Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  “With all respect, what is your point, Mage Hazelrig?”

  “Please let me continue, my honored lord. This man is accused by another who claims to have seen him commit a crime. But while I was not present for the preliminary hearings, I am told the eyewitness described seeing the accused carry a bundle—and I am certain we cannot convict a man on a bundle, unless we have some method of knowing what was within it. We could question this eyewitness to learn why he believed it was the Shard within this bundle, but we cannot, because he has been murdered. I suppose it might have been a random crime within our fortress walls, but I’m sure we all believe it’s more likely his murder has something to do with his testimony on this matter. Bailaha could not have been the one to silence this witness. As it has been presented that someone has made one or more attempts on his life—a concern he also voiced to me, and asked assistance—I think we must consider that this accusation was a means of having this court do the work of an assassin.”

  “Are you arguing he’s innocent?” The minister drummed his fingers. “Mage Hazelrig, the man has been accused. He must prove his innocence. That is the law, no matter what we might choose.”

  “I understand that, my honored lord. But I say he has begun to prove it, as far as he can. You have before you the man Bailaha accuses of attempting his murder—why not question him?”

  Shianan tried to make his exhausted brain work. If he could prove Karlm had tried to kill him, then they might believe Karlm had stolen the Shard and framed Shianan in another attempt. If the man were guilty of one crime, he might as well be guilty of two—and being innocent of the Shard’s theft would not save him if he were convicted of seeking to murder a king’s officer. In fact, a Vandogan murdering a king’s officer might be warfare of a sort even without the theft of the Shard…. Shianan could not think it through. His aching head pounded.

  “The prisoner will rise!”

  Shianan blinked, and for a second he did not recognize that the order was for him. The guards lifted him to his unsteady feet.

  He was so tired. Why couldn’t it all end?

  “Commander Shianan Becknam, Count of Bailaha, do you accuse this man of plotting your murder?”

  Shianan lifted his head and looked at Karlm, who stared back with an alarmed expression. He could not have expected to find himself here. “I do, my honored lord,” Shianan answered, startled at his weak voice. “I myself saw him kill a slave who had failed to kill me and refused to try again. If someone will look in his guest rooms, the stain is probably yet visible; there’s a lot of blood from the throat.”

  “And,” the minister continued, “do you accuse him of stealing the Shard?”

  Shianan took a deep breath. “I have no evidence, my lord,” he said slowly. “But I do not even know the reason this man wanted my death.”

  “Then he will be asked,” replied the minister. “Take him away.”

  Karlm lunged in the hands of his guards, struggling, but they were more than ready for him and he was dragged away.

  The minister looked down at Torg. “Thank you, captain. Is there anything else on which you would like to inform the court?”

  “No, my honored lord, I don’t think so. Except I would wager my eyeteeth that Shianan Becknam would die before letting harm come to this kingdom. I don’t believe he’s capable of plotting treason, my lord. Thank you.” Torg bowed and retreated without looking at the prisoner.

  Shianan gulped. He had not thought to endanger anyone else. He had not dreamed that Torg would risk his own standing by defending Shianan.

  “And now the slave.”

  “My honored lord,” Shianan blurted, still standing, “all he can tell you is he was also witness to Karlm killing a slave. Since you have Karlm himself now to question, please let him go unharmed.”

  The minister chuckled. “You are certainly anxious to spare him.”

  Shianan was too exhausted to argue. “My lord….”

  “My honored lord.” Prince Soren’s voice cut across the chamber. “If I may offer a suggestion?”

  “Please, Your Highness.”

  “Let us not waste this court’s time on a slave. Our concern is with the master. The law demands once a man is accused here, he must prove his innocence. This prisoner was once accused by Yergman Camb, but that accuser is not here for the trial. It is uncertain whether or not he could be held now on that accusation. But I heard the prisoner confess the theft, and mine is the only voice to accuse him now in this court. Let him answer that.”

  Shianan’s heart sank. How could he refute the prince? And how could he argue against his own confession?

  “Well, Bailaha? Will you answer His Highness?”

  Shianan could hardly remember what he had said. It seemed years ago rather than two nights. He looked down to gain time and tried to think. “My honored lord,” he began slowly. “I did answer that I had stolen the Shard.”

  “You wanted to see how deep the corruption went?”

  He was not so tired nor so pained that he would fall into that trap. “I did not suspect His Highness—of course not. But I could not be certain who might overhear.”

  The minister gave him a long, surveying look, curling his lip at the sight of the battered man swaying unsteadily before him. “You must be very dedicated to your efforts,” he commented dryly. “Have you anything else to say in your defense?”

  “Only a little, my honored lord: the Shard has been returned and in good condition. I am told the witness claimed he saw me leaving by the eastern door of the Wheel, but in fact I left by the western door that night. Perhaps someone else saw me. His accusation is wholly a lie. I would not argue with His Highness, but his accusation is in fact only the repetition of my own words to him. I have dedicated my life to the protection of this kingdom and its people. I stand before this court accused by my own voice alone and without any witness to my crime. Judge me as you will.”

  He sagged as he finished his speech, utterly drained. That was all he could manage. He would live or die as they heard him.

  “Then we will pass the bag.”

  A small drawstring bag was carried solemnly about the room. Shianan distantly heard the soft clinks as pebbles were dropped into it. The bag was returned to the minister, who dumped it with a rattle on his desk. A long moment passed while the stones were counted smoothly from one group to another.

  “The accused prisoner goes free,” pronounced the minister. “Release him.”

  The guards obeyed literally, and Shianan swayed. Free! He was not to be executed gruesomely—he could go to his own bed and sleep. He took a step forward and stumbled.

  His right hand landed on a shoulder and arms caught him beneath the elbows. “Steady, Master Shianan. I’ll go with you.”

  Shianan only nodded, and he ignored the noise of the dismissing court and calls from those around them as he let Luca lead him. He never knew how Luca found his way from the court’s chamber to the yard, but it was only a few minutes before he was locking the door while Shianan tripped toward his bed. He fell across it without caring that he nearly missed.

  “Is there anything I can bring you, Master Shianan?”

  Shianan could not remain awake long enough to answer.

  Chapter 63

  Ariana was thinking of buying several vegetable pies and going to Ranne’s bookbinding shop when a messenger came for her father. At first she thought nothing of it—notes often came for the White Mage, and of course the Shard had just been recovered—but he crumpled it into his pocket just a shade too quickly. “What is it?” she asked, wobbling on one foot to tug on a shoe.

  He looked at her and for the first time in her life she could see him weighing whether to give her the truth. “The Shard is back in Alham, and I must see to it.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No, it won’t need more than a few of us, and you’ve earned a small reprieve from your Circle duties. Stay and try to rest a bit.”

  Ariana scowled. “No one ever says to
try to rest unless he’s hiding something. What is it?”

  Her father met her eyes and then he gently cupped her cheeks. “I’ll tell you when it’s all sorted,” he said softly. “For now—I don’t want anyone asking more questions about how you came home. I don’t want anyone looking for more than what they’re supposing right now. Does that make sense?”

  She blinked at him. “You’re trying to keep me out of sight.”

  “Only for now.”

  Icy fingers slid about her heart. “Do they suspect you? Or Tam? Do they know?”

  “No, no, they don’t suspect. And I don’t want to give them any reason to wonder. Let me answer the questions, let them take Mage Parma’s word for your story, and it will be done quickly.”

  She understood. “But—can I at least tell Shianan Becknam I’m back?”

  He smiled at her. “He already knows. And I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he can.”

  Ariana regarded him skeptically. “You’re not telling me something.”

  He exhaled. “Ariana….”

  She held up her hands. “Fine, don’t tell me. But this secret had better not last another fifteen years.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Be patient with me. I have been very, very frightened these past weeks, and I don’t want to risk losing you again.”

  She made herself smile. “It’s all right now, Father. Tamaryl took care of me.”

  He smiled, blinked several times, and kissed her forehead again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  When he had gone, Ariana hobbled to a chair and drew on her other shoe. She glanced at her black robes and then reached for her old civilian cloak. It had a hood and wouldn’t advertise her identity so blatantly.

  At the Wheel she avoided the cellar stairs, taking the long way around to the Silver Mage’s office. Mage Parma wasn’t there, but Ariana wasn’t surprised. She would be assisting in looking over the recovered Shard. Ariana knocked at the gold door, and then at the yellow, and then the orange. Someone would be here, and someone would tell her what her father feared.

  It wasn’t until she found the Crimson Mage that she learned it was Shianan Becknam who was accused of stealing the Shard.

  Ariana flew around a corner and saw her father. She flung herself at him. “Father! Where is he? What will they do to him?”

  He caught her arms and held her. “Hush, it’s all right. He’s been released.”

  She seemed to deflate, as if too much tension had run from her at once. “They should have known it was a mistake. He couldn’t ever steal the Shard—he was so protective when we first brought it. It’s ridiculous to suggest it.” She turned accusing eyes on him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have testified he never could have done it.”

  “What could you say?” He held her eyes. “You weren’t here when the Shard disappeared—weren’t even alive, as far as anyone else knew. What would your word be worth to them?”

  “But—but I would have done something.” She felt sick with useless belated worry. The Court of the High Star—and she had done nothing.

  “I testified,” Ewan said gently. “I saw him the night the Shard was taken, so I was able to speak for him. And it’s ended now.”

  She swallowed. “At least they realized it was a mistake. At least they let him go. I didn’t think the Court of the High Star let anyone go.”

  Luca heard a distant rapping and hoped dimly it had nothing to do with their door. He was wrapped warmly on his low mattress, reveling in the doing of nothing at all. The last two days and then the threat of torture before the Court had drained him, leaving his joints like water. Still, he had little ground for complaint beside his master.

  The rapping continued, and Luca realized it came from the outer door. He rolled off the mattress, pushing his blankets aside, and stumbled blinking toward the door. His master did not stir, too soundly asleep to hear the knocking or Luca’s movement.

  Luca rubbed his sleeve across his face, hoping he looked presentable enough, and opened the door. “Yes?”

  “It took you long enough.”

  “I’m sorry for your wait. How may I serve?”

  The man who looked down at him was in a dark livery. When he moved, a wrist cuff showed beneath his sleeve. “I have been sent to summon your master.”

  Luca thought of Shianan lying unmoving on the bed, exactly as he had fallen. “I will be glad to give him your message.”

  The other slave frowned. “Do you usually delay his messages?”

  “My master is not available at this time. I will—”

  “You will tell him directly.”

  It would have been easy enough to observe Shianan had returned to his rooms and not gone out again, so a lie would not suffice. “Listen,” Luca tried, hoping to touch the other slave’s empathy, “my master is sleeping, and I would not wake him. Surely you understand—”

  “You afraid of a cuff or a cut?” asked the slave. He tapped a badge sewn to the sleeve of his livery. “I could give you as much myself for delaying my instructions. And then he would add more for making him disobedient to his prince.”

  “His prince?”

  The slave rolled his eyes and tapped the badge again. “His Highness wants Bailaha. He is summoned directly. His Highness says there is a personal score to settle.”

  Luca’s stomach clenched into an icy mass. “One moment,” he said, hearing his voice distant and strange. “I’ll wake him.”

  Chapter 64

  Shianan felt the hand on his shoulder but could not make himself respond. The hand shook him, but the rocking motion seemed far, far from his body…. He groaned a protest.

  “Master Shianan, please—I don’t like this, but please wake. It’s the prince, he’s sent for you. Do you hear?”

  Shianan felt as if he were in a muddled dream. “Luca?”

  “The prince has sent for you, Master Shianan. You’re to go immediately.”

  Shianan groaned again. “You can’t mean it.”

  “The messenger is in the office.”

  “King’s runny oats.” Shianan wished his eyes would focus. “Tell him I’ll be out as soon as I’ve changed.” He pulled painfully upright, and the room moved about him. His abused body had stiffened while he slept. “What does he want, do we know?”

  Luca looked unhappy. “He says there’s a personal score to settle.”

  Shianan didn’t have the energy to curse. He flicked his eyes toward the door, and Luca went to ask the servant to wait. When he returned, Shianan was staring blearily at his feet. His boots had been removed while he slept.

  Luca opened a chest and selected a clean shirt, throwing it over the lid. “What would you like?”

  “Not sure it’ll matter,” Shianan mumbled. “If he’s settling our score, I could save the washing and stay in this.”

  Luca did not answer, but he drew out a tunic and leggings. Shianan started to peel his bloodstained clothing off, but the first movement was arrested by a sharp spasm in his back. He froze, wincing, and Luca came to his rescue, quickly unlacing and removing the muddy clothes and guiding the fresh clothing over his arms. “Thanks,” muttered Shianan. “What day is it?”

  “The same, Master Shianan.”

  “‘Soats. You should have let me sleep three days, at least.” He shook his head gingerly before Luca could apologize. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Fetch my boots, wherever they went, and let’s see how he means to settle our account.”

  The servant in prince’s livery gave a small bow to Shianan. “I am to conduct your lordship to join my master His Highness. If you will follow me?”

  Shianan nodded tiredly. It had been too much to hope the court had been enough.

  Luca draped a cloak over Shianan’s shoulders and took his own. Shianan thought distantly he should not accompany them—he didn’t want Luca involved in whatever unpleasantness would come—but he couldn’t summon the effort to order him to stay. Instead he shuffled after the prince’s servant.

  The slav
e did not lead them toward the palace but across the yard to the gates. Shianan glanced at the Naziar, rising dark behind them against the late afternoon sky. The slave kept his pace slow to match Shianan’s, though Shianan was embarrassed by it. He did not hurry, however. He was not anxious to meet the prince.

  The Court of the High Star had released Shianan despite the prince’s testimony. Soren might think himself publicly embarrassed. And if Shianan were innocent, it meant he had lied to the prince; if he had not lied, then Soren knew Shianan was the thief.

  They crossed the high bridge over the river’s bend, the last still water before the final tumble into the ocean. Thin ice filmed where the current was slowest, showing winter’s steady creep. Shianan pulled his cloak tighter and bent his head against the wind.

  And then the slave paused, and Shianan stumbled to an abrupt halt. He wondered in miserable panic if he could manage a proper bow without falling.

  “Bailaha,” said the prince.

  Shianan bowed, not as deeply as he should, and awkwardly drew himself upright again. “Your Highness.”

  “Steady,” cautioned Soren as Shianan wobbled. “Follow a little further?” He turned away, two more servants falling in alongside him. Shianan followed obediently, feeling Luca’s eyes on him.

  They turned toward a building set into the upper hill, marked with ornate gates. Shianan blinked, believing at first he had misidentified their location. “Your Highness?”

  “We’ll talk inside.”

  They passed through the gilded doors of the Kalen baths. Luca stepped closer to Shianan as they entered a lobby with a splashing fountain. The attendant leapt up, welcomed the prince warmly, and led them deep within the building. “This room, Your Highness. Your slaves can wait in the yard or the corridor. Would you—”