a knee,” she said. “What am I supposed to do? Let Reiv bleed into unconsciousness?”
Dayn’s face reddened at the realization that he had allowed her exposed knee to take precedence over the welfare of Reiv’s wound.
Alicine looked around. “Did he leave us without water?” She shook her head and wrapped the strip of cloth around Reiv’s arm, binding it tightly. “We’ll need to clean this soon.”
Reiv looked down at the brightly colored tourniquet. “Well, this is certainly the most decorative bandage I have ever seen.” The pattern grew darker and wider.
“Sit down and keep the pressure on it, for goodness sake,” Alicine said.
Reiv jumped at her command then slumped down against the nearby wall, squeezing his arm. “How long do I have to hold it?” he asked impatiently.
“Until I tell you to stop.”
Reiv rolled his eyes.
“You’d best do what she says,” Dayn said. “You know her temper and you’ve no place to run.” He laughed weakly and gazed around the small, depressing cell.
* * * *
Dayn was startled by the sound of creaking hinges. He rose from his spot in the straw and peered between the bars. A tall, blond-haired boy was walking toward them, flanked by two well-armed guards.
The boy motioned for his escorts to wait outside the door, then he stepped to the cell. The guards hesitated and remained at his back. A stern look coupled with a loud command from the boy prompted their immediate departure.
Dayn and Alicine stared speechless at the visitor. He was truly impressive with his yellow silk tunic, jeweled brooches, and ornately decorated belt. But it was not his clothes that held their undivided attention.
As Dayn watched the boy, he felt as though he were looking at himself. The visitor had the same pale hair, though much neater, and his eyes were the same bright blue. But it wasn’t just his coloring; it was every feature on his face.
Dayn glanced at Reiv, noting that his cousin had retreated to the far side of the cell. The boy moved along the bars toward Reiv.
Reiv glared openly at the visitor, but did not say a word.
“Reiv,” the boy said, “are you not going to acknowledge me?”
Reiv rushed over and grabbed the bars, jerking them with his fists. “Oh, yes, my Lord. I forgot. It is only I who am not to be acknowledged.” He pushed away and bowed with sarcasm. “There, is that acknowledgement enough?”
“That is not what I meant,” the boy said sternly. “I only meant we need to talk, and it cannot be done wi
th you snarling at me from across the room.”
“What is there to talk about? I am here and you are there. I will be convicted of thievery and you will live happily ever after.”
The boy’s mouth compressed with irritation. “I need to know whether or not you are guilty of the charges.”
“Guilty of the charges?” Reiv said, his voice building. “Do you actually think that of me? Gods, I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I do not know you at all anymore, Reiv, and I cannot help you if I do not know the facts.”
“Here are the facts, broth--” Reiv glanced at Dayn and Alicine, then began again. “Here are the facts, Lord--I stole nothing and they stole nothing. Who was it that brought us here? Could Crymm possibly have it in for me? Think! Or have you erased all recollections of your childhood?”
“I have forgotten nothing,” the boy snapped. “And I never will. I am not your enemy and it would be in your best interest not to forget it.”
“Enemies come in all forms.”
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but then he shut it with a snap. He and Reiv stared at each other in stony silence until at last the boy said, “You are wrong.” Then he looked at Dayn. “There appears to be a mystery at work here, but some mysteries are best left unsolved.” The boy glanced back at Reiv and shook his head, then turned and exited into the corridor, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Who was that?” Dayn asked. “Who, Reiv?”
“Nobody,” Reiv said.
“Oh, no,” Alicine said. “He is definitely somebody. Tell us. Who is he?”
“I told you…” Reiv heaved a sigh of resignation. “Fine. That was Whyn.”
“Whyn? I’ve heard that name before,” Dayn said. “You and Brina said something about my resemblance to him.” Dayn approached Reiv and looked him hard in the eye. “Why do we look so much alike?”
Reiv motioned off-handedly. “A coincidence, nothing more.”
“I don’t buy that,” Dayn said. “Who is this Whyn and how do you know him?”
Reiv slumped against the wall and cradled his arm. “Can we discuss it another time?”
“No!” Dayn and Alicine said.
Reiv looked at them wearily. “Very well. If you must know, he was my brother. Satisfied? Now, leave me be. I cannot think anymore.” He curled up on the straw, leaving Dayn and Alicine to contemplate his words in silence.
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Chapter 19: The Hearing
Brina rushed into her husband’s office like a woman possessed. “What have you done with Reiv!” she shouted.
Mahon lifted his gaze from the parchment on his desk to the face of his exasperated wife. “What does one normally do with a thief?” he said calmly.
Brina gripped the edge of the desk and leaned in toward him. “That is a lie and you know it. Reiv is no thief!”
Mahon returned his attention to the parchment, dismissing her with a look of indifference.
“Mahon!” Brina said, marching around the desk. “Do not disregard me. This is serious.”
Mahon drew a breath of forced tolerance and rolled the parchment into a scroll, then set it aside. “You are correct, wife. It is serious.” He stood and stepped to a table located against the wall behind the desk and picked up a bag, then turned and poured the contents of it upon his desk. “This is evidence of Reiv’s thievery. Would you deny it now?”
Brina’s eyes widened as Jecta jewelry and trinkets danced across the marble desktop. “What do you mean ‘evidence’? Reiv did not take those things. I know it for a fact.”
“Oh, do you now? How is it that you know it?” Mahon took a step toward her and stared into her face, searching for evidence of a lie, or perhaps the truth for once.
She turned away. “I just know.”
“Well, it does not matter what you think you know,” he said. “There is also the issue of the Jecta that Reiv had with him.”
Brina’s eyes darted back to his. “Is Reiv all right?” she asked, refocusing the subject of the debate back to her nephew.
“Of course. He is in a cell where he will remain until the hearing. It could be any time now.”
“Any time now? Surely not so soon.”
“As soon as Labhras arrives I will be summoned. Sedric is too ill to attend of course, but Whyn will be there, and Crymm, unfortunately.” Mahon shook his head. “This whole sordid incident is going to have to be handled quickly. The Priestess—”
“The Priestess?” Brina exclaimed. “What does she have to do with this? Gods, Mahon, petty issues such as this are not normally handled by the Priestess. Only issues that warrant consultation with the gods. Why would—”
“Because she ordered it, that is why,” Mahon said, cutting her short. “The situation is exceptional, surely you understand that. Important decisions must be made. You know full well there has been talk in the streets about the boy’s Unnaming. And that fool Crymm marching him through the crowd like some sort of prize.”
Brina laid a trembling hand upon his arm. “What is going to happen, Mahon? Please tell me.”
Mahon pursed his lips. “It is a difficult situation.”
“Who will have the ultimate say?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“The prisoners will not be made to appear before her, will they?” Brina asked, digging her fingers into his arm.
“Under law there is no obligation to allow Jecta to speak, but since there are extenuating circumstances . . .”
“Surely you have some influence, Mahon. I do not think it wise to parade them before the Priestess. They are only children.”
“They are hardly children,” he replied crisply. “Regardless, I have no say in what happens. If the Priestess wishes them brought to her, I have no choice but to do so.”
“I must see them,” Brina said, making to leave.
“Them? Why must you see them? I should think you only need to see Reiv. Or is it Dayn you really need to see?”
Brina’s face lapsed to alarm, but she quickly rearranged her expression. “I said I need to see them. That is all you need to know.”
“No, I think there is more. This boy Dayn. He looks so much like—”
“Whyn. Yes, I know. Coincidence only.”
“So you know him?”
Brina shrugged. “I have seen him at Market.”
“How did you know it was he who was arrested with Reiv?”
“I went to see Reiv last night, and the boy was there. Talk in the streets was that one of the Jecta was tall and fair, so I just assumed.”
“Since when does Reiv entertain Jecta? No, Brina, I think there is more to this boy than you are telling.” He paused and forced her gaze to his. “I saw the mark on his neck, and it is exactly like—”
“Do not say the words you plan to speak,” Brina said. “Do not dare say them to me, Mahon.”
“I will say them! He is marked as our son was marked, and he looks like our nephew, your sister’s own son! Do not dare say it is coincidence.” Mahon grabbed her by the shoulders. “No more lies, Brina. Tell me! Is this boy our son? Is he?”
“No! Our son is dead.”
“Are you certain? Did you watch him die? Do you know for a fact he is dead?”
“Of course I know it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I killed him myself!” A sob escaped Brina’s throat. “I told you I left him for the gods, but I only said it to spare you, Mahon. I killed him with my own hands. He is dead I tell you. Dead!”
The falseness of Brina’s words could not prevent the overwhelming emotion she felt at having said them. She felt her legs go weak.
Mahon pulled her into his arms and held her close. “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean for you to tell me. I only thought that if the boy—”
Brina pushed him away. “Our son is not coming back, Mahon. No matter how much we want him to. He is gone forever. Please.”
Mahon nodded gr
imly. “You have lied to me so many times that all we have between us now is the lies and the loss and the painful memories of our child. When I saw the boy I thought there was a chance he could be ours. Perhaps I even hoped he was. But even if he were my son, he might as well be dead to me. I would never be allowed to be a father to him. You are right. Our son is gone.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “I would have given you a hundred children had you asked it of me,” he said softly.
“How can you say that to me?”
“Because it is true, dear wife. You see, I am a foolish man who can love only one woman, even if that love is not returned.”
He did not wait for a response, and disappeared through the door.
* * * *
Whyn hustled up the path as two guards struggled to keep pace. The Priestess did not like to be kept waiting, and he knew the others had already arrived. He reached the temple quickly, then paused to gather his wits.
Waving the guards back, he made his way in, his lone footsteps and rapid breathing echoing down the corridor. Before him loomed two great double-doors, their elaborate surfaces decorated with gold filigree. There were images of torture and sacrifice molded upon them, ancient images, but images not easily forgotten. Whyn set his jaw and shoved open the doors.
The Room of Transcension was large and illuminated by a dull, eerie glow. Immense statues reached from floor to ceiling and lined the perimeter of the room. The images stood cold and silent. Even the torchlight that flickered off their brindle faces provided no sense of warmth. Each statue stood shoulder-to-shoulder alongside another, and all stared with dark, unseeing eyes toward the center of the room. No two were the same. Some were human in form while others were animal, and there were male and female, and some that appeared to be both, or neither. Only one was greater than the rest, and it stood predominantly at the center of the room. The statue’s feminine face, made of purest white marble, seemed to be lit by a light from within. It was Agneis, Goddess of Purity, the supreme deity of Tearia.
The Priestess, almost an exact replica of the goddess at her back, sat before it on a high-backed chair centered upon a raised platform. She was dressed in a sleeveless tunic top that sparkled like precious stones, her breasts revealed beneath the pale, shimmering fabric. A wide belt accentuated her slender waist, and from it descended an elaborately embroidered apron, each colored thread meticulously woven into a design of unsurpassed splendor. Beneath it she wore a flounced skirt made of overlapping layers of pastel material, each with a different design, each layer adding to the pattern of the next. Her feet were bare, but her nails were painted gold, as were her lips and the lining around her eyes. Her white hair was pulled back by a band that wound around her head, and streams of beaded jewels and feathers trailed down her neck and across her shoulders. Her eyes were icy blue and so pale they glowed like a cat’s against the flickering dimness of the room that surrounded her.
Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light Page 23