Lance knew Marcus was trying to help, but he also doubted Wenda could have missed a soul. Right now all he wanted to do was limp back to his rooms and—what? Lick his wounds like an animal? He’d pinned so much hope on Wenda’s soulsight.
He felt fragile, shattered inside, as if his bones had been the ones to break.
Wenda flushed at her husband’s reprimand. “Very well. I’ll examine her. Where is she?”
Sara stepped directly in front of Lance’s blind sister. “I am here.” Blood streaked her face and hair, and her dress was a gory mess, but she moved as lithely as a wild dryad. Watching her made his throat ache.
“This is a waste of time,” Lance’s mother grumbled.
Lance reminded himself that he loved his mother. He didn’t really want to murder her. Unable to bear looking at her self-righteousness, he turned to Wenda and saw awe transform her expression. His heartbeat ratcheted upward.
“I see a soul,” Wenda whispered.
“What?” His mother said the word for him; Lance’s vocal cords seized with terrible hope.
“She has a new soul.” Tears shone in Wenda’s milky eyes. “It’s very small, the size of a mustard seed, but it shines brightly. You did it, Lance. You healed her.”
* * *
The world seemed to stop and then start again, only better, brighter, than before. His knees trembled from the force of the joy bursting through him. Sara had a soul again.
The woman he loved had come back to him.
He closed his eyes, sending up a prayer of thanksgiving to Loma.
An unexpected answer came back like a fading echo. The Goddess sounded almost...sad. “I did not do this.”
* * *
Lance’s arms closed around Sara’s shoulders and back, holding her snug against him. Sara relaxed, soaking up the sensation. She could feel the warmth of his body from neck to thighs. His dry lips pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sara.” His voice held the special timbre he used when he said her name sometimes, the special one for her alone.
“Nonsense!” The short-haired woman pushed her way forward. “She doesn’t have a soul! Just look at her. You can see that her eyes are empty.”
“I’m blind, Mother,” the red-haired woman said. “And I assure you, she does have a soul.”
“But why did she step off the wall?” the short-haired woman asked. “Why didn’t she scream? It’s not right.”
Silence fell. “Should I answer?” Sara asked Lance. “She didn’t look at me when she asked the question.”
“That was rude of her,” Lance said, “but please answer anyway.”
“I stepped off the wall because she told me you would be better off if I died.”
Lance’s nostrils flared as he inhaled.
“I didn’t scream because you’d already seen me, and I didn’t need to attract your attention,” Sara finished.
Another silence.
“Her soul is very small,” the red-haired woman said. “Perhaps it arrived when you healed her.”
“When the Goddess healed her.” Lance put his arms on Sara’s shoulders and moved to face her. “Sara, do you feel different now than you did before you...fell?”
“No.”
“How do you feel? Now?”
Sara thought. “My body is healed.” Every scrap of pain had lifted away as if it had never been.
His brows drew together. “No, I meant, how do you feel? Happy? Sad? Relieved? Angry?” Then, more slowly, “Do you understand what those words mean?”
“Yes, but they have no relevance. I don’t feel anything.”
“See?” the short-haired woman said.
“All it means is that she needs more time to heal, to grow her new soul, that’s all.” Lance’s arms went around Sara again and squeezed. “You will feel again. I swear it.”
* * *
Bors gave Sara a puzzled look as they entered the Hall. “How’d you get past me? I’ve been on the door all morning...” He trailed off as he noticed the bloodstains.
“I jumped off the roof.” Sara sailed past, oblivious to Bors’s gaping jaw.
Lance didn’t feel like explaining either.
She has a soul now. Lance hugged the words to himself. Sara, obviously, still had a long way to go, but she would mend in time.
Bors cleared his throat. “Kandrith, Rhiain requests an audience.”
Lance’s mother scowled. “The matter can wait until the Kandrith has refreshed herself.”
“Don’t fret, Mother. I’m not that tired,” Wenda said.
Their mother directed her frown at Marcus. “It’s your duty as Protector to make sure she doesn’t exhaust herself.”
Lance felt his temper stir. Did his mother want to be at odds with both her children? First she’d encouraged Sara to step off a wall, and now she was interfering in her daughter’s marriage.
“I’m fine,” Wenda snapped.
“She’s practically gray from exhaustion,” their mother exaggerated, still glaring at Marcus.
Marcus tried to placate his mother-in-law, a mistake. “If Wenda’s safety were in danger, I would act,” he told her, “but Wenda is the Kandrith. If she wants to grant Rhiain an audience, that’s her decision.”
A sniff.
“I’ll see you at lunch, Mother,” Wenda said firmly.
Their mother’s lips compressed at the dismissal, but she left. Lance wished he could, too—he needed to think through what it meant that Sara had a tiny new soul—but his testimony would be needed, so he followed Marcus and Wenda into the throneroom. Sara took up a position against the wall beside him.
Once he would have had to instruct her to do so, but now she followed him everywhere—an encouraging sign.
“Rhiain, the shandy, and Gaius Mendicus, legionnaire,” Bors announced.
Rhiain squeezed inside first, her massive racha shoulders brushing both sides of the door frame. Bors shoved Gaius in after.
The legionnaires’s gaze darted around nervously, as if seeking escape. Bors leaned close to the other man’s ear and growled a warning, “Don’t do it. She’ll bring you down in five strides.” Bors then retreated to guard the door.
It jolted Lance to see Wenda sitting on the same throne their father had. How many times as children had they played on the red cushions?
Wenda smiled warmly in their general direction. “Rhiain, I thought you intended to tour the countryside for a few months before winter hit. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is,” Gaius Mendicus said loudly, having recovered his nerve. He sneered at the room.
Lance supposed that to one used to the marble columns and painted mosaics in Temborium, the throne room’s wood-grained stone walls and crude weapons would look plain and provincial. And Gaius would see a young, one-handed blind woman on the throne, not the Kandrith, capable of deep magic.
Wenda set her jaw. “I was speaking to Rhiain, not you.”
“Enough of this farce,” Gaius said. “Let me speak to the man who is truly in charge.”
“I am Kandrith,” Wenda said coldly.
Lance felt no urge to defend his sister. Not only was she more than capable of squashing Gaius, but speaking up would undermine her authority.
A lesson Marcus hadn’t quite learned yet. He advanced on Gaius, his hand openly on the hilt of his sword.
“Speak again, and I’ll have you barred from the throne room,” Wenda said coldly. “Rhiain?”
Rhiain hung her great head. “I failed you. He wounded me with a spearrr and escaped.”
“Since the prisoner is still in Kandrith, I do not count it a failure,” Wenda said. “What happened next?”
“Lance healed me, but fell unconscious. I left him to hunt for the legionnairrre. While I was searrrching, he doub
led back to Lance’s camp and thrrreatened Sarrra.”
Wenda’s face grew stern. “Gaius Mendicus, you were given parole in my country because I judged you to be just a legionnaire following orders. I will not be so merciful if you have broken the law.”
Their mother would have executed Gaius immediately. Lance suspected Gaius had been spared in part because Wenda had married a former legionnaire.
Gaius folded his arms and said nothing. Still waiting for the true king?
“Bring in a Listener to ascertain his guilt,” Wenda ordered.
They all waited as Marcus passed the order on.
The same old man who had acted as Listener at Sara’s trial appeared several minutes later, muddy boots showing underneath his white robes. He bowed to Wenda. “I am here, Kandrith.”
“I will question Gaius Mendicus, the legionnaire. Please judge his answers,” Wenda said formally.
“I will do so,” the Listener said.
Gaius sneered again. “Is your kingdom run by women and old men?”
Lance snorted. The gibe flew right over the Listener’s head. Literally, since Listeners heard only truth. No questions, no music, no weeping, no laughter, no screams, no applause, no sighs, no thunder...only truth.
“Gaius Mendicus, did you spear Rhiain?” Wenda asked.
The legionnaire stood tall. “I speared a beast.”
“Truth.”
Rhiain laid her ears back. Lance ground his teeth.
Wenda also looked taken aback. “You admit the deed?”
Gaius glared at them. “I am a prisoner in an enemy country. Even if that thing was human, it is a soldier’s duty to escape. I never gave you my parole.”
“Truth.”
Wenda sighed and rubbed her face. “Remind me of this next time I decide to be merciful.”
Lance clenched his hands into fists. “In addition to Rhiain, he also attacked Sara. He cannot claim she is either a beast or his gaoler.”
“I didn’t attack her!”
“A lie.”
Gaius’s nostrils flared in outrage. “You dare question my word—!”
Lance grabbed Gaius’s arm before he could backhand the Listener. “Don’t.”
Gaius turned his gaze on Sara. “She’s the one who attacked me!”
“Truth.”
“She had wounds on her legs from his spearrr,” Rhiain said.
“I defended myself!”
“Truth.”
Curse it. From Wenda’s expression, she thought Gaius was telling the truth instead of only select portions of it.
“Ask Sara,” Lance said abruptly. “Let her testify.”
The Listener squinted at Sara, as if noticing her for the first time. “Ain’t she the one who broke the Hostage Pact?”
“Yes,” Lance said curtly.
“But—”
The old man must have been in the room when Lance had beheaded Sara. Lance didn’t let him complete his sentence. “I healed her.”
The Listener gaped at him as if he’d suddenly grown three feet taller. His wide eyes kept going from Sara, whose head was clearly still attached, to Lance, until Lance wanted to shake him.
“Sara, who attacked first, you or Gaius Mendicus?” Wenda asked
“He did.”
“Truth.”
“She lies!” Gaius Mendicus burst out.
“Truth,” the Listener said, startled.
Marcus scratched his chin. “How can they both be telling the truth?”
Wenda remained calm. “This happens sometimes when two people disagree on what a word means. Sara, how did Gaius Mendicus attack you?”
“He slapped my buttocks,” Sara said clearly.
“Truth.” The Listener coughed unconvincingly, his face suffused with mirth.
Lance felt numb. This was his fault. He’d told Sara to strike anyone who hit her. He hadn’t distinguished between rudeness and someone trying to rape or kill her.
Wenda glared at Gaius Mendicus with dislike. “I’d hit any man who slapped me.”
“Truth,” the Listener said, forgetting his role.
Marcus muffled a laugh.
This was turning into a farce. Lance reached for Sara’s arm, ready to steer her out of the room.
“I didn’t hit him,” Sara said, face serene. “I kicked him in the testicles.”
“Truth.”
“And then?” Wenda asked.
“He pointed the spear at me and told me to come with him.”
“Truth.”
“I may have threatened her,” Gaius Mendicus said quickly. “But I wouldn’t have really hurt her.”
“Truth.”
For the first time Sara looked at him. “It caused me pain when you dragged me by my hair and when you stabbed my legs with your spear.”
“Truth.” The Listener sobered.
Gaius Mendicus sputtered. “You wouldn’t cooperate! I needed you to come with me.”
“Truth.”
Wenda leaned forward on her throne. “Why did you need Sara to come with you?”
Gaius Mendicus shut his mouth, obviously unwilling to incriminate himself.
“He wanted to take me to my uncle in Kandrith and marry me,” Sara said without prompting.
“Truth.”
Wenda blinked, looking fascinated. “Marry you? Are you a former suitor of Sara’s?”
Gaius snorted. “Of Lady Sarathena Remillus? No.”
Marcus spoke up unexpectedly. “You knew Sara’s title? You knew she wasn’t some Kandrithan farmwife?”
“I recognized her despite the rags she was wearing—is still wearing,” Gaius sneered.
“Truth.”
“What does it matter?” Wenda asked.
“A moment, and you’ll see.” Marcus waited until Wenda nodded permission, then turned back to Gaius. “You wish us to judge you not guilty of attacking Rhiain because you are a Republican and not subject to our laws.”
Gaius nodded.
“And what,” Marcus asked quietly, “would the priests of Hana sentence you to for assaulting a lady from one of the noble Houses?”
Gaius became suddenly very quiet. His face paled.
“The only man I know of was drawn and quartered,” Marcus said.
“I was rescuing her!”
“A lie,” the Listener said.
Wenda looked satisfied. “Good. Then under Kandrithan law you are guilty of attacking Rhiain and Sara, and under Republican law of attacking Sara as well.” She paused. “Rhiain, it is your right to stand as Justice.”
Rhiain rumbled, “I don’t want to.”
“Normally I would insist, but this is a special case. Lance?” Wenda stared over his head. “Is Sara capable of standing as Justice?”
Lance paused to consider. “Yes, though her judgment will be passionless.” Neither compassionate, nor vengeful.
Gaius frowned. “What do you mean, ‘stand as Justice?’ She’s not a priest of the God of Justice.”
“Kandrith does not have any Temples of Justice. Whosoever has been wronged fills the role of a priest of Hana and pronounces sentence on the guilty,” Marcus explained.
Gaius’s face tightened, but he said nothing.
Wenda nodded in satisfaction. “Sara, I name you Justice. You must decide what penalty Gaius Mendicus should pay for jabbing you with his spear and attempting to kidnap you. You may ask the Guilty questions and the Listener will verify their truth,” Wenda added.
Sara stared at Gaius for so long, Lance feared they were asking too much of her new soul. Justice was a complex concept.
When she finally did speak, her question was unexpected. “Do you like pain?”
Gaius Mendi
cus stared at her as if she were mad, then cursed. “Nir’s Sword! Of course, not.”
“Truth.”
“Then I judge you paid for the pain you caused me when I stabbed your hands,” Sara said.
“There’s still the kidnapping charge,” Lance said. He wanted to growl like Rhiain, outraged that Gaius wouldn’t pay more for hurting Sara. Passionless, indeed.
Sara stared at Gaius for several moments. “The crime of attempting to kidnap me is partly balanced out by your own imprisonment. Will you try to escape again?”
He hesitated, then shot a glare of defiance at the Listener. “Yes.”
“Truth.”
“Then my judgment is that your thumbs be cut off.”
“No!” Panic written on his face, Gaius shoved Marcus aside and dashed for the nearest wall and its hanging collection of pikes, axes and sharpened farm implements.
* * *
Marcus cursed and fell against Rhiain.
“Stop him!” Lance moved in front of Sara, guarding her.
Rhiain shouldered Marcus’s weight aside, but by then Gaius had already reached the wall. He grabbed up an axe and turned. His face a rictus of rage, he swung the blade in a powerful downward cut at Rhiain’s neck.
Fluidly, she evaded the blow.
He was off-balance, his right side exposed. She could’ve taken him down easily, but she hesitated. Not because of any lingering soft feelings—she was past that—but because she thought he might prefer a more fatal wound.
“Die, damn you!” He lifted the axe again.
She sprang, sheathing her claws at the last second.
Gaius cried out as her full weight crashed into him. The axe went flying, bouncing off the petrified wood floor and sliding to a halt in front of Lance.
Rhiain pinned Gaius to the floor with her upper body and growled in his face. “Surrrenderrr.”
Red-faced, Gaius twisted, but couldn’t budge her. In warning, she tapped his head with her large paw, letting him feel the tips of her claws. He cried out in fear and averted his face.
“It’s over.” Marcus put the tip of his sword at Gaius’s throat. “You’re done.”
Gaius glared up at them. “It’s crushing me.”
It.
“Move off, but slowly,” Marcus said.
Rhiain growled, showing her teeth, before standing and backing away.
Soul of Kandrith (The Kandrith Series) Page 7
