Heart Thief (5 page)

Bucus pushed his chair back with a sliding rasp and stood. “Why do we try this piece of filth?” His face reddened, his nostrils widened and pinched with heavy breaths. “He is a NULL. Anathema to all of us. Threatening to all of us. Of no use to anyone. Less than a man, a Celta human. He has no respect for us or our traditions, and is filled with bestial emotions, not fit to live.”

T'Ash rose, turned, and matched his gaze with the older man. “He's a GreatHouse FirstSon. Don't call him a feral beast.”

“He is no son of ours. T'Elders cast him out long ago as repulsive, defective, and unworthy. An aberrant son of a sickly father. He is nothing to the Elders. Nothing. Death to him! I call for a vote of Death.”

In the charged silence a little creak echoed as old D'Vine, the prophetess, rose. In hushed quiet she hobbled along the table, touching T'Reed's head, T'Ash's shoulder, D'Ash's hand. She came to stand before Ruis and peer up at him with milky eyes. When she laid her palm against his cheek, he jerked at her chill, uncanny touch. Yes, she must have had a vision.

A tremor shook him again when she stealthily slipped a note into his far trous pocket.

Her lips curved in a thin smile and she tilted her head at the table. Her whisper filled the room. “I have nineteen decades of using Flair, and not even a strong, young Null can suppress my wisdom. I am old, a crone—close to the cycle of death and rebirth—and my sensing of Mysteries is great. I have had visions of this young man—and of the fate of our Council, so I must speak. Events have already been propelled down a specific path. Be wary of trying to control the wishes of the Unknown, of usurping the strong Fate now in motion.”

She dropped her hand and turned toward the FirstFamilies Council. “Not everything is predetermined in this matter, but be assured by seeking to punish Ruis, you will turn the river of Destiny to flood yourselves.”

D'Vine continued. “I cast my vote. Life, as always. Freedom, cherished by us all. Respect—that which our ancestors sought when they cherished and nurtured their puny Flair, left their home planet to pursue their own Path of psi powers. I vote no death and no banishment. Blessed be.” She shuffled, an eerie figure in black, to the doors. Before she reached them, the two Holly men, Holm and Tinne, opened the doors wide and bowed with perfect grace to her. She left.

Hope flared within Ruis. Could he be freed, simply freed? He hated hope. So much worse when it crashed into despair.

“The question of punishment for Ruis, once-Elder, has been called,” Bucus said with relish.

D'Grove blinked. “The sole options before the Council are Death and Banishment, perhaps we should reconsider. . . .”

A flurry of words passed between T'Ash and D'Ash. D'Ash sat back with a huff and didn't meet Ruis's eyes. T'Ash scowled.

Bucus T'Elder glowered at his fellow nobles. “Do I hear any more options being proposed?”

Silence.

“Banishment will be from the major cities of Celta. If Ruis, calling himself Elder, is banished and later found within the walls of Druida, Gael City, Anglesey, or Lomand, he will be executed. Vote,” Bucus ordered.

Ruis didn't want to care whether the FirstFamilies Council voted to banish or kill him. He'd convinced himself that he didn't care.

Had lied to himself again.

The room was hot. His lips were dry. His shirt stuck to his back.

T'Birch started. “Death.”

T'Rowan followed. “Death.”

D'Alder said, “Banishment.”

Ruis's stomach clenched. The voices casting the vote floated to him from a great distance. His vision dimmed.

T'Ash's deep voice boomed, “Banishment.”

More voices sounded. “Death.”

“Death.”

“Banishment.”

Finally it was over.

Before she'd left, D'Vine had voted for Freedom.

Eight voted for Death.

Fourteen voted for Banishment.

T'Blackthorn was absent.

D'SilverFir was absent. The thought of her and the comfort they had shared earlier made Ruis's whole body tighten.

Banished.

 
 
Ailim waited in the large corridor until the Council Herald
waddled to the double Earthoakwood doors next to her and consulted a scroll mounted behind glass next to the threshold.

“Prospective GrandLady D'SilverFir.” His sonorous voice rolled through a hall filled with the dim emptiness of evening.

Ailim grimaced at his pomposity and rose. “I am present.”

A patter of feet attracted her attention, and she looked down the hall to see GreatLady D'Holly exiting from the Council chamber by the unofficial door near the end of the corridor. She headed for the back exit of the building. GreatLady D'Vine, who had previously left the chamber, passed D'Holly and returned to the Council room by the same door.

The Herald ostentatiously swept the main doors open for Ailim with the help of Tinne Holly from the inside. He joined her in the passageway. She heard steady metallic clanks and caught a brief glimpse of a red-shirted figure, Ruis Elder, being marched out of the unofficial door in chains.

Her stomach clenched. Chains. Banished or death, he had said of his fate. She wondered which it would be, and prayed that he would live. Bonded together in the face of their own personal adversities, they'd shared hopes and fears.

She heard the sound of a blow on flesh and a surprised grunt of pain. Ailim leveled a stare at the Herald. “While they are in this building, the Council guards are under your authority. Do they make a point of beating a man before he is executed?”

The Herald's composure seemed to desert him. “Elder is banished, Lady, not to be executed. Execution would have been administered in the courtyard—”

“I am a judge of Celta. I do not accept the beating of prisoners under restraint.” Ailim pivoted on her heel and marched down the hall.

Tinne Holly kept up with her. The Herald puffed behind them, protesting, “The Council awaits!”

She shouldn't keep the entire FirstFamilies Council waiting, but simple justice demanded that she not allow Ruis Elder to be harmed. The idea sickened her.

Halt! she sent mentally. Nothing happened. As she caught a rushed breath, Ailim realized it was because of Ruis Elder's Nullness.

The sounds of a scuffle and more blows made Ailim break into a trot. As she rounded the corner she saw two guards holding Ruis and another with his fist raised. A Petty guardsman stood by, grinning.

“What's going on here?” she demanded.

The Petty guardsman tensed, then composed his face into an ingratiating smile. “Nothin' to worry your head about, M'Lady.” He hitched his belt up his big belly.

A hiss of irritation escaped Ailim. Holly raised his eyebrows. Ruis Elder looked bored, despite tousled hair, a red bruise on one high cheekbone, and a rivulet of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Release him at once!” she ordered the two holding Ruis. They dropped his arms and shuffled away. Ruis straightened.

The grin faded from the officer's face. “M'Lady—”

“D'SilverFir,” Tinne said softly.

“Judge SilverFir,” panted the Herald, catching up with them, “allow me to handle this.”

The Petty guard's mouth fell open, then snapped shut. He gulped. The other guards faded into the shadows. Ruis stood with casual grace, adjusting his shirt cuffs, arching his brows at the scene before him.

The Herald whirled toward the Petty guardsman. “I'll have your chevron for this! All of you, listen to me, you will . . .”

The others seemed to hear his fine tirade, but his voice faded from Ailim's ears as her gaze locked with Ruis Elder's.

He bowed to her. His blasé manner was a mask well mastered, but his eyes leapt with wild flames of intense vitality, recklessness. His glance seemed to dare her to take chances and live life to the fullest. The Herald's voice became a pattern of cadence. She heard the tiny clinks of Ruis's chains and her stomach clenched.

She blinked and focused again on his face, and she understood that he hated her seeing him like this—a bound captive, with blood oozing from his mouth, blood that he wouldn't wipe away because he'd have to raise chained hands to do so.

Ailim looked back and forth between Tinne Holly and Ruis Elder, both sons of a FirstFamily, but how far apart in station! One was cherished, the other outcast. Ruis was taller than Tinne Holly, but with equally noble features and bearing. The injustice of the discrepancy made her dizzy.

“Elder's nullness affects you, GrandLady,” Tinne said, steadying her with a hand under her elbow.

Wanting to wipe away Ruis's blood with a gentle touch and knowing she couldn't, Ailim shook her head. “No.” She raised her chin and stepped away from Tinne. Now Ruis was scowling, his stare fixed on Tinne's hand.

“No,” she said again, louder. “It is the flouting of the Law that I find distressing.” She set her teeth, forcing herself to think beyond Ruis. He was going to be banished, not executed, but Ailim felt loss at the thought that she would never see him again. “Guards, accompany GentleSir Elder”—that brought a flashing smile from Ruis—“to Northgate. Master Herald, I expect you to check with the Northgate sentinel regarding the health of Elder and report back. Viz a full explanation of this incident to my collection box in the morning, understood?”

The Herald bobbed his head. “Indeed, Your Honor.” He began talking again, reinforcing her orders.

Ignoring the other men, Ruis bowed, then lifted his manacled hands and blew her a kiss, followed by a wicked smile. Ailim blinked as warmth fluttered in her.

The guards sidled closer to him and muttered grumpily. Ruis pivoted and started down the hallway. Ailim released a long breath and turned in the opposite direction, walking down the hall back to the FirstFamilies Council and toward her own fate.

“You have a nice ‘command presence,' Your Honor. I'm impressed,” Tinne Holly said.

Though she trembled inside with the anticipation of her own judgment, Ailim kept her face serene, slipping her hands in her wide sleeves. “Thank you.”

She thought again of the small bond that had spun between Ruis and herself. He'd been facing a death sentence, she the death of the Family line which had been entrusted to her care.

Who would she be if she failed her destiny and didn't obtain this loan? What if the Residence and estate were sold? Could she keep the Family together?

Her burdens and the long, hard road ahead made her shudder. Ruis had been banished. Ailim fought a twinge of envy. Ruis left the Council, and old Druida, free to explore and build his own future, with no duties or ties to the past, or the Council.

She wanted to see him again, to make sure he was all right. She wanted to experience being completely at peace and using her five physical senses. And she pondered what she might do to help him.

Now that Ruis was gone the hum of magical-machines and the inner tingle of deeply embedded spells welled to fill the vacuum his nullness had caused.

Thoughts and emotions crashed over her. She stumbled and would've fallen if Tinne Holly hadn't caught and steadied her. “Easy,” he said with a charming smile.

Instinctive shields clapped around her mind, cocooning her inner self against the onslaught of telepathic noise. She erected powerful, conscious mindshields of her own until she could selectively practice her Flair.

She tried a smile. “My thanks.” Then she freed herself from his light grasp, and for once ignoring who might see her nervousness, pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and patted at her face. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she reminded herself that she was a Judge with six years of experience, that she was a FirstFamily Head, a GrandLady, D'SilverFir.

She mastered her anxiety and entered the CouncilChamber with a measured, serene step. Tinne escorted her to a chair facing the FirstFamilies Council. She arranged her gown in perfect folds, as she had so often arranged her judicial robes, and sat down. Tinne left the room.

It had been a long time since she'd visited this room as a very young woman. The marble walls with faint veins of rose and gold still gleamed. The council table was as massive as she remembered. Even the plump red cushions under her gave little ease as she anticipated the next septhour.

When she looked at the Council, several people were blotting perspiration from their skin and drinking water. All twenty-three of the House heads were there except T'Blackthorn. Instead of his spouse, T'Holly sat with his Heir, Holm.

Most of the faces were familiar from GreatRituals she'd attended in her youth, before she'd started her rounds outside Druida as a circuit judge. Ailim felt their thoughts as a heavy pressure like lowering storm clouds. The sensation wasn't as pleasant as the blessed quiet she'd experienced with Ruis Elder in the hallway, but something routine that she could dismiss. She could only discern thoughts from the new D'Ash who manifestly hadn't learned to completely conceal them.

D'Ash's thoughts were amusing. She worried about Ruis, not happy with his banishment and planning how to smuggle a rare cat Fam companion to him. Her strategy was amazing, particularly since she intended to circumvent her husband.

Bucus T'Elder, Captain of the Council, scowled at Ailim. He had insisted on the latest Family spreadsheets so he could study them before the Council meeting. Since Ailim hadn't been officially confirmed as D'SilverFir and accepted into the FirstFamilies Council, she could only respond to questions.

She received telepathic curses from him, due to the way the last decision had gone. He shredded some papyrus in front of him. Lust for Ruis's death flared around Bucus's mindshield.