by Holden, Ryan
“Yes,” he said, surprised at the detail of her memory.
“Very well. Marshall, stay your judgment. This matter requires our further attention.” Then to the crowd: “Those who have the right to hear will be fully satisfied.”
The crowd stood to their feet and low words exchanged here and there increased in fervency and volume.
“This is most irregular,” the Judge Honorable said.
“I feared it would be so. Who who has known the lavish kindness of the Queen could fail to see that she mourns her departed friend and cousin? It is an honor to her character that she hold memory in such esteem, whatever later rash actions may have tarnished her character.” Paris spoke out with force, crystallizing the crowd's indignation.
“The Queen before the woman!” a man called out. The crowd repeated the phrase.
Orion stood in shock. Cousin? His mother was the Queen's cousin? He looked at her, mouth agape. She smiled then shaded her face with her hand.
“Order!” The Marshall called. The crowd did not respond. They seethed.
“What order? The Marshall has shown us the self-refuting flaw of Orion's tale. What more proof is needed?” the Judge Honorable said.
The Queen rose to her feet. The crowd's murmurings lessened. “The matter requires it. When Astra was exiled, she was judged in private, by the King and Queen. There has never been a challenge to the legitimacy of that judgment.”
The crowd's noise sank further. “There are matters from that night that to this day only those few know. If you were there, as was I, you may claim the right to join me hence.
“But,” she continued, “do not be concerned that justice will fail. With me, the Marshall, the Judge, the Master, and select others shall review this matter in full. Also Paris, the accuser, Orion, the accused, and lastly Adara, for this has great bearing on her, too.”
“Court is adjourned. Upon the conclusion of the matter there shall be public proclamation.” The Marshall spoke with authority but could not hide the surprise in his eyes.
The Queen departed the way she came.
The crowd buzzed as they walked out, many brushing by Orion and Adara for a closer look. Several remained speaking in small clusters. All this was vaguely sensed by the siblings who remained standing together without words, their thoughts upon the Queen, each other, and their immediate future.
The Marshall walked down the steps, sword replaced on its stand. “I here take charge of the prisoner and avowed sister.” A soldier standing at the end of the row, without spear but doubly ribboned, saluted him.
The Marshall took a hard look at Orion. “Your story has the ring of truth, pardon the expression. May I escort your sister with your word that you shall not seek escape?”
“You have my word,” Orion said.
The Marshall bowed to Adara and offered his arm. She curtseyed then took it. He guided her hand to the crook of his elbow and smiled. “I do not think there is a man in the kingdom who would seek to leave my presence while you are on my arm, much less one so devoted a brother.”
She blushed and looked down.
“Come along Evandor, you've been in the thick of things and will find the truth as fast as any.” He led them out the way the Queen had taken.
Twenty-five
Orion glanced at Evandor as they fell into step behind the Marshall and Adara. He was glad Evandor did not speak. He had no mind for idle talk.
The Marshall seemed in no hurry. They passed through room after room, sometimes ascending stairways, sometimes descending. Orion saw him point at different things as they passed and speak to Adara. He didn't catch most of what was said. The rooms and passageways were interesting enough to cause moments of forgetfulness intrude.
They walked through a large hall. “Behold! Apollo and Artemis, like you brother and sister.” And slaves also, Orion thought. On one wall he saw a statue twice a man's size and raised on a pedestal. Next to him was that of a lady's of similar proportion. They each seemed cut from a single stone, larger and whiter than Orion had thought existed.
They both wore flowing robes, had crowns on their brows, and were so poised that their hands reached out for each other. But there was no desperation on their faces, only pure joy.
“Is this the Artemis who the Ring is named after?” Adara asked.
“Yes. It was hers first, you see. And so it has passed, mother to daughter, eight generations, as the crown has as well.”
This was news. Why did his mother have the Ring, then? He wished he could stop everyone and put an end to mere hints, that they would be explained to him. Maybe he could. What did it matter anyway?
They entered a room with sentinels at the door and found the others there ahead of them. The door closed behind them.
“Orion, accused; Adara, avowed sister, both alleged children of the late Astra; and Evandor, of the first families of Avallonë and intimate with these matters,” the Marshall said.
Did everyone here know more of his mother than he did? Orion thought. He looked around the room. He saw the Judge and another man he didn't know sitting next to each other on chairs set in a circle. In a seat apart the Queen sat also. Behind them a long low table was covered in cuts of meat, grapes, apples, bread, and many other things.
“Ah, Xanthos, I did not see you at the trial. Do you have the Ring?” the Marshall addressed the other man. The Marshall set Adara down and sat next to her.
“Yes.” Xanthos produced the Ring from his pocket and placed it on a small table in the ring of chairs. “I find it better to stay away from crowds with such trinkets.”
Adara stared. “May I?”
“Look but do not touch. Do you need to be told what happened in Court?”
“The Judge has filled me in.”
“Very good,” the Marshall said. “Orion, is this the Ring you speak of? That your mother wore, that you found, and that was found on you?”
Orion took a step closer and looked again though he knew the answer. “Yes, sir.”
“Queen Sophia, is this the Ring of Artemis?”
“Yes, Marshall.”
“Very well, it seems we have not blundered. Is the accuser within call?”
“I think the identification of the Ring of Artemis requires some more precision. Not that I doubt your Majesty's memory or honor,” Evandor bowed, “or wish to discredit the unimpeachable uniqueness of the Ring.”
Eyes shifted from person to person. Orion thought some wondered why Evandor had been included.
“Where is Paris?” the Marshall asked.
“He is two rooms over, lunch at his disposal,” the Judge said.
“Excellent. I see they have not forgotten us either,” the Marshall spoke a little too pleasantly. “The door is secured, we are all present: let us eat as well to freshen minds for the afternoon's work. Your Majesty, may I bring you a dish?”
Orion ate a little bit. He was hungry but the food was too rich. So were the manners and politeness of those around him. He felt he must be irritating them horribly with his manners. How could he eat with those who would decide his fate?
How he wished he could spend this hour with Adara, alone, talking over all the new things he'd learned this very day. Imagine! The Queen his mother's cousin, her Ring an heirloom like the Crown itself, and several people who, if only they would, could tell him who Astra was.
“Now, the matter that brought us here.” The Marshall sat back and dabbed the linen napkin to his lips. “Her Majesty requested this private conference. If you wish, my Queen, please speak.”
“Yes, of course. I asked for privacy to allay some of the distractions that might otherwise arise in a crowded Court. We may be free with each other here, for all here are well known, save two. As for them, they shall soon merit full acceptance or be forever restrained from doing harm.
“I shall speak. The issue before us is whether or not Orion is Astra's son. If he is, he has as good a right to bearing the Ring as could be desired, unless of course Adara claims pr
ecedence as daughter,” a small smile curled on her lip. “If he is not, then he is guilty of unlawful possession. Circumstances are just that, circumstances.”
Orion's heart sank. Some earlier expressions on her face had given him hope. Had she not sung the song? Would there be no judging of circumstance? Why wasn't Paris being questioned?
“The Queen's insights are invaluable,” the Judge Honorable replied. “We must not begin over again, then, on an assumption of theft and judge on possession but must consider ownership. But this is a more complex matter.
“Some debate was stirred when Queen Hespera gave Greta the crown but Emelia the Ring, sundering their ownership. It was no break of law, only tradition. Upon her untimely passing it was understood that Greer was owner, the only male to be so honored since its crafting. At this there was no question of laws broken. All expected it to pass to Astra in due course.
“But now the situation may be different. Astra was exiled prior to Orion's birth. Does it follow that Astra still had legitimate claim to the Ring? Or, even more so, the right to leave it an inheritance given her oath now broken?
“I appreciate the history lesson, Judge,” Evandor said, “but must again state that we have not established that this is indeed the Ring of Artemis. Until that is done, there can be no possession.”
“What more proof can be made? You pose a good question, Judge, but also remember that the Ring was not demanded of Astra or Greer that night,” the Marshall said.
“Nor are we judging Astra today. In Avallonë, at least, we do not hold a child accountable for his parent's crimes,” the Queen said.
“But we do judge them for their births,” the Judge said.
“Proof? We have not tried expert opinion. What is the word of the boy? It merely signifies his assent. Even you Judge, and myself, who recognize it but have not seen it before these past few days. And the Queen was not of age when last she saw it,” Evandor's voice rose and became shrill.
“You are right, I was not of age,” the Queen conceded.
“As one through whose House has trafficked in all the rings and jewels traded across the land, many coming between mine own thumb and forefinger, I would lay my fortune behind the Ring's authenticity,” Xanthos spoke up.
“And that is the strongest vow a Lachesi can make. Are you satisfied, Evandor?” the Marshall asked.
“Not quite, when we have the word of another that has not been asked.”
“Who?” the Judge asked.
“One of unquestioned character and unsurpassed brilliance, though his reputation has fallen somewhat. I speak of Hermes, Astra's tutor in years past.”
Xanthos started. “He's dead.”
“Most likely. However, forgotten is closer to the truth. And if that seem unlikely, today seems like the day for the unlikely.”
“What are you saying, then?” the Marshall asked.
“His brilliance was only matched by his curiosity. Do you not think he would have studied the Ring and described it in unflinching detail?”
“I recall Astra mentioning something to that effect,” the Queen said.
“But did he write it down?” the Judge asked.
“He wrote everything down when it was a subject to be studied. It saved him from having to repeat himself.”
“But will not save us from checking through his papers. We must consider the question at hand more closely. If it is decided that treason has been committed, well, there will be enough time to search the tutor's records,” the Marshall said firmly.
“Speaking of time, I cannot see why we waste much time at all,” Xanthos said. “After her vow any child of Astra would be illegitimate, exiled, and accursed. We argue over nuance. Treason against the Royals or broken vow against the Unicorn—they are the same, as regards our decision. Should we exonerate the boy, would that not be violation of the treaty from twenty years past? The crowd has judged treason and will hold us blameless despite their youth. Kyriopolis watches, seeking weakness. What question remains? I am decided. Are there any others, as the Queen says, willing to speak so freely?”
There was silence. Orion felt coldness grip him. The means of his escape—his birthright—was now the very thing that would destroy him. He felt Adara's fingers brush over his hand and interlace with his. Spots appeared before his eyes but in his mind all that there was was his mother, groaning, bewailing the Curse that she had brought upon herself.
“Do you mean to include the girl in his fate?” the Judge said.
“A moment,” the Queen said, a look of horror on her face. She came before the siblings and knelt. She took their hands and kissed them. “I'm sorry. You must know I believe you. I wish I could truly be your Aunt,” her voice broke and she cried into Adara's lap.
Orion felt as he were watching himself from elsewhere. He looked at his hand that bore the Queen's flawless palm.
“Come now, you will be in more comfort elsewhere.” She bade them to another room. “Forgive me.” With her look she drove a knife through Orion's heart. There was no hope left.
The Marshall posted guards at the door. “We will call when it is time.” He nodded at them, looked at Adara and left. Adara crumpled.
Adara slowly became aware that she was laying in her brother's lap. He stroked her hair, pulling it back from her face, then touched her cheek. She sniffled.
He sighed, dropping his hand on her back. “I'm sorry, Adara. I almost wish I had not met you, that you might have escaped it.”
She sat up. She looked at him. He looked tired. Lines crossed his face that had not been there before. His eyes were dim. She hugged him. “I'm not sorry,” she whispered fiercely into his ear. He held her and their tears mixed as they gently rocked back and forth.
“You know what I wish? Besides the impossible, of course. I wish I had kidnapped you that day on Kerry. We would have fought, you angry at me for taking you, I angry because of the chain that tied us together. I imagine us seeing Kerry give birth, naming the kid, and living the life of a wanderer. You shake your head?”
“I would not have been angry.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps a little. You treated me differently than anyone else. I felt, well, safe with you.”
He stroked her hair. “Do you know why I acted the way I did?”
“What way—letting me play with Kerry or getting jealous about her liking me back?” She smiled.
“Helping you ride her. It was the first time I saw you. Simon had just caught me and Kerry had run away. She could have lived just fine on her own: she's brave and smart and would have birthed her kid without my help.”
“You wanted to make Simon like you, or get Kerry a better future than as a draught animal?”
“That too. But I couldn't have done it but for something in you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Something she saw before I did. How did you stop her? On the first day.”
“I don't know. I was tending to my things when I heard the stir and looked up to see a great hairy”—Orion grimaced and Adara changed her tone—“fleeced animal rushing in. I just stood and looked at it. Her. She slowed down and walked, almost pranced, toward me. That was all.”
“My—our father always said there was something mysterious about the kardja, especially one like Myra or Kerry who had bonded to her owner. Perhaps she knew you, somehow.”
“Perhaps. Tell me, what is this curse everyone mentions?”
“A prince propositioned mother and she refused.”
“Our mother refused a prince? Did she fear once she kissed him he'd turn into a frog?”
Orion laughed. “I do not know. I don't know if anyone knows. She swore with unbreakable oaths that she would marry none other. So, you and I are proof that she broke that oath, and therefore under the oath's curse.”
Her smile faded. “It does not seem fair.”
“You're right. But I have lived and fulfilled Mother's dying wish. I just wish you didn't have to join me in my death.”
Adara felt the touch of death struggle within her, seeking to freeze out all joy and happiness with fear, bitterness, and regret. “If life means denying the mother I dream of and the brother who loves me, then that is death. And who can understand all mysteries? Perhaps there is a place, as I hear spoken of, where there is life in death, that you and I can become brother and sister the way we should.”
“You know you remind me of Mother? Perhaps you had to get sick or she had to die, for the world could not hold two of your mold together.”
Adara felt the warmth in her grow at these words and push back the encroaching darkness. “Tell me about her,” she said, and they quite forgot who was in the next room, forgot about the City. She was companion and he was guide and together they explored the life that was Astra and Devlin.
“A decision has been reached,” the Marshall spoke. They were back in the room with circled chairs. Paris was there, too. “I now pass judgment.”
Orion stood, Adara's arm in his. He had gotten his wish—a last hour with his sister. This was it. The Queen's face, the first he looked to upon entering, was no different than he expected.
“Orion and Adara have named themselves children of Astra. Orion admitted to possession of the Ring of Artemis. As such—”
“I said it before, I'll say it again: we must prove that this is the real Ring,” Evandor said.
“Will you never stop?” the Judge burst out.
“The Marshall gave his word.”
“Very well. But this will be finished soon. No one is to leave the group, or even eat, until this is resolved. These papers, they would be at your residence?” the Marshall said.
“Yes.”
