The Shadowhand Covenant

by Brian Farrey

  Cyric walked over and snatched the box from Maloch’s hands.

  “What have you done to my father?” Maloch asked, glancing up at where his father now floated near the ceiling.

  “Your father’s a Shadowhand?” Nalia said, purring as she tilted her head. “He learned what happens to anyone who crosses the Palatinate. Just as you’re about to learn. At least as a statue, he can be resurrected. I’m afraid that option won’t be available to you.”

  I swallowed. “Uh, begging your pardon, Your Masterful Powerness, but—and I’m no law-advocate—I’m pretty sure that death is reserved only for treason and users of fateskein.” I decided not to mention that technically—technically— I was one of the latter. Technically.

  Nalia turned, her eyes burning into me. A thoughtful look crossed her face. I guessed she recognized me but couldn’t remember from where. “Yes, that is the High Laird’s Law. But within these walls, the Palatinate owns a special brand of justice. Here, we can do as we please. . . .”

  Nalia stared into her spellsphere, which burned so brightly I couldn’t look directly at it. As she began speaking an incantation, I could feel heat rising from the sphere. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.

  “Stop!”

  I didn’t recognize the firm, commanding voice that filled the gallery. I dared to peek out with one eye, looking past Nalia to the exit door. Through the smoke, I saw armored men, bearing the standards of the Provincial Guard. They filed into the room carrying spears, swords, and crossbows leveled at the circle of mages. As they entered, the soldiers moved to flank a tall, lean figure in a very official-looking, fitted suit. The smoke cleared, revealing the Dowager.

  The mages looked to one another and to Nalia, as if trying to decide whether they should fight. Finally, Nalia whispered a single word and the light in her spellsphere vanished, leaving it just a gray iron marble.

  The Dowager strode regally across the room. I’d never seen her in her full official state wear before. Around Redvalor, she only wore clothing appropriate to our experiments. In her formal garb, this occasionally absentminded, lighthearted woman looked downright formidable.

  “Good evening, Nalia,” the Dowager said, staring straight at the mage. She waited, lips closed tightly. After a moment of indecision, Nalia put one foot behind the other and bent at the knees in a curtsy. The Dowager continued, “By decree of the High Laird, these four children are under my protection. Release them to my custody at once.”

  Nalia’s back was to me, so I could only guess at the look of shock on her face. I bet it was a good one. “The High Laird’s Law allows the Palatinate complete sovereignty within the walls of this palace,” Nalia said. “These four stole the Sourcefire. They are to be put to death.”

  The Dowager was not impressed. “That sovereignty, as you so rightly note, is granted by the High Laird. And it can be revoked by the High Laird. As it is, in this instance. There will be an inquiry, of course, into what has occurred here today. But I assure you that when you understand the scope of the situation, they will be exonerated due to . . . extenuating circumstances.” The Dowager shot me the briefest of looks.

  Nalia stood her ground for two or three eternities, and the tension in the room mounted. For a moment, I actually thought she was going to order the mages to attack. But when she finally uttered a short, magical command, the blue rings binding the four of us disappeared and we fell to the floor.

  The Dowager swept past Nalia and helped me up. “It’s over,” she whispered. “Kolo is in custody. Your parents are safe.” Then she said a bit louder, “You four, through that door. The Grimjinxes are waiting for you.” She turned and laid a cool smile on Nalia. “Nalia, I would speak with you. Now.”

  Reena and Holm hugged. Maloch stood still, staring up at the statue of his father above. I whispered in his ear, “We’ll get this fixed. Okay? Let’s go.”

  Maloch nodded. The circle of mages parted as the four of us, supporting one another, walked from the room.

  28

  Another Tribunal

  “The High Laird’s coffers are locked one key turn at a time, same as everyone else’s.”

  —The Lymmaris Creed

  When the Dowager told Nalia that there would be an inquiry, I pictured something small and intimate, like what happened in Vengekeep after the whole mess with the tapestry.

  Royal inquisitions, it turns out, are not small and intimate.

  After the Dowager rescued us, I was whisked away—along with my parents, Maloch, Reena, and Holm—to Vesta, the seaside capital city of the Five Provinces. The next day, we were seated behind a long table in a cavernous room within the High Laird’s palace.

  Horns rang out. We all stood as a man in black robes—the Inquisitor General—entered, followed closely by the Dowager. They moved next to two fancy-looking chairs on a raised platform in front of us. Another fanfare sounded. We all bowed as the High Laird entered and sat on a throne between the Dowager and the Inquisitor General.

  In all the time I’d lived with the Dowager, I’d never met the High Laird. Seeing him for the first time, I never would have guessed he was the Dowager’s younger brother. His red-rimmed eyes watered constantly. His hair had gone white far too early. When he moved, he did so with great effort.

  We were joined at our table by a pair of law-advocates who were defending us. Another pair of law-advocates, ones who wanted to see us imprisoned, stood near the platform. When the Inquisitor General banged two copper orbs together, we all sat and the inquiry started.

  Our law-advocates were fierce, I’ll give them that. They proved they could shout just as loud as those other law-advocates. I didn’t understand much of what they were saying. There were long, long speeches with words so big they used entire alphabets. It was all very impressive. It was also more potent than any sleeping draught I could manufacture from my pouches.

  I looked around. In a small gallery off to the left sat five chairs, where the High Laird’s Chancellor and four of his closest advisers observed the proceedings. On the opposite wall sat the five members of the Palatinate Lordcourt. As if she sensed I was looking at her, Nalia snapped her head around and our eyes met. I flashed back to the first time we’d met in Vengekeep. Back then her gaze was cold. Today, it burned right through me.

  The first few hours of law-advocates yelling at one another were all about our attempts to steal the Sourcefire. Each member of the Palatinate Lordcourt testified that we’d been caught trying to flee the palace with the magical fire. Of course, that was never really in question.

  Our defense began with the Dowager explaining the rescue mission she’d mounted at my request and the threat Kolo and his plan had posed. She described how the Provincial Guard under her command had sneaked into the camp and quickly subdued the Sarosans before they knew what happened. Kolo, knowing he couldn’t make it to the tinderjack in time, had surrendered.

  Next, when called to testify, Ma and Da gave their . . . unique version of events. Da stood on his chair, arms thrust out, fingers curled as if strangling the air. He told the story of what had happened since they left Vengekeep in a litany of anguished shouts, each punctuated with slashing gestures like a madman conducting an orchestra. All the while, Ma wailed and gnashed her teeth. The performance rose to fever pitch and concluded with Ma falling to the floor in a well-rehearsed swoon.

  I don’t know if it helped our case, but it was very entertaining.

  In the end, it was a signed confession from Kolo, who took all the blame for the plot, that convinced the Inquisitor General we’d acted under coercion. The Inquisitor General held up his copper orbs and banged them together twice, indicating that the charges regarding the attempted theft of the Sourcefire were dropped.

  One charge down. Far too many to go.

  We sat through several more hours of accusations, conspiracy theories, and questioning. Really, it was all quite plausible. Most days, my family was capable of just about everything we were being accused of. Not just cap
able but incredibly, unquestionably guilty. But for once, we had the truth on our side. We sat and listened as the Inquisitor General dismissed charge after charge. With each dismissal, Nalia’s face grew darker and darker.

  My stomach started to tingle, and I felt light-headed. “Ma,” I whispered, “I feel . . . strange. What is this?”

  She gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry, Son. It’s just the feeling of innocence. It’ll pass.”

  When I saw the court reporter, who had gone hoarse from reading out the very complex charges throughout the day, roll up the parchment he’d been reading from, I thought it was all over.

  “What about my da?”

  Maloch had been quiet from the moment the proceedings started. He’d sat perfectly still, his eyes never once leaving the five chairs where the Palatinate Lordcourt sat. Now, as we awaited the final dismissal from the Inquisitor General’s copper orbs, he was suddenly on his feet and unleashing his anger on the room at large.

  The Inquisitor General looked down his nose at Maloch. “You are in the presence of the High Laird, boy. You will speak only when granted permission.”

  Maloch pointed at Nalia and her brood. “They turned my da into glass. They’ve got him and all the Shadowhands in their palace.”

  Part of me expected the Lordcourt to emphatically deny the charge. But instead, Nalia rose with a smile that made me feel instantly sick.

  “With your permission, I believe I can explain, Your Highness,” she said, with a slight bow to the High Laird. He nodded, and Nalia continued. “After the break-in at the royal vaults, the Palatinate, seeking only to assist in the apprehension of the culprits, took it upon ourselves to launch an independent investigation into the matter.”

  The Dowager sat up straight in her chair. “Without informing anyone? Why is that?”

  “We knew that the Provincial Guard had been charged with the task of tracking down those responsible,” Nalia said sweetly. “We were afraid that if we made our investigation known, it would look as though we didn’t have faith in the Guard’s abilities. We acted in secret to save them from any embarrassment.”

  The Inquisitor General cast a look at the High Laird, who nodded in approval. The Inquisitor General nodded as well.

  Nalia moved to the center of the room. “As we reviewed everything we knew about the crime, we came to the conclusion that the thieves could only be those notorious renegades known as the Shadowhands. They were the only ones in the Five Provinces with the cunning and tenacity to even attempt such a heist.”

  I rolled my eyes. Exactly how much investigating did it take to come up with that gem? I knew newborn babies in Vengekeep who could have pieced that much together.

  “Once we were able to determine their identities,” Nalia said, “we laid a trap for each Shadowhand in the form of a shimmerhex, which we then used to apprehend them. It was only recently that this operation was completed, and I’m pleased to announce that it was a success!” She clapped her hands twice. A door at the back of the room opened, and four mages entered in single file. Each of them carried a red silk pillow, and upon each pillow sat one of the stolen relics: the gauntlets, the scepter, the coronet, and the orb.

  The mages lined up along the High Laird’s platform and held their arms out to present the relics. “As you can see,” Nalia continued, “we have successfully recovered four of the five stolen relics.”

  The Dowager bowed her head only a fraction. I could tell she wasn’t happy with this development. She didn’t like having to give Nalia credit. “You’ve done an excellent job, Nalia. And the fifth relic?”

  Nalia didn’t bat an eye. “We hope to have it in our possession . . . very soon.”

  I leaned in to Maloch as he slowly sat down. “How? The Shadowhands never knew about the Vanguard.”

  Maloch didn’t reply.

  “Guards!” The High Laird, speaking for the first time, gave a wave. “Take the relics into protective custody until they can be returned to the vaults.”

  Before the guards could move, Nalia raised a hand. “Your Highness, it’s an unimaginable tragedy that these items were stolen in the first place. The Lordcourt has studied them and they possess extremely powerful magic that, in the hands of the wrong person, could prove catastrophic. As your own vaults were compromised, might I suggest that you allow the Palatinate to take custody of these relics?” She shot a quick look at us. “I think we’ve proven quite capable of assuring that nothing gets out of our palace. And you would do us great honor by allowing us to watch over them for you.”

  The High Laird, looking tired, considered Nalia’s proposal. “The relics were stored in the royal vaults for a reason. I will review the records left by my ancestors to learn why. Until then, they will be returned to the vaults.” He nodded to his guards, who took the relics away.

  Nalia nodded reverently to her liege and returned to her seat among the Lordcourt. It was the briefest of flashes, but something in her face said she was unhappy with the High Laird’s decision. In that moment, I knew: she’d never wanted to recover the relics for the High Laird. She’d wanted them for herself.

  Maloch slammed his hand down on the table. “All right, you’ve got your relics back. Now what about my da?”

  The Inquisitor General glared at Maloch, a warning that further outbursts wouldn’t be tolerated. Then he leaned in to the High Laird and spoke quietly. The monarch flicked his hand, and the Inquisitor General sat up tall in his chair.

  “It is determined that there is sufficient evidence to suggest that the Shadowhands were responsible for the thefts from the royal vaults. This act alone is punishable by twenty years in Umbramore Tower. Given that the offense is made worse by the theft of magical items, it is the determination of the court that the sentence currently imposed by the Palatinate—in the form of the shimmerhex—will continue for the next twenty years.”

  The heads of the Lordcourt bobbed in approval.

  “Furthermore,” the Inquisitor General said, “in light of his father’s incarceration, it is ordered that Maloch Oxter be sent to the Larkfire Orphanage until he turns eighteen.”

  Maloch looked ready to shout again, but Ma stood up brightly and said, “Begging your pardon, most excellent and wonderful of Inquisitors, but that won’t be necessary.” She produced a piece of parchment. “I have here a very legal document signed by Yab Oxter, which says that should anything happen to him, he grants custody of his son, Maloch, to Ona and Allia Grimjinx. That would be us.”

  Da waved to the Inquisitor General.

  Maloch’s head snapped around as he studied the document. “That . . . that’s my da’s handwriting.”

  “Why, yes it is!” Ma said. Then, softer, “Or a remarkable forgery.”

  She handed the parchment to our law-advocate, who in turn gave it over to the Inquisitor General. He grunted in approval. “Very well, Ona and Allia Grimjinx will serve as young Mr. Oxter’s guardians.”

  Stunned, Maloch took his seat, a storm brewing in his eyes. Ma leaned over and whispered in his ear. Whatever she said did the trick. Instead of another outburst, Maloch settled for a malicious scowl.

  What else?

  The Inquisitor General picked up his copper orbs. “If these matters have been put to rest—”

  “They have not been put to rest!”

  This time, it was Reena who leaped to her feet and caused gasps among the court with her protest. “If the Shadowhands stole the relics, then the Sarosans are innocent and should be freed.”

  Nalia cleared her throat. “There is no evidence that the Sarosans didn’t assist the Shadowhands in some way. They may have provided shelter or food or—”

  “That’s a lie!” Holm now stood by his sister. He looked like he was wishing he had his blowgun right about now.

  Nalia ignored the interruption. “And there is the question of their role in the attempted assassination of the Palatinate.”

  “Kolo confessed that he alone was behind that,” Reena said. “The
Sarosans are peaceful. You’ve locked our people up for no reason.”

  Nalia continued to ignore Reena. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, as this inquiry was called to deal with the matter of the Sourcefire and the Shadowhands, we could convene another session—a private session—to discuss the Sarosans.”

  The Inquisitor General consulted with the High Laird in a flurry of whispers, then announced, “These matters are now closed. The issue of the Sarosans will be addressed by the Inner Council in fifteen minutes.” He slammed the copper orbs together and it was done.

  As people began to file out of the room, I turned to Reena and Holm, who looked stunned. “They have to let your parents go. I’m sure you’ll be with them in no time.” But they seemed skeptical. I couldn’t blame them.

  While everyone else stood, Maloch slouched in his chair. I put my hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

  He looked down at the table. “Da always said the risk of gaol is the price of admission for the life of a Shadowhand. He was guilty. But I can’t believe they won’t release him from the shimmerhex. I can’t even visit him. . . .”

  As the High Laird’s advisers gathered on the dais, the Dowager stepped down and joined us at the table. We all bowed respectfully.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Da said.

  “Annestra,” the Dowager reminded him.

  Ma smiled and took the Dowager by the hands. “Annestra, we appreciate all you’ve done. Rescuing us, saving Jaxter. Above and beyond the call of royal duty.”

  The Dowager blushed. She opened her mouth to speak when Nalia glided across the room and joined the semicircle of advisers who stood around the High Laird. The Dowager’s eyes narrowed at the mage. “I don’t like how Nalia has my brother’s ear. The Palatinate’s job is to govern the use of magic. In recent months, they’ve had too much say in matters of state. They’ve become more than counsel. The only reason the royal vaults were compromised in the first place is because of their intervention.”