Bones of the Empire (17 page)

Raeln skin went icy even with his thick clothing as he looked down at Nellic, staring lifelessly at the sky. “He knew this?”

“Yes. We all did.”

“You had me kill an innocent man as a test?” Raeln demanded, checking Nellic’s neck for a pulse. “Heal him!”

“We do not do that. When life ends, we do not twist fate to bring them back without a very good reason. He will rise as an honored ancestor. He fulfilled his role willingly. There is no lack of honor in that.”

“You made me a murderer for no reason!”

Ceran came over, knelt in front of Raeln, and picked up the scroll tube that lay nearby. “His clan was honor-bound to the council and would be forced to kill every member of ours to find the three of you. Turess himself saw this in a fashion and left each clan a singular order that they were to wait to fulfil. Nellic’s clan was waiting for us to ask for them to betray their honor—and for a wildling or orc to risk his or her life to enforce our request. We are the victors, and his entire clan will seek to redeem their honor with our clan, ensuring their support. This morning, we were the smallest of the clans, standing against the council and their new master…who you named before I knew of him. Now we are two clans, and we know our enemy for certain. A single life was worth that, and Nellic knew it. He made his choice, as I made mine when I allowed you to live against the council’s explicit orders.”

“Why?” Raeln asked. Yoska and Dalania cautiously approached, still leading the horse. “Why spare us? Why do any of this?”

“Our clan’s bit of prophecy,” she answered, setting the scroll in her lap. As she spoke, Ceran traced the engraving on the tube with her fingertip. “We were to be the destruction for your kind. Two thousand years, our clan has never had orcs or wildlings among our slaves, though we often traded them to other clans. We were named the council’s sword, and we marched against the most barbaric of our neighbors. There were two signs that we were to embrace those we held lowest in the world and change our ways—one was the fall of darkness over the lands, and the other was a simple greeting from an old friend. The darkness was our warning months ago. The greeting only confirmed what we knew.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, Raeln. Give me time to consult with the clans, and we will explain everything. You have my word.”

Raeln looked over at Yoska and Dalania, wishing he could run with them, but he had to know what he had just gotten himself involved in. Straightening his shoulders, he shouted, “Run!”

Yoska practically threw Dalania over the horse’s back and slapped its rump as he leaped up behind her. After about a half dozen steps, the horse stopped.

Chuckling, Ceran said, “We train all of our servants well, including the horses. You still have not finished learning, Raeln. Do not push my willingness to let you live. The prophecy does not say what condition you are to be in, nor does it say how many would be with you.”

“If we’re so important—”

“I never said important, wildling. You have a role to play. That will not spare you from the whip. You can spare the others, though. What you just asked them to do is punishable by death. I will accept a few lashes, given what you have done before now. This is becoming a bad habit of yours.”

Lowering his head in defeat, Raeln nodded his agreement. Not for the first time, he dearly wished he had ignored On’esquin’s urging to travel north.

*

“Are you all right, Raeln?”

Coughing, Raeln grunted what he hoped sounded like an affirmative statement. For a moment, he had no idea where he was. Pain flooded his mind and body as he tried to get up. But while his legs and arms seemed to still have some strength, the muscles of his back gave out immediately, and he fell back down on his stomach. Memories of the beating he had gotten for trying to flee and for attacking a Turessian—even in defense of the ones who whipped him and fulfillment of the prophecy—came back slowly. Even breathing hurt incredibly. When he tried to push himself up, his arm shook, and he looked down at his wrists to see brutally torn flesh from manacles. He had forgotten they had chained him during the whipping, and his wrists had been badly torn up as the whip had battered him.

“I’ve done what I can,” Dalania was saying as she put a wet cloth to his mouth. The moisture burned his gums, making him realize how dry his tongue and nose had been. “They will not heal you this time. Attacking any Turessian is normally punishable by death. You were spared. They even took the last of the salve they gave us the last time. I think they want these wounds to last.”

Attempting to get up again, Raeln had to use every ounce of his concentration to ignore the burning across his back. He hoped the wetness all across his fur was from Dalania’s cloth, but he had his doubts. Once he got himself sitting straight despite the pain, he asked, “How long was I out this time?”

“Overnight. The representatives from the other clan have arrived. From what Yiral told Yoska when you were carried back, if the clans do not come to an agreement, you and any other ‘savages’ will be executed immediately and the clan will return to the council’s service. If this clan refuses, every member of the clan dies.”

“How long?” he asked through gritted teeth. The moisture on his back was warm and getting worse. He really did not want to know how bad things were.

“They’ve been meeting for a few hours.”

Looking around, Raeln realized Yoska lay in a crumpled heap on his mat, one arm and his blanket draped across his head. “Is the old man alive?” Raeln asked, half-expecting a rude reply from Yoska.

“He is, but his nose and pride were broken after he called Ceran an honorless dog for having you whipped. I believe he managed to spit on her before she beat him with her fists. I was doubting for a while that she intended to let him live either.”

Crawling, Raeln made his way over to Yoska. Lifting the edge of the blanket that had been draped over his face, Raeln saw Yoska had attempted to set the bones, but the wound would be ugly when it healed and the skin across much of his face was a deep purple. Likely, that knowledge was more painful to Yoska than the wound itself, though he was sleeping it off.

“Next time I say to run, do not wait for me,” Raeln told Dalania. “Take any opportunity to flee. I will take the punishment for it.”

Sighing, Dalania came over and pressed her cloth to his back, stinging the raw flesh. “Do you know why I was in Lantonne in the first place, Raeln?”

“No. I don’t care. I’m giving you an order. Is Feanne the only one who actually listens to me when I give an order?”

“My father’s father was born up in the woods near Altis. My father wanted me to return to the woods that we once considered our home. Now, I don’t even care about that wish. I’m far more concerned with going home—any home—with people I care about. You are my family, Raeln, and home is where the last of my family is. I will not leave you to die out here. I doubt Yoska will let you stay alone either. I will not obey the order if you give it. Not today…not ever.”

“Is true,” said Yoska’s muffled voice, though he did not move. “To gypsy, home is where family is, not where pile of lumber makes big box. I have brother and sister here, but no clan to return to. I stay…and maybe I break Ceran’s nose next time, yes? Would be fair, and no one look down on me for hitting woman, no? Gypsy is meant to find much love in this world before he dies, but I think I replace that with vengeance for a time.”

A faint chuckle from outside the hut’s door preceded it creaking open. Standing silhouetted against the light outside was Ceran. She walked slowly into the hut, pausing to study Yoska, before turning to face Raeln. “I will ignore the wanderer’s comment for now,” she announced, keeping her back to Yoska. “I have come to ask a question of you, Raeln.”

Slowly looking up at her, Raeln had to suppress the desire to attack. He knew his tension was likely visible to her in the way his ears sat, but he managed to keep himself still and put on a show of patience.

Sitting in the middle of the hut, Ceran thought a moment before speaking again. “My people do not kill anyone without giving them the chance to know who they were facing and why, should they wish it. We also allow those who were dishonorably wronged to face their accuser in a trial of wisdom. I lied to you about who I was when I first came here. That was dishonorable and it entitles you to face me in a trial of wisdom…which you may wish to do, as you were found guilty of murdering a clan member.”

“You intend to execute me,” he thought aloud, lowering his eyes.

“Intend, no. There are calls for it, though. This is your one opportunity. Would you strike me down while you have the chance? If I give you the right to strike at me, would you take it? Answer honestly. Our people do not punish anyone for honesty.”

Before Raeln could reply, Yoska was on his feet, one arm around the Turessian woman to keep her from running and the other holding a knife to her throat. She seemed unsurprised, her lips a tight line as she watched Raeln.

“Stop!” Raeln barked at Yoska. “If you kill her, that only makes matters worse.”

Yoska muttered something and pushed the knife harder against Ceran’s neck, drawing a line of blood that ran to the tip of the weapon.

Ceran stared at Raeln with an almost bored expression, daring him to act. She had to have known Yoska would strike at her. She was choosing not to act, instead forcing the decision of what to do onto Raeln.

“Yoska, I will kill you myself if you disobey me in this,” Raeln said, slowly standing on shaky legs.

“You lie, friend. We disagree on much, but you would not act against me for killing her. Many weeks you will be mad at me. You will not strike me.”

Raeln tensed his muscles all across his body, knowing the intimidating effect it had on most people. Even Yoska seemed to shrink back slightly, as though he were debating whether he had misjudged. “Yoska, I put honor and duty above all else. That is one thing I think the Turessians and I agree on. In this, I did kill the man and so I am guilty. If their law mandates my death, I will die as they see fit. Drop your weapon.”

Turning his head to spit on the floor of the hut, Yoska abruptly released Ceran and threw his knife aside. He stepped away but still looked ready to attack if given the chance. Raeln could see Yoska’s mouth working through some angry curse, directed at Ceran, but he kept his tone low enough that even Raeln could not make out the words.

“An honorable way to handle yourself,” Ceran said to Raeln, touching the bloody nick on her neck. She lifted her hand and stared at the blood on her fingertips, as though surprised the knife had actually broken her skin. “Far more honorable than many of my own people these days. Is there anything else you would ask of me before the decisions are made? Ask anything you wish. If it does not dishonor either of us, I will attempt to grant it.”

Raeln looked over at Dalania and found she would not look him in the eye. “Free my friends. If they can go free through my death, it was worth it.”

“A request of a truly loyal man,” Ceran noted, smiling gently. “Would you not ask for your own life? Perhaps a plea for mercy? I gave you leave to ask for anything. Ask for all the world, and I will tell you if I can comply.”

Looking around at the other two, Raeln shook his head. “If your people find me guilty, then I am guilty by your law. I have never run from responsibility, and I won’t start now. If you spare me unjustly, I’ll always know I was guilty. They have done nothing to deserve this sort of fate. I would ask for them to be spared, not myself. If I have to give you specifics, I ask that you forgive Yoska’s attempt on you today.”

“I can do that and will gladly,” Ceran replied, bowing her head. “Are you certain you wish to accept punishment when you could as easily fight to escape? You could kill me and run. It would be hours before they knew you were gone. They would never know what you had done. You could even plead to the other preservers for mercy. This is not an offer I make lightly.”

Raeln looked over at Dalania, who appeared ready to burst into tears. He then turned his attention to Yoska, who had retrieved his knife and was pointing it at Ceran’s back, giving Raeln an expectant stare and smirk. When Raeln did not give him any signal, Yoska made a half-hearted stabbing motion at Ceran, as though Raeln had not understood the more subtle gesture.