“I do, Honored One. The children of Idrilain share with me the blood of Corruth í Glamien.”
Satisfied, Brythir raised his hand again. “Present the accused.”
Seregil couldn’t see the two men but knew by the shifting of the crowd that Emiel and Ulan had come forward.
“Emiel í Moranthi, you stand before this body accused of committing violence against Klia ä Idrilain while she was a guest of your clan,” Brythir intoned. “An act which, being proven, brings shame upon the whole clan of Haman. How do you answer?”
“For myself and for the honor of my clan, I refute the charge,” Emiel proclaimed loudly.
Brythir nodded, then turned to the right. “Ulan í Sathil, Khirnari of Virésse, you stand before this body for Virésse, beneath whose roof and on sacred ground sacrilege and guest murder were done. How do you answer?”
The Virésse khirnari’s smooth voice carried easily through the large chamber. “Should it be proven that these acts occurred within Virésse tupa, then I will accept responsibility for myself and my clan and take the dishonor upon my name. Until that time, however, for myself and for the honor of my clan, I refute the charge.”
“He’s going to regret those words,” growled Alec.
“Don’t lay any bets on that,” Seregil warned.
Korathan and Adzriel bent over Klia for a moment conferring, then faced the council. Adzriel took a step forward.
“The Skalans seek justice and redress, but not against these men.
Commotion broke out briefly around the chamber, but Seregil still watched Rhaish. The Akhendi sat motionless, hands folded in his lap.
“Surely Korathan í Malteus has been told of the proofs against them?” Brythir asked.
“I have proofs of my own to present,” Korathan answered. “With your permission, Elder?”
The Silmai resumed his seat and motioned for the Skalan to proceed.
“Here we go, talí,” Seregil whispered, his mouth suddenly dry. Dropping their cloaks, they strode forward together to the center of the Iia’sidra circle.
A spate of excited whispering swelled around them as word of their identity was passed to the back seats and around the galleries overhead.
Stealing another look at Rhaish, Seregil found the Akhendi seemingly no more surprised than anyone else.
“Seregil of Rhíminee?” Brythir said at last, as if he couldn’t credit what he was seeing.
Seregil bowed, spreading his hands wide in the ritual gesture of surrender. “Yes, Khirnari. I have returned to ask your forgiveness, knowing I am not worthy of any mercy.”
“This man broke teth’sag, my brothers and sisters,” Adzriel announced. “By that act he must be reclaimed by his clan, Bôkthersa, for justice to be carried out against him. Yet he committed this offense in the service of the people to whom he was exiled, in order to remain loyal to Klia and her kin, as did his companions, Beka ä Kari and Alec í Amasa. I pray you, let them give evidence this day for the sake of justice.”
“This is an affront to all Aurënen!” Lhaär ä Iriel objected, rising angrily. “Who is this Tírfaie Korathan, to come uninvited to our land and demand that our laws be put aside for his convenience? The Exile has proven himself a traitor and an oath breaker. How dare he come here for anything other than punishment?”
“Look at the mark the Exile now bears,” Riagil called out from his place among the lesser clans. “You Khatme pride yourselves on knowing the ways and meanings of dragons. Examine the mark and interpret it for us.”
“What mark?” she demanded.
Seregil stripped the bandage from his hand and held it up.
The Khatme’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she walked out to scrutinize the bite mark. “I know what you are, Exile,” she hissed, too low for the others to hear. “This is some Skalan trickery.”
“Look closer, Khirnari. No matter how much you may hate me, you’re too honorable not to speak the truth.”
She gave him a withering glare, then seized the offered hand, handling it as if it were smeared with filth. She made no effort to be gentle, but he endured the discomfort willingly as she prodded and pressed. He’d happily have endured a good deal more to watch the expression of grudging awe that came over the old virago’s face.
“He bears the dragon’s true mark,” she announced at last. “A great mark; a sign of the Lightbearer’s favor, though why this should be so I cannot say.”
“Thank you,” said Brythir. “The Exile will answer for his actions, but for now, I vote that he shall speak, and his companions with him. How say the rest of you, my brothers and sisters?”
One by one, the other khirnari assented.
“I will speak first for Emiel í Moranthi,” Seregil began, turning to face the Haman.
Emiel stood next to Nazien’s chair, watching Seregil warily, as if expecting some cruel joke at his expense. The khirnari’s face was more guarded.
“Honored khirnari of the Iia’sidra,” Seregil went on, “as you know, proofs have been given that Emiel í Moranthi attacked Princess Klia, either through violence or poison. From the beginning, however, I had my doubts. I will now lay before you new proofs, ones that show his innocence.
“Klia was brought home from the hunt dying, with the marks of an attack on her throat. Alec í Amasa and others had seen Emiel struggling with her and assumed that he was doing her harm.”
He held a hand out toward Klia. “You know Klia ä Idrilain as a wise diplomat. But she is also a warrior, and would not suffer such an attack without fighting back. She had struggled; there was blood under her nails, but it was her own. Emiel bore no marks, no blood. She was choking, poisoned with the venom of the apaki’nhag hours earlier, and had clawed at her own throat in panic. Many of you have seen the effects of this poison; look at Klia as she is now. Speak with Mydri ä Illia and Nyal í Nhekai, who healed her. I believe the Haman speaks the truth when he claims that he was merely trying to help her when she fell ill.”
“But what of the Akhendi warding charm Klia wore?” asked the Ra’basi khirnari. “Surely you cannot refute that?”
“The charm proves that Emiel acted with violence, but not against Klia, and not that day.” Seregil unsealed the bottle and handed Alec the bracelet, glancing at Rhaish í Arlisandin as he did so. The man still betrayed nothing.
Alec held up the bracelet. “The woven band is Klia’s, made by Amali ä Yassara of Akhendi. But the warding charm on it has been replaced. I know this, because this charm was mine. Emiel’s violence was directed at me, soon after our arrival in Sarikali. The men who were with him that day can vouch for me. So can Nyal í Nhekai, Kheeta í Branín, and Beka Cavish.”
“This is absurd!” Elos í Orian objected. “How could Amali not know her own work had been tempered with?”
“Nyal gave my charm to Amali ä Yassara of Akhendi to restore it. I never saw it again, until I looked more closely at Klia’s bracelet after we’d left Sarikali.”
“Amali would surely have known the difference,” Seregil pointed out. “We believe that she said nothing of it because it was she who switched the charms in the first place, seeking to dishonor the Haman in order to remove them from the vote.”
All eyes turned to the Akhendi khirnari and Amali’s empty chair.
“I refute the charge,” Rhaish said evenly. “She is unwell. Perhaps she made a mistake. She had offered to read it more deeply, but the Exile had already carried it away with him. Perhaps he exchanged the charms, and for the same reason. To dishonor the Haman.”
“Oh, Illior,” Alec murmured. Before either of them could draw breath to answer, however, the Khatme khirnari spoke again.
“If that were the case, then why would he be refuting the accusation against Emiel now?” she snapped. “And why accuse the Akhendi, who have supported the Skalan cause? Besides, who but an Akhendi could have made such an exchange without destroying the magic?” She turned back to Alec. “Do you know more of this?”
“I—I think so,
Khirnari,” he stammered. “I believe I saw Amali make the switch the morning of the hunt. Later, when I found the bracelet and brought it back, Rhaish í Arlisandin insisted that she read the charm, though he or another Akhendi could just as easily have done so. At the time, I thought nothing of it, since she was the maker.”
“And you maintain that you knew nothing of this?” Brythir asked Rhaish.
“Nothing at all,” he replied.
“That may have been true at the time,” Seregil said. “She wouldn’t have told you that she had the charm because you might have guessed how she came by it and disapproved.”
Rhaish colored angrily. “What are you saying?”
“That you are known to be jealous of her former lover, Nyal í Nhekai, and disapproved of their continued friendship. So you didn’t know what she’d done until it was too late, any more than she knew what you’d done, or she wouldn’t have meddled, would she? You certainly seem to have been at cross purposes.”
“Explain yourself,” Brythir ordered sternly.
“I can only conjecture, Honored One,” Seregil said. “After Torsin died and Klia fell ill, I was at a loss to discover their attackers. Such acts are rare here but I have, as you know, spent most of my life in Skala where it is common practice. I’ve had years to observe the ways of dishonor. I have even made my way there using that knowledge, though not in the manner some of you assume. I am not a murderer, but I know the minds of murderers, traitors, and assassins.
“I didn’t expect to encounter them here, not in Aurënen or in Sarikali. My childish memories blinded me for too long, and kept me from asking the right questions. I kept thinking in terms of who stood to gain by Klia’s failure, instead of who would lose the most by it.”
“And you claim that someone among the Akhendi is the murderer?”
“Yes, Khirnari. When Alec and I left Sarikali with Beka Cavish, we were careful to cover our tracks. Yet all three of us were attacked by Akhendi intent on killing us rather than capturing us. Alec and I were ambushed by a party of men waiting for us in the very pass I’d chosen to cross the mountains. Someone told them where to find us, someone with the power to track us, since I’d told no one which route I meant to take. After the attack we found these among the ambusher’s gear.”
He pulled out the Akhendi sen’gai and held it up for all to see.
“We have only your word for that, Exile,” noted Ruen í Uri of Datsia.
“You have mine as well,” Nyal said, stepping forward. “I was tracking the Exile and his talímenios and came upon them just as they were attacked. With Alec’s help, I managed to rescue Seregil as he was about to be murdered, and together we drove off the others. The bodies of those we killed are still there, as far as I know. Later, when I went back to find Beka Cavish, I discovered that she and my men had been set upon, too. I followed her and watched as she was attacked again, this time by men openly wearing the sen’gai of Akhendi.”
“You helped the Exile escape?” asked Brythir, arching an eyebrow at the Ra’basi.
Nyal met his accusing gaze calmly. “I did, Khirnari.”
The Silmai shook his head, then looked back at Seregil. “I still see no proof that your poisoner was an Akhendi.”
“With the guidance of the rhui’auros, Khirnari, I realized that Alec and I had witnessed the poisonings with our own eyes, the night of the Virésse banquet. Rhaish í Arlisandin himself wore the poisoner’s ring and killed Lord Torsin with the clasp of friendship. Later, someone placed a tassel from a Virésse sen’gai in Torsin’s hand to further place the blame on the Virésse. It was a signal employed by Ulan í Sathil and Torsin to summon one another to secret meetings. Only the tassel found in Torsin’s hand was not from the khirnari’s sen’gai, nor was any such signal sent by a Virésse that night.”
“Why should Rhaish í Arlisandin kill Torsin í Xandus?” the Bry’khan khirnari asked, clearly bewildered.
“Because the Skalan envoy was secretly parlaying with Virésse for a limited opening of Gedre.”
Brythir turned to Klia. “Is this true?”
Klia whispered to Adzriel at some length, and the Bôkthersan passed on her words. “Klia learned of this only a few weeks before the envoy’s death. He was acting on Queen Idrilain’s behest, as a safeguard in case the Iia’sidra would not grant the demands Klia brought. In the meantime, she proceeded with her original orders, hoping to open Gedre permanently.”
Rhaish regarded them all stonily, saying nothing.
Brythir summoned the other khirnari, all but Adzriel and Rhaish, to his chair. After several minutes of excited whispering, they resumed their places.
“We would hear more of this supposed poisoning,” the Silmai told Seregil.
“As I said, I didn’t understand what it was that I was seeing at the time, not until after the attack in the mountains. I believe only Rhaish and Amali knew that we had the bracelet, and its significance if the altered charm was discovered. One of them used it to track us and set the ambushers on us.
“But it wasn’t only Klia’s bracelet that incriminated them. It was the absence of Torsin’s, and for this reason, I believe that Klia’s poisoning was an accident, rather than a deliberate attempt at murder.
“When Torsin’s body was brought back to the guest house the morning after the Virésse banquet, Alec noted that his warding charm was missing. If the person who poisoned him recognized the charm for what it was, they would have removed it to cover their guilt.”
He turned to face Rhaish. “You removed it as soon as you’d poisoned him, Khirnari, knowing that it would give you away. You pretended to stumble and used a common spell to undo the knot holding it on his wrist. The ruse covered this little theft, but Klia surprised you, kindly taking you by the hand to help you up.”
“But wait!” Elos í Orian objected. “If that is so, then why didn’t Klia’s charm give him away in the same manner?”
“Because there was no ill intent, Khirnari. That was the charm’s magic, to warn. Because Klia’s poisoning was an accident, there was nothing to spring the magic. Perhaps Rhaish could justify killing Torsin—he was old, dying already. He was only a Tírfaie. He was plotting with Ulan to steal away the only hope he had of saving his clan. But Klia?”
He gave the old man a pitying look. “I saw your face as she helped you. If you’d meant to harm her, the charm she wore would have given you away then and there. You knew that, and left it where it was. You told no one what you’d done, not even Amali. Another mistake, Khirnari, given your wife’s concern for you.
“It was no secret that Klia was hunting with the Haman the following day. Amali saw a chance to wound those she thought opposed Akhendi’s interests and took it. You didn’t even know she’d done it until after the bracelet was found, did you? You wanted the blame on the Virésse, and this muddied the waters. The minute I put it in your hands you guessed what had happened and began to stall and try to get it back from me.”
Seregil paused, shaking his head. “From the start, the evidence didn’t fit the supposed events. There was too much of it, and too readily found. You gave yourself away at last, hunting us down.” He held up the sen’gai again. “You couldn’t chance the possibility that we had discovered your secret, which brings me back to Nyal.”
Nyal came forward again, not looking at the Akhendi as he outlined what he had said earlier in Adzriel’s sitting room. “Amali could tell me no reason for his strange moods, and I inferred nothing of what you have just heard until the day I left in search of the three fugitives,” he explained. “Like Seregil, I’d seen without understanding. I just wanted to protect Beka, whom I love. I did help Seregil and Alec escape from the men who waylaid them. These men meant to kill them and would have succeeded if I hadn’t happened along. I left them afterward still in ignorance. I wanted to protect Amali, too, until I was shown her duplicity with the charm. Even love has its limits.”
A hush fell over the chamber.
“You must answer these charges
, Rhaish í Arlisandin,” Brythir said at last.
The Akhendi rose and drew himself up proudly. “No teth’sag has been declared. I refute the accusations.”
“What say you, Korathan í Malteus?” the Silmai asked.
“I stand by what has been said here, and demand justice,” the prince said gruffly.
“Have you any other evidence to offer, Seregil?”
This sounded dangerously like a dismissal. “No, Honored One.”
Brythir shook his head, looking older than ever. “These are heavy matters, my brothers and sisters. The Iia’sidra must deliberate deeply upon them. Rhaish, you will summon your wife to answer the charges made against her. Until then, this matter is with Aura—”
“What?” Korathan objected, but Adzriel laid a hand on his arm, whispering earnestly.
Alec shot Seregil a dismayed look, but he shook his head and led the way to seats among the Skalans.
The old Silmai raised his voice again. “There remains the matter of Haman’s claim of teth’sag against Seregil the Exile. He has broken teth’sag with both the Haman and with the Iia’sidra in defying the conditions of his return.”
“Was it oath breaking to follow the orders of those he now serves?” asked Iriel ä Kasrai.
“He is Aurënfaie, and subject to the laws,” Galmyn í Nemius maintained.
“But he is exiled, and serves the Skalans,” said Ulan í Sathil. “Is he therefore not cut off from the law as well as the comfort of his own kind? If he is not allowed to act as one of the people, is he subject to the same law?”
Seregil gave the Virésse an appraising look, knowing that self-interest lurked somewhere close to the surface of this unexpected support.
“Do the restrictions he and the Skalans agreed to mean nothing, then?” retorted Lhaär ä Iriel. “If so, then may the Tírfaie simply not take what they want from us, regardless of what we say? You offer a dangerous precedent, Ulan. Conditions were laid down and agreed to. The Skalans and the Exile must abide by them.”
“The Skalans have been wronged!” Adzriel objected.