The Shadowhand Covenant (28 page)

I swallowed. “Uh, begging your pardon, Your Masterful Powerness, but—and I'm no law-advocate—I'm pretty sure that death is reserved only for treason and users of fateskein.” I decided not to mention that technically—
technically—
I was one of the latter.
Technically
.

Nalia turned, her eyes burning into me. A thoughtful look
crossed her face. I guessed she recognized me but couldn't remember from where. “Yes, that is the High Laird's Law. But within these walls, the Palatinate owns a special brand of justice. Here, we can do as we please. . . .”

Nalia stared into her spellsphere, which burned so brightly I couldn't look directly at it. As she began speaking an incantation, I could feel heat rising from the sphere. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.

“Stop!”

I didn't recognize the firm, commanding voice that filled the gallery. I dared to peek out with one eye, looking past Nalia to the exit door. Through the smoke, I saw armored men, bearing the standards of the Provincial Guard. They filed into the room carrying spears, swords, and crossbows leveled at the circle of mages. As they entered, the soldiers moved to flank a tall, lean figure in a very official-looking, fitted suit. The smoke cleared, revealing the Dowager.

The mages looked to one another and to Nalia, as if trying to decide whether they should fight. Finally, Nalia whispered a single word and the light in her spellsphere vanished, leaving it just a gray iron marble.

The Dowager strode regally across the room. I'd never
seen her in her full official state wear before. Around Redvalor, she only wore clothing appropriate to our experiments. In her formal garb, this occasionally absentminded, lighthearted woman looked downright formidable.

“Good evening, Nalia,” the Dowager said, staring straight at the mage. She waited, lips closed tightly. After a moment of indecision, Nalia put one foot behind the other and bent at the knees in a curtsy. The Dowager continued, “By decree of the High Laird, these four children are under my protection. Release them to my custody at once.”

Nalia's back was to me, so I could only guess at the look of shock on her face. I bet it was a good one. “The High Laird's Law allows the Palatinate complete sovereignty within the walls of this palace,” Nalia said. “These four stole the Sourcefire. They are to be put to death.”

The Dowager was not impressed. “That sovereignty, as you so rightly note, is granted by the High Laird. And it can be revoked by the High Laird. As it is, in this instance. There will be an inquiry, of course, into what has occurred here today. But I assure you that when you understand the scope of the situation, they will be exonerated due to . . .
extenuating circumstances.” The Dowager shot me the briefest of looks.

Nalia stood her ground for two or three eternities, and the tension in the room mounted. For a moment, I actually thought she was going to order the mages to attack. But when she finally uttered a short, magical command, the blue rings binding the four of us disappeared and we fell to the floor.

The Dowager swept past Nalia and helped me up. “It's over,” she whispered. “Kolo is in custody. Your parents are safe.” Then she said a bit louder, “You four, through that door. The Grimjinxes are waiting for you.” She turned and laid a cool smile on Nalia. “Nalia, I would speak with you. Now.”

Reena and Holm hugged. Maloch stood still, staring up at the statue of his father above. I whispered in his ear, “We'll get this fixed. Okay? Let's go.”

Maloch nodded. The circle of mages parted as the four of us, supporting one another, walked from the room.

“The High Laird's coffers are locked one key turn at a time, same as everyone else's.”

—The Lymmaris Creed

W
hen the Dowager told Nalia that there would be an inquiry, I pictured something small and intimate, like what happened in Vengekeep after the whole mess with the tapestry.

Royal inquisitions, it turns out, are not small and intimate.

After the Dowager rescued us, I was whisked away—along with my parents, Maloch, Reena, and Holm—to Vesta, the seaside capital city of the Five Provinces. The next
day, we were seated behind a long table in a cavernous room within the High Laird's palace.

Horns rang out. We all stood as a man in black robes—the Inquisitor General—entered, followed closely by the Dowager. They moved next to two fancy-looking chairs on a raised platform in front of us. Another fanfare sounded. We all bowed as the High Laird entered and sat on a throne between the Dowager and the Inquisitor General.

In all the time I'd lived with the Dowager, I'd never met the High Laird. Seeing him for the first time, I never would have guessed he was the Dowager's
younger
brother. His red-rimmed eyes watered constantly. His hair had gone white far too early. When he moved, he did so with great effort.

We were joined at our table by a pair of law-advocates who were defending us. Another pair of law-advocates, ones who wanted to see us imprisoned, stood near the platform. When the Inquisitor General banged two copper orbs together, we all sat and the inquiry started.

Our law-advocates were fierce, I'll give them that. They proved they could shout just as loud as those other law-advocates. I didn't understand much of what they were saying. There were long, long speeches with words so big
they used entire alphabets. It was all very impressive. It was also more potent than any sleeping draught I could manufacture from my pouches.

I looked around. In a small gallery off to the left sat five chairs, where the High Laird's Chancellor and four of his closest advisers observed the proceedings. On the opposite wall sat the five members of the Palatinate Lordcourt. As if she sensed I was looking at her, Nalia snapped her head around and our eyes met. I flashed back to the first time we'd met in Vengekeep. Back then her gaze was cold. Today, it burned right through me.

The first few hours of law-advocates yelling at one another were all about our attempts to steal the Sourcefire. Each member of the Palatinate Lordcourt testified that we'd been caught trying to flee the palace with the magical fire. Of course, that was never really in question.

Our defense began with the Dowager explaining the rescue mission she'd mounted at my request and the threat Kolo and his plan had posed. She described how the Provincial Guard under her command had sneaked into the camp and quickly subdued the Sarosans before they knew what happened. Kolo, knowing he couldn't make it
to the tinderjack in time, had surrendered.

Next, when called to testify, Ma and Da gave their . . . unique version of events. Da stood on his chair, arms thrust out, fingers curled as if strangling the air. He told the story of what had happened since they left Vengekeep in a litany of anguished shouts, each punctuated with slashing gestures like a madman conducting an orchestra. All the while, Ma wailed and gnashed her teeth. The performance rose to fever pitch and concluded with Ma falling to the floor in a well-rehearsed swoon.

I don't know if it helped our case, but it was very entertaining.

In the end, it was a signed confession from Kolo, who took all the blame for the plot, that convinced the Inquisitor General we'd acted under coercion. The Inquisitor General held up his copper orbs and banged them together twice, indicating that the charges regarding the attempted theft of the Sourcefire were dropped.

One charge down. Far too many to go.

We sat through several more hours of accusations, conspiracy theories, and questioning. Really, it was all quite plausible. Most days, my family was capable of just about
everything we were being accused of. Not just capable but incredibly, unquestionably guilty. But for once, we had the truth on our side. We sat and listened as the Inquisitor General dismissed charge after charge. With each dismissal, Nalia's face grew darker and darker.

My stomach started to tingle, and I felt light-headed. “Ma,” I whispered, “I feel . . . strange. What is this?”

She gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Don't worry, Son. It's just the feeling of innocence. It'll pass.”

When I saw the court reporter, who had gone hoarse from reading out the very complex charges throughout the day, roll up the parchment he'd been reading from, I thought it was all over.

“What about my da?”

Maloch had been quiet from the moment the proceedings started. He'd sat perfectly still, his eyes never once leaving the five chairs where the Palatinate Lordcourt sat. Now, as we awaited the final dismissal from the Inquisitor General's copper orbs, he was suddenly on his feet and unleashing his anger on the room at large.

The Inquisitor General looked down his nose at Maloch. “You are in the presence of the High Laird, boy. You will
speak only when granted permission.”

Maloch pointed at Nalia and her brood. “They turned my da into glass. They've got him and all the Shadowhands in their palace.”

Part of me expected the Lordcourt to emphatically deny the charge. But instead, Nalia rose with a smile that made me feel instantly sick.

“With your permission, I believe I can explain, Your Highness,” she said, with a slight bow to the High Laird. He nodded, and Nalia continued. “After the break-in at the royal vaults, the Palatinate, seeking only to assist in the apprehension of the culprits, took it upon ourselves to launch an independent investigation into the matter.”

The Dowager sat up straight in her chair. “Without informing anyone? Why is that?”

“We knew that the Provincial Guard had been charged with the task of tracking down those responsible,” Nalia said sweetly. “We were afraid that if we made our investigation known, it would look as though we didn't have faith in the Guard's abilities. We acted in secret to save them from any embarrassment.”

The Inquisitor General cast a look at the High Laird,
who nodded in approval. The Inquisitor General nodded as well.

Nalia moved to the center of the room. “As we reviewed everything we knew about the crime, we came to the conclusion that the thieves could only be those notorious renegades known as the Shadowhands. They were the only ones in the Five Provinces with the cunning and tenacity to even attempt such a heist.”

I rolled my eyes. Exactly how much investigating did it take to come up with that gem? I knew newborn babies in Vengekeep who could have pieced that much together.

“Once we were able to determine their identities,” Nalia said, “we laid a trap for each Shadowhand in the form of a shimmerhex, which we then used to apprehend them. It was only recently that this operation was completed, and I'm pleased to announce that it was a success!” She clapped her hands twice. A door at the back of the room opened, and four mages entered in single file. Each of them carried a red silk pillow, and upon each pillow sat one of the stolen relics: the gauntlets, the scepter, the coronet, and the orb.

The mages lined up along the High Laird's platform and held their arms out to present the relics. “As you can see,”
Nalia continued, “we have successfully recovered four of the five stolen relics.”

The Dowager bowed her head only a fraction. I could tell she wasn't happy with this development. She didn't like having to give Nalia credit. “You've done an excellent job, Nalia. And the fifth relic?”

Nalia didn't bat an eye. “We hope to have it in our possession . . . very soon.”

I leaned in to Maloch as he slowly sat down. “How? The Shadowhands never knew about the Vanguard.”

Maloch didn't reply.

“Guards!” The High Laird, speaking for the first time, gave a wave. “Take the relics into protective custody until they can be returned to the vaults.”

Before the guards could move, Nalia raised a hand. “Your Highness, it's an unimaginable tragedy that these items were stolen in the first place. The Lordcourt has studied them and they possess extremely powerful magic that, in the hands of the wrong person, could prove catastrophic. As your own vaults were compromised, might I suggest that you allow the Palatinate to take custody of these relics?” She shot a quick look at us. “I think we've proven quite capable of assuring
that nothing gets out of our palace. And you would do us great honor by allowing us to watch over them for you.”

The High Laird, looking tired, considered Nalia's proposal. “The relics were stored in the royal vaults for a reason. I will review the records left by my ancestors to learn why. Until then, they will be returned to the vaults.” He nodded to his guards, who took the relics away.

Nalia nodded reverently to her liege and returned to her seat among the Lordcourt. It was the briefest of flashes, but something in her face said she was unhappy with the High Laird's decision. In that moment, I knew: she'd never wanted to recover the relics for the High Laird. She'd wanted them
for herself
.

Maloch slammed his hand down on the table. “All right, you've got your relics back. Now what about my da?”