The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (44 page)

Shek Kul looked over her head at me and addressed me directly for the first time since I was caught up in this whole mess.

“This is my son, Shek Nai. You will protect him as if he were blood of your blood.”

I looked at the tiny, fragile face, eyes screwed shut against the strangeness of the world, and nodded; that much was no hardship, no threat to any other allegiance I held. I looked around for Laio, wondering how soon she was going to act to remove the threat of Kaeska’s malice that was hanging over this infant life. She must have read this in my face, a faint frown marring her brow as she gestured me out of the room with a shake of her head.

“Is Mahli all right?” I asked as we headed for Laio’s apartments, walking the customary pace behind her. I only have a hazy notion of the sorts of things that can go wrong for women in child-bed but I’ve seen a handful too many men of my acquaintance sobbing as they place a crimson urn in a shrine to Drianon.

“She’s come through it very well. The midwife is delighted,” Laio nodded. “The aspects of the heavens are highly propitious as well. We must make sure the stars are fully recorded.” She looked upwards, her mind clearly occupied elsewhere. I couldn’t help that.

“When are you going to tell Shek Kul about Kaeska and her magician?” I demanded.

“What are you talking about?” Laio turned from pouring herself a drink from a jug of fruit juice. “You mainlanders only make a note of the sun or which moon is uppermost, don’t you? Do you know the time of your birth? We could chart your stars if you do—”

Of all the irrelevancies I could imagine her wanting to discuss, the fact that I was born under the lesser moon seemed the most pointless.

“Kaeska and the magician attacked me today, look at my leg. I could have been killed. She has been using poisons; she has tried to kill the fish and the birds.” I wondered with a cold horror where the bitch had been creeping while Sezarre and I frustrated her plans in the gardens. Any standing drink could have been fouled. I dashed the porcelain cup from Laio’s hands; it shattered on the floor, sticky juice splashing us both. Laio was too taken aback even to rebuke me.

I knelt with a curse as my bruised leg protested and touched a finger to a puddle of juice, smearing it on my lip and waiting tensely for any burning or numbness that would betray any taint. Laio listened, astounded as I told her about my eventful day.

“I will get you a fresh drink from the kitchens,” I told her firmly. “So we can be sure it’s safe.” I strode off, determined that Laio should denounce Kaeska as soon as possible, refusing to countenance this degree of uncertainty and fear.

On my return, I found Laio in the bathroom, stripping off her bloodied and juice-spattered clothing. I handed a cup and retreated in some confusion. It had been easy enough to ignore her tempting form when I had thought any hand laid on her would be instantly hacked off by an outraged Warlord. It seemed her earlier revelations had removed that particular chain on my desires and the old dog was up and barking. To my relief this appeared to be one nuance of our relationship that Laio was failing to comprehend as she emerged, hair tied up in a silken scarf, a loose yellow chamber robe belted negligently over her nakedness. Her expression was still thoughtful.

“When you find a moment, ask Sezarre for some green oil, will you? I want some of the first pressing, do you understand? I know Gar has some and that’s the best.”

Wondering why the topic of conversation had suddenly turned to condiments, I nodded my understanding nevertheless, turning to find something else to look at. “The flavor is so much better.”

“Ryshad!” Laio half laughed and half gasped. I looked around to see her blushing, unmistakable even given her complexion. “I didn’t think you mainlanders went in for that kind of thing!”

I looked at her uncertainly. “What do you mean?”

Laio rubbed a hand over her mouth, smiling now though her eyes were still startled. “What do you mean?”

We looked at each other for a moment, the noise of the revelry below invading the silence of the room.

“We prefer the first pressing of green oil for dressing fresh vegetables,” I said cautiously. “What do you use it for?”

“Keeping ourselves from pregnancy!” Laio giggled, hands cupping her face. “I want a bit more time to think about having a child now I’ve seen what Mahli’s had to go through!”

Caught off guard like that it was my turn to blush and I cursed as I felt the heat in my cheeks.

“So what do mainlander women do,” Laio’s eyes were bright with mischief, “to keep themselves without child?”

I ran a hasty hand through my hair. “I don’t know.” I quelled a sudden memory of the pot of salted cedar resin my father had given me in his workshop, together with some very straight talking, the day after I had laid my first whiskers on Misaen’s altar.

Laio moved closer and laid a hand on the bare skin of my arm. The hairs rose like a hound’s at her touch. “Come to that,” she purred, “what do you mainlanders do—”

A loud knock interrupted her and Sezarre stuck his head around the door. “The tree-planting will be done at moonrise,” he said to Laio before ducking out again.

The thread between us snapped. “I’ll want the blue gown with the feather-patterned wrap,” she instructed me briskly. “I’m going to wash my hair.”

Not sure whether I should be cursing Sezarre or blessing him, I obeyed and was pleasantly surprised to find I was also allowed plenty of time to wash and dress myself in a new green tunic and trousers that Grival brought by, a gift from Mahli apparently.

As the last half of the greater moon rose over the distant horizon, the black stone of the keep grim in the cold, bluish light, I followed Laio down the stairs and into the inner garden at the heart of the residence. I kept close to her, alert for instruction or reprimand as the air was thick with expectation and a sense of ritual, slaves from the household lining the walls, silent and respectful. Laio moved to stand next to Gar and I exchanged a fleeting glance with Sezarre. He tilted his head a finger’s width and I saw Kaeska on the far side of the garden, Irith standing behind her, swaying slightly, mouth slack, no spark of life in his eyes. The Elietimm stood next to her, hair startlingly white in the night, his jaw set as he stared at me, unmistakable hatred crackling across the distance that separated us. I touched Laio’s shoulder and leaned forward slightly.

“I know,” she murmured. “Wait.”

A stir ran through the waiting assembly as a far door opened and Shek Kul entered the garden, Grival beside him carrying a silver bowl draped with a silken cloth.

Laio tilted her head back a little to whisper to me. “That is the—” she struggled for the right words in formalin, “it comes with the baby, nourishes it in the womb.”

“Afterbirth.” I was very glad I was not Grival; my determination to be long gone from here before Laio found herself brought to child-bed instantly doubled.

Shek Kul was dressed in a plain green tunic and, working without ceremony, dug a deep hole in the rich earth in the middle of a stand of five trees of varying heights. Grival emptied his burden into it and then one of the gardeners brought a new sapling, which Shek Kul planted with a surprising air of competence, firming down the black soil with a large foot. The gardener bowed low and spoke to the Warlord, who shot a startled and unfriendly glance at Kaeska. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the ground and I saw Laio bridle as she observed this exchange.

Gar turned her head to catch my eye. “The growth of the tree will guide us as to the health and nature of the child. Its leaves will be used in divination.”

I nodded, hardly about to say I’d seldom heard anything so improbable.

Laio stirred again and as Shek Kul wiped his hands on a towel proffered by the steward, she took a pace forward. A discreet ripple of surprise ran through the assembly and Laio lifted her chin, by every measure a Warlord’s lady.

“My husband, just as you do your duty to protect our new son, the hope of the domain, I must act to counter a grave peril that nests in our midst like a venomous snake.”

Her clear voice echoed around the tall stone walls and Kaeska’s head snapped upwards, her eyes wide, whites stark in the pitiless moonlight as she stared at Laio in horror.

“I accuse Kaeska Danak of suborning sorcery, to further her plans to kill our son and to regain her status as First Wife with a child born of enchantments.”

There was no triumph in Laio’s voice, none of her earlier glee, simply an implacable ring of truth. The hiss of indrawn breath all around us was followed by murmurs of consternation from all directions.

Shek Kul raised a hand and the throng were silent as a grave. “These are capital charges that you bring.” He spoke directly to Laio as if no one else were present. “What is your proof?”

Laio gestured backward over one shoulder. “The word of my body slave.”

All eyes were instantly upon me and I stood, motionless, expressionless, as my mind raced, wondering what would happen next.

Shek Kul looked back at Kaeska and then studied me as the entire gathering held its collective breath.

“I will hear this case at sunset tomorrow,” he announced finally, tossing the towel to Grival and striding back inside the residence as the crowd erupted into a frenzy of speculation. I struggled to keep Kaeska in view as Laio led the way back to the stairwell. This was not at all what I had expected.

“What happens to Kaeska?” I looked around in vain for guards or Household slaves. “Where will she be held? Where is the Warlord’s dungeon?”

Laio halted on the stairs and turned to look down at me.

“Kaeska will not be detained in any way.” Her tone was puzzled. “The household guard will be on alert, that will be sufficient to dissuade her from anything foolish.”

“Why ever not?” I demanded. “What is Shek Kul thinking of? Now she knows we’re onto her, she has a night and a day to work whatever malice she wants!”

“Not with every eye on her, knowing she is accused,” commented Sezarre, rather to my surprise. “Anyway, Shek Kul is hearing the case as soon as possible, at the very start of the day following the accusation.”

Of course, one of the many peculiarities of Aldabreshin life is the way they measure each day from sunset to sunset.

“Even the lowest slave is entitled to know of what they are accused, to be given time to prepare a defense,” Laio said tartly, “in the Islands, at least.”

“It may be that she takes her chance to flee.” Gar was looking thoughtful. “That might be preferable.”

Not from where I was looking, it wasn’t. I cursed under my breath in exasperation as I followed Laio up the stairs. There was just too much I didn’t know about this unholy place, their bizarre customs and peculiar notions. I was going to have to rely on Laio’s guidance and I didn’t like that idea one little bit.

“What is the form of the trial?” I demanded. “Do you have an advocate to speak for you? Will Kaeska have someone to argue her innocence? What exactly do you want me to say?”

“Aldabreshin justice is swift and sure,” answered Laio crisply. “Shek Kul will call you to stand before him and tell your tale. Kaeska will respond and you can argue the details out where necessary. Shek Kul will listen for as long as he wishes and then give his judgment. We do not hide behind intercessors and contention, like the mainlanders. The truth is not some dead beast to be picked over by carrion birds and weasel words.”

I’d have to remember that line to use against Mistal one day. So this court was going to have all the validity of a barrack room assize, as far as I could see; my best hope had to be that the legendary blood-thirstiness of the Aldabreshi would carry the day against Kaeska, regardless.

“What about the fish and the birds? When are you going to tell Shek Kul about that?”

“I’m not and neither are you.” Laio opened the bedroom door with a vindictive shove. “Kaeska will only deny it and once we acknowledge the fact of the deaths there will always be the suspicion that it was a valid omen.”

And if no one mentions the lizard sitting in the middle of the dining table, presumably it doesn’t exist either.

“I don’t want you mentioning this attack you say they made on you either, not since there were no witnesses,” Laio continued. “They’ll only use that to muddy the waters by arguing some personal conflict between you and this foreigner, that your accusations are simply malicious.”

Laio forbade any further discussion with a wave of her hand and readied herself for bed with her usual routine, soon asleep and snoring with an insouciance that I could only envy. I lay on my pallet, naked sword ready to hand, unable to sleep as my ears seized on every slightest noise as the long night deepened, darkened and paled into day.

The Palace of Shek Kul,

the Aldabreshin Archipelago,

7th of For-Summer

I was standing on the balcony, watching as the sunlight spilled the golden promise of a new dawn across the dark green flanks of the mountain when I heard Laio stir behind me. Stifling a yawn, I turned to see her emerge from her silken cocoon of quilts, eyes unfocused, her soft face betraying her girlhood. As her gaze lit on me, her expression hardened.

“You look dreadful!” She tossed her coverlets aside. “Have you been awake all night?”

“I know what Kaeska’s been up to. I’ve dealt with these cursed Elietimm before,” I snapped, exhaustion hitting me like a slap in the face now I had to start thinking and talking again. “I wasn’t about to have her come in and slit our throats in the middle of the night!”

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” Laio said with no little contempt as she dragged on an old crimson tunic and ran a hand through her hair. If I hadn’t been so spent, I would probably have managed some cutting retort; as it was all I could do was scowl.

“I need you awake and alert to give your evidence against Kaeska this evening,” she continued, her voice taut with irritation. “Get in.” She pulled aside a quilt on the bed.

“What?” I blinked, too tired to bother with niceties.