Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “I believe so.” He took a final bite of his eggs, swallowed the last of his wine and stood up. “I’m off.” During Council, he usually spent the hour or so before every morning’s gathering to meet with Commander Tanres and go over any issues related to security.

  Her “See you downstairs” followed him out the door, and this time he smiled.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DOUBLED-EDGED SHINDAH

  Lisen had hoped to finish the presentation of evidence yesterday, but the twins had droned on and on presenting their evidence until finally, in the middle of the afternoon of the third day of the trial, Mutar Ba had finished his closing statement. After he sat down, Lisen rose from her throne and stepped to the lectern with relief.

  “Thank you,” she said, nodding to Mutar on the one side of the dais and then to Akdor on the other. “The judging panel and I will now adjourn to my office in order to deliberate. Everyone else may use this time as they choose. When a verdict is reached, we will ring the bell as a half-hour warning.”

  Lisen backed away a step from the lectern, and the panel followed her through the door to her office. She gestured to the conference table, inviting them silently to sit. Melanda Cabell took her usual privy council seat directly opposite Lisen, and Rocan Sakal, Fonmat Kiptor and Telor Himlin all sat down around the table.

  “I’m here to listen,” she said. “And vote in case you’re hopelessly deadlocked. I’m not here to take charge, so my only suggestion is that you choose one of your number to serve as first judge and moderator.” She then sat back to observe.

  They quickly decided on Holder Sakal as their leader, after which they began a careful study of the evidence presented and the testimony offered up by both sides. Jazel had quickly laid out the evidence and written testimonies then left the room as the judges had taken their seats, so everything was available to them as they needed it.

  Lisen closely attended their method of discussion and consideration. She’d patterned all of this after the little she could recall learning in school about the American judicial system. She knew twelve jurors served there; she hadn’t forgotten that. But she and Nalin had wrestled with the number of judges to be impaneled and had finally agreed that a much lesser number would be more likely to appeal to the Council. The larger the number of judges, the more often they’d each be called to serve, and Nalin had admitted that even he would find that burdensome. So, in the end, four, plus herself as the tiebreaker, had been the number proposed.

  These four might have spent the remainder of the afternoon arguing over the validity of the evidence submitted had not Rocan Sakal broken into the discussion about a half hour in with “Since we’ll never be able determine the heir based on order of emergence or on Elak’s preference, the real question, friends, is, who is likely to be the better holder?”

  The other three relinquished whatever hold they had on the conversation, and the entire group sat silent for a moment. Lisen began to wonder if she might have to intervene somehow to get them back on topic, but she held her tongue, allowing them to ponder on their own.

  Finally, Councilor Himlin spoke. “Akdor is showy and offensive. That’s my opinion.”

  “But Mutar is so stiff and unyielding,” Melanda said.

  “In my opinion,” Holder Sakal stated, “Mutar is the more suitable candidate. He didn’t spend his entire time telling us how wonderful he is. He spoke instead of his plans for the holding he’d be inheriting.”

  “While Akdor spoke of his love for the mother who pouched him,” Himlin added.

  Rocan Sakal shook his head. “Making sure we never lost sight of the fact he believes that, as the holder-pouched twin, the holding is his.”

  “True,” Melanda admitted.

  And Lisen listened, noting that the potential tie vote, Councilor Kiptor of Bedel, still hadn’t commented.

  “Fonmat,” Rocan addressed Kiptor, his thoughts echoing Lisen’s, “what do you think?”

  Councilor Kiptor shrugged. “I’m not sure.” His gaze settled briefly on Lisen, then moved on, and she wondered if that meant something or was just a random pause. “I find different aspects of their arguments equally compelling. Akdor was pouched by Holder Ba, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she would have favored him had she left a will. On the other hand, Mutar does seem a bit better informed about Terane’s place in Garla.”

  “So, what we’re here to decide,” Councilor Himlin said, stepping in, “is what Holder Ba wanted, what her intent was.”

  “She had no intent,” Melanda pointed out. “If she’d had intent, she would have stated it in a will. She left no will, knowing it would be left to the Empir or, in this case, a panel of judges, to decide for her. Seems like a lousy way of declaring an heir.”

  “We’re not here to judge the dead, Melanda,” Rocan said, trying to redirect the conversation. “Perhaps we should take a vote, see where we stand. Telor?”

  “Mutar,” Telor responded.

  “Melanda?”

  “Come back to me.”

  Lisen fought the urge to smile at Melanda’s evasion.

  “All right, then,” Rocan replied. “Fonmat?”

  Councilor Kiptor sighed. “Mutar.”

  “And Mutar for me,” Rocan said. “And that settles it.”

  Lisen rose from the table. “Thank you, my lords. I’ll have Jazel prepare the documents, and I’ll order the bell rung. You can wait here if you wish, or you may visit with your friends for the next half hour. I must, however, advise you to say nothing of your decision prior to its official delivery to the Council.” She stepped to the door to her clerk’s office and left the panel at the table. She would not return until the Council was ready for her entrance.

  After she’d informed Jazel of the decision, she stepped into the hall and hailed a guard, ordering him to take care of the bell. Then she headed out through the passage to the portico. She paused there for a second, absorbing the glory and warmth of the late-day sun. Council sessions left her feeling shut in and claustrophobic by the end of each day, and she despaired of fresh air and something other than the sight of white marble walls. Within seconds of the bell ringing out twice, a voice spoke softly behind her.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  How did he do that? She looked down at her spouse’s feet as he stepped up to stand on her left, and she confirmed what she already knew. He wore boots—boots that should have announced him coming up behind her but hadn’t.

  “There’s a verdict?” he asked as they both stared out at the still-bright-blue sky. It was hours before sunset.

  “Yes. And after it’s been announced, I’ll be happy to share it all with you, but for now, it worked. The damn panel actually worked.”

  “Did you have to vote?”

  “No, but no one will ever know, one way or the other. Except for you, of course.” She turned and grinned at him.

  “Of course.” He returned her smile. “You’re pleased. That’s good.”

  “And all because I didn’t want anyone to end up having to do what Nalin had to do with Lorain. This wasn’t as ultimately tragic, although I doubt the loser will think that.”

  “Too bad you can’t remind him that he won’t have to pay for losing with his life.”

  She shrugged and returned to drawing energy from the beauty of the park. “Well, we’ll see how it goes.”

  They stood quiet for a few minutes until the bell rang, reconvening the Council. Hands clasped behind their backs, they turned in unison towards the passage. Once in the hall, they split off, Korin to join Rinli in the chamber and Lisen into her office where the panel and their ground-breaking verdict awaited but her summons into the chamber, and the new system of trials and impaneled judges would be established. A fine day. A very fine day.

  And so it comes, Nalin thought as he set himself down in a chair to the far left on the dais. He usually sat closer to the throne and, hence, closer to Lisen, but the table for the judges took up so much space, he’d accepted a
new location during the trial. The Council continued to gather, and the chamber filled with muted but worried voices. No one knew how this would work—if it would work at all—and the room was heavy with tension. Nalin could only presume that it had worked. Otherwise, there’d have been no bell to reconvene this soon. Lisen would have certainly forced the panel to work harder and longer before surrendering to failure. So it had worked; Nalin was sure of it. Now to observe as the Council heard and then weighed the results.

  Commander Tanres, who stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the dais, nodded to the guard at the door to the Empir’s office, indicating the full Council was present. The second the guard knocked on the door, the room hushed to silence. The guard opened the door, and the four judges stepped out and went to stand behind their chairs at the table on the dais followed by the Empir herself, her expression unreadable. Nalin admired Lisen’s cool comportment. An Empir had to adopt a carefully constructed demeanor in all official duties. And here she was, giving nothing away. He knew which Ba twin she favored, but even with that, her presentation as she took her place behind the lectern told him nothing of the panel’s decision.

  “Welcome, friends,” she began. “I have just spent a very interesting afternoon listening as your judges debated the merits of each of the parties to the case now before us. I hope you all have the opportunity to serve on such a panel. As is written into the law, these four will not be eligible for the drawing in a case for two years which will improve the odds for the rest of you.” She smiled at the minimal titters that rose up from the chamber floor.

  “All right, let us begin,” she continued. “Mutar, Akdor, please come forward and take your places.” The two brothers rose from where they sat, separated by rows and aisles of benches, and made their way up to the dais to take their seats on either side of the judges’ table. “Good. Holder Sakal, as the panel’s first judge, will you please read the verdict?”

  Lisen backed away from the lectern but remained standing. Rocan Sakal, Nalin’s cousin on his mother’s side, came around the table to take his Empir’s place at the podium.

  “Thank you, my Liege. This judgment,” he said, holding a sheet of parchment up, “will be entered into the official record as written herein.” He brought the document back down and began reading from it. “The undersigned members of the panel of judges in the trial of Mutar Ba versus Akdor Ba concerning the continuing stewardship of Holding Terane have agreed to the following: Mutar Ba shall, forthwith, be known as the Holder of Terane. He shall serve the people of Terane in the same spirit as his forebears did in time past. He shall deny his brother, Akdor, none of what is due his brother as the non-inheriting heir, that including housing and a share in the prosperity of the holding—”

  “No!” Akdor jumped up from his chair, and Nalin saw both Commander Tanres and the sergeant at her side reach for their swords. “I am the heir! No!”

  “Akdor,” Lisen said softly as the young man’s breathing approached a fast pant. “You participated in the trial. You put this in the hands of your peers. You must—”

  “I must nothing!” he stated obstinately. “I must nothing,” he repeated in a more reserved tone. “I do not recognize this court.”

  “Dor, please,” Mutar said, rising in what appeared to be the beginning of a move towards his brother.

  “No. No.” Akdor glared at his brother, at Lisen, then marched down the dais steps, up into the gallery and out of the chamber.

  Nalin watched Lisen set her shoulders and turn to Rocan. “Continue,” she said firmly.

  Rocan lifted the order up, quickly located his place and began to read again. “He shall deny his brother, Akdor, none of what is due his brother as the non-inheriting heir, that including housing and a share in the prosperity of the holding. He shall be invested as said Holder of Terane immediately upon his return to his home there, but he shall, henceforward, be considered holder for the remainder of these Council proceedings. Signed, Fonmat Kiptor, Councilor from Bedel; Melanda Cabell, Holder of Clandos; Telor Himlin, Councilor from Prea; and Rocan Sakal, Holder of Grimmal, and hereby witnessed by Empir Ariannas Ilazer.”

  He passed the decree over to Lisen who inked a quill left on the table for that purpose and signed the document. Rocan then sat down, and Lisen turned to Mutar.

  “Holder Mutar Ba,” she pronounced, “please take your place in this Council.”

  Mutar rose and left the dais, sitting down in the second row, and Lisen stepped to the lectern.

  “It’s late, and it looks like we’re a half day behind in the agenda.” She smiled. “By tomorrow morning, a revised agenda will be delivered to each of you. Please review it closely to ensure we haven’t left anything off the revision. We are adjourned for the day.”

  She turned smartly and had exited before anyone else had even stood. Nalin rose, and weaving his way around the judges engrossed in conversation, he followed Lisen into her office. He found her sitting at the conference table, a servant pouring her some wine as she sat back looking exhausted.

  “Nal. Would you like some?” She raised her full silver goblet in his direction as he joined her at the table.

  “Thank you, yes,” he said, sitting down. “But just a little,” he added to the servant who handed him a goblet and then left, the carafe of wine and two more goblets left behind. “Expecting company?”

  “No,” Lisen replied and took another sip. “Ah, how I love the product of Bala’s winery.”

  “The Tuane grapes do produce a remarkable wine.”

  “When Jozan introduced me to it, she called it ambrosia.”

  “Jozan would.” He smiled at her, grateful that both of them could speak of their long-dead friend without pain. “So, it worked.”

  “It worked. They came in. They sat down. They pored through the evidence. And then they decided. I must say your cousin made an excellent first judge.”

  “Rocan takes charge very well. Too well, sometimes.”

  “A bit of a boss?” she asked.

  “He was when we were young. Makes him a good—”

  Jazel’s door burst open, and Mutar Ba rushed in followed closely by Jazel.

  “My Liege, forgive me,” Jazel said, “but he insisted.”

  Lisen raised her hand. “It’s all right, Jazel. Let him be.”

  With a nod, Jazel turned and left, and the new Holder Ba stepped directly up to his Empir.

  “My Liege.”

  “Would you like some wine, Mutar?” she offered.

  “No. No, thank you, my Liege. I only need a minute.”

  “What is it?” Nalin asked, concerned. Mutar seemed anxious over something, his breath coming in quick gasps and his hands unable to stop their wringing.

  “Please forgive my brother, my Liege. He was so sure he was going to win. I think it did something to him. Losing, I mean.”

  “And you? Who did you think would win?” Lisen asked. Nalin thought that an interesting question.

  “It could have gone either way, couldn’t it?” Poor Mutar sounded unsure of anything at the moment.

  Lisen reached up and touched Mutar’s arm. “I am prohibited from discussing the panel’s deliberations with any of the suitors, of course, but I personally doubt there was another way it could have gone.”

  Cagey, Nalin thought. Without betraying the legal sanctity of those deliberations, Lisen had managed to let Mutar know that the outcome had conformed to her personal preference.

  “Now,” she continued, “don’t concern yourself with your brother’s standing with me. He was obviously upset.”

  “Oh, thank you, my Liege.” He nodded, paused for a breath, then turned and left without further hesitation.

  “That was strange,” Lisen said with a hint of a chuckle and then shook her head once. “Do you really think he believed he might not win?”

  “Those two have been an odd pair practically since their unpouching. I’ve never known what to think of them.”

  Lisen held her goblet ou
t. “Here’s to one small success.”

  Nalin clinked his goblet against hers, and they both took a drink. “It seems like more than a ‘small success’ to me. The changes you instituted to our judicial system worked.”

  “It’s still a bit messy at the edges. All that manure surrounding the choosing of the panel is horribly cumbersome.”

  Nalin shrugged. “So, we try to come up with a smoother way. But not today. Today we celebrate the accomplishment.”

  “And the fact that nobody died getting there. For once.”

  Nalin saw her slouch a bit and realized her guilt never really went away. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve accomplished many things without killing anyone in the process.” His attempt at lightening the mood seemed to work, for she sat up straighter and lifted her goblet up for another toast.

  “Here’s to my never having to ask anyone to die on my account again.”

  He tapped her goblet with his own. “To no one dying for you again. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Nalin continued, setting his goblet down and standing up, “I have a spouse in cycle waiting for a moment.”

  Lisen raised an eyebrow. “Go,” she said with a smile. “I wish you fertility.”

  And so he left, heading out of the Keep and across the plaza to Bala and the hope of a new life.

  The heat of the sun warmed Korin as he rode through the park with Rinli. With the trial almost two weeks behind them and closing dinner tonight, Council would come to end, finally, once again. He’d survived another two weeks of Council shut up in that cold marble chamber devoted to the workings of the Garlan aristocracy. He’d laugh, if laughing were easy for him, to think that all those so-called nobles believed they were working hard for the good of all the people of Garla when they were only working for their own gain. Not Lisen. At least not nearly so much. Despite her years in court, she practiced a relatively guileless life. She could plan and carry out her plans flawlessly, but she’d never attained the egocentric manner that many nobles seemed to possess in painful abundance.