The King's Justice: Two Novellas

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  Now I was done. I had accomplished my duty. The inference that our foes possessed no alchemists themselves completed my assigned task. With that revelation, as with those that had gone before, my Queen would call herself content. Only my true purpose remained.

  Excrucia had said, I will have you or nothing. She had vowed to cast away her life. I could not part from her. Nor could I permit Indemnie to suffer a fortnight of bombardment, only to face open war when the captain’s terms were refused.

  Had I been craven? Through my life, craven? I was not so now. And I remembered Opalt Intrix. The gift is the gift. Only purity, talent, and character vary. My heritage, and Excrucia’s, lacked purity. Of talent I was uncertain, though I had chosen to believe that resolve might serve in its place. And for character I could rely absolutely on my friend, my ally, my love.

  I waited only until Riddance Glave began to turn away, gesturing dismissal as he moved—only until the guards who had escorted us earlier shifted themselves to advance—only until I had caught Vail’s eye, and had clasped Excrucia’s hand in mine. Then, with a suddenness that might serve to startle the captain and his crew of brigands, I cast my halberd into the center of the foredeck.

  Clattering on the planks, it caught Glave’s notice so that he wheeled toward it. Likewise it plucked at the attention of the assembled men. For a moment, every eye on the foredeck was fixed, not on me and my companions, but rather on my halberd as it skidded to rest.

  For that moment, I held my breath, waiting—and praying that Excrucia and Vail would remain as still as I.

  Then Slew’s shaft struck straight into Riddance Glave’s back. Spewing blood, he pitched headlong to the deck. After a moment’s writhing, he did not move again.

  Around the foredeck, consternation reigned. Tumult, yelled curses, and wild rushing surrounded us. Now, however, I did not wait. Indeed, I was already in motion. Within a few heartbeats, some guard or sailor would recover his wits and cut us down.

  As I plunged to my knees, I dragged Excrucia with me. Gripping her hand as though it held the meaning of my life, I slapped its back and knuckles to the deck and covered it there with mine. During the instant that our gazes met, she had no time for words. She could only plead with her eyes.

  Immediately I looked away. I had to see what I did. Made swift by long practice, I snatched my hieronomer’s blade from beneath my hauberk. Raising the iron high, I hammered it down.

  Whetted to a precise keenness, it pierced my hand and Excrucia’s, and drove deep into the deck, pinning us where we knelt together.

  Blood burst from our wounds, hers and mine. It splashed our hands and the boards, formed a pool of augury. In it, I could have foreseen our futures in every detail, yet I did not pause to regard it. Moving still, I withdrew Opalt Intrix’s pouch of chrism from its concealment and poured its entire contents over my blade and our hands and our blood.

  Now I had done all that I could. My gambit would succeed or fail, I knew not which. Indeed, I felt certain that it would fail. How could it succeed? By blood, talent, and character, I was no alchemist. As Excrucia opened her mouth to cry out, I pulled her to me and kissed her—an act of contrition or farewell, but also of longing.

  Past her shoulder, I saw that Vail had crouched low, readying himself to spring. Perhaps in the confusion he would be able to effect his escape, as I had urged him to do. My life was now certainly forfeit. Excrucia might be spared, if only to punish her for my deeds, but she would not be relinquished. Therefore Vail’s escape was vital.

  Excrucia’s kiss clung to mine as mine did to hers. Persuaded of failure, I resolved that I would not release her until we were torn asunder.

  In the clamor of shouts as another man fell to Slew’s second arrow, in the frantic pounding of boots, and in the utter necessity of Excrucia’s kiss, I was slow to recognize that the hurting of my hand had changed.

  It had become agony.

  Compelled, I turned my head to gape at what I had done.

  The wooden hilt of my blade had grown too large for my grasp. It increased visibly before me. And the iron of the blade extended itself likewise, growing in both length and girth—but much more in length. From it came screeching sounds like the violent splintering of boards.

  For one astonished moment, I was able to imagine that my blade had already penetrated the foredeck—that even now it extended its piercing through holds and compartments until it embedded itself in the next deck—that it might grow far enough to hole the ship. I had supplied my blood and Excrucia’s and my iron with a considerable quantity of chrism—enough, Opalt Intrix had suggested, for an alchemist’s lifetime.

  There my moment ended. Agony became excruciation as my iron’s growth forced the bones of my hand apart, crushing them against their neighbors until my flesh tore. For the space of a heartbeat, or perhaps two, I screamed with force enough to shred my throat, and Excrucia screamed with me.

  Then some heavy impact drove us from our knees, ripped our ruined hands from my blade. As I fell, my head pounded the deck. At once, the forecastle and the coiled hawsers and Riddance Glave’s corpse became stars, and the distraught tumult of men faded from the world. I understood that I was dead, and with that realization I was content.

  Death, however, was not the oblivion that I had anticipated. It was a staggered jolting that shifted me from side to side. It was the agony of my bound hand. It was cool air freed from fires and blasts. It was the sound of breathing not my own. Also it was the damp cling of raiment that had been immersed in blood, and the caking of salt upon my face, and the sensation that my body had been beaten with clubs. It was the conviction that miracles had been wrought.

  Some time passed ere I opened my eyes to gaze upon an afterlife in which I did not believe.

  At first, I beheld only the moon riding high above me amid its panoply of stars. The heavens appeared entirely at peace, and as I regarded them, I found that they filled my eyes with tears.

  Thereafter more immediate matters claimed my notice. By increments, I recognized that I lay upon a sheet of canvas that had been stretched between two long shafts to form a crude litter. Beyond my head and past my feet, men held the ends of the poles, and their motion resembled running, though I could not determine where they ran. My thoughts were sluggish or hampered, as though the life in my veins had begun to clot. I required long moments to note that the dark shape trotting at my side belonged to Vail.

  He appeared heedless of his wound, a detail that bewildered me. As my sight cleared, however, the moon’s shining enabled me to discern that Glare Estobate’s cut—indeed, the entire lower half of Vail’s torso—had been heavily bandaged. He was able to match the pace of my porters because his bleeding had been stanched, because he was inordinately strong, and also because his visage suggested that his dour nature had been transformed by triumph.

  Coughing to clear my throat, I endeavored to speak the query uppermost in my mind. Unfortunately that effort caused fresh knives of pain to pierce my hand. Indeed, it caused my flesh to throb from head to foot. I was unable to utter a word.

  Vail glanced down at me, then called elsewhere, “Water! Water for Her Majesty’s Hieronomer!”

  At his command, my porters halted. Various boots and sandals scrambled in the distance. Then a flask was thrust into Vail’s hands. Bending over me despite his own hurt, he lifted me so that I could drink.

  While I gulped water—bliss to my sore throat—he instructed me, “Do not speak. When we gain the Domicile, you will ask and answer every question.” Briefly he looked away, then met my gaze once more. “Her Highness lives. Her litter follows yours. Her hand has been bound. She is unconscious and pale, having lost much blood, but I do not fear for her.”

  Again I attempted to form speech. Again I failed.

  Nodding as though he knew my needs, Vail gestured for my porters to resume their trek. Now, however, they bore me more slowly so th
at he could walk at my side in less discomfort.

  “You will be pleased to hear,” he announced with unfamiliar satisfaction, “that our foes cannot move their ship. They have raised anchors and unfurled sails. They rush about, shouting. Their helmsman works his wheel to no purpose. They cannot move. They are fixed in place. Your iron has nailed them to the seabed. They will never return to their empire.

  “And they dare not lower their longboats. From vantages which those cannon now cannot reach, Baron Plinth’s men have begun to rain flaming arrows at the ship. Already sails burn, fire feeds on the midmast, and a structure that I take for the galley is alight. Should those brigands hazard their longboats, they must first show some clear sign of surrender. Otherwise their boats will be set aflame.

  “Glare Estobate’s forces,” he continued as though he understood the hampered trudge of my thoughts, “were at first reluctant to accept Baron Plinth’s authority. But when they were informed of their Baron’s death, they began to obey. We now have men enough to attempt rescues within Venture, to combat the fires, and still to assail Riddance Glave’s ship.”

  With an effort that threatened to overwhelm me, I contrived to croak, “How—?”

  Still Vail understood. “I ripped your hands from your blade and bore you overboard. Having lost blood myself, I lacked strength to swim away. But Slew saw us. He joined us in the sea. With this aid, you were brought ashore. Now he rides to speak with Her Majesty.”

  When I had assembled Vail’s tidings into a sequence that I was able to comprehend, I found that this afterlife was tolerable despite the state of my hand and the unpleasantness of other discomforts. Thereafter I renewed my acquaintance with oblivion.

  Later I returned to consciousness with a mind somewhat clearer. Without undue difficulty, I observed that my porters even now bore me through the gates into the Domicile’s bailey. And when I lifted my head to consider my surroundings, I found that Inimica Phlegathon deVry herself had come to my side.

  She appeared as I had last seen her, altogether drenched by the rain now past. With her hair dripping from her head and her raiment a shambles, she was a bedraggled mess. Yet she remained magnificent, a queen of unmarred beauty in every line and glance.

  At Her Majesty’s arrival, my porters stopped so that she might address me. When I endeavored to rise from my litter, however, she halted me with her own hand. “Rest, Mayhew,” she commanded. “You will be taken to the physicians. Hear me but a moment, and you will be tended.

  “We are saved, Mayhew. We have a common foe. That evil ship’s coming promises war. Thus it rescues us from rebellion and barbarism. At the cost of your hand, and of my daughter’s, you have redeemed us from enslavement. The dooms foretold have been averted. Now at last I am freed to become the Queen that my realm requires.

  “Know that your fidelity and courage—like my trust in you—will not be forgotten.”

  No doubt I should have made some seemly reply. Beyond question, I wished to do so. However, a greater need ruled me. Ere my Queen could hasten to Excrucia’s litter, I begged, “A moment, Your Majesty.”

  She remained at my side despite her open impatience for her daughter. “Yes, Mayhew?”

  As well as I was able, I framed my query. “You informed me that I have a gift which others lack. What gift do you find in me that I do not find in myself?”

  She regarded me gravely, but she did not hesitate to answer.

  “You know your fears, Mayhew. Therefore you are able to overcome them. Others know only that they are afraid. Therefore their fears rule them—as mine have ruled me.”

  Without another word, as though she believed that her reply sufficed, she turned to Excrucia.

  Lifting myself higher, I watched Inimica Phlegathon deVry’s reunion with her daughter.

  Clearly Excrucia had emerged from stupor. She raised her arms to her mother, and at once my Queen caught her child in a fierce embrace. For a moment, no longer, I heard them weeping together. Then Her Majesty withdrew her head—though not her clasp—and said so that all in the courtyard heard her, “You are my beloved daughter. My pride in you is greater than my power to express it. Your courage humbles my extravagances. When the physicians have treated your wound, and you have rested, I will hear every word of your tale—every word since the day when you first formed an alliance with my Hieronomer. Until that time, know that my realm will one day be yours. It will be yours now, if you wish it. I will defy the Articles of Coronation if I must. Indemnie can have no better monarch.”

  “Mother,” Excrucia replied, still weeping, her voice wan and much abused. “I want only Mayhew.”

  Did my Queen then retort, A servant? A hieronomer? A man of impure lineage? She did not. Rather she replied without pause or doubt, “Then you will have him, if your wishes are his as well.”

  While I lowered myself to lie in my litter again, and my porters bore me away, I considered that life was altogether preferable to the oblivion of death.

  Thereafter much transpired that I did not witness. I was grateful to be rendered numb while my hand was removed, and the stump of my wrist much treated to relieve infection, the result no doubt of a long acquaintance with the contents of bowels. But when I returned to myself, I found Excrucia seated at my bedside. Her hand had been likewise removed, yet she bore the loss with a composure that exceeded mine. Also she appeared to heal with greater alacrity. For the long days of our confinement among the physicians, she served as my nurse, tending me with a tenderness that belied her severe frown and arid manner.

  During those days, however, tidings were brought to us with some regularity by none other than the Domicile’s Majordomo. Though her demeanor remained stern, she was neither shrill nor censorious, and she spoke as though her visits to our infirmary gave her pleasure.

  Her first reports concerned Venture and the black ship. The fires in the town had been quenched, and though much had been destroyed, a considerable portion remained. Better still, an unlikely number of Venture’s inhabitants had been reclaimed alive. As for Riddance Glave’s men, fully a third had surrendered. By my Queen’s command, they were treated gently while they were questioned on every conceivable topic concerning their empire, its origins, its extent, and its designs. The ship itself, however, burned with fearsome concussions and screams until the flames reached the water-line and were extinguished.

  To that extent, Excrucia and I shared the Majordomo’s pleasure.

  Later, however, the woman informed us that Opalt Intrix and other adepts of iron had been sent to the transfixed remnant of the vessel to study its cannon so that Indemnie might one day possess similar devices. Thereafter she described at some length the alterations which our sovereign had imposed upon the rule of the isle.

  In Glare Estobate’s absence, his place as Baron was given to Vail Immordson—how had I failed to ascertain that Vail was Slew’s brother?—while Slew himself was set in imprisoned Thrysus Indolent’s seat. The brothers were instructed to preside over their new lands justly—a command worthy of a now loved monarch. Yet there was more. Vail and Slew were also urged to raise and train new armies, armies equipped and supplied to march at any moment to any threatened stretch of Indemnie’s coast.

  Apparently war occupied a substantial portion of Her Majesty’s thoughts.

  Other tidings occasioned less concern. Praylix Venery was much ignored, though my Queen named his eldest son—he had an abundance of sons with an inordinate number of mothers—to be his heir, on the condition that the youth would be dispatched at once to spend five years in the household of Jakob Plinth. There he might conceivably learn the merit of such qualities as rectitude and fidelity, and would certainly be taught the requirements of command.

  As for Quirk Panderman, my Queen made no attempt to disturb his habitual carouse. However, she commanded the delivery of his archives to the Domicile. Also she asked the loan of several scribes to aid in the study
and interpretation of the documents. Thus Indemnie—in the person of its monarch—at last acquired an interest in its singular history.

  This alteration gratified Excrucia, though it discomfited me. Beyond question, I had gained much by my love’s study of the isle’s past. Nevertheless I had sensed a theme in the Majordomo’s discourse, a preponderance of import that undermined my ease.

  Subsequently our visitor’s reports chiefly concerned the rebuilding of Venture and its harbor by teams of timber-men, carpenters, and alchemists drawn from every barony. Even there, however, I detected the same theme. The Majordomo did not neglect to mention that the remade town would have fortifications unheard-of since the arrival of our people upon the island, barricades and gates of stone strategically placed within Venture itself as well as between the town and the harbor. Also Her Majesty had charged the isle’s adepts of stone to raise obstacles from the seabed of the harbor, obstructions hidden by the waters in locations that would be known to our sailors, but that would endanger or perhaps cripple any unwelcome vessel. Such a task would demand years of effort, many alchemists, and much chrism, but Inimica Phlegathon deVry deemed it a necessary ward against subsequent intrusions, of which she appeared to expect a great number.

  Clearly war and defense were much on my Queen’s mind. Therefore they were much on mine. I had begun to understand that she was born to give battle and protect her own.

  In due course, I became well enough to quit my bed. When my strength had returned to an extent that exceeded the bounds of the infirmary, Excrucia slipped her truncated arm through mine, and together we exercised our renewed health by exploring the intricacies of the Domicile—passages, chambers, and halls intimately known to her, largely unfamiliar to me. We circled the bailey, revisited the ballroom, entered her apartment when we desired rest, peeked briefly into the far larger and more munificent private chambers of her mother, and engaged in long circumnavigations of the high balconies. Elsewhere the vistas were much as I remembered them, placid and pleasant, but to the north we were able to observe the beehive of labor that was Venture, the still smoldering wreck of the black ship, and the skiffs and rowboats of men who plied the waters of the harbor, apparently taking soundings to gauge the seabed’s depth.