Halls of Law

by V. M. Escalada

  “Triple time, everyone. Tel, you’re in front. Ker, right behind him and don’t lose sight of him. Wynn, keep her up. Fed, you’re with me.”

  After a few minutes the snow that had been lightly falling on and off since they’d left the pass began coming down in earnest as the wind picked up, the flakes tiny and stinging like chips of ice. Ker kept her eyes focused on Tel Cursar’s dark cloak. Where there were pines, there was some shelter. Often, however, the sharp crystals blinded her, and once low-lying branches whipped her face.

  Ker ran until her breath came short and a sharp stitch knifed into her side. Her vision narrowed; all she could see was Tel Cursar moving like a shadow in front of her. At one point she became aware that others were running with them. Once she stumbled, and would have gone down, but a hand came out of nowhere, took a bruising grip above her elbow, and kept her on her feet. So she could run some more.

  The next time she stumbled, Jak’s voice came softly out of the gloom, calling for a halt.

  “Rest for a count of one hundred,” he said. The standard order.

  Jak drew Tel aside with a gesture, but not so far away that Kerida couldn’t hear them.

  “Fed and I will try to draw them off,” he said. “You go on. Don’t stop until you reach the mine.”

  “We’ll wait for you.” Tel’s tone didn’t make it a question, but Jak answered anyway.

  “No longer than morning,” he ordered. “And then only if you’re absolutely safe.”

  Ker wanted to protest, to tell them that she just couldn’t go on . . . and then she remembered the Shekayrin and she pulled herself to her feet. She’d escaped the one at Questin; she was blasted if she’d let this one catch her now. Her blood thundered in her ears, until she couldn’t hear her own footsteps, let alone any sounds of pursuit. Sweat dripped into her eyes and soaked the clothes clinging to her back.

  At a sudden movement on her right, Ker clenched her jaw, stiffened the legs that wanted to fold under her, and forced her trembling hands to pull her long knife free. Someone took her arm, and she spun toward them, but it was Wynn.

  “Sorry.” Ker didn’t have breath enough for more.

  “Pretty good reflexes for someone who’s not a soldier. Can you go on?”

  She bared her teeth in a grin she knew the other girl couldn’t see, not wasting breath on such a stupid question. She shrugged off Wynn’s supporting hand, trying not to stagger as she set off once again.

  • • •

  Jak Gulder stood motionless within the shadow cast by three close-growing pines, breathing with his mouth wide open, holding his knife in one steady hand. With the other, he touched the spot where Fed’s plaque now hung next to his own. They’d managed to draw the main force away from the Talent before Fed was caught and killed. By backtracking, Jak had killed three of them himself. He’d always been good at killing things. He’d have been happy to stay with the military permanently, if his father’s ambitions had allowed it. He’d found Fed Durk lying under a bush, where the man had managed to drag himself. There’d been a body with him, so at least he’d accounted for one of them.

  And here came another.

  Jak let the enemy soldier pass by on the leeward side of the tree, then stepped silently into place behind him, his left hand on the man’s chin, his knife hand at the man’s throat.

  Which was when he felt the noose drop down around his own neck.

  “If you’d been a little older, you wouldn’t have been caught by this trick.” The noose jerked tighter, though not quite enough to stop his breath. “Now lower the knife, and let him go.”

  Jak spread his hands out wide, and the man he’d been holding dropped, first to his knees, then to his side. The dim light had kept the others from seeing the spray of blood, and the cold air from smelling it.

  Jak laughed when they started cursing, kept laughing until a jerk on the rope cut off his air and pulled him to the ground.

  They slapped him back to consciousness and kicked him to his feet, making him walk until they reached a fire, large and bright. They pushed him to the ground and bound him at wrist and elbows, knees and ankles. A cloth that tasted of the oil used to clean blades was shoved into his mouth and tied there. He could move his fingers and toes, so there was no fear of losing circulation although he didn’t know whether that was a good sign. The clearing was a large one, and men on their feet moved around, some between him and the light, some on the far side, with others sitting down. Eleven. No, twelve. Must have started out with two Barracks. There were more packs on the ground than there were men in the clearing.

  Jak flexed his limbs with caution, but there was no give to his bonds. There were no other prisoners within his line of sight. He swallowed with difficulty, grimacing at the taste in his mouth.

  “I don’t know why he’s with them,” one man nearby said.

  “You’d think he’d have done with them of his own accord, after what they did to his grandfather.”

  Jak rolled his eyes. Not much doubt they were talking about him. He wasn’t surprised by this reference to his grandfather. The story was well-enough known, and was behind the heat of his father’s ambition to regain their status at court. He had his own memories of the old man, and his own ideas on whether he’d deserved his fate after the Halls of Law had discovered his embezzlement. What he felt about it was no one’s business but his own.

  Suddenly the soft murmurs of conversation died, all eyes turned in one direction, and those who were sitting down stood up. Jak twisted around as best he could. The black-cloaked man entering the clearing stopped to speak to one or two of the others as he came, but his goal was evidently Jak himself. He squatted on his heels and looked Jak over carefully. The Shekayrin’s back was to the fire, and his face partly in shadow, making it hard for Jak to make out the dark tattoo traced around the left eye. The man gestured, and one of the two who’d been talking about Jak’s granddad removed the gag. He coughed and swallowed roughly.

  “Well, now.” The accent was unfamiliar, but the voice melodious enough. “They tell me you are Jakmor Gulder, a nobleman’s son. I am the Rose Shekayrin, Granion Pvat.”

  Jak said nothing. He’d hear the man out and then figure out what he needed to say to talk himself free.

  “They say you have reason to hate the witches.” When Jak stayed quiet, Granion Pvat searched his face, waiting. Finally, he smiled. “That’s not so, is it? You have no love for them, but you have respect.” He stood up, shaking his head. “Respect I cannot use, though a nobleman’s son I can.” He reached into a fold of his tunic and withdrew a dark red jewel, flat on one side, faceted on the other. Pvat gestured with his empty hand, and two of the others joined him.

  “Hold him,” he said.

  Before Jak could react, one soldier had his head in a firm grip, while the other held down his legs. Granion Pvat knelt and placed the jewel between Jak’s eyes.

  Instinctively, Jak tried to pull away, to twist his head aside, but the two men held him with practiced hands. Pvat tilted his own head to one side, and his eyes narrowed, becoming as dark and red as the jewel itself. Jak renewed his struggle, but the way he was held, the way he was bound, made true resistance impossible.

  “Don’t be concerned,” Pvat said. “There’s no pain.”

  Jak felt an instant rush of cold, followed by a sudden heat on the skin between his eyes.

  • • •

  Ker was lying down, and there was something hard under her cheek. She’d fallen again! Her muscles convulsed as she tried to stand up, but a hand gripping her shoulder kept her down.

  “Relax, we made it.”

  The echoes told Ker they’d reached the mine. She managed to roll herself up on one elbow, and looked around, squinting. Now she remembered. She’d sat down, and obviously she’d passed out as soon as she did. It was dark here in the tunnel, but she could make out the entrance, an irr
egular opening a couple of spans away. The snow had stopped falling, the sky must have cleared, and the resulting combination of moonlight and snow cover made the outside seem very bright.

  A silhouette was suddenly outlined against this brightness, followed by the unmistakable “twang” of a bow string. “Got ’im.”

  Ker smiled at the satisfaction in the girl’s voice.

  “And that’s them backing off.” Tel squeezed Ker’s shoulder.

  “For how long?” Ker asked, using Tel’s lower arm to pull herself up to a sitting position.

  “Let’s hope for a while. They must need rest as badly as we do.” Tel handed her a water pouch. Training made Ker take three small mouthfuls, barely more than sips, before resting the pouch on the ground.

  No one said aloud that no matter how much rest the enemy needed, there were more of them, and they could take turns both watching and attacking. Being outnumbered was never a good thing.

  “You can have more water,” Tel said. “You know there’s plenty in here.” He glanced over her head, looking deeper into the tunnel.

  Ker couldn’t see his face. “Tel, what do you think—”

  “You all right? Getting your breath back?” He waggled his eyebrows, shooting a glance at Wynn’s silhouette near the opening.

  Ker’s eyes had adjusted enough to what light there was to almost make out Tel’s features. “Sure.” She wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand. “Any sign of them?” she said, tilting her head toward the tunnel. It felt almost strange that her breath had slowed to normal, that her heart had stopped banging in her chest. She rubbed the outside of her arms. Her sweat had dried, and she was noticing the cold.

  “Not so far.” Tel shrugged. “We’ll hope Jak gets here before they do.”

  “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “You have a better one? It’s not as though we can tell him what to expect.”

  She found herself grinning back at him. “I can take a watch. One of you come rest.”

  “Here.” Tel handed her a serving of travel cake, but Ker shook her head. Water she knew she needed, but her stomach rebelled at the idea of food.

  “Eat something, and you can spell Wynn,” Tel said. “We should get as much rest as we can while we’re waiting for Jak.”

  Ker wrinkled her nose, but this time took the offered cake. “How long until morning?”

  Tel shrugged. “Wynn and I have been talking. I’m inclined to give him a little longer than that.”

  Ker lifted her eyes from the piece of travel cake she was turning over in her fingers. “How much longer?”

  Tel pressed his lips together without answering, his face hard.

  “Whatever you and Wynn decide,” Ker said finally. “I’m getting tired of leaving people behind.”

  “We’ll wait until midmorning.” Tel’s nod was sharp as a blade.

  Ker fingered the plaque she had around her neck. She knew where Nate was. If only she’d taken a token from each of them, she’d know exactly where Jak and Fed Durk were. They could be out there right now, unable to make out the entrance in the dark.

  “What about showing a light at the opening,” she said aloud, and explained her thinking.

  “It’s as much of a guide to the enemy as it would be for any of ours,” Tel pointed out.

  “But the enemy already know where the opening is,” Ker said. “As long as we keep well back, they wouldn’t be able to see us.”

  “Too much illumination . . .” Tel looked thoughtful. “No, you’re right. The glow stone would serve as a signal, without lighting up so much of the ground that it couldn’t be crossed safely. Yes.” He got to his feet and rummaged in his pouch. “Wynn! Here, set this down as close to the center of the opening as you can, and come back out of the light.”

  “All quiet,” the girl said as she rejoined them. “Might be a bit livelier with that light, though. We’ll have to make sure it’s our own people we’re letting in. Easier if we just shot everyone.” She grinned, and Ker grinned back.

  “Here,” she said, reaching out for the bow. “You rest for a bit. Both of you.” But Tel shook his head.

  “Two awake at all times,” he said.

  Wynn curled up in her military cloak, and her soft breathing showed how quickly she fell asleep. Another way, Ker thought, in which military and Hall training were similar. Without her own training, Ker wouldn’t be able to drop off to sleep as Wynn just did. Her nerves jangled, her brain flickered with the images of trees, wet snow, fast-moving shadows. But she’d been taught a discipline for this at Questin. A Talent had to be rested at all times, for the best Flashes.

  “Is Nate all right?” Tel’s question startled Ker so much she almost dropped the bow. “I saw you touch his plaque. Is he . . . ?”

  “He’s fine,” Ker said. “Almost halfway back, and no one’s found him.” She shifted back a little farther from the entrance. “I wish there was a way to use the glow stone without ruining our night vision,” she murmured. “Though I bet you I can hit anyone who comes within the circle of light.”

  “No bet,” Tel said. “I remember the rat.”

  “Do you think they’ll come, Ganni and the others?”

  “I don’t know whether to hope they do, or hope they don’t.” Tel glanced at Wynn, but the girl was still asleep.

  “I wish I knew for sure whether Jak and Fed were out there.” Ker focused as well as she could on the outer edges of the circle of light, where the moonlight reflected off snow. People waited in the moonlight. It touched them, and it touched her, too. What if . . . Paraste.

  Tel’s blue, green, and yellow aura glowed softly beside her, so familiar now that she could ignore it easily. Wynn’s was behind her, not close enough to distract. Ker focused her attention beyond the entrance. There were men out in the moonlight. Three men, whose auras had the same colors as Tel’s and Wynn’s. Blue, green, yellow. One off to the left, behind a ridge of rock, its rough edge softened by snow. Another was back in the trees. The third was on his stomach, crawling forward. Closer. Almost close enough. Ker lifted the bow, rocked forward onto her knees. Closer. Now.

  A cry and the sound of cursing.

  “What are you doing? That could have been Jak.”

  Ker turned her head. The green, yellow and blue of Tel’s aura was brighter than the glow from the stone. “No, it wasn’t,” she said.

  “You mean you can tell who they are without even seeing them? That’s going to come in handy.” Wynn was awake and watching her.

  “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

  “Who can sleep with all this excitement? Besides, I’m thinking.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That whoever built this knew what they were doing.” Wynn was peering upward, eyebrows drawn tight together. “Pull that glow stone in closer, will you? I want to look at the roof for a minute. Look at that cross-bracing.” There was admiration in her tone.

  “I thought you were a ladies’ maid? What do you know about cross-bracing?”

  Wynn grinned, still looking around the shaft. “Another one of my aunties. Apprenticed to a builder young, drew his plans and designs for him, swung a sledge when needed.” Wynn drew down her brows. “I was apprenticed to her myself, until she fell from a tower. Then her builder wouldn’t keep me.”

  “Hence the ladies’ maid job?”

  “Hence.” Wynn’s grin faded, and she stood up.

  “What is it?”

  Wynn was peering into the darkness behind the cross-bracing directly above them. “Looks like some kind of cables,” she said, pointing. “But I can’t see why they’d be needed.”

  Interested, Ker got to her feet, bow slack in her hand. She was still Flashing. “I guess there’s one way to know for sure.” She reached overhead, stretching to brush her fingers against the part of the rope harness neare
st to hand.

  She jerked her hand away immediately.

  “What is it?” Wynn looked from the rope to Ker’s face and back again.

  “It’s a deadfall.” Kerida closed her hands into fists. “Pull on the rope, uh . . .” She peered around until she found the right spot. “There. Yank on that knot of rope and cord, and all this cross-bracing you like so much will come tumbling down.”

  “A booby trap?” Wynn moved down the shaft, peering upward as she moved away from the spot Ker was pointing to. “How far does it go?”

  “Let’s see.” Ker followed Wynn away from the entrance, using her closing word as they went. The network of ropes and cords continued a full two spans farther down the tunnel.

  “Does it mean what I think it means?” Ker asked.

  “If you think it’s a way to close the door behind us,” Wynn said, “then, yes, it does.”

  • • •

  The sun was rising on a clear, cold, crisp day, the snowfall of the night before sparkling with deceptive beauty. The trail of the man Ker had hit showed bloody against the white. Tel was leaning against the tunnel wall, far enough in that he couldn’t be seen from the outside, close enough to the opening to give him as wide a view as possible.

  “Still out there?”

  Ker nodded. “Only two of them now. Either the one I hit died, or they’ve sent him away.”

  The corners of Tel’s mouth lifted. His eyes never stopped scanning the scene outside. Suddenly, he stiffened to attention.

  “Something’s happening over to the west,” he said. “It’s a bad angle . . .” He edged forward, and Ker followed at his shoulder. She could see it also, a patch of dark green where snow had just fallen off low-hanging branches. But what had caused it?

  “It’s Jak!” she said. Tel grabbed her by the arm just in time to stop her from stepping outside.

  “Wait,” he said. “How is it he’s just walking up to us?”

  Jak stopped out of bow range, and stuck his thumbs in his belt. Ker had never seen him stand that way before. Was he trying to signal them?

  “I can’t see you,” he called out. “But I know there must be someone there. Will you tell me who it is?”