“Ruis Elder was my lover. He won’t get a fair hearing before the FirstFamilies Council. I must attend.”
No! Ruis struggled to speak, but no one paid any attention to him.
“I sorrow for you,” T’Blackthorn said.
The last thing Ruis saw was Ailim flinch.
Ailim strode into the CouncilChamber followed by T’Blackthorn. The FirstFamily heads and consorts milled around, talking. Only a few sat behind the table, like Bucus T’Elder and his wife Calami.
As soon as he saw her, Bucus banged his gavel, hard. “This emergency session will come to order. Sit down and let me ensure we have a quorum!”
He had more than a quorum. All the heads of the FirstFamilies were there, and most of the mates. T’Ash and D’Ash, T’Holly and D’Holly, D’Vine. Ailim’s heart sped as she calculated who she might depend upon.
“I would like to address the Council!” She raised her voice over the dying hubbub.
“One question, first, D’SilverFir, if you please,” Bucus said silkily. “Have you associated with the banished thief calling himself Ruis Elder here in Druida, despite your oath as a Judge to uphold the law of Celta?”
Ailim stiffened her spine. “As SupremeJudge of Druida, I am concerned with justice, not simply the letter of the law.”
“Answer the question!” Bucus Elder snapped.
The rest of the nobles subsided in their chairs, fascinated by the drama.
Ailim thought fast. Ruis’s case was vital, but violations against D’SilverFir might sway the Council more. Better to start obliquely, with T’Reed, Donax’s FatherSire, then work up to threats and attacks against her. She turned to the small, prune-faced man. “Have you, T’Reed, FatherSire of Donax Reed assigned to my household, conspired with Bucus T’Elder to steal my estate? Did you associate with T’Elder when he suborned his mistress, my aunt Menzie, to embezzle gilt to him?”
T’Reed reeled back, his wrinkled face shocked and pale.
“Lies! All lies. The woman is mad!” Bucus said.
Ailim swept her gaze across the nobles, aware of their attention. She smiled. “I can prove everything I say.” She backed the statement with dazzling truth-Flair. By the time she needed to, she’d have evidence. Her smile took on a sharper edge, she gestured widely to encompass everyone. “Surely you all have begun to note the true character of Bucus T’Elder—”
He stood in rage, red and quivering, and shook the gavel at her. “My character is not the point of this session! I called this meeting for the execution of Ruis Elder, who has been found living in Druida, violating his banishment and perpetuating his crimes—spreading his Nullness—”
“Ruis Elder,” Ailim spoke over him. “Your brother’s son! The man who is a thorn in your side. The man you’ve tried to kill all your life—”
“Hold!” Bucus shouted—hitting her with a spell at the same time. Her mind shrieked in pain. He smiled. She stiffened her knees. He shouldn’t have been able to penetrate her shields, but he’d made the amulet—so he knew from Menzie of Ailim’s weaknesses. And he’d used the gavel as a spell-weapon. Ailim had never contemplated her gavel as a weapon.
His spell should have been impossible, or caused an outcry by some of the others. Ailim could only guess that the spell slipped beneath the roiling emotions of the rest of the nobles as they contemplated ordering a quick execution.
Gauze seemed to fill her head—she shook it, grasping for clear thought.
Bucus turned to the two guards who’d accompanied her and T’Blackthorn in his glider. “Did you find her in the company of the criminal, Ruis Elder?”
They shifted their feet.
Bucus addressed T’Blackthorn. “T’Blackthorn, upon your oath of honor, of truthfulness, do you know if D’SilverFir associated with Ruis Elder?”
T’Blackthorn didn’t look at her. “Not of my own knowledge.”
A guard shouted, “She admitted they were lovers.”
Gasps came from the nobles. They leaned forward in their seats.
At that moment the other guards marched Ruis into the chamber, clanking with chains wrapped tight around him, blood running down his temple, and a gag in his mouth.
Ailim’s heart contracted as she saw he tried to stride with his old insouciance, but hobbled instead. How she loved him. How close they had been to having it all! She fought to speak, to no avail.
“T’Blackthorn, you found the Null, Ruis Elder, in Druida?” asked Bucus, moving the mockery of the proceeding down the lethal path he wanted.
“I followed the trail of my cuzes Holm and Tinne Holly to the Ship Nuada’s Sword. It is my expert opinion that Ruis Elder has been living in the starship since he was exiled from Druida and that he caused the disappearance and/ or death of my cuzes.”
“Living in Nuada’s Sword? With the curse? Impossible!” cried T’Reed.
Ailim nearly smiled.
T’Blackthorn raised his brows. “When was the last time anyone here toured the ship?”
Nobles looked at each other. Bucus T’Elder grinned until his fat cheeks nearly buried his eyes. “The repulsive Null is here, affecting the Records so we can’t access them.” He rubbed his hands. “I have not visited the ship since I was a lad, and then I stayed in the museum. Of course the defective hid in an old, useless hulk—both unnecessary to Celta.”
Anger burned in Ailim, but Bucus’s spell lay heavy on her tongue. He wasn’t close enough and hadn’t been here long enough to affect her, yet.
T’Reed frowned. “Nuada’s Sword is not an artifact of interest to me.”
“It doesn’t seem to be an artifact of any interest to anyone.” The voice of Muin D’Vine, the old prophetess, was strong and vital. “I voted for freedom for Ruis Elder. I stand by that. The Wheel of Fortune has spun and he is now deeply involved in an aspect of Celta—”
“My sons!” D’Holly leaned over the table, fixing her gaze on Ruis. He watched as tears streamed down her face. She had sounded as if she truly cared, a mother’s love. Behind his gag, Ruis’s lips turned down, his mouth dried. He’d never experienced motherly love, so had never considered how the elder Hollys might feel at the disappearance of their sons.
“Tell me what happened to my sons, I beg of you!” she cried.
T’Holly stood and circled his arm around his HeartMate. His silver stare bored into Ruis. They both looked older than Ruis remembered.
The chamber fell silent. T’Blackthorn came and pulled the gag down.
“Wait!” Bucus shouted.
“They live,” Ruis said.
D’Holly sagged into her husband’s arms.
“Where are they?” commanded T’Holly.
Ruis cleared his throat and tried to gauge how much to tell and still protect the Ship.
The doors to the CouncilRoom slammed open.
“We’re here!” Holm and Tinne said together, making a grand entrance.
Nineteen
Hubbub rose.
The two Holly sons swaggered in, fit and brown and covered with dust on their leather traveling clothes. They were followed by the Council’s guardsman, Winterberry.
“Since you are involved in this matter, you may stay,” Bucus intoned. “Shut the door and guard it, T’Blackthorn. Winterberry, gag the thief. His input isn’t needed.”
T’Blackthorn shut the door on the gape-mouthed guardsmen. “Ailim, I—” Ruis only got out before Winterberry pushed the gag back into Ruis’s mouth. He didn’t know what to say anyway. It would be better for her if he kept quiet.
D’Holly ran to her sons, sobbing. They closed in on her with blatant joy and hugged her between them in comfort. T’Holly followed to complete the family embrace.
“The Ship, Nuada’s Sword,” D’Vine said, her voice loud enough to still everyone in the room, “is the key to this matter, the path of Destiny.”
“Ah, yes.” Holm Holly’s mouth twisted as he patted his mother and gestured that she and T’Holly return to their chairs behind the CouncilTable. “Nuada’
s Sword, an interesting entity, that. Completely dedicated to Ruis Elder, here, whom it refers to as Captain.”
“Captain!” Bucus said, infuriated.
More astonished and horrified looks came Ruis’s way. He slouched in his chains, raised his eyebrows, and smiled behind his gag. Death was imminent and inevitable—he may as well be as irritating as possible.
Holm buffed his nails on his shabby shirt, probably the only rough furrabeast leather shirt he’d ever worn, Ruis thought. Then Holm examined his fingertips while continuing his story. “The Ship took exception to our attempt to detain Elder and bring him before the Council. It transported us to the 271 Range and the Great Washington Boghole.”
“The Boghole!” cried D’Holly. “How did you return so soon?”
Another off-center smile from Holm. “By freight airship, with great difficulty and promises of outrageous rewards.” He sent a pained glance to his father.
“Any debt you incurred will be paid,” T’Holly said.
Holm sighed.
“How did the Ship transport you?” asked D’Vine. “We, the GreatLords and Ladies of the FirstFamilies, could not accomplish as much,” she pointed out.
Holm winced. Tinne joined him by his side and rubbed at the side of his head, where a large bruise was fading.
“A bullet lifepod,” answered Holm.
Several gasped.
“Celtans have lost that technology. We have forgotten most of the science embodied in Nuada’s Sword. We have not even had a slight interest in it. Now, before us, stands a master of that technology, someone the starship trusts. Who among us knows how to restore a starship, perhaps take it into space, pilot it? What will we do if we lose this knowledge again?” D’Vine said.
“That can’t be allowed to impact the Council’s Orders!” Bucus shouted. “He has already been tried and convicted. The judgment against Ruis Elder was death if he was found in Druida. All we need do here is administer the punishment! There is no other matter needing to be debated. You all voted for his banishment, and his punishment if he broke that banishment, which he has. Death it shall be!” Bucus hit his gavel on the table.
Bucus sneered at Ailim. “As for you, D’SilverFir. Do you deny that you aided and abetted this Null?”
When Ailim spoke, her voice was steady. “No, I don’t deny what you say. I do deny that his previous trial was legal.”
Bang. Bucus’s gavel came down. “You add lying to your own crimes. You will say anything to save your lover. In consorting with a known exile, failing to uphold her judicial vows, D’SilverFir has forfeited her Family Estate.”
Ruis watched her lift her chin even as blood drained from her face. She must have already accepted the verdict, but hearing the words would have been a blow. He reeled from the disaster and bitterly hated the fact he could do nothing. As usual in his dealings with the nobles of Celta. How he yearned to hold her. Why had he ever denied her anything?
“Ruis Elder was found within the environs of Druida. He is subject to execution. Guards, take the Null away to the execution courtyard,” Bucus ordered with relish.
Guards grabbed Ruis. His survival instinct pumped with fast blood through his veins. He struggled and jackknifed to kick his captors. T’Blackthorn faded back to speak with Holm Holly.
“He’s been wronged!” Ailim cried out. “I demand a retrial!”
“Winterberry, remove SilverFir from the room.” Bucus waved a hand at the guardsman. As Winterberry walked slowly to Ailim, Bucus towered over the table, waving his gavel at her. “You are a disgrace to your name and to your former profession. You have betrayed your class and your title.”
“It is you who have betrayed your Family!” Ailim shouted. “I have proof!”
Ruis never admired her more, but the nobles at the table shook their heads at her wild appearance, hair flying about her. She continued, “You should all be receiving proof. Records from the T’Elder Residence, and the starship Nuada’s Sword.”
Winterberry put a gentle hand over her mouth and circled her waist with his other arm, lifting her and slowly walking to the ornate doors. Fury bronzed Ruis’s vision. Another man touched her—against her will. She looked small and fragile. Ruis fought harder, but was dragged step by step to the door now open behind the CouncilTable.
“The Council has judged the Null. He flaunted the Council’s Orders, lived within Druida for weeks with immunity. He dies!” insisted Bucus.
T’Reed nodded. “The Council has already determined that, this whole affair has already reached the newsheets. We are laughingstocks, we, the most powerful nobles on Celta. D’SilverFir’s lapses will be discussed later.” He swept a hand to the open door. It looked huge to Ruis, and he wondered that he’d never noticed it before. The slice of outside he could see looked black as death, not the pewter gray of the day he’d known an hour ago.
The petty guard hit Ruis on his head and he sagged. Then Petty looked at Bucus, hitched his belly over his belt. “We never done this. Our blasers don’t work around him.”
“The Null is in manacles and chains. Some of you hold him, and another run him through with your short sword. Go!” Bucus yelled.
Ruis turned his head and looked at Ailim, still being silenced and carried by Winterberry. If he had to die, he wanted to keep the image of the woman who’d loved him before him.
Her eyes showed torment.
He wished—one last jerk and his gag fell free. “None of this is D’SilverFir’s fault. I muddled her wits, I forced her—” He tasted blood at the blow to his mouth. The clanking of his chains and cursing of the guards drowned him out. Gray dimmed his sight as he was carried half-conscious into the cold, stone courtyard.
Ailim heard the door boom hollowly shut behind the guards and Ruis. As hollow as her life, cutting off all the beauty she’d ever known, slamming on the hope for any joy in the future. For an instant she stood, stunned. Then she broke Winterberry’s hold and ran after Ruis.
Before Ailim could reach the center of the room, Holm Holly caught her. “You don’t want to see this,” he said, grasping her wrists in his hands and pulling her close to his body, where she had no freedom to fight. Ailim struggled, but he was too tall, too strong, and too trained—the premier fighter of Celta.
She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. Heat from agony, anger, determination, and the gathering of her Flair raced through her body. Somehow she’d find a way to prevent it, but she said, “I will see this. I will witness the folly of this act, and I will never forget.”
“Let her watch if she wants, I do. Winterberry, come with me,” Bucus said, carelessly tossing his gavel down. He rolled his shoulders and grinned.
Ruis watched Bucus and Winterberry step into the courtyard. Bucus looked back to the doorway behind him then shrugged.
He strolled with complete arrogance to a chair on a dais. “I will witness the execution,” he rumbled from smirking lips.
Ruis was not surprised. In fact, he felt little. He frowned. He was numb from shock, he supposed. His doom was here, never to be outrun, present and inexorable. He hoped his desensitized feeling wouldn’t wear off before he was killed.
From inside he heard Ailim’s voice cut off mid-phrase. His emotions rustled. He didn’t want to think how he’d hurt her, whether his death might hurt her. Maybe she would marry Holm Holly after all.
“Execute him,” Bucus ordered, gesturing to Winterberry.
“No,” Winterberry said coolly.
That little surprise almost jolted Ruis from his numbness.
“I am a guardsman, the son of a GrandHouse, connected to the Hollys. I am not an executioner. I will not kill him.”
“I dismiss you from the guard!” Bucus raged.
“Fine.” Winterberry said a Word and nothing happened. He looked disconcerted, shot a glance at Ruis, then peeled his guardsman tunic over his head, dropped it on the cobblestones, and went back inside the Council chamber.
Bucus fumed and looked around at the rest of the guards
. Several who appeared of noble blood followed Winterberry’s example.
“You”—Bucus stabbed a fat finger at a slack-jawed guard—“and you”—then at another—“and you”—a third—“come here.”
They looked at each other, shifted, dragged their feet.
GreatLady Muin D’Vine unbent her old, thin body. Her eyes flashed silver with commanding Flair. Her voice thundered through the room. “You know not what you do! By the power in me, as the oldest member of this Council, and as the True Embodiment of the Crone, I command you stop this idiocy! Countermand the execution. Bring that boy back in here now.”
At her intimidating aspect, the milling nobles stopped in shock.
“I agree,” called Danith D’Ash. She tossed her head and walked toward Ailim and Holm. Narrowing her eyes at Holm, she started past him. “See how many women you can restrain, HollyHeir.”
“T’Ash,” Holm called.
The big man started toward his wife. “I’m not going against D’Vine.”
“But he’s a Null,” D’Birch protested.
“And he’s been ill-treated all of his life,” D’Ash said.
“Too late, too late, too late,” whispered the prophetess D’Vine, turning pale and running past them all to the doors, arms outflung.
Ailim wondered what visions she’d foreseen.
With a shriek Shade rocketed into the room. A sheen of sweat dewed his pallid face. He flashed glisten-coated teeth.
“Vengeance for Slash, Nettle, Ruis! Death to you all.”
Holly released Ailim and spun to meet the challenge. She heard the rasp of T’Ash’s blades, the slither of leather of unholstered blasers.
Too late. D’Vine threw herself into the first firebomb. It hit her in the chest, burned red, then black through her robe, sending streamers of flame down her dress. She ignited into a flaming torch.
Heart Thief Page 34
