Mitrian gathered her thoughts for a retort.
Arduwyn continued, leaving her no time to consider. “Look at you. Right now, you’re the most competent Renshai, and you didn’t start your training until you had become an adult by Western standards. My father wouldn’t let me carry a bow until I learned to carry a stick in a safe and respectful manner. He took my first bow away the day I drew it back, without an arrow, and pretended to aim it at my sister. It took me a year to get it back. But, with all due modesty, I’m probably the best archer in the West, even without an eye. Having the bow denied me until I became old enough to understand technique and safety only made it more sweet and me more dedicated when I finally got one. My ardor to become the best grew stronger.”
Mitrian found logic in Arduwyn’s words, but her mood would not allow her to compromise or consider. “Look, Arduwyn. That’s all very cute and maudlin, but it has nothing to do with Vashi. You can’t compare pulling back a string and letting go to Renshai sword mastery. Bows are for people who stand back and let others do their fighting.” It was an unfair accusation. Arduwyn had lost his eye to an Easterner’s sword in the Great War, while fighting with his scimitar.
“Damn it, Mitrian! I used to chide Colbey for his closed-minded blindness to anything not a sword. Once I got past my own prejudice against Renshai, I discovered him to be far more thoughtful and tolerant than I ever expected. You, on the other hand, have become as rigid as I accused him of being.”
Arduwyn’s words drove Mitrian beyond even the modicum of restraint she had managed to rally. “Get out of here! Just go away! Cowards don’t belong among Renshai!”
The horse shied. Arduwyn opened his mouth, prepared to defend himself against her harsh words.
Mitrian whipped her sword free, jabbed it toward the forests and away from the Fields of Wrath.
The paint whipped into a half rear. Regaining control, Arduwyn forced it to twist a quarter turn before its hooves again touched the ground. Without another word, he rode toward the woodlands.
Mitrian collapsed into another bout of tears.
* * *
Lirtensa left his cell the following morning, and he did not return. Khitajrah spent the day stretched out across the piled straw, playing counting games to avoid the deep contemplation that kept bringing her back to the same guilt and the same conclusions. The dung-reeking quiet seemed to stretch into an eternity. She slept intermittently and fretfully, day marked from night only by the glow through the single high window and the occasional entrances of guards carrying food in the lighter hours. This she ate, more from boredom than hunger. And, though surely they gave her the dregs of winter storage, she ate better now than she had while foraging for berries and buds. The vegetables tasted heartier and fresher than at Eastern first harvest.
* * *
On the morning of Khitajrah’s third day of imprisonment, the outer door swung open. Three men stood framed in the doorway, two wearing the single piece outfits of the town guard. The third man was lean and tall, dressed in flashy purple and green silk, with a ring gracing each finger. At first, Khitajrah did not recognize Lirtensa. His crouched figure in the cells gave her no impression of height, and the memory of his squinty, greasy countenance ill-prepared her for this very different look of wealth. Then her eyes met his, and he smiled. He had combed his hair back away from his face, though it still appeared more dirty than colored. A single, oily strand curled across his forehead. He waited, leaning casually against the door frame, while the guards approached Khitajrah’s cell.
One produced a key. The other waited, staring at Khitajrah until she met his gaze. He spoke in the common trading tongue, enunciating each word carefully. “We’re taking you to trial. Will you come peacefully and without need for restraint?”
Though Khitajrah had no intention of doing otherwise, she glanced at Lirtensa for guidance. He nodded slightly. She looked back at the guard. “I will come peacefully.”
The other man stabbed the key into the lock and twisted. He opened the door and motioned Khitajrah out.
Chaos saw the loopholes at once. *He didn’t say you had to remain peaceful all the way to the courthouse. And he never said you couldn’t run away. So long as you do it peacefully . . .*
*All of that was implied.* Khitajrah cut off chaos’ ramblings, annoyed that she had found herself considering the same outs. To break the law, whether its letter or intention, would violate the basic foundations of society. *Now, leave me alone. I have to talk to Lir. And I have to think.*
*I’m only trying to broaden your thoughts, to present options that your elders’ narrow views of reality might have stifled.*
*How generous of you.* Khitajrah hoped her sarcasm came through clearly. *When I need your help, I’ll let you know.* She stepped out of the cell, looking to the guards for her next move.
The man who had opened her cell pocketed the key. Sidestepping around Khitajrah and his companion, he led the way to the door. Khitajrah followed him, and the second guard trailed her. Lirtensa moved aside to let the three through, then he came to Khitajrah’s side.
The direct sunlight seemed blinding after three days trapped in the prison’s dank grayness. Khitajrah blinked several times as she shuffled along between the guards. Lirtensa walked briskly, neck chains clicking with each bouncing step. Citizens stopped to watch the parade of guards, prisoner, and lawyer, whispering among themselves. Though much of what they said emerged loudly enough, Khitajrah could make no sense of their strange Western language. The foreignness of the proceedings and her own ignorance made her uneasy, and every muscle tensed to a cramping pain. Needing something on which to ground the odd swirl of experience, she turned on Lirtensa. “Where have you been?”
Though Khitajrah had asked in the trading tongue, Lirtensa replied in Eastern. “I had to get myself free first. Couldn’t represent you from prison. I spent the rest of the day tracking down witnesses.”
“Witnesses?” Now Khitajrah also used Eastern. “Witnesses to what?”
“Different things.”
“There were two guards and a woman who heard me say—”
Lirtensa made an abrupt gesture to indicate that she should not speak the offending word again. The guards glanced over at the sudden movement. One said something angry in the Western tongue. Lirtensa’s reply was terse.
“What did he say?” Khitajrah asked.
“He’s annoyed because he can’t understand our conversation.”
“Oh.” It occurred to Khitajrah that she’d had the same problem a moment ago, but she saw no reason to antagonize the guards. “Should we use trading?”
“Hell, no.” Lirtensa grinned wickedly at the guard who had addressed him. “I’m the lawyer. You’re my client. We can use barbarian hand signals if we want. What we’re saying is none of his damned business, and I’m tempted to keep talking long after either of us has anything to say just to irk him.”
Khitajrah smiled.
Chaos fairly howled. *I like him. Can we marry him?*
*Didn’t I ask you to go away for a while?*
*Yes,* chaos admitted. *Of course, I don’t sleep. I have no eyes to close or ears to plug, and I’m stuck in your mind. Where did you expect me to go?*
The first guard came to a halt before a long, thatch-roofed building and made a brisk motion. “We’re here.” He headed toward the door.
Khitajrah and Lirtensa followed him, and the last guard brought up the rear. Fear clutched Khitajrah. She tried to ward it away, placing her trust in the man who had managed to free himself from prison more than once. Still, she could not escape the fact that she had blatantly broken the law in front of three witnesses. Ignorance of that law would gain her nothing in the East nor, she suspected, here. “I’m not going to have to lie, am I? I won’t do that.”
Lirtensa placed a hand on Khitajrah’s arm and squeezed reassuringly. “Kayt, if things go as I hope, you won’t have to speak at all. I’ll keep the proceedings in trading, so you can understand it all.
Just stay quiet. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to look a little confused and scared.”
“That won’t take any effort at all.”
The lead guard opened the door, revealing a meeting hall packed with Western citizens in dirt-caked work clothes and patched homespun. At the opposite end of the hall, two elderly men and a woman sat behind a table, their countenances grizzled and grave. The guard who had rescued the chicken from the rain barrel sat in a chair to the tribunal’s left. Two chairs stood empty to their right, and the lead guard gestured Khitajrah and Lirtensa to these. Behind the tribunal, a hefty, bald man perched above the proceedings on a piled stack of chests. As Khitajrah and Lirtensa sat, the guards closed the outer doors and took up positions beside it.
Khitajrah studied the layout, seized by a sudden panic. Her mouth went dry, and her eyes glazed the courtroom to a blur. She trembled uncontrollably, the stiffness of the movement aching through her muscles. Her mind flashed slowed motion images of Bahmyr rushing to her aid, of Diarmad’s dagger dripping blood, of her son lying still on the courtroom floor.
“Whoa, whoa!” Lirtensa grasped Khitajrah’s upper arm. “I said a little confused and scared. You look like you’re about to drop dead.”
“Can’t help it,” Khitajrah managed, her voice emerging in an unfamiliar squeak. “Been through this before.”
“Huh?”
“Been through this before,” Khitajrah repeated, the words more difficult the second time.
“You’ve been tried over a sentence of death before?”
Khitajrah nodded. Her jaw trembled, and her teeth clicked together repetitively.
Lirtensa studied her, and his look seemed to hold as much admiration as surprise. “Gods, frilka. And I thought I skirted the edge. Where did this happen?”
“East.”
Lirtensa chuckled. “So what are you worried about? You got acquitted there, right? If you lived through Eastern women’s court, this’ll seem like racing a snail.”
You got acquitted there. The thought echoed, tainted by chaos’ amusement. In her discomfort, Khitajrah could not tell whether she or it initiated the thought. She stared at the tribunal, soothed by the presence of a woman there. At least, she would have a chance here to dispute her guilt. And she could think of no one she would rather have on her side now than Lirtensa. Though she found him physically repulsive, and many of his philosophies discomfited her, she suspected he would prove competent as a lawyer. For now, her life depended on it.
Lirtensa gave a quick summary of the participants. “The judge, that’s the hairless one, is named Unamer. He directs the trial and keeps things fair. You want him to like you. The elders are called Xylain, Avenelle, and Clywid. Avenelle’s the woman. The other two I can never remember which is which. I think Xylain’s the one with the snout and Clywid’s got the pancake ears.”
Khitajrah blinked multiple times, until her vision cleared enough to differentiate the tribunal. The woman sat in the middle. The man to her left had a broad nose and a thick, brown beard. To her right, Clywid wore his hair closely-cropped, emphasizing large-lobed ears. Though cruel, Lirtensa’s descriptions took the edge from Khitajrah’s panic.
Judge Unamer’s head turned toward Khitajrah and Lirtensa in increments, the movement smooth and unhurried. His gray brows rose.
Uncertain what was expected of her, Khitajrah looked to Lirtensa.
“Are you ready to start?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” Khitajrah said, not at all ready, but equally certain that more time would make no difference.
Lirtensa raised a hand, fluttered his fingers briefly, then lowered it.
The judge turned his attention to the crowd. He lifted both arms, and the Ahktarian audience went silent. He spoke in the common trading tongue, his voice ponderous. “Here now we have gathered to try this woman, Khitajrah Harrsha’s-widow . . .” His Western accent mangled the name. “. . . on the grounds that she allegedly spoke the word ‘Renshai.’” He lowered his arms.
The crowd made a collective gasp, presumably at Unamer freely speaking the offending word. Surely, they already knew the charge.
Unamer continued, his neck now swiveling to the tribunal. His lack of movement and his preference for turning only his head reminded Khitajrah of an ancient, wise owl.
“It should be remembered that this particular charge, if founded, holds a guaranteed penalty of death. Therefore, the case should be considered with utmost care.”
The two men and the woman nodded somberly.
Unamer twisted his neck to the guard seated to his left. “Tell your story.”
The guard described the incident briefly, precisely as it had happened. As he neared the end of the tale, Lirtensa whispered to Khitajrah. “Answer without head motions. Did he get that right?”
Khitajrah consciously kept herself from nodding in agreement. “Yes.”
As the guard spoke his final words, Judge Unamer looked at Lirtensa. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
Again, the judge’s head turned to the guard. “Dismissed.” Then, back to Lirtensa. “Who would you like to call?”
“Whidishar Hunter.”
The crowd whispered about his choice. A moment later, a man stepped from among them and headed toward the front. Khitajrah recognized him at once as the hunter she had spoken to just before entering Ahktar. She noticed that several of the men who had accompanied him then sat with him now.
The guard vacated the seat to go stand with his two companions by the door. Whidishar gave Khitajrah a friendly smile as he passed, then took his seat beside the tribunal.
Unamer spoke at his usual monotonous pace, each word clear. “Tell your story of the incident, please.”
“I wasn’t there, sir.”
“Very well.” Unamer turned his attention to Lirtensa. “Your questions.”
Lirtensa leapt to his feet, briskly crossing the floor to stand before Whidishar. “Whidishar Hunter, have you seen or spoken with my client before this trial?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve done both.”
“And when did that occur?”
“Two days ago. In the morning. My friends and I were going hunting, and she was headed toward the town.”
Lirtensa brushed the curl from his forehead, and it immediately fell back into place. “Did you try to talk to her in Western?”
“Yes, I did. At first. It was pretty obvious she didn’t understand me, so I switched to Western trade. She responded to that.”
“So you would say that my client is a foreigner?”
Whidishar shrugged. “Obviously.”
Judge Unamer interrupted. “Lir, if you’re trying to establish that your client didn’t know our laws, you may as well stop here. At best, ignorance would reduce the sentence. We’re here to establish whether or not the crime was committed.”
Lirtensa raised his hand. “I swear, sir, that this is all relevant. I have no intention of claiming ignorance. In fact, the law is universal and old enough so no one should be ignorant of it.”
Khitajrah frowned, but she said nothing. Lirtensa had phrased his comment so as not to lie, but he treaded a dangerous boundary. They both knew she had had no prior knowledge of the crime or its consequences. Worse, the judge had clearly stated that ignorance might have lessened the sentence. Now, should they lose the case, she would surely die.
“Proceed,” Unamer said.
Lirtensa turned his questioning back to Whidishar. “We have now established my client is a foreigner. In fact, she’s a recent immigrant from the East.”
Whidishar nodded. “That would have been my guess.”
“Now, at one point in time, she spoke the name of this town, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“How did she pronounce that?”
Whidishar considered for a moment. His lips jerked into a smile. “I’m not sure I can get it exactly right.”
“Try.”
“It sounded something like Accccch-tayer.” Whidishar exagge
rated the guttural.
The crowd twittered.
Lirtensa also smiled. “Did you correct her?”
“Yes.”
“And afterward, how did she say it?”
“She said it . . .” Whidishar chuckled again. “Accccch-tayer.”
“Thank you,” Lirtensa said. “No further questions.” Crossing the room, he returned to his seat.
“Dismissed.” Judge Unamer kept his attention on Whidishar, then rotated his head to Lirtensa again. “You said two witnesses this morning. Who would you like to call as the other?”
“Gertrina. The tailor’s wife.”
A murmur swept the crowd. The woman who had called for the guards’ help with the chicken waddled forward. She waited until Whidishar rose and vacated the chair, then plopped her wide bottom in place.
“Tell your version of the story.” The judge instructed.
Gertrina held her head high, obviously pleased at becoming the center of attention at an important trial. “It was just like he said.” She pointed at the guard with a thick hand. “I heard it all. I was standing right there. She said . . . well, you know . . . the word.”
Judge Unamer nodded, brows screwing in toward his nose. He seemed as confused by Lirtensa’s choice of witness as Khitajrah was. “Any questions, Lir?”
“Yes.” Lirtensa rose, striding across the chamber floor to confront Gertrina directly. “Gertrina, exactly what was the offending word that my client said?”
Gertrina threw a startled glance at the judge.
Unamer nodded. “You may safely answer the question. For the purposes of trial, it is no crime to say the word. It is important that we establish the offense solidly and without euphemism.”
“She said . . .” Gertrina trailed off, obviously still uncomfortable. “She said, ‘I’m told he’s Renshai.’” She whispered the final word, but it wafted to Khitajrah clearly enough. She suspected that the people in the back did not hear, but the judge did not press for a repetition. All those who mattered had heard.
Child of Thunder (Renshai Trilogy) Page 23