Covenants (v2.1)

by Lorna Freeman

  “Pain always did,” Javes said. “But doesn’t he have to chew those mentha leaves the Faena cat gave you?”

  “He could survive without them, sir.” I shrugged. “But mentha leaves are easy to get—I’ve seen them growing wild. He should have no problem finding them.”

  “But he doesn’t know—” Javes began.

  “Groskin, sir. I’m sure that Slevoic knows all about it.”

  “All right,” Javes conceded. “But he still has to figure out what’s happening to him.”

  “He knows, sir,” I said, sighing. “I called him a sorcerer to his face.”

  Jusson sat still for a moment; then his eyes focused on my face. “A sorcerer, loose in my kingdom.” He saw my look and his mouth twisted. “I’ve sent out searchers into the City, and have men at the gates, but not only did Slevoic grow up here, he was stationed here too. I’m sure he knows who is open to a little judicious bribing.”

  Or to a little judicious terror, I thought.

  The king’s mouth quirked further. “The evil they have accused you of being, Rabbit, they themselves have become. I’m sure His Holiness the Patriarch could do a sermon or two about that.” He sighed and stood. “I suppose we should take the rabble outside back to the royal compound. But, before I leave”—the king’s smile became real—”I want to see where this infamous party took place. Teram was always over the top.” Esclaur and I did the honors, but the interior of Flavan House looked normal in the daylight, with no trace of skulls, toadstools or poisoned wine. I led the way to the courtyard, as Esclaur’s recollection at that point was very hazy, and I showed Jusson where the lordling had collapsed. As I reenacted the fight between me and the five assassins, Suiden squatted down on his heels as he studied the ground. “Here,” he said as he pointed out shoe and boot prints in the soft dirt and crushed grass.

  “Do not worry, Captain Prince,” Jusson said. “I believed Rabbit the first time he told me.” The king turned and walked back towards the house, his entourage trailing behind him. “And a body was found early this morning in the river—unfortunately not an uncommon event. It was weighted, but the river patrollers had orders to search the usual favored spots. It was also tongueless and had a stab wound that matched Rabbit’s knife.”

  Everyone in the house had been herded out into the street to stand in the middle of the square. The king remounted his horse and sat facing Teram, who had a rough bandage around his hand. Behind him were the witnesses, mercenaries, turncoat troopers and archers, and a crowd of servants. A guard (who looked an awful lot like the majordomo twins) read from a list of charges that had been penned at Teram’s own desk, his loud voice echoing in the square. Teram said nothing as the guard intoned about attempted abduction, poison, cudgels, broken swords and, of course, treason, but his head flew up when the guard got to the spiders.

  “Fifteen Pale Deaths?” His eyes were wide in horror. “I did not!”

  Rebellion, regicide and kinslaying he had no problem with, but apparently the weavers were a bit much.

  “Slevoic,” Javes said.

  “Yes, he’s mine,” Suiden said, flames leaping in his eyes.

  “No, ours, Captain Prince,” Jusson said as the charges were nailed to Flavan House’s front gate. “We are king and so we have first dibs.” He reached out his hand to receive a copy of the charges, and passed it to a lordling. “See that this is posted throughout the City and all of Iversterre.” He looked back at Teram, holding his gaze. “Also see that the tale is told of how our cousin, Lieutenant Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan, stood in the Witness Circle and it burned bright as the sun as he swore to uphold this king and this kingdom. As it was in the days of old, when the real Locival and his companions rode, bringing justice to the realm.” Jusson’s smile was not pleasant. “Now that the Circle has come alive again, we are so looking forward to seeing how you fare there, Teram ibn Flavan e Dru.”

  We posted guards at the house entrances, then loaded the wounded, the very young, and the infirm into some carts, and the dead into others, and moved out of the square. I looked out over the mass of people walking, noting that Teram’s wife Isalde was absent, and wondered if that was deliberate or just a lucky break.

  We soon reached the bridge over the moat, and the brambles were just as thick and thorny as when we had left. Basel pranced up to the bridge and immediately the tangle parted, leaving a wide gap for us to go through. “Show-off,” I said as I went past. He ignored me as he struck a pose, antlers held high, only to have the prisoners pitch a fit as they took in the ghost—apparently for the first time.

  “See?” screamed Teram. “See? I told you he was an evil sorcerer! Look! Necromancy!” A trooper reached over and slapped him on the head, and he stopped midshriek, his mouth hanging open at a common horse soldier daring to assault his exalted person. I watched as the realization sank in that there was nothing he could do about it. The trooper prodded Lord Teram with his foot and he stumbled forward, all protestations gone.

  It was a rowdy bunch that swept up the stairs into the palace. There were catcalls, rude jokes and noises as we laughed at finding ourselves alive at the end of a battle. Lord Commander Thadro immediately separated our prisoners, sending Teram down to the dungeons, instructing the mercenaries and turncoat troopers to be moved to the garrison stockade “to make room,” and directing the rest to gentler but just as secure quarters.

  “Put all the children in the palace nursery with their mothers,” King Jusson said, pulling his hauberk hood down and sighing in relief at the breeze. “But post guards.”

  It was a pared down, but just as noisy group that followed the king into the throne room—only to fall silent as we came face to face with (guessing from his big hat and vestments) Patriarch Pietr standing near the rune circle. Next to him were Archdoyen Obruesk and Doyen Allwyn. The doyen had his head shaved and was wearing white penitent sacking. But I barely noticed that because my attention was riveted on what the patriarch and doyen carried in their arms.

  “No.” My legs gave way and I sank to my knees.

  “No.” Laurel, standing behind them, yowled with me in pain and grief as my eyes closed out the sight.

  Chapter Forty-one

  “Open your eyes, Lieutenant, or I swear I’ll pin them open for you!”

  They flew open to meet Captain Suiden’s molten green ones glaring down at me. “This is not the time for moaning and swooning, do you hear me?” He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet.

  The patriarch walked forward a couple of paces, a little awkwardly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but we”—he inclined his head to include Allwyn—”came for the meeting with Ambassador Laurel, only to hear of the insurrection you had to put down.” He shifted the burden in his arms, bells tinkling. “Is all well?” King Jusson threw me a sideways glance, then looked over at Laurel who was lamenting softly. “It was until now.”

  “Then the audience is going forward?”

  The king cast us another look. “We think we’d better, Your Holiness.” The patriarch nodded and he and Doyen Allwyn laid their burdens on the rune circle, making sure they all were straight. Archdoyen Obruesk watched them from under his brows.

  I walked over and squatted down beside the circle. Laurel, still lamenting, followed.

  “When Doyen Allwyn arrived, I had him enter into three days of purification and sanctification,” the patriarch said. “When his time was accomplished, it occurred to us that perhaps we should search the See.” He sighed and removed his hat, showing that his head was also shaved. He began to undo his vestments, revealing white underneath. “We found these staves.” He laid his hat and vestments aside, standing there in penitent sacking. “I take it that they’re what we thought they were.” He looked at Laurel. “Doyen Allwyn was reluctant to name who’d given him his staff, Ambassador, because it came from me.” Though the most common was oak, a church staff could be made from any hardwood, the idea being that it wasn’t the wood that made the staves holy, but rather what they r
epresented: the guidance, comfort, and protection of God. The thought floated across the back of my mind that these were more likely to cause nightmares, as I reached out and almost touched a staff made of ash. “Honor Ash Faena.”

  “You knew—her?” Jusson asked.

  “She strode the area around my parents’ farm.” I held my head in my hands. “How could you’ve not known, Laurel Faena?”

  “I’ve been gone a long time, Lord Rabbit,” the Faena replied. “It took me months just to find you.”

  “We weren’t lost that long, cat,” I said.

  “Did you ever tell anyone where you were?”

  He was right. I had kept where I was to myself, hiding. I lifted my head and looked around at Basel’s body and the spritewood before us, weariness pressing down.

  “I’d come to see if I could stop a war, honored king,” Laurel said, standing up. “But I don’t think I can.” The Faena rumbled deep in his chest. “How it grieves me that I can’t.”

  “Never say never, Ambassador Faena,” Jusson said, his voice soft. “There has to be a way out that doesn’t involve more bloodshed.”

  I made myself stand also. “You foresaw the fulfilling of the Council’s charge of peace, Laurel Faena,” I said.

  Laurel looked at me. “That can just as easily come after war—”

  “Don’t split hairs,” I said. “Either you saw peace or you didn’t.”

  “They killed Honor Ash Faena,” Laurel replied.

  “Yes.” A hard knot formed in my chest. “They killed her.”

  “What do you think the other Faena will say?”

  Along with the elves, tree sprites and Dragoness Moraina. My face became drawn with the certainty of another war with the Border. I knew which side I’d be on, thrice sworn to the king. I wondered if I would end up fighting against my da and brothers.

  “We have grievously wounded you,” Jusson said to Laurel. “But you’re an ambassador. Show us what to do to make amends, how to make restitution.”

  Laurel let out a sigh and ran his paw over his head, staring at the staves. “Yes, honored king. Let me think on it.”

  I also stared down on the bodies neatly arranged in the rune circle and something nudged my brain. “You say Honor Ash was fine when you left, Laurel Faena?”

  “True, honored Rabbit,” Laurel replied. “She saw me off, wishing me good hunting.”

  “Yet here her body is, arriving in the city before you, already seasoned and fashioned with holy bells.” I looked at Captain Javes. “What did the restaurant server say about her ice boats?”

  Javes stared back at me. “That’s it.”

  “We suppose that eventually someone will tell us what is going on,” King Jusson said.

  Javes bowed. “Forgive us, Your Majesty, but Lord Rabbit has just come up with the answer to the problem you sent me to Freston to solve.”

  The king’s eyes abruptly turned gold again.

  “You knew, sire?” I asked. “You knew there was smuggling going on?”

  “My tutors were very insistent that I learn to count and do sums,” Jusson said. “I could see that the docks were busy and the harbor was full of ships, but when I checked the revenue books, they did not match.” He shrugged, his mouth hard. “You aren’t the only one to indulge in naivete, cousin. I accepted the explanations given me by my Lord Treasurer. Then I heard the rumors of slave running, and sent Javes to investigate.”

  “We got the staves from Lord Gherat, Your Majesty,” the patriarch interjected. His face was calm, his eyes angry. “He gifted them to the Church. Said that they came from a northern estate.”

  Chancellor Berle had come up to stand with Lord Esclaur, and she now prompted me. “The ice boats?”

  “False reports of pirates that sent everyone chasing their own tails in Dornel,” I said.

  “Yes, we received Commander Ystan’s report,” Jusson said.

  “And while they’re scouring the Banson for the raiders, they ignore the boat carrying ice to the favorite restaurant of the rich and noble in the Royal City.” I looked at Javes. “You had me thinking, sir, that it was my likeness to my Chause grandda that had everyone jumping.”

  “You do look an awful lot like him, cousin,” Jusson said.

  “As you say, Your Majesty,” I replied. “But I’m guessing that wasn’t the reason for their reaction when I showed up—as if they’d opened the door and found a thieftaker looking for them. And there they were today, all ready to give false witness. Why else would a royal shopkeeper and a restaurant server entangle themselves in my cousin’s treason?”

  “There’s bribery and blackmail,” Lord Esclaur said. “A little money and threats against one’s family go a long way.”

  “That sword cuts both ways, Esclaur,” I said, “because they’re also threatened with exposure if they’re involved in the smuggling, so they joined my cousin in an effort to discredit Laurel and me.” I looked back at the staves lying in the rune circle. “It must’ve alarmed them when they found out that we could tell spritewood from ordinary, dragon skin from lizard.” My mouth twisted. “That we could even tell who they’d killed.”

  Laurel softly yowled. “That they were friends.”

  “Friends,” Jusson echoed. He sighed and looked around the throne room. “Our palace has been turned into an abattoir.”

  That was nothing new, I thought. The whole kingdom was one.

  “That will cease, Lieutenant Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan,” Jusson said, turning glittering eyes on me.

  I said nothing at the confirmation that the king could hear me. Most of the Court looked from Jusson to me, puzzled. A few, though, frowned.

  “Your Majesty—” began Suiden.

  “No, Captain Prince. Again, while your zeal for your charges is commendable, we are talking to our cousin.” Jusson kept his gold-shot gaze on me. “We have had enough people pulling at the stability of our kingdom. We do not need you to add to it, Lord Rabbit.”

  The puzzled looks intensified.

  I supposed the smart thing would’ve been to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness. I supposed. “One of my earliest memories, sire, is Honor Ash Faena guiding my steps as she led me around the farm, teaching me how to track.” The knot in my chest tightened and I tried to catch my breath. “Look what they did to her.” I took another deep breath. “Look what they did to all of them.”

  In the quiet that followed, boot steps sounded out in the hall, and we all turned as the lordling whom Jusson had sent to the House of Dru came through the throne room doors, hurried to the king, and bowed. “Your Majesty, Lord Gherat had already fled, but I’ve brought you who—and what—we found.” Troopers and guards entered, some carrying boxes and crates. And right in the middle of them was our own very officious clerk, Losan eso Dru.

  “Oh, I say,” murmured Javes.

  Chapter Forty-two

  At Jusson’s request that all bodies be removed, Laurel bowed and, with Patriarch Pietr and Doyen Allwyn, took charge of the disposition of the staves, moving them back to the patriarch’s See. As they were leaving, the patriarch told the Faena that he was recalling all Staves of Office, “for it grieves me, Laurel Faena, that we could be profaning not only our churches, but dishonoring the poor, uh, people who were murdered.” Walking behind them, Archdoyen Obruesk scowled at Laurel from under his brows.

  “At present, I am more concerned with the church elders using the staves, honored patriarch,” Laurel said, “as they are not healthy to be around.” His toe claws clicked against the marble floor as he left with the church clergy. “Please make sure that once I ward the room, no one enters it.” His voice faded down the hall. “And I would give serious thought to going through purification again.”

  Captain Suiden had the troopers move Basel’s body out to the churchyard, where they were going to build a pyre to burn it at sunset, as Laurel also told Suiden that neither would it be healthy for the stag’s body parts to float around loose in the city. Or anywhere else.
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  “To have his head mounted on someone’s wall, or an apothecary to use his antlers in a potion for someone to drink would not be good, as it would become a focal point for all sorts of wickedness. We should destroy it completely, honored captain, with appropriate rites and ceremonies. That way we can counter any, hmm, adverse reactions arising from the trooper’s murder.”

  “Curses, you mean?” Suiden asked. He looked around. “Groskin, you are in charge of Trooper Basel’s funeral arrangements. Vigil with full honors, everyone required to attend except those on duty rota.”

  “Yes, sir.” Groskin’s voice was subdued.

  “Ask the garrison troopers and Royal Guard if they would also attend.” The captain’s eyes shifted to behind me. “Take Trooper Jeffen with you to help.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant and Jeff left the room, Basel following after them.

  “How convenient to be able to oversee one’s own funeral,” Jusson remarked, watching.

  Even with the bodies gone, Jusson apparently decided he had enough of his throne room, and he led us down the hall to double doors guarded by the King’s Own. They flung them open, revealing a large chamber with decoration as rococo as the one in which Laurel and Chancellor Berle had first met half a lifetime ago (no nymphs or mermaids, though). As the crowd poured in, the king walked to a raised chair also guarded by the Royal Guard, and sat. Lord Esclaur and the other lordlings went to stand on one side of the king, while Suiden, Javes, and I remained in the back. The king, looking around, saw us lingering, and pointed to the other side of his chair, where Chancellor Berle and other advisors had taken up space. Chancellor Berle gave me a tight-lipped smile, her face lit with satisfaction.

  King Jusson looked over the people. “Is everyone here that ought to be?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Captain Thadro said.

  “Good. Bring her here.”

  Royal guards escorted Losan eso Dru and her lordling captor before the king.

  “This is not a trial, Losan eso Dru,” the king said. “When we are done here, you will be turned over to the Lord Magistrate to face charges of treason.”