Bard's Oath (52 page)

Because I demanded it,
Maurynna replied grimly.
I’ve seen—and smelled—cleaner midden heaps.
And
there were rats in there that you could slap saddles on. While I can’t demand that they ignore their laws and set Raven free, I damn well will use my rank to insist on better quarters for him. If anyone squawks, Beren will just tell them that I insist on visiting Raven and it was not a fitting place for a Dragonlord. End of argument.

Shima considered that. As far as “abuses” of power went, it seemed a harmless one.
So where will he be?

A cell in the tower opposite ours. It’s called the Black Tower and is where they keep prisoners of royal blood if needed. Now I need to get them to let Yarrow visit him. Damn all stiff Cassorin necks!

More people were filing in, whispering eagerly to each other as they jockeyed for the best seats. Shima wondered what this day would bring for Raven.

Nothing good. No sooner had Raven been strapped into his chair once more than Lord Asiah rose and faced the assembly.

“My lords and ladies, Your Graces, the Judges’ Council of Balyaranna has come to a decision.” He turned his head to look at Raven a moment, then at his eager audience once more. “At dawn tomorrow, the man known as Raven Redhawkson shall be hanged by the neck until dead,” the Justice of Balyaranna intoned.

Maurynna gasped. She swayed in her seat; Shima slipped an arm around her shoulders, afraid she would faint.

Shima,
she begged.
Do something, say something! If I try to talk, I’ll just, just
— Her mindvoice “gulped.”
Please—there’s something here we’re not seeing.

But what?
Shima asked, racking his brains in desperation.

I don’t— Wait! Remember what Linden said about Conor? There’s
got
to be something to explain this!

It was the thinnest of threads, but Shima grasped at it. He rose. “If I may address this assembly, my lord Justice?”

From the way the man’s lips thinned, Shima knew he was not happy. Shima counted on the reluctance he’d noticed to refuse a Dragonlord anything outright.

“Of course, Dragonlord,” the Justice said stiffly.

Shima went to the front of the room. “I ask that you delay the sentence for a few days at least, my lords and ladies.”

“But this man has taken a life,” Lord Asiah replied. “And there is no evidence that it was otherwise.”

“But once he also—at the risk of his own—saved a life,” Shima countered.

“Whose?” someone called. “A pigherd’s?” Laughter greeted the sally.

Shima glanced over in the direction the voice had come from. “Mine,” he said grimly. Into the sudden, surprised hush, he went on, “During my First Change, a soldier—part of a Jehangli patrol—was about to throw a spear at me. I had no idea what was happening to me and I was helpless. Raven saw the danger I was in. He used the only weapon he had—a rock. A rock against a well-armed patrol. Had the soldier succeeded in killing me, Raven and my little brother would have fallen victims to the wrath of that same patrol. I can assure you, my lords and ladies, the Jehangli soldiers would not have been kind. Raven and Tefira had escaped them once. The soldiers would have made certain that it didn’t happen a second time.
Very
certain.” Shima looked around to make sure that all understood his last words.

He continued, “Luckily, Raven’s aim was true. He knocked the spear out of the soldier’s hands and saved my life. Until now, I’ve had no chance to repay him. Therefore I ask this boon: We need time. We feel there is something not quite right in the accounts concerning what happened. Please give us the time to make certain that there is no mistake.”

He paused a moment, and once more studied the faces before him. He read denial in many—too many—of those faces.

So did Raven. He caught Shima’s eye, then looked down at one hand. Shima followed his gaze and saw Raven raise the two middle fingers and tap the chair arm.

Shima understood; it was the closest Raven could come to the Dragonlord sign for mindspeech. He reached out to touch Raven’s mind with his own.

Thank you for trying.

The Yerrin’s mindvoice was exhausted. But worse was the feel in it of defeat, guilt, worthlessness, and, above all, giving up.

Shima swore under his breath. Were he playing
diyinesh,
now it would be the time to throw down his Luck piece, the Sun Eagle.

And he had one.
I’m not done yet,
he told Raven. He cast his Luck—Raven’s last chance—before these people who held his friend’s life in their hands.

Taking a deep breath, Shima said, “I ask it also in the name of the Lady of Dragonskeep and of the truedragon Morlen the Seer. I ask it in token of the services that Raven Redhawkson has rendered both Dragonskeep and the truedragons in the past.”

May that prove to be the Sun Eagle, my friend,
he thought, fighting to keep his fear from showing.

A lightning bolt couldn’t have surprised the council more. Shima suspected that they had never dreamed he would invoke those names. He watched, amused, as the members of the Judges’ Council turned in dismay to one another. The buzz of their hurried consultations filled the chamber. Shima’s unnaturally sharp hearing caught snatches here and there.

“But he’s only a commoner!” “How long must Lord Tirael wait for vengeance?” “Oh, dear! Oh,
dear
—it wouldn’t be wise to anger the Lady.” “Why did the damned horse breeder have to have Dragonlord friends, anyway?” “He was caught red-handed—literally! I say we hang him and have done with it!” “Bloody idiot—do you want an angry truedragon sitting on
your
manor house and rampaging through your fields because we didn’t delay a few days? I don’t! I say we wait—he’ll be just as dead in a tenday as he would be tomorrow morning.”

The last was courtesy of the irascible Lord Corvy, and everyone had heard it. Corvy’s idea of a “discreet whisper” was a muted bellow. He sat back in his chair, whuffling in annoyance through his bristly grey mustache, glaring at the other members of the Judges’ Council.

Shima watched as the mental image Corvy had evoked spread among the old lord’s fellow nobles. Its path was easy to follow; first, eyes went wide, then face after face blanched and lips moved in soundless prayers—or curses. He was never certain afterward how he kept a straight face. Indeed, had it not been life or death, he would have laughed aloud.

Lord Oriss, one of the judges, stood up. He coughed delicately and said, “The Lady of Dragonskeep and Lord Truedragon Morlen might not appreciate such a request. Would you truly risk annoying them for the sake of a mere commoner?”

This was an attitude Shima had never faced among his own people, the Tah’nehsieh, though he’d heard of it among the Jehangli. He hadn’t liked the thought of it then, and he despised the reality of it now. Shima stared at the Cassorin noble until the man squirmed. “Did you forget that I was also born a ‘mere commoner,’ my lord?” he said coldly.

Before the man could answer, Maurynna stood up and faced Lord Oriss. She said, “As was I, my lord.” Her voice was quiet and controlled, but all the more dangerous for that. Even Shima flinched from the steely edge in it.

Lord Oriss looked as frightened as if he’d suddenly found a naked blade at his throat. “I—I m-meant no…” He trailed off.

A deep voice said pleasantly—too pleasantly, Shima thought; there was as much danger in that mild tone as in Maurynna’s barely contained fury—“Until she reached First Change, the Lady of Dragonskeep was a weaver’s apprentice. I don’t think there will be a problem there.”

Everyone looked to the door in surprise. Linden stood, leaning against the jamb. He looked, thought Shima, very tired.

Linden pushed off from the jamb and walked into the room. He went on, still in that deceptively mild voice, “And the greatest of the truedragons, Morlen the Seer, doesn’t give a damn for what he sees as truehuman pretensions, my lords and ladies. He also holds Raven in high regard, for it was Raven’s idea of using Llysanyins as performing horses that gave us the key to enter Jehanglan. Because of him, we were able to end the truedragon Pirakos’s horrible suffering.”

“I … see,” Lord Oriss managed to say.

“But getting word to them and then returning would take days, wouldn’t it, Your Graces?” someone asked.

The voice came from the back of the room. It was one Shima hadn’t heard before, nor could he even tell whether it was male or female. What he
did
know was that he didn’t like the sly note under the apparent concern. He suspected he knew just what plans the owner of that voice contemplated.

It was lovely to foil them. “Not at all,” Shima replied. “All of us are strong fliers.”
Though this one would be on Maurynna or me.

From the looks on the faces before him, it was plain they’d forgotten for the moment that Dragonlords weren’t bound to the earth as they were. Shima guessed they’d agreed with the unknown voice:
Hang the bastard while they’re riding north. Not a damn thing they can do then.
Shima smiled sweetly at them.

“Nor do we even need as much time as flying would take, my lords and ladies,” said Linden. “It’s possible that even from this distance, I could mindspeak the Lady of Dragonskeep on my own. If Maurynna or Shima let me draw upon their strength, I
know
I can reach the Lady. Then a message out of Dragonskeep to Morlen the Seer and his kinswyrms as the Lady wings south…” He shrugged. “I understand many of the truedragons hold Raven in very high regard. Likely they’d come as well.”

Dismay, consternation, fear; even a few devout prayers. It was plain this was
not
a thing the nobles of Cassori wished to see.

Folding his arms across his chest, Linden looked from side to side. “And all for the thing we ask you now. My lords and ladies—do we have our extra time?”

Lord Corvy said, “By all the gods, give it to ’em. We don’t want a bunch of angry truedragons hanging about, now do we? So we wait a tenday or even two.”

*   *   *

They had a tenday; the Judges’ Council had recessed and then sent word of their decision. Now the question was, how could they prove a man caught red-handed was innocent? Linden hadn’t the faintest idea. Neither, he suspected, did either of the others. By unspoken agreement, they headed for the tranquil seclusion of the castle gardens after the closing of the Judges’ meeting.

“Otter?” Maurynna asked.

“Here,” Linden said. “I asked Lord Asiah that he be allowed to visit Raven. As soon as he realized that it was
that
Otter Heronson, he agreed. The rest of the Judges’ Council is still balking at letting Yarrow visit, however. I’ll talk to Beren about it.”

Walking aimlessly, they came upon a small grove of cherry trees. Centered in the grove was a little pool lined with white marble; benches made of the same stone faced each other across the water. Maurynna and Shima wandered off to see if any of the cherries were ripe. Linden stayed behind. He knelt on one of the marble slabs around the pool’s rim and looked into the water.

It was so clear that he could see to the bottom where the center stone had a hole carved into it where the spring below entered. The excess water flowed over a channel carved in one of the rim stones and ran down a channel lined with more of the glossy white stone. After a few feet, the channel disappeared underground. Linden wondered halfheartedly where it went to before looking back into the water once more.

If only our course was as clear as this,
he thought, dipping a hand into the water. It was icy cold. He scooped up a double handful and splashed it over his face, then took a seat on a bench. He watched as the other two came to join him, their hands empty.

They sat down, Maurynna next to him and Shima across from them. Linden couldn’t help observing, “So, your search was … fruitless?”

Shima groaned. Maurynna smiled sweetly—
much
too sweetly—and said, “I ought to shove you in the pool for that. Headfirst.”

“And I wouldn’t blame you a bit. Thank Otter for that one. He used it on me once.”

“Otter … Oh dear gods, Linden—how did he take it?” Maurynna asked. “If Raven is hanged it will break his heart.”

“It was bad, Maurynna-love. Very bad.”

“Do you think Otter can help us?”

“If there’s a way Raven can be helped,” Shima said, gazing morosely into the water.

“Aye,” Linden muttered. “If there is a way.”

A depressed silence fell over them. Time crawled past; Linden racked his brains trying to find a place to start. He saw none. Discouraged, he watched the water bubbling gently over the lip of the pool and listened to the breeze rustle the leaves around them.

“Linden—could you truly reach Dragonskeep from here?” Shima asked at last.

Linden answered, “If, as I said, you or Maurynna helped me, the answer is, yes, I can. Some of the older and more powerful Dragonlords wouldn’t need help, but I often do. I once reached even further with the unknowing help of a band of merlings.”

“When was that?” Maurynna asked, turning on the bench to face him. “I thought you’d rarely been to sea before we met, and you certainly never mentioned seeing merlings. They’re not that common.”

Linden smiled. “I wasn’t at sea, but at Dragonskeep. It was the night I mindspoke Otter when you and he were sailing to Cassori.”

She gazed past him for a moment, lost in thought. “That’s right—I remember now! I’d had the oddest dreams one night, and came out of my cabin the next morning trying to remember them. Then Otter began teasing me—he knew all kinds of things that he couldn’t have found out before we sailed. Said he’d heard it all from a friend. The wretch wouldn’t tell me who; all I guessed was that it wasn’t one of my crew. Nearly drove me to distraction, trying to puzzle out who else he could have been talking to in the middle of the sea.

“Once I found out more about mindspeech, I’d wondered how you were able to reach so far. I know I couldn’t. Then I decided it was because you’d been a Dragonlord so much longer than I. So you did it by tapping the magic of a pod of mer—?” She stopped short, staring at him in puzzlement.