A flutter of emotion passed over the Sylvan captain’s face, but Jalist could not tell what it meant. Essidel said, “Words. Just words, Human.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But here I am.”
A hint of surprise touched the captain’s face, perhaps even a flicker of grudging respect. “Indeed. Here, you are. Well, you have no sense, Knight. That’s plain. But it could be that you have courage.”
Essidel turned to Silwren. “And you. What is your tale? You have the eyes of a Shel’ai, but no Shel’ai I’ve ever seen or heard of could do what I saw you do to my men’s arrows.”
When Silwren spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “I was born a Shel’ai. But I sought to become something more. I tried to strengthen my magic so that I might defend my people.”
Jalist tightened his grip around his goblet. And the process nearly turned you into another Nightmare. It also drove you mad enough to kill the other Initiates… Something told him she would leave out that part of the story.
Essidel’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. “So use that power to kill Fadarah. And wipe out the Dhargots and the Olgrym while you’re at it.”
Silwren flushed. “I… cannot.”
Essidel sighed. “So, not content with a Shel’ai’s already-impressive capacity for murder, you somehow turned yourself into a Dragonkin. Now, you say you’ve changed sides. But you can’t actually do anything. Is that what you’re asking me to believe?”
Jalist smothered a grin. I hope she doesn’t kill you for that, Sylv. I’m starting to like you.
Silwren faced Essidel in silence. Then she gestured, and wytchfire sprang in a bright, deadly orb about her fist. Briel cried out a warning and drew his sword. Rowen moved to block the Sylv’s path, though he looked just as surprised as Jalist felt. But Silwren did not attack, and Essidel gestured for Briel to step back.
Silwren said, “My parents were killed by a mob. A mob of men like you. Their crime was not killing me when I was born… when they saw that I was a Shel’ai. The mob would have killed me, too, but I ran. And Fadarah found me. He saved my life. He kept me safe. And I have turned on him.” She opened her hand. The wytchfire sputtered, surged up again as though she were having trouble dismissing it, then vanished. “I turned on him to protect you, when for all I know, you fired the arrow through my mother’s throat.”
An awful silence filled the room. A fair point, Jalist conceded.
Finally, Essidel said, “How long have you been gone from Sylvos?”
“Years.”
Essidel said, “I’m guessing you fled during the reign of King Rhil’thys. Things were different then. Loslandril is nothing like his father. The mobs—”
“Still exist, just as surely as Shel’ai infants are still abandoned on the plains, left to starve or die in the cold. Do you deny it? Can you name even one Shel’ai living peacefully in Sylvos?”
Essidel hesitated. Then he shook his head. “But I can name a dozen men and women who were executed for their murders on King Loslandril’s orders. I killed two of them myself.”
I wonder if he’s telling the truth. If anyone could read the captain’s mind, it was Silwren. When seconds passed and she did not call the Sylv a liar or burn him to ashes, Jalist figured they had their answer.
Indeed, Silwren’s expression softened a little. “Look to your histories, Captain. Once, Sylv and Shel’ai fought side by side. Now, each lives in fear of the other. Once, the Knights of the Crane were a force for honor and goodness in the world. Now, most are no better than the warlords they were founded to oppose. True power must be given, not stolen. Otherwise, it is self-defeating. That is the lesson we forgot. That is the lesson all must relearn. Including your king.”
Essidel regarded her for a moment, a grudging agreement in his eyes.
Well, that’s a start. Despite himself, Jalist fought back a slight smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KNIGHTS OF THE LOTUS
Aeko Shingawa sat and listened to Crovis Ammerhel’s ringing indictments.
“And lastly,” Crovis’s voice boomed through the vast circular Hall of Council, “I accuse Sir Rowen Locke of thieving the greatest symbol of our Order—namely, the Sword of Fâyu Jinn, Fel-Nâya, also called Knightswrath, a sacred relic from the days of the Shattering War.” Crovis paused for effect then resumed his seat.
A relic most of you didn’t even know existed until recently. Despite this, many of the assembled Knights murmured their agreement. She rose to her feet, calling for attention. “I remind this assembly that Sir Locke is not here to defend himself against these allegations, nor is there any evidence of theft.” She seized a scroll off the table before her and brandished it. “Perhaps Sir Ammerhel has forgotten this signed testimony, sent from the Soroccan merchant who came by the sword honestly and gave it freely to Sir Locke in exchange for saving his life.”
Some Knights seemed to side with her, though more had agreed with Crovis. He faced her with a cold smile. His jet-black hair had been pulled back into a tight braid, giving him an especially fierce look. He did not rise, though it was customary to do so when speaking in the Hall of Council. “Lady Shingawa is quite correct. However, I remind her that our laws prohibit squires and those whose Knighthood has been revoked from owning or carrying adamune. Fel-Nâya is, at the very least, an adamune. It is, therefore, the sole property of the Order.”
Aeko spoke through her teeth. “Perhaps I nodded off during these proceedings, but not once in the past few hours did we vote on whether or not Sir Locke’s Knighthood should be rescinded.”
A wolfish smile touched Crovis Ammerhel’s face. He rose before he spoke. “Again, Lady Shingawa is correct. I move that we take such a vote immediately.” He turned in a slow circle, eyeing all one-hundred-odd Knights seated on tiered stone chairs in the great hall. “We have here the proper number of representatives from all three ranks of the Order. Let us vote now and put this matter to rest.”
Some of Crovis’s supporters cheered.
Aeko turned to face Bokuden. The Grand Marshal sat in a plain wooden chair in the center of the hall, dressed in the armor of a Knight of the Lotus. Though the ancient chamber had been designed so that speakers had to stand in an open area at the center, surrounded by Knights seated on progressively higher rows, Bokuden was permitted to sit. His face scarred by age and battle, he wore an adamune at his side, though he seemed to favor a gnarled cane crowned with a visage of an intertwined crane and dragon. His knuckles were as white as his hair. Bokuden met her gaze, sighed, and rose heavily to his feet. He gestured for silence. The assemblage took longer than it should have to grant him that respect.
“I admire Sir Ammerhel’s devotion to the expediency of our laws.” He gave the Knight a strained smile. “However, the Codex Lotius clearly states that no Knight can be judged without first being granted the right to defend himself. Sir Locke is not here. While Sir Ammerhel would no doubt remind us that the vote can be taken in special circumstances in which the accused cannot be summoned, I remind this assembly that no attempts to summon Sir Locke to the Lotus Isles have yet been made. Therefore, any attempt to revoke his Knighthood is premature.” He faced Crovis, smiled, and added, “And morally questionable.”
Another uneasy grumble swept through the hall. Aeko could tell by the number of scowls versus the number of smiles that Bokuden’s support had waned of late. But he was still their Grand Marshal until he either died or was voted out of office, and not even Crovis dared attempt the latter. Yet.
Aeko said, “If Sir Crovis wishes to call for such a trial, he may do so. I move that we send an envoy to locate Sir Locke and invite him to appear before this council. I stress that this should be a request, not an arrest, in keeping with the spirit of our laws.”
Crovis stood and faced her, making no attempt to smile. “And if this kind invitation is refused?”
Aeko knew she was trapped, but that came as no surprise. Crovis was nothing if not cunning. She cleared her throat. “If Sir Locke will not appea
r before this esteemed council to speak in his own defense, then, in keeping with our laws, he must be stripped of his sword, armor, and title. But I have every confidence that he will agree to appear. After all, I remind this council of the courage he showed at Lyos… courage even his accuser has conceded.”
Crovis nodded, the hint of a smile forming on his lips. “It takes more than courage to be a Knight. It takes reason, temperance, humility—and obedience to our founding principles. Of these, Locke has none. That is why he stands accused. But I am a servant of the law. If this council wishes to have Locke present when his Knighthood is revoked, so be it. I will see it done.” He sat, pretending not to hear the cheers around him.
Aeko seethed. She knew that at best, she had only delayed the inevitable. Either Fel-Nâya would be taken from Rowen when Crovis found him in the wild, probably in or around the Wytchforest, or it would be taken when Crovis brought him back, found him guilty, and likely had him killed. And once Crovis had Jinn’s sword, he would become a living legend. Crovis would replace Bokuden, or kill him, and nobody would object.
Unless I ride ahead and find Rowen first. But that was impossible. Laws decreed that whenever possible, a Knight of the Lotus must oversee the apprehension of another accused Knight. Aeko was only a Knight of the Stag. She could ride out ahead of Crovis, but she would have little hope of traveling through the realms alone with the Dhargots abroad.
She faced Bokuden and found him staring back. She realized they were thinking the same thing. Bokuden called for attention again.
“The Codex Lotius also states that the verdict comes at the end of a trial, not the beginning. Sir Ammerhel has clearly made up his mind as to Sir Locke’s guilt. That is his right. However, to maintain fairness, I call upon this assembly to choose another Knight of the Lotus to lead the envoy.” He stared down the glares from the dozens of Knights around him.
A disquieting silence swallowed the chamber. Aeko thought at first that one of Crovis’s supporters would volunteer, but it quickly became obvious that none wished to claim a role they felt had been stolen from their leader. Of the ten Knights of the Lotus present within the hall, two or three were still loyal to Bokuden, but Aeko could tell by their meek expressions that they were in no hurry to openly defy the man who would almost certainly be Grand Marshal before long. Others might simply have been reticent to conduct such a mission through territories rife with Dhargots.
The silence wore on. Crovis eyed the Grand Master with open derision as he rose from his chair again. “Since no one else volunteers for this duty, I offer my own name and call for an open vote. That is my right.”
Many Knights nodded their agreement, but Bokuden shook his head. “I am still Grand Marshal, Sir Ammerhel. I may choose whom to send, if I wish.”
Crovis bowed. “Then we await your wisdom, Grand Marshal.” He left the center of the chamber and resumed his seat in the lowest, closest row, which was reserved for Knights of the Lotus.
Bokuden, who had been standing since first he spoke, turned slowly, leaning on his cane. He seemed to take in the whole assembly before his gaze settled on Aeko. She saw his grave look and the faint hint of apology in his eyes. She started to shake her head, but Bokuden spoke, his voice booming so loudly that many of the Knights were startled. “Aeko Shingawa, Knight of the Stag, stand and be recognized.”
She obeyed, though her armor suddenly seemed thrice its normal weight.
“In recognition of your unchallenged valor in the field, for temperance of thought and action, and for your steadfast loyalty to the precepts of both the Codex Lotius and the Codex Viticus, I hereby invoke my special authority as Grand Marshal to grant you the rank you deserve.” He bowed. “I greet you, Aeko Shingawa, Knight of the Lotus.”
Aeko felt the blood drain from her face. She’d sought the rank all her life… and when she finally received the honor, it was nothing more than a political maneuver. She forced herself to return the bow. For a long time, no one spoke. Then everyone was on their feet, shouting.
Crovis Ammerhel rose from his seat, as though he meant to charge Bokuden. Some Knights tried to restrain him, but he shrugged them off as though they were children. “This is an outrage. Ranks are granted by vote of the entire Council, not at one old man’s whim!” Crovis had his sword half drawn.
Aeko stepped between them. She touched her own sword hilt but did not draw it.
Bokuden smiled, still holding his cane. “The Codex Viticus makes no such distinction, Sir Crovis. Indeed, in the early days when the Lotus Isles were still ruled by a king, such things were always done one Knight to another. No law forbids it.”
“But tradition—”
Bokuden smiled thinly. “Fâyu Jinn had something to say about traditions that no longer serve their purpose.”
Crovis glanced around. The other Knights had fallen quiet so they could hear the exchange. He straightened, stepped back, and let go of his sword. “You are within your rights, Grand Marshal. I apologize for my outburst. Nevertheless, I remind you that only two women have ever risen beyond the Order of the Stag, and the last was three hundred—”
“Again, no law forbids this. In fact, the legends say that near half of Fâyu Jinn’s first battalion of Knights were women. Lady Shingawa has distinguished herself countless times… perhaps more than many of the old men in armor I see around me, myself included.” He looked around the Hall of Council as though daring someone to disagree. A few older Knights blushed, but none spoke out.
Crovis cleared his throat. When he spoke, he was all formality. “So be it. I will accept the legality of your actions… though I believe they show contempt for this assembly and its traditions and do damage to the honor of our Order.”
He turned smartly to face Aeko. “Lady Shingawa, I welcome you to the Order of the Lotus. Though I question the means of your promotion, I acknowledge your past courage. If it is the Grand Marshal’s wish that you command the envoy sent to capture Sir Locke, then I will submit dutifully to your authority.” His eyes cast daggers at her as he bowed.
As Aeko returned the bow, she wondered if Crovis’s use of the word capture was deliberate. “Thank you, Sir Crovis. I look forward to serving the Light at your side, in Jinn’s name.”
Crovis straightened, stone faced, and stalked out of the Hall of Council. Nearly all the Knights of the Lotus left with him, followed by most from the Orders of the Crane and Stag, until only a handful remained. Some eyed her with respect, others with pity.
Aeko sighed. Bokuden returned to his chair. He looked tired. She had been about to rebuke him, but the sight of the cane wobbling in his grasp frightened her.
She approached him slowly and knelt. “Old friend, what have you done?”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I have saved the Order… for another month, at least. Beyond that, it’s up to you. And Sir Locke.” He squeezed her hand and settled back in his chair. “I hope you are right about him.”
I hope I am, too. Aeko rose, bowed, and started to go. Then, on impulse, she turned back, bent low, and kissed the Grand Marshal’s forehead.
He reached up and brushed his hand against the long dark braid hanging over her shoulder. “Goodbye, child,” he said.
Aeko left, walking briskly so that no one would see her struggling to stave off her tears. Somehow, she knew that she would never see Sir Bokuden again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HEALING
For three days, Igrid watched Arnil Royce sleep. The Lancer remained feverish and shaking, even after she’d cleaned and stitched his wounds and rubbed them in a special Hesodi poultice she’d made from herbs she’d found growing north of the stream. Though he had not spoken directly to her after their first encounter, he mumbled incomprehensibly in his delirium. Igrid feared moving him, but for all she knew, Dhargothi warriors would return to scour the field for survivors.
So Igrid had fashioned a crude litter, bound it to a horse, and taken the wounded Lancer half a mile north, to a copse of trees beside a
stream. There, she reasoned that she could treat his wounds and still keep a sharp lookout.
The Dhargots had taken such a risk in attacking the Ivairians. Who was to say the Lancers would let so gruesome an insult go unanswered? There might have been no love lost between the Lancers and the Isle Knights, but Ivairia could always ally itself with another of the remaining Free Cities.
Anything that involves more people killing Dhargots has my vote!
She squelched her memories of Hesod, thinking instead about her plan to move to Lyos and start her own tavern or brothel. The loss of Knightswrath had shaken that dream, but she still had the fat pouch of coins that Arnil had given her.
Not me. He gave them to Anza. But the girl was dead. And odds favored Arnil succumbing to his fever in the next day or so. Surely, she would be blameless in the gods’ eyes.
Then why do I feel so damned guilty? She reminded herself that Arnil had not only saved her. Most commanders would have been practical and merely admonished the rapists or forgiven them entirely—especially amidst a battle, when all swords were needed. Others might have even killed Igrid and Anza outright to prevent them from speaking of it. But Arnil had dealt the sternest of punishments with his own sword while all his surviving knights watched.
Then again, his troops had done the deeds in the first place. Aren’t commanders responsible for the actions of their men? She gave up on resolving such matters and checked on him again. He was tossing his head and mumbling. She felt his forehead. He was still frightfully warm to the touch. She sighed.
She had done her best, but she doubted any of her efforts would keep the man in Ruun for long. He had eaten little and drunk even less, and his condition seemed to be worsening. She eyed his kingsteel bastard sword again. She would take that once the Lancer was dead. No sense leaving it behind.
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