The Prison of Angels

17

The village elders gathered, though elder was a misleading term. Many were young and fiery of temper, though the presence of the angel host did much to still their tongues. Qurrah watched them assemble into the great auditorium at the very rear of the castle, seldom used but recently cleaned to accommodate the meeting. He stayed at the door, not allowed to enter.

“Strange that I would be denied entrance,” Qurrah said to Kevin Maryll, who stood beside him, greeting the various men as they came to take their seat. More than sixty attended, each representing the village they came from. The procession had slowed to a trickle, but still Kevin waited in case more might arrive.

“Your reputation is well known,” Kevin said, glancing at him. “But tell me, which village do you represent? Oh, that is right, you live in Ker now. The angels have no sway over you.”

“Observing is not the same as speaking, or casting a vote,” Qurrah said, already disliking the man.

“Not true,” Kevin said. “Your very presence would change things. You’re a reminder of a different time, and a threat that no longer exists. We can’t be lost in the past. Now’s the future, and it’s that future I must protect.”

He fixed his tunic, which was made of some of the finest material Qurrah had ever seen, then adjusted the short cape around his neck.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Qurrah asked him as he straightened his hair. “Do you think the angels will suddenly change their minds and bow to this rabble you’ve assembled?”

“You’re just like your brother,” Kevin said, licking his fingers and making a second attempt at his hair. “You hold these winged men in far too high regard. They’re fallible, and more importantly, they must follow laws and customs just like us. They know this. They believe themselves to represent everything good and just. They say they always know the truth when they hear it. And you know what?”

He flashed Qurrah a smile.

“I think they’re right.”

Kevin stepped into the auditorium, and from within two angels on guard pushed the iron doors shut. Qurrah shook his head, wishing he could have met Kevin many years ago, when ripping the tongue out of a living man might not have put such a weight on his conscience. Being barred from listening to the complaints of the people was ridiculous. Worse, Kevin had somehow finagled it so that Harruq was banned as well. ‘Just the people and the angels,’ Kevin had claimed, though Qurrah sensed the weaseling desires behind it.

Still, sneaking into a meeting he’d been banned from was far, far less a burden on Qurrah’s conscience than tongue mutilation. Turning about, he hurried to a nearby door, which led to a closet used by servants. Within were various stored tools, plus a great stack of clean linens. More importantly, the closet shared a wall with the auditorium. Sitting down beside that wall, he put his fingers against the stone and began to cast a spell. A thin tendril of shadow stretched out from his palm, then began to twirl. It dug through the stone with an unnatural silence. When it popped through, light poured into the dark closet. A quick check showed he could see the rows of angels, all circled around the far fewer number of representatives come to speak for the common man.

Dismissing the spell, Qurrah lowered his head, pressed his ear to the hole, and listened.

Tessanna lay in their bed, waiting for Qurrah’s return. She’d tried playing with Aubrienna, but all the while she felt Aurelia watching her. There was no malice in it, no real anger. But the mistrust was there, however faint, and it made Tessanna sick because she knew it was well-deserved. Wishing her lover could be with her, she lay there, eyes closed, feeling hours pass over her in a steady, uninterrupted flow.

When the door opened, she sat up, smiling.

“You’re back,” she said. The smile on her face immediately vanished. Qurrah looked in a hurry, and he rushed to the chest where their things were stored.

“We must leave,” he said, throwing it open. “Gather whatever you wish to bring with you, and if you have any goodbyes, go say them now.”

Tessanna’s mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I said hurry!” Qurrah snapped. He immediately turned back to what he was doing. Tessanna stood up from the bed, walked over to Qurrah, and then wrapped her hands around him to force him to calm down. When he looked up at her, he kissed her lips, then let out a sigh.

“Forgive me,” he said. “But time is not our friend right now.”

“Tell me first,” she said. “I will not flee the castle like a burglar, no matter what has happened. Now answer me.”

“It was the meeting,” he said. “The people, they spoke their demands to the angels, and it was all the same. They explained it in different ways, disguised their real demands with impractical ideas, but deep down they wanted the same thing.”

He looked up at her, and she saw the fear in her lover’s eyes.

“They want death,” he said. “They want death, and I think the angels are going to give it to them.”

“That’s nonsense,” Tess said as Qurrah resumed packing his things. She stood over him, watching. “The angels aren’t murderers. And what do you mean they want death?”

“Sinners punished,” Qurrah said. “Not forgiven. Not remedied. Punished. Killed. Hung. Beheaded. Am I making sense now?”

“Stop it,” she said. “Stop snapping at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned around, sitting with his back against the open chest. With his left hand he rubbed his forehead, as if suffering a headache.

“It’s not that they made the demands,” he said. “I understand their frustration. That wasn’t it. That’s not why we must leave. It was the angels. They were agreeing with them. I saw them listening, nodding. They looked too eager to please, too eager to abandon what Ahaesarus kept trying to defend. It’s like there’s a sickness here, Tess. I can’t find it, but I smell the scent of disease.”

She sat in silence as he finished bundling the last of his things, then stood.

“They mentioned my name,” he said, slamming the chest shut. “I won’t repeat what they said, but I assure you, it’s a sign our time here is over. They angels are flying back to Avlimar. I want us gone long before they return.”

“Whatever you say,” Tessanna said. She thought of leaving Aubrienna, of not seeing her for several more years, and felt her heart crack. Still, she would not live without her lover. If Qurrah was leaving, then so was she. Either way she’d be miserable, but at least she’d have his company. Qurrah seemed to sense it, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“We’ll come back,” he said. “When things have calmed down. When people are thinking clearly.”

“What of Aubrienna,” Tessanna whispered. “She’s still in danger. Are we to just leave them?”

Qurrah winced. He’d clearly been thinking the same thing, and it seemed he’d wanted to ignore that fact.

“We have to trust Harruq and Aurelia to protect her,” he said. “You must believe me, our presence here does not help my brother. It only hurts him.”

“Of course it does,” Tessanna said. “That’s all we ever do.”

Tears ran down her face, but she felt her humanity receding, pulled into a deeper part of herself. Whatever emotions she felt, they suffocated, becoming gray things in the corners of her mind that held no sway over her. Qurrah’s face showed his hurt at what she’d said, but she felt no guilt for it, no remorse. She was hurting. Why should he not know it?

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll tell Harruq we’re leaving for Ker. Would you like to say goodbye to Aubrienna before we go?”

As if from a distance, she knew doing so would make her happy.

“Yes,” she said. “I would like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Qurrah said, taking her hand. “I really am.”

“I know,” she said, as if knowing meant anything at all.

Harruq sat brooding on Antonil’s throne. He still didn’t view it as his own, and he felt sick at the idea that one day he might. Qurrah had informed him of their departure several hours ago. His brother was probably halfway to Ker by now if he was traveling by magic. Their change in attitude was sudden, but strangely not surprising. It was as if, because of their recent arrival, they were better able to smell the danger in the air.

The only thing left to do was sit and wait for the angels’ decision. They were meeting in Avlimar, the many thousands come together from every corner of Mordan to vote on their next course of action. Harruq knew he’d agreed to let it happen, but still, that smug look on Kevin’s face when he’d swung by the throne room to inform him of the meeting’s end had been more than enough to ignite his anger.

Servants came and went, offering him something to eat or drink. Much as he wanted to, he turned it all down. Wine might calm him, but the alcohol might also make it that much harder to control himself should he not like what he was about to hear. Given Qurrah’s rapid departure, he highly doubted the results would be pleasing.

“Milord,” a guard shouted from the far end of the hall. “The angel priest, Azariah.”

The door opened, and Harruq rose from his chair. He was impatient to hear the results, and annoyed at himself for his nervousness. Azariah walked across the carpet, and he dipped his head in respect.

“We have listened to the desires of the people,” he said. “And I have done my best to weigh it against Ashhur’s wisdom. Their pain is great, and their frustrations legitimate given all we have seen of the world since our return.”

“So what is your decision?” Harruq asked. “What’s changing?”

Azariah swallowed, thinning his lips. The act seemed strangely human.

“Those committing lesser crimes will still be judged in the same manner,” he said. “Though men given to repeat offenses will be brought to the castle prison. In solitude, it will be easier to enforce the lessons they must learn.”

Harruq nodded. That was acceptable enough. He could oversee the prisons to ensure their humane treatment, and besides, prior to the angels most of the petty criminals would have been thrown into the cells anyway. At least now the stay would hopefully be far shorter.

“What of the major crimes?” he asked. The look on Azariah’s face only increased his apprehension.

“The greater crimes are what trouble the people. The nature of grace is too heavy for this world, at least in its truest form. The chance for redemption will be offered to offenders as always, but after that, punishment of the physical body will also be given as per the laws of your nation, only with us as the executioners. These sins trouble too many minds, and there are those who feel the physical punishment will serve as a deterrent against those who might seek to abuse Ashhur’s forgiving nature.”

Harruq frowned, trying to work through the consequences of the decision.

“So from now on, you’ll execute them, no matter what they say?” he asked.

“Not just from now on,” Azariah said. “Every man who has ever committed murder under our watch will suffer the same brought down upon him. We know every name, every place. If this world would prefer its justice to ours, then we will give it to them. If we have passed judgment upon a man or woman, it will be made again, with no exceptions.”

Harruq felt dizzy, and he took a faltering step back. Everyone the angels had passed judgment upon?

“When?” he asked.

“Tonight. We’ll announce the decree in each village we land in, just before carrying out the new justice.”

Justice. It would have made Harruq laugh if he were not so sick. He kept repeating it to himself. Everyone the angels had passed judgment upon. Everyone…

“Qurrah,” he said. “Your very first trial was for Qurrah.”

It clearly pained Azariah, but he nodded in agreement.

“It was,” he said softly.

Harruq felt his rage growing, long suppressed, but not now. He couldn’t control it, wouldn’t control it. His hands were on the hilts of his swords, and his mind flashed red with blood.

“You can’t do this,” he said. “He’s not the same man he was.”

“As we have told the people every day for the past five years. They don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t care about the people!” Harruq screamed. “You won’t send your angels after him. You can’t. He’s my brother, damn it! You think I’m any better? I killed children, children no different than my little Aubby. Send for your angels, Azariah. Bring Ahaesarus here himself if you must. Serve my head on a platter, straight from Avlimar to the people, and see how much they love you for it. Or am I just lucky to have gotten my act together before your kind came?”

“It was your answered prayer that brought us,” Azariah said. The angel looked like his patience was starting to wear thin.

“Then be an answer to prayers! Not this. You’re protectors, not executioners. This is what you think will win the people over? Flying through the night, blasting open doors and knocking in walls? Dragging the guilty out into the streets and slitting their throats? Don’t do this. Don’t. Whatever love the people have for you, whatever trust, you end it right here, right now, if you continue with this plan.”

Azariah tried to put his hand on Harruq’s shoulder but he batted it away.

“We voted, every angel given equal voice,” Azariah said. “I’m sorry, but this is the decision we have reached.”

“I act as king,” Harruq said. “What of my voice, or do our choices mean nothing? Are we given no chance to rule ourselves?”

As much as it obviously bothered Azariah, he appeared unwilling to have his mind changed. Harruq almost drew his swords, but it would accomplish nothing. Even if he cut off Azariah’s head the law would be enforced, only with his own life added to the list.

“Qurrah’s returned to Ker,” Harruq said. It was the last card he had left to play. “King Bram won’t hand him over to any angel, especially not for an execution. If you try for him you’ll be starting a war. How many lives wasted then, Azariah? How much blood will be on your conscience before you realize it’s madness?”

“No exceptions,” Azariah said, his soft voice taking on a hard edge. “There can be no exceptions. I’m sorry.”

“We won’t fight for you,” Harruq said as the angel walked for the door. “I’ll tell Bram it was done against my wishes, that you don’t represent Mordan.”

“He will not believe you,” Azariah said. “Nor would it be true. We fulfill the wishes of your people, remember? This was the demand made of us, the one requested above all others. A life for a life, they said. No murderer made free, no matter how regretful the heart. And so they shall have it. They never trusted us, never wanted to accept our ways. This world is not ready for the grace we offer. Kill the killers, the masses scream. Forgiveness is for the soul, but punishment is for the body. You truly think they’ll hate us, Harruq? Come the light of the dawn, let us hear just how many weep for the loss. Despite their penance, their regret, their sincerity, your world will never see them as innocent.”

“None of us are innocent,” said Harruq. “Would you kill us all?”

Azariah’s stare met his own.

“Karak tried,” he said at last. “I pray your brother is wise enough to surrender. I do not seek war, but if we fight, I hope your people are willing to bear the bloody fruits of their mistrust. You begged us to listen to them, did you not? You begged that we open our ears to their cries. And so we did. This blood is on their hands, not ours. We forgave them. It’s this world that wants them condemned anew.”

Harruq drew a sword and slammed it into the stone floor. It flared with magical strength, spreading thin cracks in all directions.

“You’re supposed to be better!” he screamed, feeling so helpless, so lost.

“We’re not,” Azariah called without turning about. “If only the people had believed us when we said it.”