Hawkspar

by Holly Lisle

  At some point I must have fallen asleep, for I found myself on a broad, rolling plain, with the grass around me rippling in a gentle breeze. Wildflowers bloomed in astonishing profusion, in colors so beautiful I could not even name them. Horses galloped by me in a glorious, thundering stream. When the last of them vanished over a rise, I turned to see a woman watching me. She was dressed all in white, and her hair was the white of purest snow, done in a complicated braid unlike anything I had ever seen. Her eyes were blue, her lips full, and her face surprisingly young. The cut of her clothes reminded me of my mother. She smiled at me, and suddenly, I felt safe. I felt as if I had found my way home. She watched me, staying at a distance. I wanted to run to her, but at the same time, I knew I could not. When the time was right, she would come to me.

  The time was not yet right.

  I could almost believe I knew her.

  A sickening smell woke me, a stench of decay and filth. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw that the sun was rising. Its light filtered through the green wall, marking the east for me. I heard bells ringing, and below me, the moist sucking sounds of the tower opening a passage that would permit the oracles’ entrance.

  I needed the privy. I wanted to run.

  I could do nothing but stand and face whatever came for me.

  I heard feet stumping slowly up the stairs of the tower then, and short, harsh, panting breaths.

  Hawkspar, as always wearing black, and nearly invisible within oracle’s cloak and hood, came first.

  She was followed by Oracle Tigereye, the ancient Eyes of Discovery, who was as gaunt as Hawkspar, but gorgeously dressed in robes of gold and green and brown, heavily embroidered, with jewels woven into place, and with a matching cloak and hood of exquisite make.

  Following Tigereye came Ruby, wide as a plowhorse and probably as strong. The Eyes of Family had dressed in red and silver and shimmering white, with a red velvet cloak sparkling with diamonds and gleaming with cabochon rubies that matched her eyes. She’d had her girl dress her hair in a complex fashion of curls and braids and loops, and it spilled around her shoulders in a gleaming black waterfall.

  Windcrystal, whom I could only think of as my enemy, though I hated to do so, followed. Her pale, transparent blue Eyes of Justice gleamed. She wore unadorned black.

  Sunspar, her Eyes of Secrets glowing pale yellow, followed Windcrystal. She, too, wore black.

  Oracle Sapphire, the Eyes of Magic, wore dramatic wide robes of embroidered purple. They were foreign things, not even cut in the fashion of the order’s robes.

  Behind her came Oracle Emerald, the Eyes of Growing Things. Wearing black.

  Amethyst, the Eyes of Words. She wore white.

  And finally Raxinan, whose Eyes of Compassion always made my skin crawl. They were clear as pure water, but full of thin lines of brightest red, as if someone had dropped tiny sticks in them. She wore simple robes of the Order, as plain as my own, without any symbol of her rank. But Raxinan was known for both her modesty and her piety, as well as for her deep and adoring devotion to the Order.

  When all the oracles stood around the periphery of the room—with me in the center—a green glass table grew out of the floor, with the center cut out. The center sank, the table rose, and each oracle took a seat in a throne of green glass. And then they all stared down at me. At no point could I see them all, for they sat evenly around the circle. Was this what petitioning kings and emperors faced when they came to ask their favors? I wondered if they felt as small and frightened as I did.

  Oracle Hawkspar cleared her throat, and I turned to face her. Her face twisted with anger. She said, “The oracles will ask you questions. Answer them in the manner that seems best to you.”

  And then she turned to the women with her. “I request your acceptance of my acolyte and Vran Vrota’s chosen vessel.”

  Windcrystal said, “She is not devoted to the Ossalene Order. I am certain of this. I cast my lot against her.”

  Heads turned toward Windcrystal, and Tigereye said, “You cast your vote before it has even been called? You would not at least offer the girl the opportunity for testing?”

  “I would not,” Windcrystal said. “I know your choice, and I know her sort.” The oracle’s voice rose. “I will never believe Vran Vrota chose her! On three past occasions I have recommended to this body that she be cast out and sold for transgressions, and on each occasion I have been told that she committed no transgression. And yet I knew she did!” Now the oracle was actually shouting. “On two occasions, when you voted against me, I asked that she be disciplined with rats, and again many of you stood against me. I have taken my defeats quietly and abided by your vote, but she is not worthy to be an oracle. She is the worst kind of sinner, a selfish, headstrong girl who has no business in any position here, not even as the least of slaves.”

  I was stunned. I had always thought Windcrystal the kindest of the oracles. I had worked for her for a season following the season I spent with Hawkspar, and unlike Hawkspar, Windcrystal never had a harsh word to say to me. I worked hard for her; I was as obedient and quiet as I knew how to be; I tried with her more than in any other post I’d held to honor the Order and its ways. I’d done these things simply because she had been kind to me—or at least as kind as anyone within the Citadel ever had been.

  Sunspar spoke next. “I believe that I will not vote for her. I believed Windcrystal’s accounts of what she had observed before, and I still believe them to be true. But I would first have this acolyte tried, to see if Vran Vrota truly has marked her. I would, after all, not wish to be unjust.”

  “Of course,” Hawkspar said. “And how would you see her tried?”

  “I suggest the trial of the rats.”

  “Because justice will have its vengeance for being so many times overruled?” Hawkspar asked.

  I could only think, The trial of the rats? Yes, of course it will be that.

  “Because justice is tired of being flouted,” Windcrystal offered.

  The Oracle Ruby said, “She hides things. She lives a lie. She is not one of us, and will never be one of us. But by all means send her to be tried, if you dare. If Vran Vrota has any hand in her choosing, Hawkspar, I’ll allow myself to be led by that.”

  “And your choice of trial?” Hawkspar asked.

  “Oh, the rats. We have a good cage full of them that had been starving for one of the slaves, but the girl died before we could put her to them. They’ll be ready by now.”

  Would no one speak for me?

  Emerald then said, “I have no issue with the girl. Still, if we are not to take a vote now—and it seems to me that we could, and have this business settled quickly—then I, too, offer the trial by rats as the acceptable means of demonstrating that this candidate is genuine.”

  Hawkspar nodded. “I see. Have none of you any questions to ask her? Have you no wish to hear how she would present herself? You know I have not had time to train her, as each of you were trained, and as some of you are now training your acolytes. You know that I bring her before you as she is, without subtlety or deceit beyond whatever she might have naturally. When we entered this room, I told her to answer the questions you gave her as seemed best to her.”

  Oracle Windcrystal said, “You said that. But you did not tell her not to lie.”

  “Would you know if she lied, Windcrystal? Do you think the spirit of Vran Vrota within you could tell you that?”

  “Of course I’d know if she lied.”

  “Then all I did was give her the opportunity to be dishonest if that was in her nature, so that you would see her as she truly is.”

  Hawkspar then sat with her head down, her hands folded before her. Waiting.

  I waited, too, turning slowly within the center of the circle, hoping to catch some sign of compassion from those who held my future in their hands, but I was beginning to feel light-headed. They had wanted me sold. They had wanted me killed. How, then, had I lived long enough to find myself in a position where I seem
ed likely to be killed anyway?

  I fidgeted, desperate for a trip to the privy, unable to speak unless addressed, and remembered my dream, and the woman in white who had seemed so kind.

  Raxinan said, “With four prepared to send her to trial, perhaps you should withdraw her as your choice, Hawkspar. I would not like to see her fall to the rats.”

  “She is Vran Vrota’s choice,” Hawkspar said. “The Eyes themselves have called for her. Shall I deny the Holy Dyad what it wants so that I may pander to the egos of those here who for selfish motives do not like her?”

  “Oh, no,” Raxinan said, startled. “I would never suggest that. I simply do not wish to see the girl die.”

  “Nor do I,” Hawkspar said. “But she will not. Vran Vrota and the Eyes are well pleased with her.”

  “Hah,” Ruby said. “The Hawkspar Eyes? Those Eyes haven’t had a choice in the Hawkspar vessel in generations. I cannot imagine the spineless gathering of oracles it must have taken to let you into this body.”

  “Can you not?” Tigereye, oldest of those present, said. “I was one of them, Ruby. I have found Hawkspar dedicated to our Order over these years, and of all of us, she alone maintains the selflessness of our Order as if she were still a penitent. The acolytes live gentler lives than she.” The old woman stopped to cough, then said, “No one anywhere suggests that the good word of Hawkspar can be bought for a fine roll of silk or a supple slave girl.”

  I tried hard to make myself invisible. I had often heard exactly such things said about the Oracle Ruby. I did not suppose that they would be mentioned within a conclave of oracles, however, or even that this behavior might be questioned by anyone. We low to the ground dare not look up and question our masters.

  I was discovering, though, that our masters were more than willing to question each other.

  Raxinan said, “I have no questions I want to ask the girl. You have been an inspiration to me, Hawkspar, and I will trust in your Eyes’ choice.”

  Amethyst had been quiet, too. “Hawkspar, you know you have my support.”

  Sapphire said, “And mine. I have never seen a problem with the girl. She is much as any other of them—if your Eyes have marked her, who am I to question?”

  Tigereye said, “You have my support as well, Hawkspar.”

  My oracle said, “Then you are divided. Half for me, half against me. Vran Vrota will remember who stood where—be assured of that.”

  Emerald twisted her hands nervously. “It’s not that I stand against you or the Hawkspar Eyes. I simply feel that, well, Sunspar and Windcrystal have access to information hidden even to the rest of us. If they stand against you … well … your … Vran … your Eyes’ choice …” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  Hawkspar rose slowly. “I could call a vote now, and with my vote, which I am entitled to cast, I could have the Hawkspar Eyes’ choice for the next Hawkspar without forcing the girl to prove herself.” She turned her face to Windcrystal and said, “Are those of you who stand against me prepared to face the consequences if my acolyte faces the rats successfully? There will, I assure you, be consequences.”

  Ruby said, “What consequences do you think you can carry off in your condition, you ragged crone?”

  “I can call for the testing of your acolyte, for one thing, Ruby. I hear she warms your bed well, and she is a pretty thing—but I wonder how she would fare against any of our standard tests.”

  “Hawkspar can do that,” Tigereye said. “And not only can she, but I would support her call if she did, Ruby. The rumors about your acolytes have been long standing. You have sold off three of your acolytes in past years for suddenly becoming displeasing to your Eyes or Vran Vrota—there are certain tests that you could be brought forward to face. Were I inclined to meddle, I would wonder how the Holy Dyad has such a difficult time discerning which woman among all of those in the Citadel will suit your Eyes, when for the rest of us, the Blessed All seems up to the task.” Her voice grew both soft and terrible, and she said, “There are penalties for oracles who are guided not by the hands of Vran Vrota, but by their own appetites. And there are precedents throughout our long history which you would do well to remember.”

  To the damned, courage is better than truth, I thought.

  If they chose to challenge Hawkspar’s honesty—and I was sure they could do this, and would, if they began to suspect she had done what I knew she had done—then I would die, and she would die. Because she was lying. Further, the oracles could have some way of testing that lay beyond the straightforward trial by ordeal.

  If Hawkspar and I both died and the Eyes went their own way, then whatever lay beyond the walls of the Citadel of the Ossalenes would be sacrificed as well. If, truly, we were to be the salvation of the Tonk people, then without us, such family as remained to me would die.

  To the damned, courage is better than truth. Hawkspar had bound the Eyes to me. Or had claimed to. If she had not, then all was already lost

  Windcrystal said, “How easy to threaten, to terrorize, to avoid facing a trial and at the same moment avoid proving your doubtful truth. But we would not face repercussions, because no goddess has ever looked twice at that blasphemer of yours.”

  Hawkspar said something else, her voice sharp—but I could not hear her words over the pounding of my own heart.

  If all I had was lies waiting to be laid bare, or courage, I’d choose courage.

  I said, “I’ll face the rats.”

  All the oracles turned their faces to me. Sunlight poured through the green glass to the east. It turned them all ghastly, inhuman shades, and made their stone eyes glitter.

  “What did you say?” Windcrystal asked me.

  Louder, I said, “I volunteer to face the rats.”

  If silence were water, we would have all drowned.

  Across from me, I saw Ruby shudder. Windcrystal’s grip tightened on the edge of the table. Sunspar turned her face toward me and seemed to stare; I could not guess where she really looked or what she really saw. But—whatever it was, she did not like it. Emerald wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  Before any of them could respond, Hawkspar stood and said, “Then it is decided. My acolyte will be stripped and bound and placed in the cage with starving rats for the time from one bell to the next. If she is devoured, we are agreed that she is untouched by Vran Vrota, and I will face the consequences for my choice of her. If she lives but is injured, she will be returned to slavery, to work here or be sold as the oracles shall choose, and I shall face such fate as you deem fitting. But if she faces the trial of rats unscathed, then the Dyad’s touch on her is accepted—and I will claim right of redress for the questioning of the will of the Eyes and the Holy Dyad.” She placed her hands flat on the table.

  I did not get the feeling that she leaned on it because she was tired. Rather, I felt sure that she leaned on it because doing so made her menacing. She certainly frightened me.

  “Are we agreed that I have presented the rules of trial of this acolyte by rats in true and full fashion?”

  “I will forgo the trial,” Sunspar said.

  Hawkspar laughed. “I’m sure you would. But my acolyte, moved by the spirit of Ossal within her, has volunteered. It is now out of your hands. As is your own future. The accused who volunteers to face trial may not be denied.” She repeated, “Are we agreed that I have presented the rules of this trial in true and full fashion?”

  Four strong voices claimed agreement. Four less enthusiastic ones also assented.

  While the oracles voted me to the rat cage, I stood thinking about the slaves and penitents I’d seen fed to rats—for the punishment would be worthless if the rest of us did not witness it. The victim never survived. I had never seen anything so horrible, or so drawn out and shameful and ghastly.

  And by my own word, I had bound myself irrevocably to that fate. In the Arena at that moment, Redbird was getting Obsidian Eyes so that she could be my second, so that she could stand by me as my guard.<
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  And I had thrown myself where the oracles had surely planned to throw me anyway. But I had done it to myself—and possibly rendered the sacrifice she was making worthless.

  To the damned, courage is better than truth.

  Courage. And a privy.

  7

  Aaran

  Aaran and Tuua were on their fifth shipwright, and their fifth shipyard, and well past despair. A ship such as the one they needed—one that would carry a full crew and permit the rescue of more than one hundred slaves as well, would cost them most of everything they had merely as a down payment. They hadn’t the credit with shipyards to get a good rate—on a ship that would meet their needs, the interest alone would sink them. Anything they might have gotten close to was too small.

  Worse, though, Haakvar’s poison had spread. Word of Aaran’s mad destination, along with Haakvar’s predictions for any who dared sail with him, had reached the ears of not just officers and sailors, but shipbuilders and moneylenders. And even worse, Haakvar had passed word through his entire fleet of ships that any shipwright or lender who aided Aaran would never have custom from him again.

  In the first two yards, shipbuilders who gave him prices and showed him ships laughed in his face the instant he produced his papers and they learned his name. And then they sent runners to the other shipyards, so that when he and Tuua stepped onto the docks in the third and fourth yards, they were ushered off again before they could even state their business.

  But Aaran refused to give up, and in the fifth yard they weren’t chased away. They didn’t identify themselves. They only said they needed a big, inexpensive ship, and right away.

  “Ahh, you’re the crazy ones, then,” the shipwright said, and laughed. His name was Makkor Gurak-Golak-Dok-Hkukguh, or, as he translated for Aaran with evident pride, Makkor Only-Hkukguh-Builds-a-Better-Boat. Hkukguh being his people’s god of the sea.