Had lied to himself again.
The room was hot. His lips were dry. His shirt stuck to his back.
T’Birch started. “Death.”
T’Rowan followed. “Death.”
D’Alder said, “Banishment.”
Ruis’s stomach clenched. The voices casting the vote floated to him from a great distance. His vision dimmed.
T’Ash’s deep voice boomed, “Banishment.”
More voices sounded. “Death.”
“Death.”
“Banishment.”
Finally it was over.
Before she’d left, D’Vine had voted for Freedom.
Eight voted for Death.
Fourteen voted for Banishment.
T’Blackthorn was absent.
D’SilverFir was absent. The thought of her and the comfort they had shared earlier made Ruis’s whole body tighten.
Banished.
Ailim waited in the large corridor until the Council Herald waddled to the double Earthoakwood doors next to her and consulted a scroll mounted behind glass next to the threshold.
“Prospective GrandLady D’SilverFir.” His sonorous voice rolled through a hall filled with the dim emptiness of evening.
Ailim grimaced at his pomposity and rose. “I am present.”
A patter of feet attracted her attention, and she looked down the hall to see GreatLady D’Holly exiting from the Council chamber by the unofficial door near the end of the corridor. She headed for the back exit of the building. GreatLady D’Vine, who had previously left the chamber, passed D’Holly and returned to the Council room by the same door.
The Herald ostentatiously swept the main doors open for Ailim with the help of Tinne Holly from the inside. He joined her in the passageway. She heard steady metallic clanks and caught a brief glimpse of a red-shirted figure, Ruis Elder, being marched out of the unofficial door in chains.
Her stomach clenched. Chains. Banished or death, he had said of his fate. She wondered which it would be, and prayed that he would live. Bonded together in the face of their own personal adversities, they’d shared hopes and fears.
She heard the sound of a blow on flesh and a surprised grunt of pain. Ailim leveled a stare at the Herald. “While they are in this building, the Council guards are under your authority. Do they make a point of beating a man before he is executed?”
The Herald’s composure seemed to desert him. “Elder is banished, Lady, not to be executed. Execution would have been administered in the courtyard—”
“I am a judge of Celta. I do not accept the beating of prisoners under restraint.” Ailim pivoted on her heel and marched down the hall.
Tinne Holly kept up with her. The Herald puffed behind them, protesting, “The Council awaits!”
She shouldn’t keep the entire FirstFamilies Council waiting, but simple justice demanded that she not allow Ruis Elder to be harmed. The idea sickened her.
Halt! she sent mentally. Nothing happened. As she caught a rushed breath, Ailim realized it was because of Ruis Elder’s Nullness.
The sounds of a scuffle and more blows made Ailim break into a trot. As she rounded the corner she saw two guards holding Ruis and another with his fist raised. A Petty guardsman stood by, grinning.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
The Petty guardsman tensed, then composed his face into an ingratiating smile. “Nothin’ to worry your head about, M’Lady.” He hitched his belt up his big belly.
A hiss of irritation escaped Ailim. Holly raised his eyebrows. Ruis Elder looked bored, despite tousled hair, a red bruise on one high cheekbone, and a rivulet of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“Release him at once!” she ordered the two holding Ruis. They dropped his arms and shuffled away. Ruis straightened.
The grin faded from the officer’s face. “M’Lady—”
“D’SilverFir,” Tinne said softly.
“Judge SilverFir,” panted the Herald, catching up with them, “allow me to handle this.”
The Petty guard’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. He gulped. The other guards faded into the shadows. Ruis stood with casual grace, adjusting his shirt cuffs, arching his brows at the scene before him.
The Herald whirled toward the Petty guardsman. “I’ll have your chevron for this! All of you, listen to me, you will . . .”
The others seemed to hear his fine tirade, but his voice faded from Ailim’s ears as her gaze locked with Ruis Elder’s.
He bowed to her. His blasé manner was a mask well mastered, but his eyes leapt with wild flames of intense vitality, recklessness. His glance seemed to dare her to take chances and live life to the fullest. The Herald’s voice became a pattern of cadence. She heard the tiny clinks of Ruis’s chains and her stomach clenched.
She blinked and focused again on his face, and she understood that he hated her seeing him like this—a bound captive, with blood oozing from his mouth, blood that he wouldn’t wipe away because he’d have to raise chained hands to do so.
Ailim looked back and forth between Tinne Holly and Ruis Elder, both sons of a FirstFamily, but how far apart in station! One was cherished, the other outcast. Ruis was taller than Tinne Holly, but with equally noble features and bearing. The injustice of the discrepancy made her dizzy.
“Elder’s nullness affects you, GrandLady,” Tinne said, steadying her with a hand under her elbow.
Wanting to wipe away Ruis’s blood with a gentle touch and knowing she couldn’t, Ailim shook her head. “No.” She raised her chin and stepped away from Tinne. Now Ruis was scowling, his stare fixed on Tinne’s hand.
“No,” she said again, louder. “It is the flouting of the Law that I find distressing.” She set her teeth, forcing herself to think beyond Ruis. He was going to be banished, not executed, but Ailim felt loss at the thought that she would never see him again. “Guards, accompany GentleSir Elder”—that brought a flashing smile from Ruis—“to Northgate. Master Herald, I expect you to check with the Northgate sentinel regarding the health of Elder and report back. Viz a full explanation of this incident to my collection box in the morning, understood?”
The Herald bobbed his head. “Indeed, Your Honor.” He began talking again, reinforcing her orders.
Ignoring the other men, Ruis bowed, then lifted his manacled hands and blew her a kiss, followed by a wicked smile. Ailim blinked as warmth fluttered in her.
The guards sidled closer to him and muttered grumpily. Ruis pivoted and started down the hallway. Ailim released a long breath and turned in the opposite direction, walking down the hall back to the FirstFamilies Council and toward her own fate.
“You have a nice ‘command presence,’ Your Honor. I’m impressed,” Tinne Holly said.
Though she trembled inside with the anticipation of her own judgment, Ailim kept her face serene, slipping her hands in her wide sleeves. “Thank you.”
She thought again of the small bond that had spun between Ruis and herself. He’d been facing a death sentence, she the death of the Family line which had been entrusted to her care.
Who would she be if she failed her destiny and didn’t obtain this loan? What if the Residence and estate were sold? Could she keep the Family together?
Her burdens and the long, hard road ahead made her shudder. Ruis had been banished. Ailim fought a twinge of envy. Ruis left the Council, and old Druida, free to explore and build his own future, with no duties or ties to the past, or the Council.
She wanted to see him again, to make sure he was all right. She wanted to experience being completely at peace and using her five physical senses. And she pondered what she might do to help him.
Now that Ruis was gone the hum of magical-machines and the inner tingle of deeply embedded spells welled to fill the vacuum his nullness had caused.
Thoughts and emotions crashed over her. She stumbled and would’ve fallen if Tinne Holly hadn’t caught and steadied her. “Easy,” he said with a charming smile.
Insti
nctive shields clapped around her mind, cocooning her inner self against the onslaught of telepathic noise. She erected powerful, conscious mindshields of her own until she could selectively practice her Flair.
She tried a smile. “My thanks.” Then she freed herself from his light grasp, and for once ignoring who might see her nervousness, pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and patted at her face. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she reminded herself that she was a Judge with six years of experience, that she was a FirstFamily Head, a GrandLady, D’SilverFir.
She mastered her anxiety and entered the CouncilChamber with a measured, serene step. Tinne escorted her to a chair facing the FirstFamilies Council. She arranged her gown in perfect folds, as she had so often arranged her judicial robes, and sat down. Tinne left the room.
It had been a long time since she’d visited this room as a very young woman. The marble walls with faint veins of rose and gold still gleamed. The council table was as massive as she remembered. Even the plump red cushions under her gave little ease as she anticipated the next septhour.
When she looked at the Council, several people were blotting perspiration from their skin and drinking water. All twenty-three of the House heads were there except T’Blackthorn. Instead of his spouse, T’Holly sat with his Heir, Holm.
Most of the faces were familiar from GreatRituals she’d attended in her youth, before she’d started her rounds outside Druida as a circuit judge. Ailim felt their thoughts as a heavy pressure like lowering storm clouds. The sensation wasn’t as pleasant as the blessed quiet she’d experienced with Ruis Elder in the hallway, but something routine that she could dismiss. She could only discern thoughts from the new D’Ash who manifestly hadn’t learned to completely conceal them.
D’Ash’s thoughts were amusing. She worried about Ruis, not happy with his banishment and planning how to smuggle a rare cat Fam companion to him. Her strategy was amazing, particularly since she intended to circumvent her husband.
Bucus T’Elder, Captain of the Council, scowled at Ailim. He had insisted on the latest Family spreadsheets so he could study them before the Council meeting. Since Ailim hadn’t been officially confirmed as D’SilverFir and accepted into the FirstFamilies Council, she could only respond to questions.
She received telepathic curses from him, due to the way the last decision had gone. He shredded some papyrus in front of him. Lust for Ruis’s death flared around Bucus’s mindshield.
Ailim shivered.
Bucus banged his gavel. “As Captain of this Council, I call the final item on our agenda; the request by GrandHouse D’SilverFir for a loan from the Noble Treasury in the amount of 1,500,000 gilt, to be repaid over three generations.” He stared at Ailim. “This is the first time since the colonists landed that a FirstFamily has asked for a loan from this Council.”
Ailim flinched. All the other FirstFamilies who sat on the dais had prospered more than SilverFir. They were powerful in Flair and in wealth. SilverFir had already failed in their eyes.
Bucus droned on, listing SilverFir’s debts, enough to sober her abruptly. As the itemization went on and on, people’s faces clouded or went carefully blank. Ailim forced her hands to stay still, her teeth from worrying her lower lip. She fought a war against nerves. How could she bear to lose her Residence, the home she loved so much?
She sat stiffly; she must bear it. Better the loss of the Residence and ancestral estate than the fragmentation of the GrandHouse Family itself. Family was everything. She could hear echoes of her Mothersire’s lectures about protecting the Family, keeping it safe. She could not fail her forebears, the relatives who supported her and worked as hard as she did, or herself.
Danith D’Ash focused her attention on Ailim and she tensed. How would this commoner newly elevated to the highest level of the nobility feel about loaning a poorly managed GrandHouse an outrageous sum of gilt? Suspicious? Contemptuous?
Compassionate. Danith D’Ash’s warm hazel eyes met Ailim’s. D’Ash, and her HeartMate, T’Ash, knew what it was to be needy.
D’Ash’s mind became the cadence of calculation. She needs a cat, D’Ash thought.
Ailim hoped horror didn’t show on her face. A cat! She didn’t like cats.
A Fam to be loving and supportive. T’Ash says her Family is nasty to her. Yes, a cat. D’Ash stared at Ailim. Which one should I give her?
The woman’s thoughts neared decision. Ailim had no choice, she had to do some telepathic nudging. No cat, her mind faintly whispered to D’Ash.
D’Ash showed no reaction. Ailim suspected she wasn’t used to telepathy with anyone other than her HeartMate.
Ailim sent the insinuation a little harder. No cat.
D’Ash blinked. Blinked again. Her husband stirred beside her and grasped her hand. The sensual images flowing between the two made Ailim quickly withdraw from any touch of D’Ash’s mind.
During the next septhour, one noble after another questioned Ailim, and in each question Ailim sensed doubt and wariness. Men frowned at her from under heavy brows, or thinned their lips. Women narrowed their eyes and made notes.
She could smell the faint tang of her own perspiration and wished she’d put a stronger cleansing spell on her robe. Time and again she forced her weary mind and dull tongue to answer a pointed remark.
It was as fine an interrogation as she’d ever seen, but never before received. She hoped that she answered all their questions with dignity, but felt wrung out when it ended, wiping the dampness from her palms on the softleaves hidden in her sleeves.
The emotions of the people seated on the dais lapped to her in waves of concern, unhappiness, refusal. Fingers tapped on the ledgersheets before them, mutters rose to the high ceiling.
She braced herself.
“I think we should grant the loan,” D’Ash said, smoothing the account papyrus on the table before her.
Surprise filled the room. A couple of GreatLords started.
D’Ash continued. “As a former accountant, I believe GrandHouse D’SilverFir has much to offer, both in culture, services, and its members.” She smiled at an amazed Ailim. “Further, I believe the Family has contributed much to Celta in the past.” D’Ash looked at T’Holly.
“True,” T’Holly said.
D’Ash nodded. “And Ailim D’SilverFir, here, previously donated her services as a traveling Judge to the people of Celta. I imagine the only reason she’s asking for a salary now is because her household is in dire financial circumstances.”
Heat rose to Ailim’s face at the common speaking. “Yes.”
D’Ash smiled again. “And it wasn’t this D’SilverFir head that mismanaged the property. When one reviews the finances from the point this GrandLady took charge, one sees that she’s balanced her budget and seriously slowed the debt increase.”
“It’s still a debt increase,” T’Reed grumbled, stabbing at the papyrus. Financial genius was the Flair of the T’Reeds.
D’Ash raised her eyebrows. “True, but that’s where we can help. If we appoint a good financier to overlook and manage the GrandHouse D’SilverFir assets—perhaps one of your Family, T’Reed—he or she could not only save the Residence, but repay the loan quicker and ensure the GrandHouse never suffers again.”
Ailim stared at D’Ash. Ailim would have wagered the woman had nothing more on her mind during the meeting than the Null, cats, and T’Ash.
Old GreatLady D’Vine spoke in a wispy voice that yet resonated in the large room. “The omens are propitious for this loan. Giving it sets a precedent, but to let a GrandHouse suffer and perhaps fail due to lack of support from the other FirstFamilies cannot be considered. What would the rest of Celta think, the other noble GrandHouses, GraceHouses, and the Commoners? Who knows when we might need the succor of others?”
“I agree. Give GrandHouse D’SilverFir the loan,” T’Ash said. He looked at T’Holly, who consulted with his Heir, both silver-blond male heads together. They straightened. Holm Holly shot a glance at Ailim and wi
nked.
She smiled. She had a soft spot for the Hollys; most women did.
“I agree,” T’Holly said.
Ailim’s pulse picked up pace. Had they won? Would they keep the Residence? Oh, the Family would hate a supercilious Reed managing the gilt. But better a Reed than she.
She stopped herself from wetting her lips before she spoke. “If the FirstFamilies Council is so gracious as to grant the loan, D’SilverFir would be honored to have a canny Reed adviser. He or she would be welcome to live in D’SilverFir Residence and carry out his or her duties.” Ailim tried to sweeten the pot as much as possible. “D’SilverFir has several marriageable members.”
D’Ash’s eyebrows dipped. “I believe in HeartMate marriages, not alliances.”
“Me, too,” T’Ash said, twining his fingers in his Lady’s.
T’Reed rolled his eyes.
“Let’s loan the money with the proviso that a Reed administer the D’SilverFir finances,” T’Holly said.
Captain Bucus T’Elder’s heavy jowls quivered. Ailim saw calculation in his eyes, felt a wave of greed from the man. “This is too easy for D’SilverFir,” Bucus said.
Ailim stared at him, barely keeping her mouth from falling open. Easy? All the mental battering she’d taken, all the talking and arguing? Showing up here and begging? Easy?
“We can’t let anyone think that one merely requests”—Bucus snapped his thick fingers—“and gilt falls into their laps.” His eyes narrowed. “Let’s grant the loan and provide a T’Reed adviser.” A sly smile lit his lips. “T’Reed, I think your grandson, my own g’nephew Donax Reed, would be appropriate.”
Ailim knew then that Bucus T’Elder could control Donax Reed.
Bucus continued, “Let’s also stipulate that the FirstFamilies Council will review the matter in six months and must be satisfied with the performance of GrandHouse D’SilverFir. Should we not be satisfied, the D’SilverFir Residence and Estate will be forfeited.”
Her heart thumped hard. The Family living in the Residence would be livid. Somehow she’d have to keep them all in line.
Heart Thief Page 4