The Darkling Hills

by Lori Martin

  “We will begin. Guards? Bring in the accused.”

  The two guards by the side door looked at each other, then at the Chair, now occupied. The silver stripes running down their sleeves noted them as of the King’s Guard, which did not take orders from anyone but the monarch.

  Seani glanced over her shoulder. “Sire?”

  Raynii roused himself. “Bring in the accused,” he said heavily.

  Dalleena’s inhalation caught in her chest. Her servants said they had taken him two days ago. In chains, they claimed. He had had no warning; she could not reach him, after the council. Figures moved in the entranceway. She was momentarily blinded by a beam of sunlight hitting the door. Then he was there, jostled between the guards. So then the chains were not just a product of rumor. Golden stubble had appeared on his chin.

  The spectators leaned forward, turning hard faces on him. Dalleena saw his look of confusion as he searched among their eyes. As they brought him before Seani he looked past the king and found her.

  You are not hurt?

  No, they would not. Not yet.

  Seani looked down at him from behind the podium.

  “Really,” she said with distaste to the guards. “Is that necessary?” They looked bewildered. She indicated the chains holding his hands together.

  “We thought it was proper, Councilor.”

  “This is the Great Hall.” Seani snorted, and turned her attention to Rendell. “State your name.”

  “I am Rendell son of Boessus and of Meyna, of the Third Hill.”

  “You are an Armasii?”

  “Yes. I joined eight years ago, when I turned eighteen.”

  “Your mother is dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your father is in Mendale.”

  “Yes.”

  Seani hesitated. “I wish your noble father were here, Rendell Armasii. These proceedings should not take place without him.” For an instant she considered asking for a delay. But what use? There was fear in the Hall. Before her Sillus made a slight movement. Oh yes, Councilor, I know you’re here. You would have made an excellent leech.

  “It cannot be helped,” the hollow voice behind her said.

  “Yes, Sire. Councilor Sillus, if you will stand?”

  And do I? Dalleena thought. What do you do with the other “accused,” Councilors, when she is royal? They don’t know how to conduct it.

  “Councilor, this is the man named in your accusation?”

  “It is,” Sillus said. His voice was gracious, as if welcoming a guest. For the first time Rendell looked in his direction. Dalleena watched as he threw back his shoulders, holding himself with dignity. No, Rendell don’t turn – don’t turn –

  Rendell’s eyes flickered past his accuser. His jaw went slack. The dark head beside Sillus came up slowly and met his look. As if it had been her own body Dalleena felt the tearing shock, a dagger driven deep between the soft bottom ribs. Rendell took a half-step back and crashed into one of the guards, who pushed him off roughly.

  “Will you state the charge, please, for the accused?”

  “Certainly,” Sillus cleared his throat. “As the council knows, the relas is with child. Based on conclusive evidence I accuse this man before us of being the father of this child. The relas is a Nialian. This man is a self-proclaimed Armasii. They have broken an ancient law given directly to us from the mouth of the Mother. This is my charge. This is the truth.”

  In one of the top rows of the tiers a noble from the Fourth whispered, “A good thing he’s discovered it. He’s a sharp man.” “I dare say,” his companion, the high priest of Proseras, whispered back. “But he’s having pleasure in bringing the news.”

  “The accused will be seated.”

  Rendell was led to the bottom row on the opposite end from his accuser.

  “We will begin the testimony, with the king’s permission. Sire?”

  “Begin the testimony.”

  A straight-backed chair was carried into the Hall and placed on the outer edge of the floor, facing Dalleena. The king in Chair was to the left of it, the tier of spectators and Sillus to the right. There was a general shifting of position and more whispering. Dalleena sought Rendell’s eyes again.

  They won’t make me speak; they won’t put me in chains. I’m the relas. Do you forgive me?

  You are true-chosen.

  Seani ruffled her hair up with her fingers and surrendered the podium to Sillus, glad to sit for a moment. The heat in the room was becoming intense. It was sharp and full of static, the air seeming to crackle as it carried Sillus’s voice.

  “Councilors and witnesses, I bring to your attention this witness, whose efforts have made it possible for us to know the truth. Temhas?”

  The dark figure rose awkwardly and went to the straight-backed chair, moving with the deliberate caution of the lame. He did not look at the man in chains as he passed.

  “State your name, please.”

  “Temhas.” The tone was low; the councilors strained forward. Another ghostly voice, more passionless than the king’s.

  “State your name,” Sillus repeated with impatience.

  “Temhas. Temhas son of Boessus and of Meyna, of the Third Hill.”

  There were exclamations from the tiers. He was still new at court, and many had not known of the relationship. As if to parody Seani, Sillus said, “Your mother is dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your father is in Mendale?”

  “Yes.”

  “I ask you to look at the accused. Do you know him?”

  “Yes.” But he did not turn his head.

  “He is, in fact, your full brother?”

  Silence.

  Dalleena waited. Temhas lifted his head, chin tilting up. Another shock went through her. She had expected it, was even waiting for it, that bitter look of hatred. But it was Sillus he turned it on.

  “Yes,” he snapped.

  From the folds of his summer cloak Sillus produced the bundle he had used to such an advantage at the council.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  “They’re scrolls.”

  Curse the boy, thought Sillus, couldn’t he cooperate more? “Do you recognize the writing?” He held them out. Temhas did not bother to look.

  “Yes.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “Mine.”

  “Your own hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Councilors,” Sillus addressed the tables, “and honored audience. This is a day-by-day accounting of meetings between the relas and the accused, witnessed by this man, beginning in midwinter up to the present. Temhas, do you testify to this?”

  “Yes.”

  Sillus held out the bundle. A page ran to take it, glancing worriedly at the Chair. Raynii did not move. The boy bought the papers to Seani, who scanned them carefully.

  “Temhas, you will give us, please, a verbal account of these meetings.”

  It was said in the villages that a lover could die of a broken heart, that a mother might die of grief when she lost her child. Temhas wondered if it were possible to die of shame. If it is, may it happen now, before ever I have to leave this Hall, he thought. He felt his lips part, felt his tongue move in his mouth, felt very far away a vibration in his lungs becoming sound. He supposed he must be speaking. I didn’t mean for this – you lied to me, Councilor. No harm to him – you lied. If I die, die with me.

  Trickles of sweat slid down Dalleena’s arm. In the suffocating Hall she listened, sweltering, to descriptions of winter-cold meetings. As his voice went on they slipped by, a quiet pageantry of snowfall and stealth and low whispers, turning to shades of pale green as spring came on.

  “– and then they began to meet at night.”

  “Will you please tell the councilors the first night this happened. What were the circumstances?”

  “I was returning home after moonrise. I came over the wall at the back of our estate and through the gardens –”

  “When wa
s this?”

  “At the very beginning of the spring, the first warm night.”

  “Approximately four moons ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Continue.”

  “I saw – I saw the accused –” Never Rendell, never my brother. “I saw the accused mount a horse and ride away.” He stopped.

  Sillus shifted from one leg to the other. There was always something missing at this point. “And?”

  “He rode to the palace –”

  “How do you know?”

  For a moment Temhas did not know who had asked the question. He had been silent so long. “Sire?”

  “How do you know where he was going? Did you follow him?”

  “Not that night, no, Sire.”

  “Did you speak with him?”

  “No, Sire.”

  “Why didn’t you follow him, as usual?”

  “I had no horse, Sire. Our horses were mostly gone to Mendale, and the ones that were left were in the stables, on the other side of our property.”

  “Then where did your brother get his?”

  Temhas looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Sire.”

  Dalleena sought Rendell’s eyes.

  Then there was something he missed.

  He couldn’t have, not if he saw the rest.

  Sillus had cut in politely. “– and I think, Sire, that Temhas is going by information he received after the evening of which we’re speaking. If you will permit me to continue questioning him? Thank you, Sire. Temhas, you did follow him on other evenings?”

  “Not exactly. I waited at the palace. I – I – assumed that was where he was going. I waited on palace grounds.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “Not at first. But one night I waited in the palace orchards. I saw the relas come, in her cloak.”

  “How did you recognize her?”

  “She took off her cloak and spread it on the ground. I could see her fairly clearly. She seemed to be waiting for someone. Then I heard a horse and rider approach.”

  “A man?”

  “Yes. He came into the orchards and dismounted.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was he?”

  “The accused.”

  Seani raised her head. “It was dark?”

  “Yes, Councilor. Full night.”

  “How did you recognize him, then?”

  “There was a moon, I could see him. And also I – I –”

  “Yes?”

  “I know the way he moves,” Temhas said miserably. Seani felt she could not dispute this, with the man’s own brother. She went back to the scrolls.

  “What happened?” Sillus asked.

  The fingers of his hands gripped each other. Again his voice sank. “He went up to the relas. They – they put their arms around each other –”

  Sanlin take you, Dalleena thought savagely. Glory to you, you traitor, don’t you like the way it tastes? Welcome to court.

  “Yes?”

  “They kissed each other.”

  The Hall was quiet. Somewhere a commoner coughed.

  “Yes?”

  “They got down on her cloak –”

  “On the ground?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were still embracing?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  One of his dark eyebrows went up, in a sudden flash of his usual sardonic way. “And then I left, Councilor. I’m not quite that much of a spy.”

  The tiers exploded in laughter. Sillus forced a smile too, nodding, his eyes locked on Temhas. Councilor Seani raised her voice, calling for silence, and received it. Sillus began again, tearing information out of him piece by stubborn piece. More details. More meetings. More evidence.

  “Councilors.” He turned again to the tiers, reasonable, willing to be benevolent, a man proven right and gracious in it. “This is the documentation on which I base my accusation. Can anyone truly dispute it?”

  Whether they could or not, many of them were willing to try. Sillus stepped down, and a chorus of questions went up. Temhas clutched the arms of his chair, trying not to be flustered. What was he doing out after moonrise? Drinking wine with a friend. Drunk, then? No, Councilor. The accused rode? But you don’t know where the horse came from? It wasn’t a family mount? No, Councilor. Didn’t they ever see you? Hear you? How did you get on palace grounds? When did you first suspect the accused of breaking the law? Winter? Did you consult with your father? He was gone? Was there anyone else with the relas? When were you presented at court? Why were you presented by Councilor Sillus? Couldn’t you have waited for your father? No, Councilor. Why were you spying on your own brother?

  “That’s enough,” Rendell said. He tried to stand; the guards on both sides gripped his elbows. “I said that’s enough!” He pulled away and stood, looking at them. The entire Hall stared back.

  Seani shook her head at him. “You’ll have your chance in a moment, Armasii, to answer the charges. First we will finish questioning –”

  “Councilor, don’t you think I can tell you more about what I’ve done than he can?”

  “Go carefully, Armasii. You do not have to speak now.”

  “I know, Councilor. But I will.”

  Well, if he would, he would. Seani went to the podium and motioned him toward her. The guards brought him over.

  It has to be. Doesn’t it?

  Yes.

  “Rendell Armasii, son of Boessus and Meyna of the Third Hill, you stand charged before the gods and before this truth-seeking of being the father of the relas’s child. I ask you now, before us all: Are you the father?”

  Very clearly, he answered. “Yes, I am.”

  Above the outbreak the noble from the Fourth had to shout his shock at such brazenness. “Thoroughly corrupt! Thoroughly corrupt!” “It seems so,” the gray-cloaked priest answered, his old eyes blinking. “But he’s very much in love with her.” On the floor of the Hall Seani was in a temper, pounding the podium; several of the councilors were standing and stamping. The priest shook his head. “The gods should protect the young,” he told the surprised nobleman. “They are so weak.”

  A burly councilor named Kellstae was on his feet, his deep voice booming. The king, still in Chair, glared at him. He disliked him intensely because he was Sillus’s man. “Let me speak! Hear me!” Kellstae rumbled and was eventually able to gain the Hall’s attention. Seani nodded to him. “We have before us an unheard-of abomination, an arrogant disdain of the word of Nialia, boasted of to our faces. The temple overlooks us – the gods overlook us. We must face it; we must purge ourselves of it!”

  Some of the people in the crowd began to cheer. Dalleena’s eyes went quickly over the tiers from face to face to face. There was ambition, there greed, there surprise, there confusion and dismay. Politics, always. But beyond all that they were gripped by fear. She knew her people, knew that even the most jaded and cynical of the nobility would turn to the divine at an hour of disaster; she saw the firm and solid dignity of the priests and priestesses, angry at sin. It was the reason her father, master of the council, monarch, diplomat, politician from birth, was sitting and saying nothing. This went beyond factions and sides. There was no help or cure in persuasion or command: the mortal soul in fright cannot hear such things. It would turn them. Already they were panicked, listening to emotion instead of reason.

  “We must purge it from Lindahne!”

  Dalleena saw Councilor Bainne rise to his feet. He gave a quick glance her way before Seani motioned to him. Once, long ago, when her parents had urged her to marry, he had been the first to court her. “Honored Kellstae,” he said in the same gentle lover’s voice she remembered. “Surely you are not aware of the full impact of what you are saying?”

  “I believe I am.”

  “But Councilor!” Bainne sounded a little disappointed, a teacher whose promising student has failed. More people were retaking their seats. “Let me remind
you that you are not speaking of some wayward kitchen girl who has broken the best pot. This man, this accused, stands branded out of his own mouth – yes. But it’s the relas, the royal heir, who is carrying this unlawful child. She will someday rule our land. Just how do you suggest we ‘purge’ her?”

  Kellstae looked at Sillus, but this Sillus would not do himself. With false confidence Kellstae said, “The ancient law has an ancient punishment for transgressors.”

  “Yes.” Bainne’s voice was even. They were not historians; most were not law makers; the Hall hung without breathing. “The punishment is death.”

  Instead of screams it produced, for one moment, a total quiet. A lone voice among the commoners invoked the gods.

  “Is this,” Bainne demanded, “what you would have us do with our future queen?”

  Kellstae turned appealing eyes on Sillus. The king’s brother made a dramatic movement, pounding one fist into the other, without waiting for permission to speak. “The law stands between us and disaster!” he shouted. “Haven’t you read the words of the gods, Councilor? Haven’t you been told of Lissor, the bastard of sin, who wandered mad across the land, ‘killing all before him’? Can we let such a child be born to us again?”

  There were shouts of “No!” from his supporters, overlaid with the sounds of terror as the Hall broke out again. In the midst of it the forgotten queen was suddenly standing at the center, livid with rage. “Silence!” she roared. “I will have silence! Sit down, all of you! Sit down at once!” They floundered for their seats, the habit of obedience managing to win over emotion, at least temporarily. Dalleena fought down a wild desire to laugh as many of them clutched at their throats or chests, until she realized that her own breathing was whistling in and out of her throat. The sun had passed its height. Long afternoon shadows were beginning. Heat burned along her skin.