by Victor Poole
Delmar whet his lips, and glanced at Ajalia. He nodded, and waved his hands towards the people, who pressed in a great mass towards the door. Those who had come in already stepped forward, and the hallway was suddenly like a broken dam. Bodies swept into the hall, pushed forward by the bodies behind. Everyone came in, and pressed as close to Delmar as they dared. There was a rim of space, about three feet in diameter, around Ajalia and Delmar.
THE OLD MAN, TREE
Ajalia could see that many of the people were staring at her, and at the knife that she still held in her hand. Ajalia blushed, and put the knife away into her sheath. She could not believe that she had forgotten to put the knife away after she'd cleaned it.
"Keep it out," Delmar told her, his eyes meeting hers. He looked wholly himself; his blue eyes crinkled at her a little, and she trusted him. "They like your knife," he added lightly, and Ajalia thought again of Ocher, who also, she remembered, was fond of her knife. Feeling very strange, Ajalia slipped her knife back into her palm, and held it naked at her side. The people gave a soft murmur when she drew the knife again; those closest stepped back a little, their eyes fixed on the blade.
Ajalia looked down at her knife, and gave a little start herself. The magic she had wound over the surface of the knife was still there; the blade and hilt glowed and crackled with a gentle sheen of violent white. Sparks of the iridescent light chased each other in shivers over the metal. Her hand tingled on the blade. She looked out at the crowded room, and she saw again that those with the white brand were easily discernable. Those whose eyes took in the magic of the knife looked at it, and then turned their eyes up to Ajalia's face. The unbranded ones, who were few in this room, stared openly at the knife, and murmured to their neighbors, in the manner of those who gossip over a murder weapon.
Ajalia gave Delmar a nudge, and he looked at her again. He took a deep breath, and raised his hands a little.
"I know," Delmar said hesitantly, his eyes skipping uneasily over the crowd of faces, "that my father was a terrible man." Delmar's voice wobbled just a little as he spoke; his elbows were drawn up a fraction, and his jaw trembled. A murmur of agreement went up at his words; Ajalia saw only a few people who frowned at what Delmar had said. The majority of the faces were fixed steadily on Delmar; many of the eyes darkened a little at the mention of the late Thief Lord. Ajalia saw that Delmar had been wrong, and she had been right. She had assumed that the news of the Thief Lord's death would spread like wildfire throughout the city. Delmar, she told herself, had far too much faith in the discretion of a general population. She guessed that the servants in the house of Ocher had spread the news before the sun had begun to rise, and that Ocher had begun to hold meetings with the leaders of the city soon after that.
The Thief Lord, Ajalia knew, had been in charge, but she had also known that men like Ocher controlled many of the major interests within the city. Some of these men she had encountered in the market, but most she had not yet dealt with directly. There were a pair of men who controlled much of the harbor work, but Ajalia had heard that these two lived out near the sea, and rarely came into the white city.
"I have learned," Delmar said to the crowd, "to my eternal shame, that my father was hiding and keeping alive many old and dangerous traditions." Delmar glanced again at Ajalia, and then cleared his throat, and turned back to the crowd. The Slavithe people stared at him expectantly, their eyes fixed, and their mouths closed up tight. "My father," Delmar said, "the late Thief Lord, Simon," he said, his voice growing stronger, "had promised to burn all the old books of magic that he took from the witches."
At the mention of witches, an angry murmur rippled through the crowd. Ajalia saw many eyes turn involuntarily towards her, and to her bared weapon. She heard the words "witch-killer" passed all along the crowd in waves. Some of those deep within the crowd pointed her out to each other. A shiver of murmurs lifted up towards the ceiling of the long receiving room.
"My mother," Delmar said, and the crowd quieted again, "was a witch, and my father knew it, and hid it. I," Delmar said hesitantly, "did not know what she was until this morning. My friend Ajalia," Delmar said, indicating her, "helped to free me from the evil spells of my mother. The witch is dead." A fresh murmur of voices rose up at this, and Delmar spoke over the disruption. "I have burned them," he said, raising his hands high to calm the crowd. "I have burned all the old books that my father saved." Ajalia was still carrying the bag that concealed the slim leather volume, the book of spells and magic that Bakroth's wife had collected.
"What about Beryl?" someone shouted from the crowd, and another loud rise of sound came up at this.
"Yes, Beryl was supposed to protect us from the witches," another man cried.
"Beryl was a witch," Ajalia said loudly. A deathly hush fell over the room, as the eyes of all those within it turned to stare at her. She raised her knife, which seemed to have become permanently ablaze with shimmering gleams of white light. "Beryl was a witch, and a spy sent from the king of Talbos," Ajalia said. An uproar began to rumble at these words, but Delmar again waved for quiet. "She was sent with a partner, a man named Rane, who posed as her brother," Ajalia said. The faces of those in the crowd were becoming violently passionate; Ajalia thought that the crowd would turn on her in a moment. She thought that they wanted to hear from Delmar, and not from her. She held her knife high above her head, and the blazing blade seemed to mesmerize all those who stood in the room, which grew still, and quiet. "When Delmar learned," Ajalia shouted, "of what his father and mother had done, and of what they were, Simon tried to kill the dead falcon. Rane protected Delmar, and kept him alive. Rane is loyal to the dead falcon," Ajalia said into the utter silence, "as am I."
The room was dead quiet. The eyes of all gathered there were fixed on Ajalia. She slowly lowered her knife, and when the eyes in the room turned gradually back to Delmar, she resheathed it on her back. She looked at Delmar, and Delmar looked out at the crowd. The bodies were quiet and still; finally, with a hush that sounded like the whispering of a breeze between small trees, the murmurs began. Ajalia could not see from which corner of the room the words first came, but soon enough the mouths of the Slavithe people were alive with the words, "sky angel."
"She's the sky angel," they whispered to each other, and their eyes were growing bright. Some of them were smiling, Ajalia saw, and a few others were frowning deeply. Those who seemed the most disturbed worked their way slowly towards the door, and exited the room. Ajalia saw, by their slow progress, that the hall outside was still crowded thickly with bodies.
A space opened up at the door, and Card came into the room. Ajalia saw his grizzled white hair as he entered. She met Card's eyes, and her agent smiled in relief, and raised a hand to her. She saw that he could not get any farther through the bodies.
"I want to see Ocher," Ajalia told Delmar in a murmur. He nodded, and looked around at the crowded room. Another loud rise of sound came through the room, and the people pressed each other hard into the corners, and against the walls of the receiving hall. Ocher was entering; he brought with him Rane, who had bloody marks and bruises on his face, and Hal, who was pushing people down the hall, and out towards the street.
"Make way for the Thief Lord," a man cried, and his words were echoed all along the house. Ajalia could hear shouts reverberating through the large white house. People in the room began to exit through the ground-floor windows; Ajalia saw for the first time that there was a second crowd in the street outside. Those people near the windows in the room pushed this outside crowd back, and the room emptied a little as the people dropped out to the street. A wide space was made, from the door of the receiving hall to the place where Delmar and Ajalia stood. Ocher came in first, followed by Rane, and then by Hal. Several of the other officers of the city, and the wealthy men of power, remained near the door, pushing their heads into the opening, and watching closely. A second group came to the door, and the officers and wealthy men moved aside for the new group. A young man
was walking before, crying out for people to make way for the Thief Lord. Ajalia watched this young man enter; behind him came a pair of young women, bearing a rolled carpet between them, and behind them walked an old man.
This old man, Ajalia was sure, was Delmar's grandfather, the old Thief Lord named Tree. The young man came in and put himself against the wall; the two young ladies, who were dressed in plain brown tunics, and wore their hair very long, carried the carpet to the front of the room, and unrolled it. Delmar stepped aside for the carpet, but Ajalia pushed him back into the place where he had stood.
"Give place for no one," Ajalia murmured to him. Delmar frowned at her, and moved aside again. Ajalia stood where she was. The young women glanced at her; one of them motioned for Ajalia to move aside, but Ajalia stood her ground, and fixed her gaze on the old man called Tree. The young women, after glancing despairingly at each other, unrolled the carpet a little to one side, at the head of the room, and then scurried away. The old man came, and stood on the carpet.
"The young lady is right, you know," Tree said jovially to Delmar, who was looking out of place and disturbed. "What is your name?" Tree asked Ajalia.
"They are calling me the sky angel today," Ajalia told him. "What is your name?" The old man was thin, but he stood up wiry and strong, and his shoulders were not bent. His hair was thick and grey, and he wore a fussy trimmed beard at the end of his chin.
The old man laughed at Ajalia's question; Ajalia saw that Tree was an old man, and a shrewd one. She saw that he, like his son-in-law Simon, wanted to appear friendly and kind. She pressed her teeth together in the picture of a smile, and Tree laughed again.
"This one is spry, and quick," Tree said to Delmar. Delmar's mouth worked, but he said nothing. Rane and Hal had come farther into the room, and were standing in the clear space by the door. Ocher was standing beside Tree, and he was looking at Ajalia. Ajalia looked at Ocher for a moment, and she saw that he was no longer thinking of killing her. She almost smiled at him, and Ocher winked at her in reply. Delmar came closer to his grandfather, and began to speak.
"My friend," Delmar said, "does not understand our ways. She doesn't mean to be rude."
"I think she means what she says very much," Tree told Delmar. "I am called Tree," the old man said to Ajalia with a smile. "I am the holder of the succession here in Slavithe."
"Why?" Ajalia asked. The crowd that remained in the room murmured again; they looked at each other, and at Delmar. Delmar's ears were red, but he kept his eyes focused on his grandfather.
"Ajalia," Delmar said, "he's still in charge."
"Then he is as corrupt as the rest," Ajalia said, looking straight at Tree. Tree laughed.
"I am corrupt," Tree said, his voice full of irony, and he looked at Delmar, and then at Ocher. Delmar smiled weakly, but Ocher's mouth was firm and smooth. Ocher looked at Ajalia. She met Ocher's eyes; he nodded at her briefly. Ajalia took the nod from Ocher to mean he gave his full blessing to whatever shenanigans she chose to start in the room; her shoulders relaxed, and she took a breath. She knew now that Ocher was on her side; she had not realized, until just now, how much she valued Ocher's alliance with her. She no longer feared what the old man Tree could do to Delmar. She was sure that Ocher, and whatever history he held in Delmar's family, could override the guilt and pressure that Tree would bring to bear on Delmar.
"Why does this old man hold the succession in Slavithe," Ajalia asked loudly, "when he allowed his daughter to break tradition, and to marry a slave?"
Another, louder murmur rose up in the crowd. Ajalia could hear her words being repeated out in the street, where the whole city seemed to have thronged against the walls of the house. She heard the crowd in a gentle uproar at her words. They were arguing now, among themselves, about what she had said.
"He is still a Thief Lord," Delmar muttered to Ajalia.
"The slave Simon," Ajalia shouted, so that all the world would hear, "willingly protected two witches. His wife betrayed you, and hid what she was. The woman Beryl preyed on women and children, on boys and simple old men. I saw her victims," Ajalia shouted, turning towards the windows, and the crowd in the street. "She had taken the lives and the spirits of your children, and your fathers." Ajalia turned to the old man Tree, who was watching her warily. "If you have a white brand," Ajalia told Tree, "then you also saw, and did nothing."
When Ajalia named the white brand, a kind of horrified hush came over the people in the room. They glanced at each other, and then at Ocher, as though Ajalia had done something horribly indecent, and they were all waiting for an authority figure to correct her. Ocher kept his eyes on Ajalia. No sign of emotion passed over his face. The people's faces turned slowly towards the old man, Tree, who was watching them eagerly. Tree smiled when he saw the people looking at him; the people did not smile back.
"What excuse do you have, for standing by?" Ajalia asked. Tree smiled more widely.
"You cannot question me, girl," Tree said easily. "I am old, and I am the master of this city."
Ajalia looked straight at the old man. Slowly, so that all the people in the room would see what she was doing before she had finished, Ajalia put her fingers to her chin, in the sign of the dead falcon. A scatter of giggles came through the crowd; another murmur came from outside. Ajalia heard those nearest the window telling those out of sight what was happening inside.
Tree's face smoothed quickly from a smile into a frown. He opened his mouth, as if to rebuke Ajalia, and then glanced at Ocher, and closed his mouth again. The old man looked enormously cranky. Delmar was watching this exchange with rapt attention; Ajalia could almost see the gears turning over in Delmar's head, as he processed the things she had said about Tree.
"You can't come into our city," Tree said finally, his voice sharp, and all vestiges of friendliness dropping away from his cheeks and eyes, "and tell us how to manage our affairs." Tree ignored the sign that Ajalia had made. She looked at Rane, and at Hal. Rane had lifted his own hand, and made the sign as well. Hal glanced at Rane; after a brief struggle in his face, the dark-eyed man did the same. Tree caught sight of the movement, and a burst of angry laughter broke from his lips. "Stop that!" Tree said loudly, as though he were rebuking a pair of children. "You serve the Thief Lord. If Simon is, indeed, dead," Tree said, in a voice that clearly indicated he was not entirely sure if the people would agree with him, "then the succession goes back to me."
"It does not," Delmar told his grandfather. Delmar's eyes had gotten sharp; many of the Slavithe people in the receiving room were now making the sign of the dead falcon as well. Ajalia saw that the many fingers, twisted into the sign, were acting on Delmar as a kind of self-affirming rush of emotion. She saw that the more other people trusted Delmar, the more he trusted himself. "That isn't how the succession works," Delmar said again, more loudly. The people out at the window were still passing on everything that happened to the others outside. Their commentary made a rustling stream that whispered and wove through all that occurred. "When the Thief Lord dies, as my father has," Delmar said in a strong voice, "the succession passes to the oldest son. Which," he added, "is me."
"You can't succeed," Tree said acerbically. "Your mother was a witch."
A murmur of anger ran through the people like fire at these words.
"So was your wife," Delmar replied. Tree's face turned red, and the gathered people laughed at the old man.
"What Delmar says is true," Ocher said. He looked at Ajalia, and nodded slightly to her again. Ajalia felt a rush of warmth; she felt inordinately fond of Delmar, and of Ocher's nods. "The old man is corrupt," Ocher said to the people, and a loud shout of agreement met his words.
"You cannot strip me," Tree said, and he looked, all of a sudden, like a snake. "You cannot strip me of my powers," Tree said, more loudly. Ajalia saw that the old man was not watching her; his eyes were fixed on Ocher. She crossed a little behind the old man. The people in the room were looking now at Tree with hard eyes, and unsympathetic mouth
s. Ajalia saw that the old Thief Lord had made the people angry with his words.
Ocher saw Ajalia, and saw that Ajalia was not seen by Tree. Ajalia raised her right hand, and a flash of blue light appeared in her fist. Ocher smiled grimly.
"Tree," Ocher said loudly. His voice echoed through the chamber, and was repeated by many voices out in the hall, and in the street outside. "You have transgressed against the ways of our forefathers."
Tree let out an impressive, "Ha!" of disdain; his voice was weak, and shrill beside the boom of Ocher's tones.
"For breaking with the ways of our forefathers," Ocher said, his eyes half on Ajalia, who stood ready behind the old man, with the blue light in her fist, "and in the name of the true Thief Lord, I strip you of your rank as the holder of the succession, and remove from you the protection of my name. You will be of my station no more."
Tree, partway through this speech, began to cackle with inane laughter. The old man twisted and turned, his eyes roving wildly through the crowd, looking for some scrap of support. Ocher nodded to Ajalia, and she pressed the light in her fist against the old man's temple. Ocher closed his eyes; Ajalia felt a sudden thud in the bottom of her heart; she felt as though she had been taken over by another presence. She knew suddenly that Ocher was inside her bones, and reaching through her somehow. She looked at Ocher, and she saw that the bearded man's eyelids were tense; he looked like a man who reaches through the dark for a tool. The magic in Ajalia's fist thonked into the old man; Ajalia could feel the blue lights reaching straight through Tree's skull, like a long hook, and piercing into a fat chunk of vibrating gold and blue light. The hook seemed to pull back, powered by Ocher's will, and Ajalia felt herself emptied out of the bearded man's presence. She breathed in involuntarily; she was cold somehow, and she felt much smaller. She looked at Tree, and saw that the old man was not so tall and straight as he been. Tree seemed to have been stripped of most of his vigor; he shrank back from Ajalia, twisting to look at her with fear in his eyes.
