Sword and Verse (20 page)

Mati let out a growl of frustration. “The gods-damned Resistance again. First Tyasha, now Patic, and if they killed my father . . .” He shook his head. “But when I think of those tialiks trying to get their claws into you—”

“Stop using that word, Mati.” I clenched my hands in my lap. “Or have you forgotten that I'm Arnath too?”

Mati stared at me. “You tell me they killed my father, and you want me to speak
kindly
about them?”

“Maybe . . . maybe they're doing what they feel they have to. Did that ever occur to you?” I looked down at my fists, my words coming low and fast. “I told you what it was like for me here in the palace. Think of the slaves out there. They can have their families taken from them at any time, or be whipped for just looking at someone the wrong way. Jera has scars all over her back, Mati. Tell me, what could that little girl have done to earn that? And the man who did it was perfectly within his rights, because she was his property.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “You sound like Tyasha,” he said at last, his voice so neutral that I couldn't tell whether this was a good thing, in his mind, or a bad one.

I sighed. “I know this is hard for you—”

Mati gave a hollow laugh. “Hard? You have
no
idea.” He flopped onto the bed. “At least for the slave I can arrange for it to be quick. The council will demand blood—in public—for a Scholar though.”

My stomach turned. “Mati, I know you're angry and you want to . . . but can't you just . . . banish them?”

“This has nothing to do with what I want! I
want
my father
to be alive so I don't have to deal with any of this. I
want
Qilara's treasury to be stable enough that I don't have to marry Soraya. And I
want
the woman I love to trust me enough to tell me the truth. But I don't get to have any of those things, do I? If I don't make an example of Patic I'll have ten assassins a Shining after me, and the Resistance will only gain more supporters.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You know I have no heart for violence—everyone knows, thanks to my father complaining about it all the time. But what I want to do isn't always what I have to do.”

I nodded silently. That was what Laiyonea had been trying to tell me: Mati no longer had the luxury of following his heart. No matter how much I deluded myself in the meantime, I'd be watching him marry Soraya Gamo in forty-two days.

Mati touched my shoulder. “I'm sorry I let loose on you like that,” he said quietly. “It's not your fault. It'll be all right.” He took me in his arms, and I did my best to believe him.

And it did seem that it would be all right. The guards who were sent after Patic and Ris came back with the news that both had escaped, likely to Emtiria. Mati came to me at night, and we focused on the present time together, and didn't talk about what was to come.

So I was unprepared when, three days later, six guards dragged me before the council to answer charges of treason.

Much as he burned to please Gyotia, Aqil feared his mother's power. So he sent his crows to her, for she had always treated them kindly. But when she reached out to stroke them, they struck at her and bound her hands with cords they had hidden in their black plumage. Aqil dragged her before the assembled gods and stood triumphant, one foot upon her back.

Gyotia lifted the tablet. “Aqil, I name you god of sacred learning, in place of Sotia the traitorous. You shall present this tablet to Belic, who has banished his brother and pledged to revere the language of the gods evermore.”

Aqil stepped forward. The moment he removed his foot from her back, Sotia leaped at Gyotia and knocked the stone tablet from his hands.

I WAS IN
the garden with Jera when they came. My body seemed to understand before my mind did—my heart started racing as soon as I heard the clump of booted feet on the path. Then the guards emerged into the clearing, led by Captain Dimmin.

The guard captain was young for his post, and supposed to be quite handsome, but I took one look at his unsmiling face and swallowed hard. “Jera,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Run up and see Laiyonea.”

She scurried out of the garden, and the guards let her go without a glance.

“Tutor,” said Dimmin, “you are summoned before the Scholars Council on charge of treason against the crown.”

“I—”

Dimmin continued as though I hadn't spoken. “You will first be searched.”

I felt as if I were outside my body, watching someone else rising from the bench and squeaking, “Searched?”

“Unfasten your hair,” said Dimmin in a clipped voice. He motioned two of the other guards forward—there were six altogether, I took in with distant wonder. How could they think they needed six guards to control me?

Slowly I slipped the bands from my hair and shook out my braid. One of the guards seized my head and pulled roughly through the strands, and I cried out in pain.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly, pushing me away.

Angry tears sprang to my eyes. What did they think would be hiding in my hair?

Dimmin gave a businesslike nod. “Now unfasten your dress.”

I lifted my chin defiantly, but before I had a chance to protest, Dimmin gestured to the two men. The shorter one, leering, untied the laces of my dress in a single swift movement and pushed it off my shoulders. It puddled at my feet and I stood before them in only my shift.

Fear sliced through my anger now.
Stay calm
, I told myself. They had no way of knowing what was sewn into my shift. And surely they wouldn't expect me to strip naked. Surely, even
though I was Arnath, my post as Tutor would protect me from that humiliation.

“Continue,” said the guard captain in a hard voice. Instinctively, stupidly, I fought the firm hands that raised my shift over my head, trapping my arms inside. My stomach lurched with hot humiliation as I heard a rude comment from the shorter guard and guffaws from the others. I struggled harder, and heard fabric ripping.

They pulled the shift over my head, leaving me completely naked. My cheeks hot, I grabbed the dress at my feet and held it over myself. I wanted to curse at them, but I didn't dare utter a word.

Then my gaze fell on the torn shift in the shorter guard's hand and my breathing stopped. The careful stitches of my added, hidden pocket might have gone unnoticed—if the garment's side seam had not split in my struggles, leaving a soft edge of pale paper protruding from the tear.

“Give me that,” said Dimmin sharply. “The council will want to see this. Bring her along.”

Silently I drew my dress over my head and let the guards lead me back to the palace.

It was over, all over. I had told Mati that I had burned all my writing. How could I explain this?

We arrived before the closed doors of the council chamber. Dimmin knocked and spoke to the servant who answered.

I heard Mati's voice from inside the room. “. . . outlaw such methods as inhumane and—” The words were cut off as the door clicked shut.

The doors reopened a moment later and I was thrust inside. The guards deposited me in the middle of the floor, then stepped back, pointing their swords at me.

“What is the meaning of this?” said Mati sharply. I couldn't look at him.

Penta Rale rose lazily from his chair. I darted a glance around the room and saw the other councilors whispering and sharing looks of consternation. Soraya Gamo, in her spangled scarf, watched me with narrowed eyes.

Rale lifted his hands, and the whispers ceased. He produced a bundle of cloth—my shift—from which he withdrew a folded sheet of paper. I gritted my teeth at the sight of my heart-verse in those fat fingers.

“I submit evidence of treachery from this . . . Tutor.” The word was an epithet in Rale's bland voice. “This page was found in her undergarment.”

Mati's eyes ran over my rumpled dress and disheveled hair, and he rose angrily. “And who ordered such a search?”

“Why, I did, Your Majesty,” said Rale. “You see, it was something that dear child Jera mentioned that first raised my suspicion. She told me of finding papers hidden in the Adytum, and asked me, as innocent children will when bewildered by the actions of their elders, why pages would be hidden there when everything written in that space is to be burned.” He aimed a poisoned smile at me. “Why, indeed, Tutor?”

The eyes of the entire council turned on me. “Perhaps they were left by accident,” I said, my voice like a creaky door.

Rale raised his eyebrows. “And this sheet
accidentally
fell into
your garment? Do not insult this council with lies.” He turned to the others with a sweeping gesture. “When I searched the Adytum and her rooms and found nothing, I concluded that she had secreted the pages on her person.”

“You overstep yourself,” said Mati, voice even but hands clenched into fists at his sides. “The Adytum, the palace, and the Tutors are all the property of the crown, and you had no right to search any of them.” I flinched at his choice of words.
He's a fine actor
, I reminded myself.

Rale smiled unpleasantly. “Why, Your Majesty, this offense is an affront to the gods themselves. As High Priest of Aqil, I felt it my duty to investigate. My responsibility to the god outweighs my adherence to mortal law.”

“Convenient, that,” remarked Mati drily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Minister Jin give a tiny shake of his head. Mati must have seen it too, because he looked around at the faces of the councilors and fell silent.

“It puzzles me, Your Majesty, that no one asks about the
content
of the page,” Rale said.

Mati inhaled sharply, as though he had realized that ought to have been his first question. I flushed, Laiyonea's warnings whispering through my mind. Had I given Rale the ammunition with which to ruin Mati? I fiddled with the thong at my neck, twitching the stone under my gown. Mati noticed, and sent me a swift look that told me to keep quiet.

“Well, what of the content?” said the High Priest of Qora. “Its mere existence is enough to condemn her, yes?”

“Indeed,” said Rale. “However, the Tutor appears to have
written in
code
. Suspicious, yes?” He held up my heart-verse, the corner tearing in his rough grip. I suppressed a whimper.

Mati drew himself up and spoke so regally that he might have been channeling his father's spirit. “You say you were serving your god. Need I remind you that your king counts High Priest of Gyotia among his titles? How do you know that this page is not written in the higher order script, which, as priest of a lesser god, is forbidden to you?”

Rale's eyes widened. “I have no way of knowing that, of course, Your Majesty. I assumed that the code was part of the Tutor's treachery.”

Mati held out his hand imperiously, and Rale gave him my heart-verse. My breathing eased as soon as the sheet was in Mati's hand. Mati skimmed the page, and I could see him trying to decide which the councilors would find a worse crime: me carrying a coded page, or me carrying a page written in the higher order symbols. If he told them that it was higher order writing, they would have to accept his word, wouldn't they? Had Rale grown so bold that he would dare to compare it to the writing in the Library of the Gods, and call out his king's lie?

Mati apparently thought so. “This is nonsense,” he said. “Not even real writing. You are wasting this council's time.”

Rale gave a little bow. “I thought it too unbeautiful to be the language of the gods,” he said. “But she has still broken the law by failing to burn it. And dare we overlook the possibility that this is a coded message? After all, her predecessor shared the language of the gods with others, and was caught passing messages to the Resistance. If it is indeed nothing, then why would the Tutor
take such steps to conceal it?” The other councilors murmured in agreement.

Mati looked like he wanted to throttle Rale right there in open council. “Perhaps,” he said through gritted teeth, “we should ask the Tutor.” He turned to me. “Raisa ke Margara,” he said, so loudly that his voice rang off the stone wall behind me, making me wince. “What is the meaning of this?” His eyes bored into mine, seeming to plead,
Whatever lie you tell, make it a good one.

“It was . . . a training exercise for Jera, Your Majesty,” I said, the huge room swallowing my trembling voice. “To help her learn to use the quills. I was . . . afraid I would forget the idea if I did not save the page.”

Mati turned to Rale, a little too quickly. “Do you still see sinister purpose here?”

Rale eyed me greedily. “Exactly the kind of excuse we might expect from one passing information to our enemies.”

Mati looked around quickly. “Nevertheless, treason against the crown requires that the crown see evidence of treason. I see none.” He crossed the room in three strides and dropped my heart-verse into the firepit.

Aqil threw his mother to the ground, while Lanea retrieved the tablet. When she presented it to Gyotia, he saw that a large piece of stone was missing from the center.

Gyotia turned on Sotia. “What have you done with it?” he demanded.

Sotia refused to say a word.

MY HORRIFIED GASP
echoed around the chamber. I felt them all watching me, but I couldn't school my expression. I closed my eyes and hid behind my hair.

“No evidence, sire?” said Rale; I knew he was indicating my reaction, but I couldn't look at him, couldn't look at Mati, couldn't look at the smoke rising from the firepit.

Obal Tishe's gentle, reasonable voice came from my left. “We must remember that this Tutor was chosen by the gods through the oracle.”

Rale snorted. “As was the last one.”

“Indeed,” said Tishe mildly, his gaze on Rale, “the choices of the gods can sometimes be baffling.” He let his words hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “Nevertheless, this council cannot contradict the will of the gods without significant evidence. If she had passed messages to our enemies, surely we
would have seen the results of such treachery. Has there been an increase in Resistance activity?”

Mati, who had been looking thoughtfully at me, roused himself and gestured to someone behind me. “Dimmin, report.”

Captain Dimmin stepped past me, bowing to Mati. “Disruptions in the city have been minimal since the coronation, Your Majesty. Other than the escape of the traitor Patic Kone and his slave, we have seen no sign of the Resistance at all. As I reported previously, our attempt to bait them with the weapons shipment at the pass failed.”

I tensed as Mati's brow crinkled. I didn't have to wonder whether he remembered telling me about his guard captain's plan to entrap the Resistance; I could see that he had already made that particular connection.

Mati's eyes fell on someone to my left, and I turned to see a dark-haired scribe crouched beside Minister Jin, murmuring in the old man's ear.

“What is it?” said Mati sharply.

“Terin has relevant information, Your Majesty,” said Minister Jin.

“Speak,” Mati barked at the scribe, who stood and straightened his tunic. A wave of dizziness passed over me as I realized why his face was familiar—I had seen it, close up, from my hiding place in the corner of the records room, and my heart had constricted with fear then too.

Terin bowed his head. “Your Majesty, councilors, some time ago I discovered rodent damage in our storage area, and the record of Eral Kone's holdings was among the most damaged. The entire
slave listing was gone. At the time, we assumed that it was the work of mice, but with his son's escape, I now fear that someone tampered with our records.”

Mati's eyes slowly moved to my face, and I saw him replaying our conversation after I'd been caught in the basement corridor, and my warnings about Patic after the banquet. Any minute now he would realize, if he hadn't already, that I'd avoided explaining exactly how I knew that Patic's slave was with the Resistance, that the only way I could have known was if I'd had more contact with them than I had let on.

Mati turned abruptly to Rale. “When did you find the paper on her?”

Rale seemed to be suppressing a grin. “Just before she was brought here, Your Majesty.”

Mati nodded stonily. My stomach dropped, and I understood with miserable clarity what he must be thinking—I had told him ages ago that I'd burned all the pages, so what else had I lied about?

I stared at Mati, willing him to look at me. If only he would look at me, I might be able to tell him, somehow, that it wasn't what it seemed.

Mati spoke to the guards, his gaze arrowing past me. “Take the Tutor to her room while the council discusses this matter.”

“Post a guard outside her door,” added Rale. Mati slowly nodded his agreement.

Still he would not look at me.

The guards pulled me away amid murmurs from the councilors. I couldn't bear it, the way Mati's eyes had gone cold and his
face had become an indifferent mask. “Mati,” I called, unable to hold the cry back any longer.

The anguished sound caused him to meet my eyes for a split second, but then he turned away, and I was hauled through the doors and along the corridor.

I didn't even realize I was crying until the guards shoved me into the sitting room and I collapsed on the flowered rug.

“Raisa! What happened?” Laiyonea helped me into a chair. I was vaguely aware of Jera sitting across the room.

He wouldn't even look at me. Why wouldn't he look at me?

“Raisa?” said Laiyonea, alarm in her tone. “Jera said the guards came for you . . . but if you're here . . .”

“They did,” I choked out. “I was taken before the Scholars Council.”

Laiyonea sucked in a breath. “Someone found out about you and Mati?”

I shook my head, closing my eyes against the image of my heart-verse vanishing into smoke. Despair threatened to overwhelm me. “No, I—I'd kept a page of writing. Rale had me searched and . . . they found it.”

Laiyonea's face was stormy now, so I looked away from her and saw Jera. The little girl wore the same arrested look she had in the weaver's stall as she'd tried to follow the adult conversation that would send her to the Selection.

A bright green ribbon gleamed in her hair. That had been a gift from Penta Rale. He'd visited her in the gardens, had doted on her just like the others. But Laiyonea had warned me that Rale hated Tutors. Why hadn't I put the pieces together?

I beckoned to Jera. She came to me solemnly. Whatever happened to me, I wanted her to know it wasn't her fault, but how to say so without making her realize what her questions to Rale had done? So I just held her for a long moment, then said, “Jera, go to your room. Laiyonea and I need to talk.”

She nodded and left. I waited for the click of the second door before I spoke again.

“There's more,” I said, staring at the floor. Haltingly I told her of how I had helped the Resistance, and how Mati had behaved when he'd realized my lies. Tears came again as I recounted it. “Please, Laiyonea, go to him. Tell him he has to let me explain. He wouldn't even look at me. He thinks I betrayed him.”

“Didn't you?” said Laiyonea coldly. Her nostrils flared. “Romantic foolishness I knew you were capable of, but this!” She shook her head. “I
defended
you after Mati was seen leaving your window. Tyno would have sent you away. I told him it was too late to train another girl. I told him you were nothing like . . . and Mati, he lied for you too. Gave quite a performance to convince his father that you wanted nothing to do with him.” Her lip curled. “A shame that you turned out not to be worth the effort.”

Her words were like a blow to the stomach. “I was only trying to help those children—”

Laiyonea gripped my arm, baring her teeth. “If I had known, I would have turned you in myself.”

I leaned away, horrified. I had seen Laiyonea displeased, angry, disapproving . . . but this was something else entirely. Palpable hatred rolled off her.

Laiyonea opened her mouth to say more, but a sharp knock
at the door cut her off. Captain Dimmin stepped into the room. “Come with me, Tutor,” he said, no hint of emotion in his voice. I stood and smoothed my rumpled dress. Laiyonea crossed her arms and turned away.

So I gritted my teeth and followed the guard captain. He didn't grip my arm like the others had; oddly, that made him more, not less, intimidating. Two more guards fell into step behind us as we descended the stairs.

They took me through the entrance hall, their footsteps ringing in the silence. The council chamber doors stood open, and the room was empty. I didn't have time to wonder about this, because Captain Dimmin opened the outer doors and gestured me through.

I stepped out, and would have backed up if he hadn't been directly behind me. Assembled silently in the courtyard below were half the council—I saw most of the high priests, and Soraya Gamo standing by her father—as well as rows of guards and a smattering of Qilarite servants. A knot of Arnath children stood behind Emilana Kret.

Mati wasn't there.

The guard captain pushed me forward and I stumbled down the steps. Penta Rale stepped out from the line of high priests, his watery eyes bright. My stomach lurched.

“As Aqil's representative,” he boomed, “and on behalf of the Scholars Council, I hereby strip this slave of her title. Where once stood a Tutor, see now only a slave.”

I had expected this, of course. Once Rale's words would have made me cower in terror, but now all I felt was numb disbelief.
Losing my post was the least of my concerns.

Rale couldn't conceal his delight as he went on. “As this slave has disobeyed her master, we offer a fitting punishment. Such disobedience must be met with swift and effective discipline. . .”

He went on for some time in this vein, clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice, but I tuned him out and looked around again. Where was Mati? I recognized a young guard in the second row, the one who had found me in the scribe rooms. He was watching Rale, his brow furrowed.

Which made me realize I ought to be paying attention. “. . . as a demonstration to all her kind,” Rale was finishing as I turned my attention back to him. My heart stuttered to a stop, then pounded in my chest.

Was this to be my execution? But even that thought couldn't block out the insistent refrain: Where was Mati?

The world seemed to slow, the voices around me to distort. Rale spoke to Captain Dimmin, who took my arm—his grip iron, inescapable, but somehow still not ungentle—and led me to a stone pillar at the side of the steps. I turned to find that the other two guards had followed as well. At a word from their captain, the other two took my hands and dragged me forward so that I was hugging the pillar. I struggled, too late, as they tied my wrists together.

But I still didn't realize what was happening—not until I twisted my head around and saw the guard captain calmly raising a whip.