Tristan was enraged. Thinking that he might have misjudged Rafe, he glared harshly at the highlander chieftain.
“This is barbaric!” he hissed. “How can you allow such a thing?”
Like the other highlanders, Rafe seemed unperturbed by the woman’s plight. “Do not be so judgmental before knowing the facts,” he answered. “Her situation is not yours to decide.”
“Who is she?” Tristan demanded.
“She is a Zorian soothsayer,” Rafe answered. “She was captured during one of our raids, when my father led the clan. Because he recognized her talents, he let her live among us. At first we believed that she had accepted us. But then my mother and father suddenly died one night, poisoned. When she was questioned, the old crone gleefully admitted her crime. She laughed about it, dancing in happy celebration before our eyes. It was all I could do to keep the angry crowd from tearing her apart.” Rafe’s expression hardened as he looked into Tristan’s face.
“I became the clan leader the next day,” he added softly. “Perhaps more than anyone, I also wanted her dead. But like my father, I recognized her usefulness. Even so, I couldn’t allow her to go unpunished. Forever carrying the tools of her trade across her back like a beast of burden was my idea. It somehow seemed right. As you might have already gathered, she cannot reach her possessions unless she is freed.”
As he was reminded of his own parents’ murders, Tristan’s attitude toward Rafe softened a bit. He found himself unable to condemn the chieftain, for he had done far worse in seeking justice for the vicious way the Coven had murdered his mother, and forced him to kill his father.
A sudden worry struck Tristan. “If Arwydd hates you all so much, how can you rely on her to tell the truth?” he asked anxiously. “My life seems to depend on what this crone has to say!”
Rafe gave Tristan a flinty look. “Because she knows that if what she says is learned to be false, she will be killed,” he said simply. “We have never known Arwydd to be wrong.”
Looking back at the bent-over soothsayer, Tristan groaned. He could only hope that Rafe was right. He would tell the truth, for his life hung in the balance. But his mind was filled with worry.
“Arwydd!” Gunther called out. “Come here!”
The old woman shuffled over to the head elder. Rising up a bit from beneath the crushing yoke, she looked him in the eyes. Gunther pointed to Tristan.
“We need to know whether thisdango tells the truth,” he said. “In return for commanding our horsemen, he has promised us wondrous things. We find his tales difficult to believe. You are to work your skills on him.”
Swinging the yoke around, Arwydd looked at Tristan. Her gaze was penetrating. She regarded him for some time before turning back to Gunther.
“I will do what I can,” she answered in a gravelly voice. “He is an interesting specimen, that one. To do this properly, I will need two things.”
Gunther’s eyes narrowed. “And what are they?” he asked.
“I must be unchained,” she answered, “for I must have access to my tools and bottles. And I will need three goats. I must perform a sacrifice.”
Gunther nodded, then gave Balthazar a commanding look. The huge highlander left the clearing again. As everyone waited for Balthazar’s return, Gunther left his chair and walked to the soothsayer. He reached beneath his shirt and produced a rusty key, that hung around his neck from a leather string. He unlocked the padlock securing Arwydd’s chains. Removing them from her body and the yoke, he dropped the chains to the ground. Arwydd carefully placed the yoke at her feet with her precious bottles facing skyward.
As the mysterious woman was freed, Tristan saw many in the crowd recoil, and frightened children scurried to hide behind their parents. Gunther held a wizened finger before the woman’s eyes.
“One false move and you’re dead,” he growled.
Rubbing her chafed wrists, Arwydd smiled crookedly. For the next quarter hour, Gunther explained Tristan’s offer to her.
Turning, Arwydd walked to stand before the prince. Tristan grimaced as she neared. He didn’t fear her, but there was something about her that was disconcerting. Tilting her head this way and that, she looked deeply into his eyes. She grasped some of his hair, then made a great show of feeling it and smelling it. After letting go a soft grunt, she walked back to her ox yoke.
Freed from her chains, she had easy access to her tools. From the yoke’s underside she selected a pair of scissors, then walked back to the prince. Smiling, she snapped the scissor blades open and shut several times. Unsure of what was about to happen, Tristan gave her a deadly look.
“If you harm me, you won’t have to worry about Gunther,” he whispered. “I’ll kill you before he can stand from his chair.”
Saying nothing, Arwydd gleefully snipped away a lock of the prince’s hair. She put the hair in a pocket of her robe, then backed away.
Just then Balthazar reappeared. He was shepherding three common goats. The goats bleated as he led them into the clearing. Another highlander followed him. The second fellow carried three tent pegs and a small mallet.
Arwydd pointed to a spot near the fire. “There,” she said simply.
Balthazar and his companion set about pounding the stakes into the ground and tying the goats to them. They then returned to the crowd.
Arwydd looked at Tristan. “Select one of the goats,” she said simply.
Tristan gave her a skeptical look. “Why?” he asked.
“It is not my job to educate you in such matters,” she snapped back. “But if you must know, the task I am about to perform might not be valid unless the subject in question picks the sacrificial goat himself. It makes no difference which one you choose, provided it is you who do it. I suspect that your life hangs on my pronouncements, dango. Do you wish to keep arguing with me, or shall I simply tell Gunther that you are lying and get things over with quickly?”
Tristan looked over at Rafe, and the chieftain nodded. “Very well,” Tristan answered. “I choose the one in the middle.”
Arwydd walked back to her yoke and took up four branding irons and a knife. She shoved the irons’ business ends into the bonfire coals. She then walked to the tethered goats. Quick as a flash, she grabbed one of the middle goat’s horns, lifted its head, and slit its throat. Bleeding profusely, it wobbled shakily for a moment, then fell dead. Wasting no time, Arwydd starting boning out the goat’s hindquarters.
She soon produced four wet bones. Two were from the goat’s upper rear legs where they met the hip joint. The other two were the smaller shank bones from between the goat’s knee joints and ankles. After wiping them clean with a rag, she walked over to the fire and dropped them into the black pot.
After returning to her yoke she selected a bottle. Uncorking it, she walked back to the fire, then poured some of the bottle’s contents into the boiling pot. The strange white fog rose higher, vanishing into the sky and releasing a terrible odor that smelled like rotting flesh. She then reached into her pocket, removed the lock of Tristan’s hair, and also dropped it into the pot.
Tristan looked over at Rafe. “Does she command the craft?” he asked quietly.
“No one knows,” Rafe answered. “Father always suspected her of it. Most highlander clans have a soothsayer in their midst. But none compare to Arwydd. We are simple folk, and have no way to know if she commands magic.”
Using a pair of tongs secured from her yoke, Arwydd retrieved the blanched bones from the pot. After again drying them with the rag, she placed the bones in a line on the ground. Then she removed the first of the irons from the fire. Holding it against the first bone, she branded it on either side. She repeated the strange process with subsequent irons until each bone had been branded twice with its own distinctive markings.
After picking up the bones, she looked at Tristan and crooked one finger at him. Standing from his chair, he walked to her. Except for the sounds coming from the crackling fire, the meeting place was deathly silent. Arwydd’s haggard
features seemed evil and gloating in the bonfire light.
“I am ready to start,” she said. “Be careful how you answer my questions, dango. You might lie, but the bones never do.”
Tristan nodded. “Go ahead,” he answered. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Very well,” she said. “Tell us your name.”
Arwydd looked deeply into Tristan’s eyes. For a moment, he felt dizzy. As quickly as it had come, the sensation passed.
“I am Tristan of the House of Galland, prince of Eutracia,” he answered loudly, so that everyone could hear.
Arwydd squatted and picked up the bones. She put her hands together, then moved them in a wide circle. As she dropped the branded bones to the ground they clattered into a small pile. Arwydd went to all fours to smell the bones and look at them from several different angles. Then she looked up at Gunther.
“He is who he says,” she answered simply.
The crowd immediately let go a collective gasp. As the elders busily conferred, Tristan looked over at Rafe. Rafe grinned back broadly.
Coming to her knees, Arwydd picked up the bones the same way she had done before. She again looked Tristan in the eyes.
“Gunther says that if you are allowed to command our horsemen, the Kilbourne clan will be rewarded in specific ways. Are you speaking the truth?”
Again Tristan’s dizziness came, then left just as quickly. “Yes,” he answered. Then he paused, thinking. “I will also order my sister and my wizards that in the event of my death, it will be their duty to see that the rewards are given to you just the same.”
Arwydd again cast the strange bones to the ground, then crawled around as she interpreted them. It took longer this time for her to form her decision. She finally looked up at Gunther again.
“He tells the truth,” she answered. “If he is allowed to command our horsemen for a time, he truly intends to reward you, and in the exact way he mentioned.”
This time the spectators positively buzzed with excitement. Tristan imagined them asking themselves if thedango would really give so much.
Tristan looked at the elders. From their surprised expressions he gathered that they had fully expected Arwydd to tell them that he had been lying. Confused by her findings, they huddled together urgently.
Rafe leaned closer. “It seems you have caused quite an uproar,” he said. “For your sake, it is good that so many spectators attended this meeting. There is no way that the elders can say that something else happened here. Before these gatherings were made public, the elders were not above such trickery. This time they will be forced into taking a vote, whether they like it or not.”
Rubbing his chin, Rafe glanced around the circle of august men and women. When he looked back at Tristan, there was a skeptical expression on his face.
“What troubles you?” Tristan asked. “The elders have their proof. I should think that considering all that I’m offering, the vote would be a mere formality.”
Rafe sighed. “In your world, that might be the case,” he answered. “But highlander logic can be strange. You are asking a great deal of the elders. Despite your magnificent offer, I believe the vote will be close.”
As Gunther ordered the elders to stand, Tristan guessed that the vote was drawing near. “Is there anything more that I can do to influence the outcome?” he whispered to Rafe.
“If you could find another last-minute way to help the clan, it might sway some of the undecided elders to your cause,” Rafe answered. “But given your limited freedom, I don’t know what that would be.”
Tristan gave Rafe a sly smile. “I do,” he answered.
Without consulting the chieftain, Tristan stood and faced the elders. He was about to make a bold move, but he was willing to risk it.
“Before you vote, I wish to be heard!” Tristan shouted brazenly.
A hush came over the crowd. The dangois either very stupid or very brave to speak to the elders without first having been addressed! he could almost hear them saying. What could possibly be important enough to make him invite the council’s wrath?
Gunther wheeled around angrily. “How dare you?” he growled. “Even though Arwydd has validated your claims, you’re in no position to give orders!”
“It is about Arwydd that I wish to speak!” Tristan answered. “I mean the council no disrespect. Even so, I fear that your soothsayer is more than she claims to be. I believe she practices the craft’s dark side!”
The crowd gasped. Tristan turned to look at the old woman. Her gaze toward the prince turned even more hateful. Gunther gave Tristan a skeptical look.
“How dare you?” he demanded. “You have been in our midst for less than a day, yet you claim to know more about her than we do!”
Walking closer, Tristan held out his hands in a display of friendship. “Allow me to prove it to you,” he said. “If I am right, I will have removed a terrible danger from your midst. You have long known that she is treacherous. But I fear that you greatly underestimate her talents, and her resolve to hurt your clan further. I am told that she has already killed Rafe’s parents. Don’t let her kill again! If I am wrong about her, then you have lost nothing. But if I am right, I will have done Clan Kilbourne yet another service.”
Glowering at Tristan, Gunther thought it over. He finally let go a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “But we still believe that she is an asset to the clan. Before I let you prove your charges, I must know what it is you will do.”
Tristan smiled. “The answer is simple,” he said. “I need only take one drop of her blood.”
Screaming with rage, Arwydd pointed an accusatory finger at Tristan.
“Blasphemer!” she shouted. “It is not I, but you who are the deceiver!” Going to her knees, she looked into Gunther’s face. “Please don’t let thedango touch me!” she begged. “He will kill me sure!”
Tristan looked at Gunther. “I don’t need to touch her, if that worries you,” he said. “Select two clansmen whom you trust, and I will tell them what to do.”
Gunther rubbed his chin, thinking. “Very well,” he answered. “Rafe and Balthazar, come here.” The two highlanders hurried to stand before the head elder. “What would you have them do?” Gunther asked Tristan.
Walking over to where his weapons lay, Tristan retrieved one of his dirks. He returned to hand it to Rafe. The look in Rafe’s eyes said that he thought Tristan had just gone mad. Tristan gave Rafe his best look of reassurance. He turned back to Gunther.
“We will also need a piece of blank parchment,” he said.
Gunther ordered that a parchment be provided. A highlander quickly brought one. Knowing that it would only strengthen his case if he did not touch it, Tristan asked that it be placed into Gunther’s hands. He looked over at Balthazar.
“Bring her,” he said.
Grabbing Arwydd by the shoulders, the giant started manhandling her over to where the others stood. She kicked and scratched at Balthazar, and spat in his face. Finally hoisting her over one shoulder, he took no notice as she pounded her fists against his back. Balthazar dropped the soothsayer before the others like she was a sack of grain.
“Hold her by the wrists,” Tristan said. He gave Arwydd a harsh look. “If I’m right about you, you know full well what is about to be done. I suggest you hold still, lest they mistakenly cut you more than need be.”
Arwydd glared hatefully at the prince. “When this is over, I will kill you,” she breathed.
Tristan gave her a sly look. “When this is over, your days of killing will be forever done,” he answered.
As Balthazar tightened his grip on her, Tristan looked at Rafe. “Cut as small an incision into her arm as possible,” he said. “There is no need to be abusive. Then collect a little bit of her blood on my knife blade.”
After nodding at Tristan, Rafe did as he had been asked. A rivulet of Arwydd’s blood ran onto the knife.
“Now,” Tristan said, “allow but one blood drop to fall onto the parchment that Gunt
her holds. If I am right, you will see something you never dreamed possible.”
Positioning the bloody knife over the parchment, Rafe carefully tilted the blade. One drop fell onto the paper. As the elders gathered around to watch, Tristan smiled.
As he had guessed, a partial blood signature started to form. Twisting and turning with a life of its own, it soon showed a series of sharply angled, intersecting lines. Then the blood died, and stopped moving about the page.
Rafe looked at Tristan like he had just seen a ghost. He and the other highlanders had heard strange stories about the blood of those who commanded the craft. But to see a clan member’s blood do the same thing was shocking. Amazed into speechlessness, the elders simply stood and stared. Tristan looked over at Arwydd.
“You’re a partial adept,” he said. “Your father was a man of fully endowed blood, and trained in the craft. You practice the Vagaries, don’t you, Arwydd?”
Arwydd kicked and cursed, but she could not break Balthazar’s iron grip.
“Bastard!” she breathed. “I cast a pox on your royal house, and all those who practice the Vigors!” Undaunted by her threat, Tristan laughed.
“I don’t understand,” Gunther breathed. “If this means she is your enemy, why would she validate your tales?”
“That’s simple,” Tristan answered. “She had no choice. Like Rafe said, if what she told you didn’t come true, she would be killed. Had the tools of her trade been available to her when she was unsupervised, my guess is that she would have killed many of you before making her escape. That’s what you dream of, isn’t it, Arwydd?”
Taking a step closer, Tristan looked into her eyes. “You made your first mistake when you killed Rafe’s parents,” he said. “Had you not done so, the clan would have come to trust you, and you might not have been bound. In time you could have gathered all the herbs and oils you needed to practice your arts freely. But your craving for vengeance got the better of you, and you killed the previous chieftain and his wife. Then I arrived to unmask you and seal your fate.”
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