When Dragons Rage

19

Princess Alexia smiled carefully as she sat in the audience chamber where Crow’s trial had begun. The room was not exactly small, but was far smaller than the palace’s throne room. Unlike the throne room, this chamber had not undergone extensive restoration. While it still featured strong columns upholding a vaulted roof, the walls had not been covered with wooden panels. Tapestries depicting ancient history, a few in serious need of repair, covered them instead.

At the narrow end of the rectangular room, a set of three thrones had I been placed, with the centermost pushed slightly back. In it sat Prince Linchmere. Though Alexia knew him to be in his mid-thirties, the man’s soft and I unremarkable features belied his age. Of average height and on the considerably rounder side of lean, even the fierce visage into which his mask had been worked could not supply him strength or presence. When he listened to eviI dence, he listened distractedly, and the princess was fairly certain that at least I once he had fallen asleep.

Augustus, wearing a thin, black courtesy mask, took the throne at Linchmere’s right hand, placing him closest to Alexia. Furthest was Queen Carus of Jerana, a small woman with black hair and restless dark eyes. She wore an embroidered gown of light blue, and had been given a lacy courtesy mask dyed to match. In direct contrast to Linchmere, she listened to things closely and questioned witnesses sharply. She savaged Cabot Marsham as the man testified to things he had said before the Council of Kings a quarter century before, and clearly had studied Jeranese records of the proceedings as she called for constant clarifications of his statements.

Crow sat in the prisoner’s docket, with iron shackles securing his feet. He’d been washed and had pulled his white hair back into a tail knotted with black leather. He’d only been allowed simple clothing, but did not appear at all uncomfortable in it, save when a cold draft touched him.

So far the trial had been going well. Marsham had clearly been the cornerstone of the prosecution, but Queen Carus pointed to inconsistencies between what he had said before and what he was telling them now. Moreover, she.pointed out, correctly, that his only knowledge of events had come through conversations with Hawkins. This reduced the whole of his testimony to the level of hearsay, which she was not inclined to countenance.

While early testimony by two court mages—one Vilwan-trained—had strongly linked Crow with Hawkins and suggested they were one and the same, beyond that the prosecution faltered. It seemed unlikely that the primary witness against Hawkins would testify. To take the stand would have left Scrainwood open to the sort of close questioning Queen Carus had given Marsham. And since Augustus had been present during the siege of Fortress Draconis where the treason had occurred, he could correct or counter exaggerations. Without that testimony, and since no one save Crow could testify to what had happened in the warrens of Boragul, the Oriosan case against him began to crumble.

Alexia watched Crow as the queen tore into Marsham and felt a bit surprised. Marsham clearly loathed Crow. The venom in his voice, the anger in his eyes, made his hatred of Crow readily apparent. Alexia had not liked the little man from the first time she’d met him, and was taking great delight in his squirming. Likewise, deeper amid the spectators, Will seemed to be enjoying Marsham’s discomfort.

Crow was not. He kept his face impassive and listened. She couldn’t tell if he felt sorry for the man, or hated him. Alexia found her gaze again and again drawn to his strong profile and the sense of peace Crow possessed. In some ways it calmed her and, yet, in others, it excited her.

Crow’s face remained still, save the couple of times when he turned slightly to glance at her. His head would incline forward, tucking his chin down until his beard touched his chest, then he would give her just the hint of a smile. That left eye would close just a whisker shy of a wink, then he would look back up and pay attention again to the court proceedings.

Every time he smiled at her Alexia had to fight to hide her own smile. It was not that she was unused to smiling at Crow. In the time leading up to the trial, she had smiled much at the mention of his name, and had even taken to toying with the gold band around her ring finger. She visited him as often as she could, and hours talking with him flew past. There were even times when she completely forgot where they were, and the reality of his captivity surprised her. At all times she pushed to portray the image of a woman deeply in love with her husband, and did not admit to anyone that all was a pretense, though many suspected and even more were certain.

She had played the role to the hilt and despite the desperation that had prompted her to fashion that solution, there had been many a pleasant moment. Alexia sorely missed the nights on the road, when she and Crow had shared a tent. The two of them had whispered together, at first telling simple things, relating stories and remembrances. They were all of the nature of campfire stories, and quite harmless. Indeed, at first their interaction was nothing more than what the two of them had shared while on the Okrannel campaign together, or on the flight from Fortress Draconis.

Things slowly had begun to shift. She recalled the question she’d asked, one she had immediately withdrawn, but Crow had answered it nonetheless. “No, Princess, this is not how I had anticipated my life running.” He went on to share what his dreams had been, his hopes, and revealed to her some of the pain he’d felt when his mask had been torn from him. His voice had tightened as it had when his broken leg had pained him, though the agony must have been much greater.

His willingness to open himself to her had surprised her. She and Perrine had shared much, but they were sisters. They had been raised together, and amid the Gyrkyme confidences were treated as sacred trusts. The Gyrkyme would prefer death to violating such a trust. Betrayal of secrets was considered a very human thing to do, so she had grown up very wary of trusting any human.

Her great-grandaunt Tatyana’s scheming nature had reinforced her unwillingness to trust men, though her uncle and cousin, Misha, had begun to erode those walls. Still, Alexia’s aloofness inspired few people to confide in her, and she felt little impetus to share with them.

Crow’s sharing fed straight back into her sense of kinship with the Gyrkyme. He trusted her implicitly. While he had protested what she had done to save him from a summary execution, his gratitude had shone forth in the confidences he shared with her.

They had been friends before the marriage charade, each having saved the other’s life several times during their brief adventures. Traveling together had deepened that friendship. Spending night after night with him, availing herself of his warmth, or just listening to him breathe, she began to find the ordinary in a man who was extraordinary. More than once she’d awakened to find herself pressed tight against his back. She’d pulled away immediately, but more slowly each time it happened, and always with growing reluctance. Visiting him in the Meredo gaol, she regretted the lack of that intimacy and more than once had awakened clutching a pillow to herself.

Crow looked in her direction and smiled again as the tribunal dismissed Marsham. Her heart leaped in her breast, and the corners of her mouth curled up into a smile. There was something in his look, something about his pleasure, that seemed contagious. It wasn’t a sensation totally foreign to her, for she knew it with Peri; that pride and happiness at the well-being of a friend. And, as with Peri, she wanted to reach a hand out to touch him.

And she wanted more, to have that smile broadened, to have that pleasure increase on his face…

Before she could think further on those lines, Wroxter Dainn, the Oriosan Justice Advocate Supreme, rose and looked to call another witness. Past him, however, against the far wall, a time-faded tapestry began to smoke. A scorch mark darkened it in the center, near the base, and extended up to the height of a man. The smoke thickened, then popped into a flame that exploded upward to engulf the entire tapestry and sent licking tongues up into the cavernous ceiling vaults.

Sparks and glowing embers fell softly as snow amid the throng. There, in the wall, a previously hidden panel opened and a figure stepped forward to be greeted with gasps. He wore a hooded cloak fashioned after the skin of a Grand Temeryx, save that the varicolored plumage consisted not of feathers but a rainbow of flames.

His eyes seemed alive. Mostly blue, they had wisps of white drift through them like thin clouds in a windy sky. In his left hand he raised a white kerchief, at the same time moving his cloak back enough to show the empty scabbard at his left hip. Within the shadow of his mask his mouth opened, revealing white teeth that contrasted sharply with the ebon of his flesh.

“I am Nefrai-kesh. I come beneath a flag of truce. I demand the Oriosan right to speak at the trial of a vassal of mine.”

Augustus had risen from his seat. Linchmere cowered in his, as did most of the spectators. Dainn had recoiled and the queen covered her mouth with her left hand. Crow remained seated, but had outstretched his left hand in Alexia’s direction, to keep her back and safe. She’d also gained her feet, and her hand had fallen to where the hilt of her sword should have been.

The first to act, however, was Will Norrington. He shot to his feet and pointed a wavering finger at the sullanciri. “H-he’s not your vassal, he’s mine.”

Nefrai-kesh’s head came around quickly. The Aurolani general smiled, then he nodded once, solemnly. “Now you are the son I wish I’d had.”

“Maybe if you’d been a better father, he would have been.” Will’s grey eyes tightened beneath the mask and he drew the dagger he’d been allowed to carry. “Where he failed, I won’t.”

The sullanciri opened his arms. “You will come to my embrace. Now, later. The timing does not matter. You are my true heir, and there is much I will give you.”

Crow rose. “Will, stay back.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be.” Crow looked at the sullanciri. “And you, baiting children?”

“He wears a mask. He is a man, with a man’s responsibilities and duties. You remember those, don’t you, Tarrant?” Nefrai-kesh stepped to the Throne of Truth. “King Augustus, you will recognize the truce and my right to speak. My heir presumptive has asserted a claim that is invalid, since neither I nor my son is deceased, and the formalities to dispossess us have not been observed.”

Will brandished his dagger. “Don’t listen to him.”

Augustus frowned. “This is a legal proceeding, Lord Norrington. Rules must be observed. I believe you can be seated, Nefrai-kesh, if you will be sworn to tell the truth.”

The young thief snarled. “He works for Chytrine. She made him into a monster! A snake can slither a straight line easier than he’ll tell the truth.”

Linchmere uncoiled timidly. “We have to hear him. It is the Law.”

“Then it’s stupid!” Will reached up, ripped off his own mask, and tossed it into the well of the court before turning and stalking out of the chamber. “When Chytrine comes to kill you, you’ll give her a courtesy mask and say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Rot the lot of you!”

Only the tiny snapping of the flames on the sullanciri’s cloak filled the silence in the wake of Will’s departure. The assembled Oriosans stared at the flaccid mask lying on the floor. Even Crow looked stricken as he slowly sank back into his chair.

Nefrai-kesh raised his right hand. “I swear to tell the whole of the truth, accepting Kedyn’s retribution if I lie.”

Wroxter Dainn, whose florid face streamed with sweat, struggled to compose himself. “You have come to testify about the conduct of Tarrant Hawkins?”

“From afar, yes, I have come.” Nefrai-kesh’s rich voice filled the chamber, but Alexia felt as if she was hearing him with more than her ears. Magick is at work here. Even knowing she was being manipulated, she could not shake the sense that his words were sincere and truthful.

“I led the expedition into Boragul. Once there we did encounter the Empress Chytrine, but none of us knew it at the time. We accepted the hospitality of the urZrethi and only discovered too late that we were in a trap. The woman we had pursued had us at her mercy.”

The sullanciri opened his left hand toward Crow, letting the handkerchief flutter to the ground. “I would first speak in praise of Hawkins. Of all the accusations against him, the most foul are those of cowardice. On the day of our damnation he was the most courageous. He alone fought his way back to our chambers. There he found me, he succored me, and did all he could to safeguard me, as a vassal should. I was sorely wounded—mortally so, save for the intervention of magick. Let no one who hears me ever think he was anything but a hero.

“Once a hero, however, and once a knave. He did commit treason that day. He defied me. Thrice I asked him to do me a service. I demanded it of him as was my right.”

Dainn mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “What was that duty?”

Before the sullanciri could answer, an agonized groan twisted from Crow’s throat. “I could not kill you.”

“Oh, but would that you had, Tarrant.” Nefrai-kesh laid his hand against his breastbone. “Had you done that, I would not be here. Queen Lanivette would not have died by my hand in this very place. Fortress Draconis would not have fallen and the Southlands would not be in jeopardy. You had, in your power, the means to protect your homeland and your friends, but you defied me. You committed treason, against me, against your nation, against the world.”

“You know why I could not.”

The sullanciri slowly shook his head. “The reasoning of a vassal is nothing when it contradicts the order of your lord. So, Augustus, you see what it is? He could have saved you all this, but he did not.”

King Augustus shook his head. “Being dead does not preclude one from joining the ranks of the sullanciri!‘

“True, but everyone on that expedition knew the qualitative difference between those who had become sullanciri pre- and postmortem. He knew.”

Crow looked at his hands. “I didn’t believe you would be so weak.”

“But I told you, Hawkins. I trusted you, and you failed me.” The sullanciri stood. “Despite what my grandson charged, I have spoken the truth, and Hawkins has verified it. I know Oriosan law and custom. You may have many speak for him, and more speak against him, but your duty is clear.”

Linchmere sat forward. “Do not presume to lecture us, changeling!”

Nefrai-kesh’s smile flowed into a predatory display of teeth. “Oh, someone thinks he has a spine. It can be torn out, you know, bone by bone, so numb death slowly spreads through you. I would enjoy that, my prince. Will you indulge me?”

The Oriosan Prince squeaked and curled into a ball in his throne.

Augustus stepped forward. “Enough, Nefrai-kesh. Preserve the illusion that a bit of the man I respected resides in you still.”

“If you wish to believe in illusions, Augustus, feel free to delude yourself as long as you like.” The sullanciri stood, then raked the clawed fingers of his left hand through the air. Black slits appeared as if he had rent some canvas. “The man you respected is no more, but the man you know to fear is yet here. And shall be for a long, long time.”

As he spoke his gaze shifted from Augustus to Crow and then her. Their eyes locked for a second and a huge jolt ran through Alexia. It did not feel as if he’d read her mind, but she felt certain he knew it. That realization shook her, but before she could act or speak, he slipped through the rents and they vanished behind him.

Crow turned toward her. “Are you hurt?”

She shivered and shook her head. “No, not at all. You?”

He shifted his shoulders stiffly. “In no real sense.” He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I couldn’t kill him.”

Alexia did lean forward and rest a hand on his shoulder. “He knew that when he asked you to do it. Just as I did when I asked you to promise to kill me if I ever looked to go over to Chytrine. You were right in what you told me, and you were right in denying him then.”

“But he’s right, I could have saved everyone.”

Alexia gave him a brave smile and squeezed his shoulder. “And yet you shall, Crow. And yet you shall.”