WINDWEEPER (25 page)

Sentian's fist came up in the same way. The thumb of his right hand touched the little finger of Hern's. "To guard and defend her against all evil."

Belvoir thrust forward his own beefy paw and connected with Sentian's. "To comfort and support her in times of need."

Brelan didn't hesitate. His fist wedged between Hern's and Sentian's.

"To honor and obey her even until the last breath," the four men said in unison.

They understood one another perfectly.

"How is she?" Legion asked as Brelan closed the door of Liza's room.

Brelan's face was tired, his eyes bloodshot and heavy. "She's sitting by the window just staring out. I can't get her to even talk to me, much less discuss Conar."

A'Lex raked his fingers through his thick salt and pepper hair. "I know. I tried, too."

"How's Papa?"

"Still asleep. In a way, I thank the gods he was so weak that morn and passed out before Tohre gave Coni the last hit. He didn't see what the lash did to Conar's face. When he woke and learned Coni had not survived…"

Brelan held up a hand; he had heard the ungodly scream of grief with which their father had rent the air. It had taken Hern and Cayn to force the king to bed and Legion to make him take the laudanum that had kept him in a fog since Conar's death.

"I wish things had turned out differently." Saur stared at the frieze along the ceiling. "I wish my last words to him had been more of a comfort."

"Did you say something in the Interrogation Facility that has you feeling guilty now?"

"It was what I didn't say. I told him everyone was behind him; that no one thought him guilty, that all of you were praying for him." He lowered his head. "But never told him I believed he was innocent of what happened to Papa."

Legion turned a stunned face to his younger brother. "Have you suddenly developed feelings for him now that he's no longer a threat to you?"

"I didn't wish the man dead," Brelan growled. "For her sake, I wish he were still here. She needs him now more than ever. Someone told her what I said to Conar when I handed Nadia over to him. She was…" Grief filled Brelan's voice. "She was deeply hurt."

"So was he. Wasn't that your intent?"

Brelan flinched. "But I didn't mean to hurt Elizabeth."

"No, you meant to hurt your brother, and you did."

"No one will ever hurt him again," came Sentian's low voice from behind them.

They turned toward the former Elite. "What's the matter?" Legion asked.

"I came to see my lady," Sentian answered, putting his hand on the knob to Liza's door.

"You can't go in," Legion said.

"She called for me," Sentian said, his chin in the air.

"She didn't do any such—"

Brelan laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, hushing him. "Go in, Heil. She needs you."

Legion could only stare. His face told of his confusion. When he swung his eyes to Brelan, he saw the man grimly smiling.

"I'll tell you about it one day," was the simple answer.

"What's wrong with now?" Legion snapped.

"Because we have things to attend to that are more important." Brelan started for the stairs.

"There's nothing more important to me than knowing what possible reason Sentian Heil could have for seeing Liza. She didn't call for him."

"He wouldn't have come to her if she hadn't."

"She hasn't left the room, hasn't opened her mouth in two days! How the hell could she—"

"In less than two hours, we will be in that courtyard watching our kin being taken away. That we be there is more important. That we keep Elizabeth from being there is even more important. She doesn't need to see his coffin, or those other six being loaded onto the
Serenian Star
." He took Legion's shoulder in a firm clasp. "Find someone to stand guard outside her door. Make sure he understands she is not to leave her room until the ship is no longer visible on the horizon."

"And where the hell will you be?"

"Papa shouldn't be there, either. I'll ask Hern to keep him from going."

Legion shook his head. "We might be able to keep Liza away, but you'll never stop Papa."

"I'm damned sure going to try!"

Legion fell into step beside him. They began their descent down the stairs, but suddenly stopped, their faces shocked and blanched white.

"It's gone," Legion whispered.

Brelan looked hard at the lighter patch of wall where once the portrait of Conar McGregor had hung along the stairway side by side with his twin brother's, linked together by a gold chain to signify the dual birth.

"Damn them," Legion spat. "Why?"

Brelan sighed. "Because Papa disinherited him."

Legion slid down the wall, put his hands over his face. His shoulders began to shake.

Sitting beside his brother, Brelan put his arm around Legion. "You loved him very much."

Legion's tear-ravaged face lifted. "He was more than my brother! He was my best friend!"

"I know." Brelan laid his head against his brother's. "And I know I'm a poor substitute, but if you'll let me, I'll try to fill the void."

"I'm glad you're home," Legion whispered. "The family needs you, Bre."

A little smile formed on Brelan's face. "It's funny. Even though I was raised here, I've never considered Boreas Keep my home. It was always Conar's home." He looked at the section of bare wall. "Until now."

* * *

They were all there. Legion, Brelan, Teal du Mer, Sentian, Thom, Marsh, Storm and Hern. Members of the now-disbanded Elite like Ward, Drummond, Lin, and Wesley had gathered, as well as Roy Matheny, now of the Palace Guard. They talked in low voices, their nerves stretched taut.

Occasionally one of them cast a look toward the Tribunal Hall, but the doors, although open, were heavily guarded. The guards stood across the front of the portico, blocking any vision of what was going on inside. The men watched as, one by one, a silent, respectful crowd began to form along the Tribunal Square and down past the cobblestone roadway leading to the docks.

It had been three days since the deaths in the courtyard. Three days of stunned emotions and little talk.

As was custom and law, men executed under the edicts of treason or sedition were not allowed burial in their home soil since they had given up that right with their treachery. Seven rough-hewn caskets had been carried into the Tribunal's side door earlier that morning and the ship that would take those caskets out to sea for an unhallowed, unmarked burial, lay anchored in the harbor. Its black sails, the trademark of a prison transport ship, snapped sharply in the breeze. Standing on deck was its borrowed captain, Holm Van du Lar, and his eyes were flint-hard and angry; his mouth set in a prim line of grief.

"Are Grice and Chand with her?" Teal asked Brelan. The gypsy's normally laughing face was filled with lines of intense guilt.

"They were, but I think Chand intends to be here," Brelan answered.

"I heard they went before the Tribunal to ask for Conar's body," Thom said. A slight shudder went through the big man. He ducked his huge head. "I guess it didn't do any good."

Brelan sighed. "They wanted to take him for burial in Oceania, but the Tribunal denied the request." He wondered why that piece of news hit him like a rock in the pit of his gut. His brother's death was beginning to bother him more than he ever thought possible.

"They are making an example of him, even in death," Lin snarled. "What harm would there have been in allowing them to take His Grace to Oceania?"

"They mean to deny him peace in the afterlife as they denied him peace in this life," Hern said with a harsh grating in his voice. "Each of us knows who's behind this."

"Prove it," Marsh remarked.

"One day, I will."

Coming to stand on the stone steps of the keep proper, Grice and Chand Wynth looked out over the crowd. Both men were amazed so many people had arrived in such a short amount of time.

"He was loved," Chand said quietly.

"So it would seem," his brother answered.

Unable to keep King Gerren away from the courtyard, Cayn and his assistant had simply given in to what was destined. They accompanied their King to the Temple where he spent most of the afternoon praying to a god he thought had deserted his family. As the three men emerged from the Temple, they saw riders approaching and recognized the King's youngest legal sons, Coron and Dyllon.

"I sent for them," Cayn answered the King's silent question.

"Thank you," Gerren told him. "I had forgotten to do so."

Gezelle gently closed the keep's entry door behind her and went to stand behind Prince Chand. She smiled timidly as he turned.

"You are well, mam'selle?" he asked, answering her soft smile.

"Aye, thank you, Your Grace." She dipped her head, unable to look directly into his face.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Conar's oldest son, Wyn, stood beside her. She put her arm around the lanky young boy's waist and leaned against him.

Chand was all too aware of Gezelle's presense. He ached to take the slim girl in his arms, and would have if his brother had not been there. Instead, he glanced at Wyn. "Take care of the lady."

"They're coming," Grice said.

The door to the Tribunal Hall opened and seven sextets of guards emerged, walking past the guards ranged along the portico. Each sextet carried a rough-hewn casket atop their shoulders. Behind them, Tolkan Coure, the Arch-Prelate and Tribunalist, and Kaileel Tohre, walked, their faces solemn.

The High Priest and his master had expected no trouble from the crowd. No extra phalanx of men had been rallied. It was perhaps this very disdain for Conar's people's feelings that started the chant, or perhaps it was the black armbands worn around the upper arms of the last unit of pallbearers that caused it.

Whatever the reason, a low mumble began, the words much like the soughing of trees in a light summer breeze. But as the last sextet cleared the Tribunal steps, the mumble grew more coherent, more cohesive, united, until, without exception, those gathered spoke the words in unison with clear, ringing pride. It was the ancient, time-honored, respectful words of passing spoken at every Serenian funereal since time began.

"
The gods bear you to Paradise, Warriors of the Wind!"

Legion felt his throat close around the words. All around he heard people saying his brother's name in quiet, emotional tones. His chin trembled with the force of his emotions and he started down the steps.

"Legion!" Brelan hissed.

Legion ignored the warning as he made his way to the unit of men carrying his brother's body. Long, rage-filled strides stomped across the courtyard, crunched over the cobblestones as he shouldered everyone out of his path. His mouth was set in a thin line. Tears slithered down his flushed cheeks and he swiped at them with vicious passes of his hand.

He was dimly aware of people looking at him with both respect and worry. He caught a glimpse of Dyllon's face, knew Coron must be there, too, but didn't break his stride. They couldn't help. No one could. He shrugged off a restraining hand, and wasn't surprised to hear Brelan's angry curse. He roughly brushed past Kaileel Tohre and reached out toward the last pallbearer.

"Is that your Prince's coffin?" he shouted, jerking on the man's arm.

Surprised, alarmed at the intensity of the Commander's face, the guard cast a frightened look toward Tohre. The man already knew he and the other five men would pay dearly for the small rebellion of black armbands they had sewn onto their tunics. Tohre would have their hides.

"Is that my brother's coffin?" Legion shouted louder.

"Aye, Commander."

"Then put him down!"

"Lord Legion—"

"
Put him down!
" Legion yelled as loudly as he could. Everything in the courtyard went deadly still. A sudden violence seemed to have swept the air, lurking in wait for a spark to set it aflame. Legion trembled from it. He was barely aware that both Brelan and Teal du Mer now flanked him.

Kaileel Tohre felt Tolkan's eyes on him and looked to the old Prelate for guidance. It was obvious from the look on Coure's face that he had no intention of interfering. It would be up to Kaileel to handle the situation. He ran a quick tongue over his suddenly dry lips. He, too, could feel the tension.

"What exactly is it that you want, Commander?" Tohre asked. He could actually see evil in Legion A'Lex's face.

"I want to see my brother!" Legion growled. "You would not let us see him after you beat him to death. You wanted him dead and you killed him. You mean to take him from us forever, but we will see him now!"

"Are you insinuating that an injustice was carried out?"

"I am stating fact!"

"I cannot allow the coffin to be opened. That is against Tribunal Law." Kaileel flung his hand at the guards. "Proceed."

Brelan and Teal exchanged a look, then blocked the pallbearers' path, staring straight into the guards' worried eyes.

"They aren't going anywhere until I see my brother!" Legion faced the crowd. "
Are you with me?"

"
Aye!
" The sound was deafening.

Sentian and Hern reached the group of men clustered around Conar's coffin. Thom and Storm were only a few steps behind; Summerall, Matheny, Dixon, Collins, and Blackwell followed. The nine formed a tight flank around the front and left sides of the coffin.

Gezelle felt Wyn's arm drop from around her waist as he ran down the steps. Reluctantly her feet took her toward the gathering. People moved out of her way as though she was one of the nobles and she lifted her head a little higher. By the time she reached the coffin, she could clearly hear Tohre's angry whisper.

"Do you want a reprimand from the Tribunal, Commander?"

"Tribunal reprimands don't mean a damned thing when they're handed out by crooked bastards like you!" Legion turned his hard gaze back to the guard. "If you don't put down that coffin, I swear before every man and woman present, I will slit your throat!"

"There are four other McGregor men here who will gladly draw blood, too, if need be!" Prince Dyllon spat as he and Coron joined Brelan and Wyn.

Seeing the determined glower on A'Lex's face, as well as the stony and equally vitriolic stares of those watching, Tohre looked to Tolkan.

Tolkan shrugged. "I see no harm in it, Kaileel. Let them see their traitor."

Legion started forward, but Brelan caught his arm. "Not here! Not now!" Saur warned. "This isn't the time."

Kaileel could sense the ugliness brewing like an overheated pot. He ground his teeth and motioned the guards to set down the coffin. "If you must, then look until you have your fill! As for myself, I do not wish to ever again set eyes on that bastard!"