Sword of Fire

by Katharine Kerr

  Many in the audience were listening to, or at least, staring at this phenomenon, a lass in a law court—enough for now, Alyssa thought. Others were fiddling with bits of clothing, picking at the dirt under their nails, or gazing round the chamber. She did her best to ignore them.

  “You have heard about the death of Cradoc of Aberwyn today. He was my teacher, my guide on the three paths of speaking well. I have come to pay tribute to his memory, but there is no better tribute to him than honoring our ancient ways. He is the one who taught me to look deep into the well of history. Does not a bard look into that well to see the truths of the past? Does not his Awen come to him and speak?”

  The regent nodded his agreement. The priest showed no reaction at all. The prince is the one that counts, Alyssa reminded herself.

  “Yet for those of us who are not true bards like Cradoc of Aberwyn, who will bring up the truth from the deep well of history? The dead cannot speak for themselves—or can they? In the past they have spoken, but can we hear them? So much time lies between us and the dead! Even on Samaen, when a scattering of them come to visit us, their descendants, we can only see them, not hear them speak. And yet, even so, we have some voices from the past. Some few of the dead still speak to us across the long years.

  “How? What is this dwimmer that lets us hear words spoken hundreds and hundreds of years ago? No dwimmer at all, truly, but the written word. Books, Your Highness, my lords, books live on past the hands that wrote them. And the oldest of them tell us about our ancient traditions, those honorable ways of living that we still follow today.”

  She paused to the silent count of five, just as Cradoc had taught her. The regent leaned forward a little in his chair.

  “Or do we follow them, Your Highness, my lords?” Alyssa continued. “Do we remember in our law courts and in our lives the paths that our ancestors marked out for us to follow? One of the oldest voices, in one of our oldest books, tells us otherwise.”

  The regent quirked both eyebrows. Dovina rose from her chair and hurried forward with Annals of the Dawntime, opened to the correct page. Alyssa took it and with a flourish laid it down in front of Prince Gwardon and his councillor, who immediately leaned over to inspect it. Alyssa took the letter from her kirtle and laid it down in front of the priest.

  “From Haen Marn, Your Holiness,” she said, “stating that this book is true and truly ancient.”

  The priest muttered a few purifying words over the page to erase her female touch, then picked it up to read. Alyssa turned back to the audience.

  “This ancient book speaks of the ancient traditions of our people. Then as now, it informs us, the priests of Great Bel, the drwidion, guided our laws and spoke them in the courts.” She turned and curtsied to the Lawspeaker before she faced the audience again. “But what of the magistrates themselves? The book tells of the days when the vergobretes, our magistrates, the ancestors of the gwerbretion, were not born to their task but elected. They were acclaimed by assemblies of the people. Their sons did not inherit their courts. They did not receive land and fees for their services to their people. Do we live that way today? Do we—”

  Except for Ladoic, the gwerbretion in the chamber all stood up and began to yell. Curses, demands for Alyssa’s silence, demands to speak—Prince Gwardon stood up and out-yelled them all.

  “I will have silence in this chamber! This is a court of law, not a riot in a marketplace!”

  “Impiety!” Caddalan called out. “Raw stinking impiety!”

  “It’s not!” The Lawspeaker rose from his seat and flapped the Haen Marn letter in their direction. “Let the lass finish!”

  Alyssa was so shocked that their sops to priestly power had brought him over to her side that she nearly forgot her words. She had some moments to recover while the regent and the Lawspeaker calmed the gwerbretion. It took both of them.

  “And remember, Your Graces,” Gwardon said, “that this lass is under the protection of the sanctuary laws. She should be treated with respect.” He sat back down and nodded at Alyssa to continue.

  “Times change, Your Grace.” Alyssa looked straight at Caddalan. “No one here would ever suggest we return to those chaotic days of assemblies and torchlight acclamations. The kingdom is far too vast, our laws too complicated, as I’m sure His Holiness would agree. We would merely point out that the ancient traditions contradict the popular beliefs about the law courts themselves. They were, in the ancient days, left in the hands of those who had spent their holy lives studying the laws of our tribes, the priests of Belinos and Ogmios, as the gods were known then.”

  The priest nodded his approval. Caddalan laid a hand where his sword hilt should have been. The prince rose from his chair. Caddalan crossed his arms over his chest to keep his hands still. Gwardon sat down.

  “One would hope,” Gwardon said, “that everyone here honors the holy servants of the gods.”

  Gwerbret Ladoic made a sound suspiciously like a snort: hah! The nervous laughter that followed calmed the commoners in the audience. The gwerbretion, however, looked at one another, rose, and swept out of the Justice Hall—all except Ladoic. Through the open door, however, Alyssa could see that they hovered just outside to listen.

  “Enough!” Gwardon said. “Alyssa vairc Sirra, you have my thanks for your words and for this book. You may join Lady Dovina.”

  While the audience murmured and shifted in their seats, Alyssa curtsied and followed his order, though she would rather have cursed him. Have we lost? What about the rest of my speech? When she sat down next to Dovina, Dovina took her hand and squeezed it. The regent’s councillor was reading the open page. In a moment he leaned over and whispered something to the prince. Gwardon rose and picked up the Sword of Justice.

  “The evidence our learned ladies have brought before me,” Gwardon said, “has made me consider Malyc Penvardd’s request in a new light. I hereby announce that I shall establish, furnish, and appoint the office of a justiciar for the lands of the kingdom on the western border.”

  Dovina clasped her free hand over her mouth to stifle a shriek. Alyssa felt too stunned to respond, too disbelieving that they had won their point. Dovina risked a whisper: “You carried the day.”

  The prince gave her a stern look and laid a finger over his mouth for silence. Dovina nodded and rustled her skirts in lieu of a curtsy.

  “The Penvardd,” the prince continued, “has made an excellent point about the complexity of this process. I shall consult the Lawspeakers and my own legal council to decide which cases shall come under whose jurisdiction.”

  A few foul words and curses drifted through the open door. The prince knocked the pommel of the sword on the table. The noises outside stopped.

  “This hearing is now over,” Gwardon said. “The town criers will announce when it’s to resume should I so decide.”

  As the audience stood up to leave, Lord Merryc made his way through the crowd. He had his two bodyguards with him.

  “These lads will escort you for the rest of the day,” Merryc said to Alyssa. “I think it’s wise. Gurra, you’re a good man with your sword, but there’s only one of you.”

  “Just so, milord,” Gurra said.

  “I agree,” Dovina said. “You have my thanks, Merro.”

  “Welcome. Alyssa, you were splendid.”

  She felt her face burn with a blush and curtsied for want of anything to say.

  “Dovva,” Merryc continued, “I’ll wait here to escort you when you’re done, but your father wants a private word with you.”

  “Gods!” Dovina rolled her eyes. “I’ll just wager he does.”

  * * *

  Ladoic was waiting outside the chamber by the staircase. As she joined him, Dovina was relieved to see that the other gwerbretion and their men had taken their weapons and left.

  “I don’t know whether to congratulate you,” Ladoic said, “or disown
you.”

  “The former, Father, by all means. It gladdens my heart that you didn’t storm out with your peers.”

  “It didn’t gladden theirs, I assure you. Dovva, I’m afraid that trouble’s going to come out of this.”

  “No doubt they’re more determined than ever to keep the courts in their greedy little paws.”

  “Greed has naught to do with it!”

  Dovina rolled her eyes toward the heavens. “Father, truly! Do you think I’d believe that?”

  She was expecting a furious outburst.

  “You have a point,” he said instead. “Young Bryn, and he’s the poorest of all of us, suggested that we all give Standyc some coin, enough to pay for at least some of that cursed fine. Don’t faint, now, but I actually agreed I could part with a little myself.”

  “After the way you smirked at the hearing?”

  “Now and then men do have second thoughts. I’ve been thinking a fair bit lately. Besides, it would have turned your delicate stomach, my daughter dear, to see how fast Caddalan weaseled out of it. He’s got enough coin to make a bed out of it, him and the iron trade!”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Well, no more was I. Besides all that, though, the Penvardd has a point about that cursed justiciar. I’m tired of taking grief from my peers about the Westfolk. They resent my taking the Westfolk side when there’s a legal wrangle to sort out. I keep telling them I’m bound by treaties. They keep refusing to listen.”

  “But if the justiciar were doing the judging, they could say naught to you about it.”

  “Just that. Humph, it’s an ill-omened flood that doesn’t leave fish behind, eh?” He sighed with a shake of his head. “I can live with the wretched decision.”

  It took Dovina a moment to recover her powers of speech. “That gladdens my heart, Father,” she said. “Besides, Standyc and every gwerbret on the western border will have to live with it, too. There must be some comfort in that.”

  He grinned, then let the smile fade. “Let’s hope they do decide to live with it. Dovva, I’m a bit worried. Naught’s been said, yet, but.”

  “Rebellion?”

  “The west’s got summat of a tradition of that, doesn’t it?” He hesitated for a long moment. “You might mention it to that betrothed of yours. If he thinks the matter’s serious, he can drop a word into the right ears.”

  “Father! You won’t be joining them, will you?”

  “Would I be telling you about it if I were? Think, lass! Besides, naught’s been decided yet. I just don’t like the talk I hear. We need to take steps, Caddalan says, all puffed up like a toad. Steps! Hah!”

  “Well and good, then. I’ll do that.”

  Ladoic strode off without glancing back. Merryc had left the council chamber to wait off to one side. She hurried over and laid a hand on his shoulder. He smiled and slipped his arm around her waist to draw her close. She was surprised at how pleasant his touch felt. Besides, the courting couple gesture was useful.

  “A message from my father,” she said in a whisper. “The talk of rebellion’s grown more urgent. He’d like you to warn the prince.”

  “Ye gods!” Merryc answered in the same low tone. “Here, my lady. You and your page go on downstairs ahead of me. Just for the look of the thing. I’ll wait here.”

  “Right. I’ll see you later at your mother’s.”

  * * *

  After some small while, the prince and his retinue came strolling out of the Justice Hall. Since the councillors were talking to Gwardon, Merryc waited until they reached him before he stepped forward and bowed. Gwardon stopped and acknowledged him with a raised hand.

  “What brings you to me?” Gwardon said. “Must be summat important.”

  “Indeed, my liege. A private word?”

  Gwardon led the way to the curve of the wall. Two men of his armed escort stood between them and eavesdroppers, but Merryc kept his voice low and soft.

  “Bad news, my liege. My betrothed told me. That talk among the gwerbretion about rebellion? It’s grown a cursed sight worse. Naught’s fixed or sworn yet. She made that clear. But there’s talk. Her father warned her, which means he’ll hold for the king.”

  “Good for Ladoic! Talk is always the beginning of these things. Ah, curse them all! The western provinces can’t muster as many men as Deverry proper, but it’s a long march away.”

  “Lughcarn’s a good bit closer.”

  “Just so. At least Gwaentaer hasn’t joined them. Well. Not yet, anyway.”

  “True spoken. Caddalan may make some show of force right here for a start.”

  “And what good will that do them?”

  “If they kill you, my liege, the kingdom falls apart, and the gwerbretion may do as they please.”

  “You’re right. I’d not thought of that.”

  “It’s not a pleasant thought.”

  Gwardon stared down at the floor in silence for some short while.

  “Very well, then,” he said. “I’ll give the matter some attention. A great deal of attention, actually. There’s naught wrong with being prepared for trouble.” He suddenly grinned. “Since it usually comes.”

  * * *

  Thanks to their bodyguard, Alyssa and Mavva reached the guesthouse without anyone troubling them. In the great hall they saw Amara, sitting in a quiet nook with her companion and pages beside her, but they hurried up to the suite to wait for Dovina in private. Long before she returned, her father caught up with them there.

  “Goodwoman Mavva,” he said. “If I may trouble you? I need a word with Alyssa alone. I promise you she’ll be perfectly safe. I merely want to ask her a question.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Mavva curtsied to him. “Lady Amara’s waiting with her retinue down in the hall, and I’ll go join her.”

  Alyssa had no idea of how to entertain a gwerbret, especially since the two maids were nowhere to be seen. When she offered him a chair, he shook his head no.

  “This won’t take but a few moments, lass. I’ve got a legal matter to lay before you.”

  “Your Grace, I’m only a raw apprentice at this.”

  “I know, but I like your spirit. I daren’t go to the Advocates Guild, anyway. What if one of them wags his tongue, eh? Priests of Bel are worse, a lot of old women with naught to think about but gossip and rites. Dovina tells me you’re absolutely trustworthy.”

  “I do my best to be, Your Grace.”

  “Promise me you won’t say a word of this to anyone, not even Dovina.”

  That he’d drop the “lady” before Dovina’s name when speaking to a commoner convinced Alyssa of his sincerity.

  “I promise on my scholar’s calling, Your Grace, and there’s naught I hold higher than that.”

  He smiled, a crease of lip under his gray mustache. “Well and good, then. Is there any way under our laws that I can pass over Adonyc and make Dovina my heir to Aberwyn?”

  Alyssa caught her breath with a gasp.

  “Hah!” Ladoic’s grin deepened. “That got you, eh?”

  “Indeed it did, Your Grace! May I ask why?”

  “Adonyc’s a lackwit. She’s not. I care more about Aberwyn and her folk than some think I do. The gods only know what’ll happen to them if he’s ruling.”

  “I see.” Alyssa decided that agreeing with him about his son was too dangerous. She nodded in what she hoped was a sage’s wise manner. “I understand now, Your Grace, why you didn’t want to go to the guild.” She thought for a few moments. “I’ll have to think about this, Your Grace, and search some of the books in the guildhall. I’ll tell them that I’m just looking things up in case I need to give another speech.”

  “Well and good, then. When you know, tell my page you want to speak to me about that bounty on your husband’s head.”

  “I shall beg for your mercy, Your Grace.
”

  “You just might get it. His father—but that’s neither here nor there.” He turned toward the door. “A good day to you, fair scholar!”

  “And to you, Your Grace. I promise that I’ll give the matter my best thought and attention.”

  With a last smile the gwerbret let himself out and shut the chamber door quietly behind him. Alyssa sank into a chair in something like shock. In but a moment, though, she turned to the legal problem at hand. Her education in the laws had been minimal, only the overall structures that bards were expected to know in order to compose flyting songs and the like. Yet she could think of a historical precedent here, a chance remark there, that might relate to the gwerbret’s question. Better yet, Rhys’s packet of notes still lay on the table before her. She got her writing chest from the bedchamber and sat down to see what she could find.

  She was hard at work when Dovina returned, sweeping in with her page. Alyssa picked up her written notes and folded them as if she were only tidying them away.

  “You were splendid!” Dovina said.

  “My thanks, but without you and Mavva, I would have been an abject failure.”

  “Such modesty! I was thinking of ordering a small supper here. Or do you want to go back to the embassy?”

  “I’d best leave. Cavvo’s probably pacing around and wondering where I am. He was afraid to come to the court today.”

  “Why? It can’t be because of the bounty.”