Heart Thief (46 page)

“Are the Hollys in
Nuada's Sword
?” T'Blackthorn studied him with narrowed eyes.

Ruis met the GrandLord's gaze and put a hand over his heart. “No. I swear it.”

“Look, guy—” One of the guards grabbed T'Blackthorn. He disengaged with a quick move. And looked at the man. “You may address me at GrandLord T'Blackthorn,” he said.

“I have business with this man.”

The guard stumbled back, eyes wide. “The tracker.” “No wonder we was told to follow him,” the other guard mumbled.

“What reward?” asked Ruis.

“This here's Ruis Elder, the thief. He's in Druida City,” the third guard explained. “That makes him violating his banishment and to be hauled to gaol, or we can execute him. Cap'n of the Council said. Preventing us from doing our duties is a crime. He's ours. We got chains.” He hauled a heavy black chain clanking from a sack he'd dropped.

Ruis tensed. He'd never wanted to be chained again.

“Is there a problem here?” asked Ailim, joining them.

“It's the Null's bitch,” one of the guards said.

Ruis swung and hit him. All the guards jumped Ruis. He took a blow to the head and the gut. Dazed, he struggled as they clamped manacles on his hands and feet. “No, no, not her—” he slurred. A moment later a rag was stuck in his mouth and another tied around his head to gag him.

“This isn't right!” Ailim cried.

“Sorry, Y'r Ladyship,” one of the guards sneered. “But this here's a criminal, violating his banishment. Now, you bein' a Judge, you'd know about that, wouldn't you, Y'r Ladyship.”

“Yes.” Ailim's voice was strained.

Pain exploded in his head as someone kicked him.

“Stop that!” Ailim demanded.

“Maybe we will, if you come along nice. Cap'n wants you, too. As for you, T'Blackthorn, there's five of us now, and one of us has already reported to the Cap'n. By the time we reach the Guildhall a 'mergency FirstFamilies Council'll be in session. GrandLord, I'd advise you to let us do our job. If ya like, you can take charge of the lady.”

The autumn ground was cold, but the irons were colder than the hard earth and chill enveloped Ruis like a shroud.

“Judge D'SilverFir. Will you accompany me to the Guildhall so we can sort this out?” asked T'Blackthorn smoothly.

Darkness fringed Ruis's vision. Why couldn't T'Blackthorn get her out of here?

She should lie, should deny she had anything to do with Ruis, say she'd found him and was planning to do her duty as a judge and turn him in. Whether Straif T'Blackthorn believed her or not, he wouldn't contradict a FirstFamily GrandLady, not in front of the guardsmen and a despised Null, probably not even in front of the FirstFamilies Council itself.

“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

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.