The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

  “At least you didn’t wait even longer,” Blue Scale said. “Right. I’ll let the shamans know after the verdict. With luck, they can act before anybody else dies.”

  “Perhaps,” Silver Fang said, her forehead wrinkled from deep thoughts. “Perhaps.”

  Chapter 21

  Consideration

  They had to wait for quite a while longer. It gave Leraine plenty of time to ponder what she’d learned. Blue Scale’s conclusion should be right. She knew more of such matters than Leraine did. Far more.

  And yet . . . and yet it did not sit right with Leraine. Going over the events of that day again, it hadn’t felt like she’d faced a spirit. No, she’d faced something with a body of flesh and blood. Or something close enough to that.

  But that claim brought her right back to problems she had no answers to. What was the murderer? How had it gotten in? And how could they stop it?

  Those questions took a step back when Anseri finally returned to their side and sat down. “What were you talking about with Fervent?”

  Anseri regarded her and let the silence stretch out. Leraine got the point she was trying to make, that she didn’t answer to Leraine. But the thing was, Leraine didn’t really care about that right now. “I will not let you sell out my friend.”

  “Oh, I know. But someone needs to make sure this doesn’t go any further. Someone has to preserve peace and make sure we don’t find ourselves isolated within our own bleeding tribe.” Her teeth clicked as Eurik glanced over at them. Lowering her voice, Anseri continued. “So I went and did what was necessary. What a leader of our sept must do. I made nice with that truce breaker.”

  “Now who’s making relations worse?” Leraine murmured. “She’s a Truce Warrior, but they’re not talking about breaking the Great Truce. Just . . . stopping it.”

  “A small distinction.” Her sister let out a breath. “But . . . an important one. And it wouldn’t do for Fervent to hear my words, it would undo everything.”

  A glance over at Fervent told them she had not. The leader of Caetiwo had taken up pacing behind the opposite bench, her gaze locked on the entry from which the judging loretellers would emerge. Any moment now.

  The sun approached the peaks of the Trollabergher when they finally came back to announce their verdict. One loreteller looked unhappy, another plopped himself into his chair with all the grace of a sack of grain.

  Steel Cobra’s face was drawn. “Right, we’ve decided. If the parties would present themselves before this tribunal.” Both Fervent and Rock stepped forward, flanked by Testing Fork and Blue Scale. Rock glanced at the rangtauk; she gave no hint she knew he was so close.

  “This matter has proven to be a real pain,” Steel Cobra said. “So much time has passed. And the person suspected of the deed has been dead for nearly as long. None here dispute Measured Flute’s skill, but she herself always argued that the conclusions of an investigation had to be tested. In this case, time has tied our hands.”

  Does this mean they will wash their hands of the matter? Simply let Rock go on his way? That . . . would cause problems. One look at Fervent confirmed that.

  “However, Stern Anvil deserves justice. But what would that look like? It is that question that has vexed us today.” Steel Cobra gave her fellow loretellers some pointed looks. “Stalled us. Testing Fork presented a logical case, based on available facts. She does credit to her teacher. Yet Blue Scale’s alternative interpretation of events cannot be disproven by what we know. So, we have decided not to convict Ardent of Caetiwo of the crime of murder—”

  “NO!”

  Silver Fang’s liver had jumped at the words, and Fervent’s shout. Has Blue Scale truly done it?

  Fervent stomped forward a single step, jabbing back in Rock’s direction with a pointed finger. “You can’t let filth—”

  “Silence!” Steel Cobra’s voice cut through Fervent’s words; her eyes flashed. “I’ve had just about enough of you, girl. You are a rangtauk! Act like it! Now step back and not another word, or you can hear our judgment from Testing Fork tomorrow. After you’ve cooled off in a cage for a night.”

  She wasn’t done? Then Rock and his mother were not free and clear. Fervent, too, appeared to have caught on as she bowed very low with her cheeks reddening as she slinked back.

  Steel Cobra waited one more moment before giving a firm nod. “Where was I? Ah yes, we can’t find Ardent of Caetiwo guilty of plotting and committing murder but the weight of evidence has convinced us that she had a part in Stern Anvil’s death. And so we find her guilty of killing Stern Anvil of Caetiwo.”

  Rock sagged a little. In his place, Leraine would be shamed at the black mark on her family’s honor. But he didn’t think in those terms. Did that make it worse, or easier to bear?

  “Which brings us to the matter of punishment,” the loreteller to Steel Cobra’s right said. He was Bear. “Ardent is dead. The circumstances are murky, though suggest she died with honor. But her spirit has not been laid to rest according to our customs. Some have argued that this would be more than enough punishment for the crime we’ve found her guilty of, but punishment has a greater goal than merely the perpetrator or perpetrators. It is a reminder to all that criminals do not prosper.”

  He leaned forward, one hand on his knee. “Fervent, rangtauk of Caetiwo, daughter of Stern Anvil. What punishment would you demand for Rock of San, son of Ardent?”

  More than one person stirred. It was unusual for a court to ask that question. Especially when the other judge had told the accuser to keep her mouth shut just before. Fervent hesitated, then inclined her head. “I am no judge. I have no training in law. All I ask is that Ardent’s family feels the pain she inflicted upon mine. That they make up for the years stolen from us.”

  The loreteller made a sound deep in his throat, then turned his attention to Rock. “And what do you argue. What can you offer?”

  “I . . . do not know. I do not understand fully the pain of losing a parent. I never had them. I have no memory of them. That is why I came here. To . . . gain memories of them.” Rock moved his hands as he went on. “I can imagine the pain of never seeing the one who raised me. I do not know if that is the same. But it is . . . great.”

  Rock turned to address Fervent directly. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  Leraine froze. Please do not offer the prize right now. That would be a mortal insult. She could barely cover the sigh as his next words did not mention that.

  “But I don’t understand you, or your people, well enough to know if I could make good your loss. If it is possible.”

  Thank the spirits. For once, he’s not so dense and ignorant.

  Fervent took a deep breath, her lips twitched. “Words won’t suffice.” She turned her body away from Rock and faced the loretellers fully. “Let us take him at his word. My sept has been robbed of a life. Let the son of Ardent repay with his life. Serving in our mines for twenty years should do.”

  “I think not,” Blue Scale said. “Precedent is clear. A child of a criminal can only inherit half the guilt of the parent. And in this case, Rock has inherited even less. All his parents gave him was a name. They taught him nothing of our people. Not our language, our customs, our laws.”

  The loreteller on the far left knocked his ring on his armrest. His draen and his chair both screamed Wolf. “You’re not arguing that ignorance of the law should shield someone from it?”

  “Of course not. My argument is that as Fervent suffered the loss of her mother, so did Rock. Even more so, he lost his entire heritage. Would any here argue that is not a greater loss?”

  The Wolf loreteller frowned. “Simply because a criminal suffers misfortune, it does not follow that they should be let off.”

  Blue Scale threw her arms out. “But if that misfortune follows from the consequences of their crime? And falls on others? Like their children? Should that not be taken into account?”

  “That is dangerously close to argui
ng that the spirits have already punished the criminal,” the Bear loreteller said. “Which is a matter of the shamans.”

  “I merely argue that Rock inherited little in the way of assets or family. So why should he inherit the full amount of Ardent’s guilt?”

  The loreteller of the Ibex tribe quirked her lips. “Ah, an argument of fairness. But then, what is fair? In your opinion?”

  “A galautik. Its weight to be decided by you.”

  Fervent’s teeth clicked shut and she gave Testing Fork a furious glare. “That will not be enough. How can we even be certain he would pay? His mother fled justice before, and he’s not even People.”

  “He is competing in the Conclave Games as we speak. He already placed third in the Three Games,” Blue Scale said. “You should be aware of that.”

  “Yes, well, you can’t suggest he’ll pay simply by winning. No outsider has won the combat events in living memory.”

  “Not true,” Steel Cobra said. “I was very young. But there was a lizarian that did just that.” She laughed. “Unless you don’t consider me quite alive anymore?”

  “No, of course not. Still, my point stands. It is unlikely,” Testing Fork said. “And how would Rock pay if he failed? He is a wanderer. With little ties to anybody, and the only possession of note is his living sword. Though that would be fitting payment. It was made by Ardent, and it is a life, of a sort.”

  “No,” Rock said. “He is not mine to give away. That would be . . . wrong.”

  “I care not for how you feel about it,” Testing Fork said. “The sword is yours. The only thing that could approach how we treasured Stern Anvil.”

  “If it is treasure you wish, I can provide. Inside Chappenuioc it has been hard to show, but I can sense through the ground. Move rock and earth. Bringing up its wealth is not hard,” Rock said.

  “Truly?” Steel Cobra lifted a single, thin eyebrow. “So easily? Then why haven’t you done so already?” She looked him up and down. Leraine had to acknowledge Rock was dressed somewhat shabbily. The fabric of his clothes had worn thin in places, especially the trousers. His boots especially showed the wear and tear from walking more than halfway around the Valley.

  Rock tilted his head to the left. “I’ve had no need.”

  She shook her head and gestured at Leraine’s friend. “Well, I’m convinced of one thing. He truly was raised by those who are not People. If you speak the truth.”

  “He does,” Leraine said. She got up and stood next to Rock. “I’ve been traveling with him since we met in the great city. We’ve sneaked through the Land of Bones in a tunnel he made and camped in a fort he raised from the ground every night as we traveled through the Barren Hills.”

  “Silver Fang,” the Bear loreteller said. “You will vouch for this outsider’s word, then?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I don’t know what stories have been told of . . . my victory, but Rock here was vital in our fight against the demon. It was his powers that brought the demon out of the air so that I could actually strike at it.”

  “I hadn’t,” the Wolf loreteller said. “His part was downplayed in the tale I heard. Very well, a galautik in gold or silver it is.” The other loretellers nodded, though the Bear loreteller hesitated. He was the last to agree.

  “If memory serves,” Steel Cobra said, “the galautik for the life of a blacksmith is ten daiphon of silver.”

  “Don’t forget that she was a member of an important sept,” the Bear loreteller said. “Twelve daiphon would be better.”

  Rock frowned, they hadn’t really talked about weights yet. Leraine did some calculations in her head and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “A daiphon is little less than half a Linesan pound. It’s ten phon which is the most basic weight merchants use.”

  “So twelve daiphon would be six pounds of silver? No, less than that.”

  “Don’t forget that the young man only inherits half the guilt, half the galautik. Six daiphon of silver, and if Rock manages to win the combat competition, the prize should easily cover that. If Fervent doesn’t want to wait much longer for restitution.”

  The loreteller from the Boar tribe shifted in her seat. “I’m not comfortable with treating the prize of one of our most sacred events as a means of payment.”

  The Bear loreteller barked a laugh, slapping his thigh. “Tell that to everybody else, then. Half of them already have a buyer lined up before the Games begin! Bah, but enough, there’s still some daylight left and I’d like to see who’s winning the spear toss. I’m in favor, place a galautik of six daiphon of silver upon Rock for the death of Stern Anvil.”

  All the others voted in favor and soon after just about everybody left. The loretellers with some eagerness, Fervent with a snarl and a huff.

  “So, that’s it, then,” Rock said.

  Leraine nodded. “More or less. No doubt Fervent will press for harsher measures if you are anything but prompt in paying. But that shouldn’t be a problem?”

  He shook his head. “No. Still, I feel . . . sad. From here on out, people will hear that Ardent killed someone. That she is a criminal. Was. And I will never know if it is true. I . . . don’t know what I feel. What I should feel.”

  Leraine placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. In truth, neither did she.

  Chapter 22

  The Enemy Within

  Eurik set out to return to the Outsiders Quarter. He longed for the steady presence of the earth to settle his mind, but that also reminded him. If he wanted to pay this fine, he needed wealth.

  Taking it from the ground should be no problem, except the local area lacked any he could sense. Winning the competition could also give him that, but he was fighting with a hand tied behind his back.

  “Are you ignoring me?”

  He blinked and realized that Silver Fang had been talking to him. “I did not mean to. What did you say?”

  “You’re going the wrong way. The shamans we need to talk to are over there,” she said, pointing at a building on the Inner Ring.

  “About that, will you not get into trouble if I do? I’m not sure I’ll be able to hide that you warned me.”

  “That is for me to worry about.” She reminded Eurik of a san at that moment. Face immobile, the tones of her voice hiding much. “This is too important. They must know what is stalking Chappenuioc. Or more people will die, and not only at the spirit’s hands.”

  “We don’t know that it is a spirit. Why would a spirit need a knife?”

  Silver Fang’s gaze drilled into him, then she laid a hand on his arm and took a step closer. “I will be fine,” she said softly. “They can’t fault me too much if the spirit basically revealed itself to you anyway. And as I’m not an outsider, I have more protection than you have. Now, come, let’s warn them.”

  He let out a breath and nodded. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he worried over nothing. And this . . . facechanger did need to be stopped.

  Silver Fang exchanged some quiet words with a guard then they were ushered in. Though getting him in required some not so quiet words as the other guard used his staff to bar Eurik’s way. “They’ll want to hear it directly from him. You could have him wait out here, but then you’ll have to make the shamans wait while you fetch him later. Well?”

  The guards exchanged a look, then one sighed and they removed their weapons from his path. “Very well. Come on, then.”

  They were led past the entrance hall and up a flight of stairs. The building felt a little wobbly to Eurik. It creaked as the wind hit it. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Eurik saw that this top floor was much as the hall below. Open, with a few alcoves against the left and right walls that were partitioned by way of wicker screens. Light filtered in through windows in the back, the shutters hinged on the top and were propped open by the use of two staves.

  The guard motioned for them to stay there, then walked over. Though there were several chairs and tables, only one was occupied. The shaman loo
ked up when the guard approached him. Eurik knew him. Bitten Fin had been there when they’d decided if he could compete. He couldn’t hear what they said and Eurik saw no reason to eavesdrop.

  Instead, he concentrated on his breathing and went over what needed to be said. And said in a way that didn’t give away Silver Fang’s prior warning.

  “Silver Fang, Rock,” the shaman said as they were finally allowed to come over. “You had some news concerning . . . Springstep’s murder?” Bitten Fin looked from him to Silver Fang and back. The guard didn’t stay; he went down the stairs again. Eurik could hear and feel her footsteps through the floor.

  “Yes,” Silver Fang said. “Rock told me he was visited last night while he stayed in the cages.”

  “I’d heard about your court case. I was sad to learn you were involved in it.” He shook his head and frowned. “But how does your mother’s trial concern our present tragedy?”

  Taking a deep breath, Eurik explained. How someone that looked and sounded like Rending Snarl, but was not him, paid him a visit in the night. Threatened to kill him, revealed what he’d done.

  Bitten Fin prodded, trying to discern what words exactly had been said, though Eurik had to admit more than once that he couldn’t remember them. Still, the essence had been hard to forget and some things the killer had said couldn’t be forgotten.

  Finally, the shaman relented and leaned back in his chair with a grimace. “This is worse than we thought.”

  “This isn’t good news? We now know what we are dealing with,” Silver Fang said. “We can even see some of its intentions now.”

  “Can we?” Bitten Fin shook his head. “Ah, of course, you are thinking of Hathadaewu the Face Stealer. You think we’re dealing with a spirit from the Before-Time.”

  “We’re not?”

  Again, the shaman shook his head. “Of course not. There’s a reason it’s called the Before-Time. Those spirits can’t exist in this world anymore. And their thoughts are too alien; they don’t understand those of flesh and blood. You spoke to something which understands us well enough to exploit our weaknesses. Our divisions.”