WINDWEEPER (24 page)

They took him down from the whipping post—Sentian and Thom and Brelan and Legion. They would have carried him into the keep, but a score of Temple and Tribunal Guards blocked their path at the foot of the platform and would not let them pass.

Legion glared at Kaileel Tohre. "I will take my brother home!"

"He has no home, Lord Legion," Tohre said smugly. "He will be remanded to the Tribunal infirmary."

"He may be dying! If that is true, he will cease his life where it began! We'll take him to Ivor, then!"

"
Aye!
" a dozen voices agreed as lightning zigged across the heaving skies. "
Ivor!"

The guards kept their places, their hands clasped over their sword hilts. To a man, their eyes were dangerous in their stony faces, and when a litter was brought through the crowd to carry the prisoner to the Tribunal Complex, the guards would not let it pass until Tohre gave permission.

"There is no question of allowing him into the keep, A'Lex," Tohre stated. "He has no place there, and he will not be allowed to leave Boreas until he is ready to be sent into exile."

Healer Cayn pushed his way through the cordon of guards and was not intimidated when one beefy Tribunal soldier reached out to stop him. "Touch me," Cayn hissed like an enraged wasp, "and I swear before the gods I will put a curse on you, and your pecker will shrivel up and fall off!"

The man jumped, drawing back his hand. His face turned red, but he noticed no snickers among his troop nor among those of the Temple guards. Healer Cayn was infamous for his curses. Whether they worked was irrelevant. People believed they did.

"Cayn," Legion began, "tell these fools to let us take Coni into your infirmary!"

"If he is hurt as badly as I suspect, I will not allow you to argue over where he is to be taken!" Cayn shouted. "Back off, Legion. Let Sentian and Thom lay him on the stretcher! The sooner we can get him into the infirmary, the sooner I can begin to help him!"

"
You
are not allowed in the Tribunal infirmary!" Tohre snarled.

Cayn put his nose to Tohre's. "Try and stop me, you pompous libertine!"

Hern Arbra's massive build shouldered through the guards. "There won't be a man loyal to either the Temple or Tribunal left standing in this courtyard if you try to keep Cayn from helping the boy!" He pushed forward the men carrying the stretcher. "Take him. Now!"

Sentian and Thom didn't question the Master-at-Arms, but gently eased Conar to the edge of the canvas-covered litter and rolled him as tenderly as possible until he lay on his stomach.

Cayn's knees went weak when he saw the carnage on Conar's back. He looked slowly to Tohre with murder in his eyes. "By all that is holy, you
will
pay for this!"

Ignoring Cayn, Kaileel flung a hand to the litter-bearers. "Get him inside!"

People stepped out of the way as the litter-bearers moved through the throng. The crowd wept bitter tears at the up-close view of Conar's body. Women turned away in horror, buried their faces in their husbands' shoulders, their friends' arms. Men blanched, groaned at the sight of the lacerated, bleeding flesh. Children whimpered with fear.

Kaileel paraded behind the stretcher, his smug vengeance tight on his face as he disdainfully swept his gaze over the crowd. Cayn followed close on the High Priest's heels. Both Legion and Brelan fell in behind, but were stopped from going inside the Tribunal Complex.

"I want to be with my brother!" Legion yelled, but guards barred his way up the steps.

"I'll see to him, Legion!" Cayn called over his shoulder. "Leave off for now!"

The procession disappeared through the opened doorway and the black portals closed with a heavy thud of finality that raised the hair on Legion's arms.

"Don't let him die," A'Lex prayed. "Please, Alel. Don't let my brother die." Rain poured into his face, yet he hardly noticed.

* * *

Once inside the marbled walls of the Tribunal infirmary, Cayn was stopped by one of the Tribunal's physicians. "Before you enter the dispensary, you must cleanse your hands. We don't want him to become infected by our touch."

Cayn could not protest. "No, we don't."

The physician held out his hand. "Come this way, please." He led Cayn to a side room where water and disinfectant was stored.

Kaileel snorted. He glanced at Tolkan Coure, standing just inside the infirmary.

"You have exactly three minutes, Tohre," the Arch-Prelate warned.

"I will require no more."

Bowing his head to the High Priest, Tolkan sauntered toward the room where Cayn had gone to wash his hands. He put his hand on the healer's shoulder and asked Cayn if they could pray together for Conar's recovery.

"I don't have time to—"

"To ask Alel to bless him, Cayn?" Tolkan smiled sadly. "It will take only a moment or two."

"A moment or two we may not have!" Cayn retorted as he dried his hands.

"I rarely beg a man for anything," Tolkan sighed, "but I care deeply for our young Prince. Can you not help me save him?"

Hatred filled Cayn's face. "If it weren't for you and Tohre, he wouldn't need saving!"

When he started to go, Tolkan stepped in his way. "Whether you believe me, Cayn, I do have feelings for the boy."

Cayn's lip curled. "Oh, I have no doubt that you do!" He shouldered aside the Arch-Prelate and stalked from the room.

Tolkan's face moved into a satisfied smile. "That should have been time enough, don't you think, Beryl?"

The Tribunal physician finished drying his hands and neatly folded the towel on the wash basin. "I believe so, Your Holiness."

Cayn stood to the side of the low table on which Conar had been placed. Where to begin, he thought with dismay? The flesh on the boy's back hung in shreds in several places. Blood ran freely over his sides and soaked the stainless steel table. The twin gashes on his left cheek gaped open, muscle and bone showing through. Wood splinters were driven into the tips of his fingers where once the fingernails had grown.

"We should clean away this blood," the Tribunal physician said as he came to stand beside Cayn. "Then we can see how much damage has been done."

Cayn looked into the man's clinical face. "I can see how much damage was done! He needs something to keep him from contracting blood poisoning."

The physician clapped his hands at his assistant. Cayn looked away from the man's emotionless face, his attention caught by a feeble movement in one of Conar's hands. He thought the boy was unconscious, had prayed that he was, but it was not to be. He saw the prince's lids open and heard a soft whimper escape the bloodied lips.

"You'll be all right, son," Cayn said, taking Conar's left hand.

Conar gasped, his eyelids fluttering rapidly and then the wounded blue orbs rolled back into his head.

Cayn eased Conar's hand back to the table, sensing his touching of the ravaged fingertips had caused the reaction, but a coral shadow in the center of the Prince's palm caught and held his attention. He gently opened Conar's hand and stared.

"What the hell is this?" he snarled, turning his glower to the Tribunal physician.

* * *

Legion paced from one side of the Tribunal's front to the other, stopping occasionally to stare up at the closed doors, willing Cayn to appear with news. His face was livid with rage, pinched with fear. His long strides were heavy and erratic, his heartbeat, the same.

Sentian and Hern leaned against the marble columns that held up the canopy over the walkway. They were worried, too, but no emotion showed on their faces. The only sign of their fear was the rigid set of their shoulders.

Marsh, Thom and Storm, Ward, Lin, Wesley and Belvoir sat together on the bottom steps of the Temple. No conversation passed between the seven. They kept watch on the double doors as they, too, waited for word.

Brelan Saur stood under the cover of the canopy. If he felt anything, it was not evident in the way he answered Legion's anxious questions. He appeared calm, his face expressionless. He neither changed the tone nor inflection of his voice, and he did not once look toward the doorway until the heavy shriek of wood instantly brought his attention to the man who came out.

Legion's breathing stopped; his heart ceased to beat. He could not have moved if his life depended upon it. Passing a line of heavily armed Tribunal guards, Cayn descended the Tribunal steps. Legion saw nothing registering on Cayn's face and grew instantly alarmed.

Thom, Storm and the others came to their feet. With unhurried steps, they joined Legion and Brelan at the base of the Tribunal portico, their attention centered entirely on Healer Cayn.

"Cayn?" Legion forced himself to say.

Cayn shook his head. "We lost him, Legion." There was heavy grief in the man's thick voice. "We did everything we could, but his heart gave out."

"No!" Sentian shouted. "That can't be!"

Hern stopped him from storming the steps of the Tribunal Hall. "There's nothing we can do, now, Heil," he said, his voice breaking.

"Let me go!" Sentian screamed. "He needs me, damn you!" He struggled against Hern's fierce grip. He jerked his head toward the Tribunal Hall. "Let me go, Hern! I promised her I'd take care of him!"

"There's nothing we can do for him, now," Hern told him. "He's gone."

"
No!
" Sentian bellowed, sagging against Hern.

Legion stared at Cayn. His world had come to an immediate halt and he had trouble finding his voice. "Did he…was he…" He bit back the tears. "Was he aware of what was happening?"

"Was he conscious?" Thom asked. "Did he feel anything? Did he know you were there with him?"

Cayn shook his head. "He wasn't awake for more than a second."

"Did he say anything?" Legion sobbed.

"Nothing."

"Will they let us see him?" Lin asked.

"He wouldn't have wanted that." Cayn rubbed away his own tears. "The things they did to him…inhuman. He would want you to remember him as he was, not as those bastards made him."

"Who'll prepare him for burial?" Sentian cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Those sons-of-bitches? I'll be damned if I'll let them put their filthy hands on him again!"

"They won't bury him, Heil," Brelan said even though he didn't turn.

"What are you talking about?" Sentian gasped, pushing away from Hern. "They have to—"

"He'll be taken out to sea." Hern laid a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Traitors can't be buried on Serenian soil according to law."

"He was no traitor!" Sentian shouted.

"He was branded a traitor and that is what they will call him," Legion whispered.

"Aye, they branded him all right!" Cayn snarled. "Those bastards wanted him never to forget it, either. Even his hands were branded!"

Brelan turned around. "What kind of brand?"

"In his palms. Fresh burns in the shape of a triangle with—"

"Two wavering lines running across the apex," Brelan finished.

"You've seen those kind of marks before?" Cayn asked, shuddering at his memory.

Brelan looked away from the man and his voice was toneless. "That would explain why he couldn't use his powers this morning."

"What are you talking about?" Cayn asked.

Brelan looked at Legion, although it was as if he was speaking to himself. "The walls of the entire Tribunal Complex are lined with iron plate that is inscribed with ancient runes put there to keep any sorcery from working inside. It's the same way, they say, inside the keep at World's End. If Conar had tried to utilize the power Liza says he possessed, it wouldn't have worked. Just as her powers were no good in trying to reach him. But once in the sunlight, he could have drawn help from Alel. The Domination put those brands in his palms to keep him from doing that. The brands are magic symbols, runes to negate the power within his hands."

"How do you know about such things?" Cayn asked.

Brelan flinched. He seemed to remember where he was and who he was with. A dull flush spread over his face. "When you travel as much as I, you learn a lot of useless information."

Hern carefully watched Saur. When Brelan looked his way, Hern glared at him with mistrust.

Legion had not been listening. He felt numb from his lips to his toes. He knew he was crying, but it didn't matter. He wanted to be alone, but couldn't seem to move. With detachment, he looked about and saw little of the courtyard, the Temple, or the Tribunal portico. He whimpered.

"Legion?" Cayn put his arm around the big man. "We need to tell your father."

Legion lifted his head, no real understanding in his face.

Cayn looked at Brelan. "Will you go with us?"

Brelan let out a heavy sigh. "Aye." His attention was caught by the arrival of a warrior on horseback and realized it was Andre Belvoir. Idly, he wondered why the man was there.

Hern caught up with Brelan as he fell in beside Legion and Cayn heading toward the palace. "I'd like a word with you, Lord Saur," Hern said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice as he reached out a heavy hand.

Brelan felt as though a clamp had been applied to his shoulder. He turned to face the old soldier and raised one dark brow.

"Who is she?" Hern asked without preamble.

"Who is who?"

"Your lady, Saur," Hern answered, aware that Sentian stood beside them.

"I don't know who you mean." Wariness filled Brelan Saur's brown eyes, belligerence lined his handsome face, an ugly turn came to his lips.

"Don't play games, Lord Brelan," Sentian told him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"We're talking about your lady!" Hern snapped. "The lady you are Sentinel to!"

If Brelan was taken aback by Hern's statement, he didn't show it. "That's not important. What matters is Liza." He let his gaze go back to Sentian. "I take it you are her Sentinel."

"I am and proud to be."

Saur looked at Belvoir as that warrior joined them. "Medea's?" At Andre Belvoir's quick nod, Brelan seemed to relax. "Then we all four know Liza is our main concern." There was no need to ask Hern; he would have been Queen Moira's man.

Hern clenched his fist and held it, palm down, toward Brelan. "To serve and protect her and hers."