This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to violent behavior, medical procedures, and expressions of physical affection between consenting adult males. If you find this type of story offensive, or if you are underage and it is illegal for you to read it, please exit now. All characters are fictional and in no way related to any persons living or deceased. Any such similarity is purely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission guidelines but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the consent of the author.
I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com
Copyright 2003 Kristopher R. Gibbons. All rights reserved by the author.
18 Worse Remains Behind
Hamlet: So again, good night.
I must be cruel only to be kind.
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 4, Line 178
The Temple had rung the sixth bell of night when Evendal awoke. He waited, ears straining, but no sound intruded. Just as he decided his own dreams had awakened him, he realised his arm draped a wet, too warm, bundle. After slipping from the bed, he greeted the Guard outside the door and took a torch from the hall sconce to check his son. Kri-estaul continued to sleep and sweat, his legs puffed and splotched.
"Ottily!" Evendal hissed. The Guard looked in.
"Get Aldul. He'll know why."
"But my lord, then you would be alone."
"What purpose do you really serve if you cannot serve? I have more defenses than you. Go! Quickly!"
The Guard stopped arguing and fled. The Temple had not yet wrung the quarter when Aldul arrived, with company, carrying a cloth-bound frame.
"Ierwbae? What? Wherefore?"
Aldul snorted, the King had procrastinated long enough. This was not a crate being dragged through a forest. "You know."
Faced with the decision, Evendal resisted. Again. "No. Its still too soon!"
Aldul knew what his friend feared, but knew that was not what he had to fear the most. "If you want Kri-estaul to claim a ninth year, you will accede to this tonight." He stated baldly.
"Is that a threat?" Evendal demanded. He straightened from crouching over his son. The golden eyes brightened.
The question shocked Aldul, who turned his consternation into ruthlessness. "No," Aldul denied, then pointed to the child's swollen thighs. "But that is. A serious threat."
"Blood and swash!" Evendal m'Alismogh shouted. Aldul heard a world of frustration in the cry. "Bloody Thunder!" And the sound echoed through the building.
"Papa!" Kri-estaul cried out, frightened awake by the yelling.
Quickly, Evendal knelt down and cocooned his son. "I am here, my son."
"What... Is it time to get up?"
"It's still early yet." Evendal replied, staring pointedly at the Kwo-edan. Aldul forbore commenting, his friend knew better.
Aldul shook his head. "Evendal. Kri-estaul weighs less than two stone(53), at eight years old. He is not going to weigh any more, so long as his body has to fight with both the fistula and those legs and their demands."
Aldul's bluntness, usually helpful, abraded. Kri-estaul did not need to be reminded of his problems, the things he had no power over. "Aldul, I am so happy to discuss this with you. And Ierwbae. And Kri-estaul. And Ottily. How about Pohul-halik? Or Iesaldim? Anyone else you want to invite?" Realising what may have been obvious to him might not have occurred to the child, Aldul flushed in dismay. Kri-estaul thought himself a burden; he did not need to have that belief confirmed.
"Papa. Are all those people really here?" Kri-estaul's look changed from sleepy to panicked. "Why?"
Evendal sighed. "No, Kri. They are not. I was being silly. And not very nice." Again, he glanced up at Aldul. "I apologise." Aldul grinned his understanding.
"Oh." Kri-estaul did not know what to say to that. "I'm sorry, Papa. Was it... Was it something I did?"
"No. Nothing you did, beloved. You are the best of boys."
Kri-estaul's shoulders went up in a hunching.
"You are, to me." Evendal insisted.
"Is this about my damned... about my legs? They are hurting again. I'm sorry."
"Yes, son."
"Then I am glad Uncle Aldul spoke. I would want to know what is toward."
"But, I had hoped... You've been through so much, Kri!" Evendal knew he had no argument with Aldul, but that did not help the turmoil he felt.
"What. What has that got to do with them?"
"Aldul... Aldul says it is time to remove your legs. That it has to be done."
"Oh. Alright. Does that mean a nasty drink?"
Confronted with the child's pragmatism, Evendal folded. "I just... kept hoping it wouldn't be necessary. I hoped that at some moment I would garner the right lyric to heal you, or at least make the amputation unnecessary."
"Is that why you kept looking at them?"
"When did...? Nevermind. Yes, Kri. That is why."
Kri-estaul took a deep breath, then stretched out his arms. Cautiously, careful of his son's aching body, Evendal held his child.
"Papa," Kri-estaul whispered, unheard by anyone else. "You mend and amend, Papa. You aren't here to un-do what has been done."
Evendal felt a shiver up his spine. "How... How do you...? Kri-estaul?"
The King's befuddlement and unease must have shown on his face, and Aldul responded by stepping closer to the two royals.
"Do you... Do you love me, Papa?"
"Yes, my son."
"Even if I am half a boy?"
Aldul shook his head in amazement. After years of consideration and counseling others, Aldul had learned tools and tricks to get people to eventually reveal their inner turmoils or hidden drives. Again and again in his brief vocation in Osedys, Aldul witnessed his friend, this seeming neophyte, accomplish the same result without resorting to the skills or indirection that Aldul relied on.
The King pulled back to face the child, who refused to meet his glowing gaze. He didn't know what just happened, but he had a very worried boy on his hands. Priorities.
"Kri-estaul," Evendal murmured. "Look at me, my too-wise silly son."
"I'm afraid."
"Of what? Of me?" Kri-estaul shook his head, and then nodded. "Oh, Kri! I know what you call your legs."
"You do?"
"Those damned burdens. Right? And I know who had you call them that. Nisakh. Right?"
Kri-estaul nodded.
"I can imagine!" Evendal snorted, furious. "He told you they were your damned burdens, as you were his damned burden."
Wide-eyed in amazement, Kri-estaul nodded again.
"Another lie, Kri-estaul. You are not your legs! You are not like your legs have become. You are no burden. You are a too quiet, bright, lovable boy. And your legs still serve you, though you may not know how."
"Aldul is right. You should have gone to the Temple some time ago. I had fancied I might make your calves functional. But I don't think I can, safely. You may never ride a horse, or walk down a hall or street. Or climb a flight of stairs. You know that, right?"
Kri-estaul nodded again. Evendal's face twisted in something like a grin, a sad expression of equal parts affection and relief: he understood most of what held his son's mind.
"I myself knew it from the day after I restored you to your sister. Before I asked to adopt you."
"You... You knew?"
"You were hamstrung more than once, my son. That pretty much settled the question."
"But."
"But... What?"
"But you still adopted me."
"Yes. That is so."
"Oh."
Oddly hesitant, Evendal explained. "Kri-estaul... I do not love you in spite of your troubles and needs. There is no 'in spite of' involved. I love you. As simple as that."
To Evendal's bewilderment Kri-estaul started to weep, holding tightly to him. "Easy, now, beloved. I will be there. No one is going to touch you without me standing right beside you."
"I know." Kri-estaul mumbled. "I love you, too, Papa."
"I know. You show me all the time." Evendal reassured, his voice thick. "Where, Aldul?"
Aldul started, but answered promptly. "Not here, my lord. I apologise, but the Lady will need her tools and people immediately available."
"I will indeed be right by his side." Evendal warned as he bundled Kri-estaul in some rugs and settled him into the carrier.
Aldul smirked, hoping his friend would get his way - and thankful he himself was not the one Evendal had to confront. "My friend, I will not fight you on that. And I would not expect otherwise."
The King, and his escort, walked with Ierwbae and Aldul to the Temple precinct. The border between the Temple grounds and the civic demesne was marked by hermes-stones spaced over two body lengths from each other. Five ells in from the hermes-stones, the hard-packed ground gave way to tightly-fitted stone of differing types; even the dark night could not hide the odd colour variations.
The Temple was not any one building. It had originally been a six-tower complex, the tallest structures in Osedys, but that had been over a millennium ago. If the sixth and central tower still existed, it was no longer visible. The people of the Thronelands and the Temple preferred to expand outward with buildings rather than upward, so all other Temple construction radiated ever outward in all directions like the petals of a misshapen chrysanthemum. The five sensible towers remained the tallest structures in Osedys.
It was to the towers that Aldul directed the King and Guard. The three-storey edifices immediately adjacent to the towers looked to be an amalgam of brick, stone and old wood. Aldul had managed to avoid entering any of the buildings until he had guided the royals to within fourteen hundred feet of the towers, and it was into one of these three-storey buildings that he steered them.
"What is that?" Kri-estaul asked, once Aldul escorted them inside.
"You feel it?" Aldul asked, startled.
"I'm sorry. Am I not supposed to? I'm sorry." Kri-estaul gripped one of the blankets cocooning him, clutching it tight in his distress.
"No. It is simply that few people feel anything but the lack of a draft."
"What do you two speak of?" Evendal asked, uneasy.
"It feels like... Like my butt feels sometimes when I move after I have been sitting too long in one position. A strange tingling, all over, but no pain."
Beside the doorway, in a wall recess, hung a series of coloured cords. Aldul pulled on a purple-lavender cord, waited, then pulled on it again. Aldul then directed Ierwbae and Evendal further into the building; through another door and down a corridor, through a large if empty room and into another, smaller room with a few tables and a bed set up high - above waist level. Each wall had a door set in its center. The 'bed' had no rushes, and no padding except where the recumbent person's head would be. The area where the torso would lie looked like a solid slab, but the bottom half of the bed entailed two removable slats of varnished wood. The most remarkable item in the room was a fountain; a seemingly constant forceful upwelling of water against tiered troughs, two channels of which flowed out of the room through runnels in the stone floor. Now into the first stages of winter, the fountain's hot cascade gave off a thick mist. The sound of falling rain and running water seemed incongruous inside the windowless room.
The King was interrupted from further examination by the arrival of the Priestess and her retinue.
"Your Majesty," Sygkorrin nodded, with a slight bow; sovereign to sovereign.
"Your Eminence," Evendal returned. "We have brought Our son, clearly at his limits from his durance. We admit that while We might could numb his pain, in perpetuity, We cannot restore his legs' virtue. So, We... I come to you, at Aldul insistence. Forgive the hour and Our willfulness."
Sygkorrin stared long at Aldul. She had come prepared for anger, for threats, for silent confusion or attempted coercion through Evendal's glamour as Left Hand of the Unalterable. She did not, at first, know what to make of this distant and archaic formality. Aldul squinted and finger-signaled for patience.
'He needn't have bothered,' Sygkorrin thought wryly of Aldul's silent intervention. "Kri-estaul, do you know what is toward?"
"My legs hurt. They are too broken and need to be taken off."
"Yes. That is why you are here instead of home. And do you understand what will happen here?"
"No, not really."
"You will go to sleep for a few bells, and when you wake up your legs from here..." Sygkorrin pointed to just above the knee. "From there down will be gone. Nothing there anymore. And you will be in a lot of pain. You will need to take a potion for the first few moons. But not so much after that. Not like now. The worst part is that you will be bed-bound for over a fortnight. Not be able to accompany your Papa anywhere.""
"But what if I have to pee? Or use the jakes?"
"You will have to piss into a ewer and excrete into a krater. On your bed."
"Are you punishing me? Was I bad again?" Kri-estaul's eyes ranged repeatedly over the Priestess's face, seeking some clue how he could appease this woman. "I know I am a sorry excuse for a boy."
"No. And, you are not. And that is not why. Your legs are so broken, its like carrying around broken glass or a poisonous snake. You could die if you keep them. But after you've healed, you will have very little pain."
"It won't hurt like it does?"
"No. Not even a tenth of how it hurts now." Like a non sequitur, Sygkorrin belatedly understood Evendal's formality: a royal's masque; a way of hiding pain and hiding from pain.
"I won't have to take those drinks any more?"
"Maybe every once in a while. Not like you have had to. Not like you will have to during the first fortnight."
"I'm... I'm scared."
Sygkorrin nodded. "I would be also. We, Aldul and I, are going to take good care of you and your Papa. We will put a cloth over your face, you will fall asleep. I will do the work. And then you will wake up." The Priestess explained.
The High Priestess stared at one of her attendants, blinked and gestured with a finger. The attendant retreated through the door to the left of the one Evendal and Aldul entered by. Evendal could have sworn that it would open to the outside, but the brief glimpse he caught was of a firelit room.
"Kri-estaul, this is Lumetra," Sygkorrin introduced a willowy short woman with an impish grin. "This is Yurehal-mah," a man of Lumetra's height with a triangular face who bowed. "They will be helping me, if you are comfortable with them. There will be no Guard here."
"Where can they wait?" Evendal murmured obligingly.
"Over there. Through that door." Sygkorrin indicated the door that he and Aldul had come in through.
"There is nothing in there." The King protested.
"Look again."
But Evendal shook his head and signaled his escort to retire.
"Are they acceptable?"
Kri-estaul nodded. "Do you mean it?"
Sygkorrin did not even blink. "Yes. No Guard, sweetling. Now, I would like to talk to your Papa alone for a moment. Is that agreeable with you?"
"Will Aldul stay... with me?"
"Yes, Kri-estaul. Aldul is not going anywhere without you."
"Is it right with you if I... Can I hold on to you?"
For a moment Sygkorrin looked confused. Then Aldul answered. "Yes, Kri. That would be good. Are you having a hard time staying in this bell?"
"Please?" the child pleaded, pitch rising.
Aldul moved carefully up to the bedside and held out his hand. Kri-estaul's hand shot out and gripped hard to four of Aldul's fingers. "See? You are here with me, my Prince." To Sygkorrin's look, Aldul simply said. "Sensate throw-backs to his time under-ground."
The Priestess nodded again. "All this windowless stone can get tiresome, even for me." She grinned sweetly at Kri-estaul. Watching, Evendal felt his heart pound almost painfully as he suddenly became aware of Sygkorrin's dark-haired pale-skinned beauty. "I will be back with your Papa after we talk." She promised, and all but dragged Evendal to the door she had come in from. Beyond that door stood a very wide hallway, from where they paused the roof slanted upward as the hall extended away from the towers.
Sygkorrin wasted no time. "So. Can you loop and secure at least three working arteries?"
"What? No."
"Are you prepared to saw through Kri-estaul's femorals?"
Evendal did not understand the purpose to Sygkorrin's almost angry queries. "I... I would have a difficult time, knowing they were his, but I think so."
"Would your... gifts permit? Or incapacitate you?"
"Oh..." Evendal blinked, and reconsidered. "It would depend on how close to death he draws. I think."
"You do not know. That would make you a danger in a dangerous effort. Do you know how to make a skin-and-fat lip that will cover the remaining leg despite swelling?"
"I am not Niem Dir. I have no experience in that."
"This is not to badger you, Your Majesty. It is simply to make clear how much of a... burden you would be, were you to oversee Kri-estaul's amputation."
Evendal stared wall-eyed at the Priestess. "How did you know I demanded to be at his side? Aldul had no time to tell you."
"Your Majesty," Sygkorrin patted a stray lock of hair away from her face. "The surprise would have been if you had not."
"He is my son!"
"No one in this kingdom disputes or criticizes your just affection for your son."
"You want my child docile? Amenable?"
"Of course,"
Evendal merely raised an eyebrow.
Sygkorrin scowled. "Then return, but leave for the room you came through after he slumbers. If he does not ask you, you need not tell him. Because I can assure you that you will find the amputation harrowing. Not because it is grisly or gruesome or perilous, though it is, but because it is damage being inflicted on your son."
"No." Evendal started shaking his head before Sygkorrin had finished. "If I have to sit curled in a corner, I will. But I will not deceive my son, even for his own peace-of-mind."
"But how would he know...?"
"You, the Right Hand of the Unalterable, try such misdirection with me? He would know. We both know better. And you diminish my respect for you, Sygkorrin. What truly passes here?"
Sygkorrin sighed. "Lord Evendal. Do you know how many years these towers have?"
"At a guess, from what records survive in the Royal archive, close to one thousand years. Why?"
"These six towers are as old as Hrioskunra."
"You know of Hrioskunra?" Evendal asked, then answered. "Of course you do."
"Just as Hrioskunra, they have their own... strengths. You might catalyse or direct those strengths in the midst of my wreaking."
"No."
"No, what?"
"Whatever happens, my presence will not endanger Kri-estaul."
"How can you be so certain?"
Evendal smiled for the first time that night. "I have it on good authority. Two very knowledgeable sources. One of them is older than these towers."
"You are determined?"
Evendal shook his head. "I am pledged," he corrected.
"Then do exactly as you suggested." Sygkorrin bade. "Stay in a corner, watch or don't, as you wish. But not one word or tune from your lips, once Kri-estaul is asleep."
They returned to the strangely accoutered room. Evendal rushed to a sobbing, flailing Kri-estaul and a besieged Aldul. "Kri! What is toward? What?"
"Papa?" Quick as an eyeblink, Kri-estaul stilled.
"What is toward?" Evendal asked again. Sygkorrin smirked briefly. Kri-estaul twisted his back to hide against Aldul who stood beside him. "Kri?" The child kept motionless.
Evendal assessed the tableau, and cursed himself quietly. "Kri? Forgive me. Please?"
Kri-estaul swung his shoulders back and glared, sodden-faced, at Evendal. "Forgive? F... For what?"
"I left you just now. When you needed me. When I walked back in here, I realised how you might feel right now. I should not have left you when you are in pain, in a strange place, and knowing you are about to be hurt worse than you hurt now." Expecting his son's timidity, the King kept a hand under the boy's chin, so Kri-estaul had nowhere to look but at his father's face. "Being scared is acceptable, Kri. Ir knows, I am all the time."
"You?" Kri-estaul choked.
"Yes. You thought I was leaving you? That I would not return? That I was leaving you here, to gain another heir?" The child thrashed about weakly, trying to hide his head. "Kri-estaul, stop. I understand, my son. And you forget, I have no say in the matter; you are my son for as long as you yourself wish it. Come now, let me bear you until you fall asleep." As Evendal had hoped, Kri-estaul had an opinion on that idea.
"I am not a baby!"
"No. You are my son. A wonder. You survived two years in darkness and pain, beset by evil, waiting and hoping for me. You died protecting me, and came back alive. You do more to keep me steady and... keep my heart from turning into a stone. Please. Let me hold my son until he falls asleep. I vow that I shall be right at your side until you awaken. And after."
Kri-estaul's arms stretched out. "Pl... Please, Papa!"
Evendal lifted Kri-estaul carefully and, once he had the child secured, hopped onto the cot and rocked the tired and pain-dazed boy. "Thank you, Aldul."
"I tried, but I am no substitute for his father, my lord."
"I thank you, even so."
Aldul gestured at a sealed gourd and swath of cloth he had waiting.
"Kri-estaul," Evendal murmured. "It is time to go to sleep. Let Aldul pull the wool over your eyes. I am not moving. I am going to be holding you, and not letting go. Understand?"
Kri-estaul nodded, and rested quiescent - until he felt the cloth at his nose. Lightning-swift Kri-estaul began to struggle, panicking and desperate. "No! No! Please... Stop! I'll be good. I promise! I'll be good. I'll be good! Please! Please! Papa! No! Papa..."
Every shriek was like a sword slicing into Evendal's gut, ripping through his heart. But it was the King's own hand that held the spirit-soaked wool to his son's face until the muffled protests finally faded. Aldul turned to Sygkorrin, and both breathed a sigh.
"Help me..." Evendal whispered. And Aldul gingerly held Kri-estaul while Evendal stood. Without hesitation, Aldul set the child back on the 'bed' and stripped him. The room stayed warm by virtue of the fountain-flow, nonetheless Aldul draped a linen cover over Kri-estaul's torso. The Priestess turned to the fountain, dipping her hands into one of the basins.
The next four bells passed as Sygkorrin said. Evendal's heart was rent, twisted and tested. The attendant that had left the room had gone to rouse Drusillikh. From her, Sygkorrin took blood through what looked to Evendal like urchin's spines, some animal's intestine, and a large glass mug with bone or horn tubing jutting through its cover. Sygkorrin explained only as the mood struck her. She made liberal use of a tourniquet, and a small stiletto-type knife in cutting the skin, after she had wiped the child's legs down with some leaf-green paste-like solution.
"That is to numb the nerves before we severe them. It is quick-acting and lasts a long time."
There was, in Evendal's worried mind, a lot of blood coming from the cutting, though it pumped forth at an impossibly slow rate. Nonetheless Sygkorrin, Lumetra and Yurehal-mah worked quickly and ruthlessly. At one point Kri-estaul's bowels relaxed, but Yurehal-mah cleaned him up without even a facial expression.
To Evendal's dismay, Sygkorrin was right; he turned his face away when Yurehal-mah and Lumetra braced the first leg while Sygkorrin used a bone-saw. He supposed they would have simply used a sword or axe for speed, had Kri-estaul's bones not been so fragile from two years of neglect and little food or movement. Lumetra, face impassive and intent, tied off arteries. But the King thought too much blood yet leaked from his Heir. At one point, a mystified Evendal watched Sygkorrin cauterise the exposed bones. The whole procedure tried Evendal's nerves and endurance beyond his breaking point. And still he stayed.
Then Sygkorrin, with no pause, grabbed another tourniquet and started on the second leg.
The son of Menam hunched in a corner and wished the entire ordeal ended, wished the uncertainty to Kri-estaul's survival resolved. After securing the arteries exposed, Lumetra had retreated to the head of the bed; she kept a finger over Kri-estaul's carotid and a hand hovering over his chest.
"He's slowing up but his heart is racing." Lumetra announced obscurely.
"Thunders!" Sygkorrin cursed, then glared. "Both need to slow. Lumetra...?"
The petite woman nodded, took her one hand away from Kri-estaul's neck and thumped the back of her hovering hand in a calm and steady rhythm. "I cannot do this for very long."
"If I could do that for half a bell, as an apprentice, you can certainly keep at it long enough for me to find the problem." Sygkorrin snarled.
"Yes, Your Eminence." Lumetra whispered.
The Priestess began creeping her way, with prodding and deliberately trembling hands, up Kri-estaul's thigh. She stopped mid-stomach. "Of course!"
"What is toward?" Yurehal-mah asked. He had just finished sewing the skin and dropping a moss-patch on it.
"A nasty blood-clot... far from home."
Lumetra and Yurhal-mah sighed but said nothing, though Lumetra stole poorly hidden glances toward the King then back to Sygkorrin. The Priestess remained poised over Kri-estaul's torso for several long breaths.
The Priestess failed to move when Yurehal-mah started cleaning the bone-forceps, suture-needles, and the slotted capital saw. She stayed motionless at Kri-estaul's side when Lutrema assisted a very weak Drussilikh out of the room. Finally, Evendal could not take her statue-like stillness and stepped up to the 'bed'. "What is toward? Why do you not remove this clot?"
"More than one now. I would be happy to. Once you show me how to do so without creating more."
Evendal's nerves came out in temper. "You did not think to give him atropine before cutting into him? Diminish the chances of a clot traveling so far uninterrupted!"
"Yes, I did; else the clot would have reached his heart or his lungs before I found it."
Evendal wondered why he had heard and felt nothing, then realized that his gift would hardly recognize 'threat'; and that was all that was involved until the clot stopped the child's heart. Too late, then. "You can keep it where it rests now?"
Sygkorrin nodded. "And hope that the flow of the blood will break up the clots."
"No. That is no hope whatsoever." Evendal hissed. He pounded on his head with the heel of his hand. "What does his body need in order to do the dismantling for itself? No, that won't help! I would never understand what you mean. I only know about clotting from Mausna and the field-chirurgeon."
Evendal m'Alismogh's eyes dimmed briefly. "I care more about the life of this child than any imagined danger between two powers, Priestess..."
Sygkorrin looked up from her post. "What are you thinking, Your Majesty?"
"Unless you have a better option," The Priestess shook her head. "I will do what I know to do." m'Alismogh knelt down beside the linen-white body of his son. He had not noticed, seeing him constantly, that Kri-estaul was no longer moon-faced, what with the slow healing of the infectious bites. He ignored the chill from the blood staining his knees, and the stiffness of the cloth at his side that was the Priestess's gown. Hunched as close to Kri-estaul as he could get, he settled both of his hands on the damp but warm flesh, encompassing the area Sygkorrin's hand hovered over.
Little nomads...
m'Alismogh's voice broke. He had to swallow three times before he could try again.
Little wanderers fleeing
In this body I deem dear.
Little gatherers claiming
A fair province not your own.
You do your job too well,
Your goal is accomplished.
Disband goodly cohorts,
Stand down, I say, stand down.
I abjure you, beg you:
Break up, diffuse, disperse.
You do your job too well,
Your goal is accomplished.
Disband goodly cohorts,
Stand down, I say, stand down.
After six unsteady, tense breaths, Sygkorrin spoke. "I can no longer hold the clotting."
"No!" Evendal shouted, shocked and distraught.
"Rest easy, my lord." Sygkorrin placed her hand on Evendal's shoulder, a familiarity she would not have permitted herself but for the moment's demand and the absence of Guard. "I cannot hold them because they obeyed you. They are too small for me to sense any more."
"You know how to give a ruler gray hair, Priestess!"
Sygkorrin grinned. "You should witness how I humble self-involved journeymen and first-level adepts!"
Lutrema, returned, grunted a laugh.
"What must be done now?"
"Yurhal-mah will keep watch for any more vagrant clots, though I suspect your song remedied that. Kri-estaul will sleep until he awakens."
"Here or at the Palace?"
The Priestess stared long at the King, who simply stared back, waiting for an answer.
"You are not sane. You realize that, don't you?"
Evendal nodded, suddenly abashed. "Since the first day home. What have I said that demonstrates it?"
"Priestess!" Lutrema protested, scandalized at the Priestess's tactlessness.
King Evendal grinned. "My perception of nature, my reactions to my environment and to other people, my presumptions, are radically different from those of the people I serve. Not in all matters, though, or else you would be incomprehensible to me. Now, what have I said that proves this?"
"Kri-estaul will be in no shape to be carted to the Palace for many days."
Evendal shook his head. "That fountain is not mere decoration. You take supplicants off that slab and cleanse them in that spring. As he can survive that, he could endure being carried to the Palace."
Sygkorrin shook her head in turn. "Yes, that is traditional, but if we placed him in the fountain, it might undo some of the benefit of the atropine, and increase the swelling. He stays on the Temple grounds for the present."
"As you will," Evendal agreed. "Have you a residence like unto this? One with a large room adjacent?"
"I anticipated this. Yes." The Priestess visibly hesitated. "The first few days, Kri-estaul is likely to not know his own name from the painkillers."
As Sygkorrin spoke, a young woman entered the room and addressed her. "Your Eminence?"
"Yes,... apprentice. Your reason for entering a yenkriul(54) room without sanction?"
"Two concerns, Your Eminence. Gwl-lethry attempted suicide, Your Eminence."
"How? I take it he did not succeed?"
"No, Your Eminence. Asphyxiation. He tried to stuff his tunic shirt down his throat."
Shocked, Evendal interrupted, uncertain he had heard correctly. "You have Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir?"
"Yes, Guard Frielh remanded him to our care over a fortnight ago." Sygkorrin acted indifferent to the hapless man's state. "And the second matter?"
"For a brief time, Your Eminence, we had six towers. Again."
"What?" The Priestess lost all aplomb. "What do you mean?"
"For less than even a twelfth of a bell, the central tower was clear and plain for all to see, Your Eminence. And glowing like it was baking under the midday sun."
To Evendal's concerned eye, the Priestess looked badly shaken and bewildered. "Is it still visible?"
"No, Your Eminence."
"When did this... vision occur?"
"Less that a quarter bell past."
Sygkorrin stared at the King.
"A harmless result, I would deem. And blessedly temporary." Evendal offered.
"And utterly unprecedented." Sygkorrin retorted.
Evendal shrugged. "I am more concerned with Kri-estaul and with Gwl-lethry."
"As you should be." Sygkorrin replied, rallying. "You left us with a right proper headache in that man, Your Majesty. It became obvious early on that he was guilty of nothing. But we did not know if he was here for punishment or for his own safety from some undisclosed threat. He tried to speak to anyone who walked by his cell. It upset all of us. For he deteriorated quickly."
"How? In what way?"
"First singing to himself. Then shouting and crying. Then talking to himself. And lastly, striving to burrow his way through the rock and metal-bound wood of his cell. If he survives this incarceration, his hands may never recover. This is his first attempt at suicide, but I have been expecting it for the last three days."
Evendal felt ill.
"Your face betrays you." Sygkorrin exclaimed. "What did this Gwl-lethry do to warrant this?"
"He... He annoyed me and, by his own confession, plagued Wytthenroeg. A mindless, vapid barnacle."
The Priestess stared at Evendal in amazement. "His pretense annoyed you?"
"Pretense?"
But Sygkorrin would not be distracted. "You detain the lord of one of the largest holds in the kingdom for over forty days without diversion or report - so that the only thing he has to dwell on is the impending hour of his death... because he offended your sensibilities?!"
"What do you mean 'the impending hour of his death'?"
"Your Majesty. What would this courtier know of you, on the day you apprehended him? Nothing save that you could do so, would do so, even to a harmless fool. After nine years with two men who showed the same ruthlessness..." Evendal winced. "You can be certain that Gwl-lethry, a man much esteemed by your mother, has been expecting a knife in the dark for the last forty nights. Now I understand his rapid deterioration: You!"
"You say admired by my mother? How do you know of this?"
Sygkorrin sighed, expressing her own annoyance and impatience. She began cleaning Kri-estaul with linen dipped in the fountain. "Your Majesty. The Temple is the only society that the Throne cannot command or compel: by tradition, by history, and - before the interregnum - by mutual agreement between the Throne and the Temple. So, with the continued depredations by the Throne, some manourlords came to us to manage the disposition of their properties in the event of their death. Gwl-lethry made allowance for as many contingencies as he could encompass; this included his detention. Have you not wondered why you heard nothing from any steward of the Tinde'keb? We tend it for now, until such time as Gwl-lethry emerges into the sun of royal favour, or Wytthenroeg recovers her health, or one of her children inherits."
"He gave his demesne over to Wytthenroeg? Or her children? That means he knew she had children; one of the best kept secrets of the past nine years."
The Priestess nodded. "He was quite clear in his will and order of disposition. He had other contingencies if none of her heirs survived to assume authority for the Tinde'keb."
"That is not the effort of a witless dilettante who despises his tutor." Evendal muttered.
"No. How do you think he survived for these nine years? By seeming too mindless to be a threat. Too amenable, generous, and amusing, too much a part of the facade of the Court, to simply destroy."
A pair of solidly built priests entered, with fresh blankets, and carefully covered the Prince, then carried him out of the room on another sling. Sygkorrin and Evendal followed. They came to a fair-sized room with an oversized bed, three chairs and two tables. One wide window took up most of a wall, but set high, so that a person could not climb out without skilled assistance.
"Safe, and pleasant." Evendal confirmed.
"And here he will stay, for the troubles are still numerous. His lungs will be weak, and prey to dampness and fluid. His bum and the fissure will get irritated and inflamed. Eliminations will be a trial for both of you, at first. And sleep."
Evendal bowed. "It shall be as you choose. In all this I do not know what is best for him. You know better than I."
Sygkorrin stared at the glowing-eyed ruler, her demeanor uncertain. "I will do only what seems best for your son. This I pledge."
"And so I understand, Priestess. I mean only agreement, submission to your will for his well-being. No threat or warning is intended or offered." Evendal gripped the frame of the bed, knelt shakily down and kissed Kri-estaul on the forehead.
"Now that I have a few concerns which do not involve Kri-estaul, how long will he sleep?"
"Most, if not all, of the day that has begun."
To Sygkorrin's continued bemusement, Evendal looked dismayed, annoyed. "Could you endure but a bell longer in my company, Your Eminence, as I strive to make amends?"
"Grant me a moment to change into less soiled garb, Your Majesty, and I shall be your shadow for that time."
"Please," Was all that the King said. And Sygkorrin returned in less than a quarter of a bell, looking as though she had not spent the last few hours of the night in a grueling struggle with blood and main. 'Diviner grace has never brightened this enchanting face,' he thought, and wondered whence his own quotation.
"Do you know of Gwl-lethry's cell?" Sygkorrin nodded. "Then let us go there, rather than have him escorted to us. Thus he avoids the impression that he is being taken to execution." Evendal began to exit, then stopped himself at the door.
"Your Majesty?" Sygkorrin spoke, bewildered at the seeming indecision.
"I pledged to remain by his side. And so I shall." The King explained, then turned his troubled, glimmering gaze to the Priestess. "Can you have Gwl-lethry brought here? With all courtesy?"
Disbelieving, Sygkorrin shook her head. "Readily, Your Majesty. But you take things to extremes." She turned to the quiet priest at her side. "Aldul. Scintilla section, Ward two." The Kwo-edan raised his eyebrows, nodded lopsidedly, and left.
"I 'take things to extremes', Lady Sygkorrin?"
The Priestess corrected herself. "My initial impression of you was of an impulsive, emotion-driven, boy. Your glowing eyes aside, that is how you appear. Your adoption of this waif, your killing of the Beast the very night of your arrival in the City, your refusal to have an investiture ceremony, your re-apportioning some of the Court stations to unknowns when some courtiers defied you. All very strong brash moves, Your Majesty, capable of alienating many."
The High Priestess of the Temple Archate smiled ruefully. "Then I pondered your motives and realised I had been thinking like a courtier. You are not acting out of whim or mere emotion at all, are you?"
"In the main, no I do not, I cannot. But I did with Gwl-lethry. He approached me on my second morning here. As pathetic a mindless courtier as anyone could possibly imagine, gushing and enthused over inconsequentials. Practically baiting me with slurs against Rw-addruan and Wytthenroeg. I consigned him to as utter a solitude as my Guard could fashion. And I still find it hard to credit his cleverness."
"Could you not recognize his artifice from the very strength of your visceral reaction? Only two types of men survive... survived in the Court of the interregnum, Your Majesty. Those smart enough to appear trivial, and those with their noses up one of the co-rulers' nether-regions."
"What shall you do if..." Sygkorrin faltered on a cough. "If his segregation proved too much for him?"
For a long time Evendal gave no response, unable to reply.
"I do not know. It infuriates me that I did not try to look any further than his face powder. And that I spouted such an arbitrary judgment! I had no right!"
"You judged as you saw." Sygkorrin consoled. "No matter what you wish for yourself, you remain as fallible as the rest of us. That holds more comfort for me than it does for you, I imagine. Here they are."
Lanterns in metal-caged recesses scattered throughout the room provided sufficient light for Evendal to see a rumpled man barely able to stand. Either a noise or his motionlessness must have alerted the figure, for he straightened quickly and looked about. Recognition of his hosts did not calm him. Evendal could see that the man had lost weight in his confinement. With face powder absent, Gwl-lethry displayed the haggard features and understandable pallour of a young man pressed to his limits. That Gwl-lethry's throat had swollen to equal the width of his head tore at the King's conscience.
"Your Majesty," Gwl-lethry whispered, then winced. "Your servants frightened my guests. I had no notice of your audience; else I'd have better titivated myself. Forgive my dishabile, I beg you." The Temple had provided clothing against the cold of winter and stone and, after the suicide attempt, assured its condition by binding Gwl-lethry's hands together and away from his mouth, with a short chain encircling his waist.
"What guests?"
"Why His Royal Highness, Prince Rat, and his entourage. They left in fevered haste upon your attendants' arrival. I ken he is a cautious monarch, fearing enemies at every creak and squeak. I regret he is a monarch without an entourage, else I'd offer you a better semblence than this." He demurred, gesturing to his attire and lack of adornment.
Evendal noted gouges and shadows that were all but black under the man's eyes, the quick pulse quivering at the courtier's temples, and knew what Gwl-lethry had been about before he had been summoned. Thus the despairing countenance when Gwl-lethry saw who awaited him. Uncertain how to respond, the King approached the ragged man, disdaining Ottily's move to precede him. Gwl-lethry kept his gaze lowered and shifted toward the right, bowing economically. The tension in the courtier's frame, wary, vigilant for any sudden move, confirmed Evendal's perception.
"To spare your sensibilities, Most Puissant Majesty, I shall refrain from obvious jests on how your Presence brightens the room..."
Evendal's mouth quirked. "Our thanks, good Gwl-lethry." He whispered.
"If," the ragged man continued. "If you would be so gracious as to 'enlighten' me on the reason for such a audience. Not wanting to lose the sun of your favour, but in my admiration I tremble in the dark as to what such a meeting could signify."
"Cease your verbal peregrinations, Gwl-lethry. We have found, and recovered Wytthenroeg of Alta."
Gwl-lethry lowered his head, striving to hide his face. "But of course you did! Who could hide from the glory of your shining countenance? The gift of your shining splendor reaches into all that is dark and obscure, finding out... "
Without warning, Gwl-lethry legs failed him. As quick, Evendal had an arm about the courtier's waist and guided him to the nearest of the three chairs. At their first meeting, Gwl-lethry's chalk, brow-tar and kohl had masked him effectively. At this meeting the harrowing and desolation had created a second mask, obscuring the manourlord's youth and vulnerability. For it was an awkward youngling that stared up at the King of the Thronelands, pleading.
"Did... Did you have to? Was it so necessary? She was just a sharp-tongued old woman. Dying. All but broken anyway. Would it have hurt you to leave her alone?" The manourlord's voice grew weaker with each word.
"Yes," Evendal replied. "Ottily, Lady Sygkorrin, if you would be so kind as to grant Us a moment of privacy with Our manourlord?"
"Your Majesty...!" they protested in unison.
"We do not mean later." He waited. As Sygkorrin moved toward the entry, Evendal added. "And, should you need to, reassure Kri-estaul of my love."
"What?" Sygkorrin glared at the King, and realised his intent. "Are you unmanned? Don't make such a gesture, Your Majesty, with a man who has no inkling of the consequences of his own actions!"
"He will," Evendal promised, and waited until Aldul grinned his understanding and closed the door.
The King lifted a thin knife with a hand-length blade from his wrist-sheath and offered the hilt to Gwl-lethry. "As a protege of Wytthenroeg, you learned lore. You know the price a ruler pays for transgressing against the person of one under his protection?"
"I will... not kill myself... to spare you... the effort."
"But you sought to do just that already." Evendal pointed out. "You are not listening. Here, take this and do whatever you feel just." Evendal knelt on the floor and placed the knife on the courtier's lap.
"'Tis a trick."
The King shook his head. Gwl-lethry, challenged, picked up the blade.
"I may get satisfaction... Only to die from your Guard."
"No. But I warn you. You will be responsible henceforth."
Gwl-lethry, a tense expression on his face, leaned forward to rest the knife against Evendal's throat. No one rushed in to rescue the King. "You speak so obscurely. You are the one responsible... You have Wytthenroeg in your hands,... and myself, and you... play games,... thinking us sheep."
Evendal waited Gwl-lethry out.
"Why are you here? Why did you come here, if not to kill me?"
"As a courtier accosting me with benign intent, you were a guest with the right to safety and the freedom of the gentry. Had I destroyed you, my own life would have been forfeit. Such is the Rule of Osmaredh."
"No one has found... a viable copy of that Rule! No one abides by... that code!" Gwl-lethry sputtered and rasped. The blade wobbled, and cut.
"The King must so abide! I must, or else I become the only man whose life is of worth. And that was Polgern's delusion. So, what do you say, Gwl-lethry?"
"What?" the man wailed, confused.
"What would be fit recompense for my abuse of your freedoms? Here I am. Do you wish to hold me here, as you were held? Is there a monetary recompense you would prefer? Or some dream whose accomplishment is within the compass of my authority?"
Gwl-lethry could not speak to this volte-faci, utterly bewildered by it.
"Let me apprise you of what you cannot know as yet. We are the Left Hand of the Unalterable."
"No. How?"
"'Through instruction outside the circuits of Nature.
'Where time passes differently or not at all,'"
Gwl-lethry continued to look stunned, but his eyes widened even more. His face twisted with pain, the courtier continued. "'So that Contraries meet,... the novice to nurture,'"
Evendal ald'Menam concluded. "'Till adept he becomes, heeding Justice's call.'"
"What? But. There is no... closing line to that quote. The oldest texts... are incomplete!"
"We are the Left Hand of the Unalterable, Gwl-lethry, making what We did to you even more unconscionable."
"You torture me further! Goading me into speaking... when I can barely breathe!"
"Then dispense with words. Just know Lord Gwl-lethry. Our submission to your just complaint, and Our offer of redress, remains. If you wish, We will repeat it before witnesses."
Gwl-lethry was not ready to think about the ordeal that seemed to be over. "Where is. Where is Wytthenroeg?"
"Recuperating here at Temple. From pleuritic lungs."
"Not likely to... recover, then."
"She had better, or We shall give the Temple reason to fear Us. Currently she is their concern."
"Like I am?" the man grunted, his face red. "Your hospitality, again? Isolate... until the fellow's forgotten... then quietly execute later?"
"I am not likely to execute her."
"Why?"
"Why what? Why spare her? She is my mother, the late King's love. Or why did I mistreat you so?"
The courtier nodded, Evendal's confession of his lineage did not even warrant a raised eyebrow. 'Did everyone in the Palace know except myself?'
"You know what manner of woman Onkira is?" Again, Gwl-lethry nodded with a grimace. "I had just the night previous had to deal with her hypocrisy, pretense and manipulation. Then, the first face I see the next morning is the very mold of falsity and artifice. And you spoke so foully of one I revered, the only person whom I knew indeed loved me, listing your gestures of ingratitude."
Gwl-lethry tried to giggle; it came out a rasp. "So, are you saying... I was too convincing?"
Evendal did not nod for the knife at his neck, and the trickle of blood already felt. "Yes."
"And I can just walk... out of here, unmolested?"
"Yes."
"And I'm the... She-King of Arkedda!" Gwl-lethry lifted the blade from Evendal's neck, only to place it over the King's left breast and jab for emphasis.
"Gwl-lethry, you can slam the blade here," Evendal pointed to the center just below his collar-bone. "With sufficient force, and press downward with enough determination, and proceed to blood-eagle me, then walk out of here. Or you can simply walk out, ask the nearest priest, and be escorted to where Wytthenroeg is resting. Or walk out of here, reclaim your lordship from the Temple, and head home."
"This little bauble... could hardly break bone!"
"I myself have used it to, successfully, many years ago. But, again, I warn you. You will be responsible henceforth."
"What do you mea...?"
"You kill or injure me mortally, and my estate becomes your's: The beginning of a new royal house. And should you fail someone under your care, oh ruler-in-waiting, that person has the same right and responsibility I am granting you now."
"You are insane!" Gwl-lethry whispered, appalled.
"Yes. I am King. Unless you want to be."
"No. No!"
"Then choose from the last two options."
Gwl-lethry retracted the knife as from a burning flame. "The first of the two. The first! And... escort of priests... into my home!" He offered the knife back. His flinch when the King grabbed the hilt said he expected to see it hand-guard deep in his own chest next. Evendal wiped the blade on his sleeve and resheathed it.
"Lord of the Tinde'keb, there is much you must know, much that has happened since We unjustly detained you. Before you leave and learn, let Us offer this paltry gesture toward amends..." And Evendal me'Loema, ald'Menam a Wytthenroeg, sulen ureg is'dah, slowly placed his hands carefully on both sides of Gwl-lethry's neck, just barely touching the man's skin.
"This, likewise, was a gift of the royals that Wytthenroeg discussed in her lessons, good Gwl-lethry." Evendal muttered as the swelling in the courtier's neck visibly diminished, even as his throat briefly flushed a dark crimson.
"Guard!" Evendal shouted. As Ottily rushed in, Evendal asked. "Your waterskin, if you would be so kind?" The Guard offered a flask to the courtier. Evendal raised an eyebrow. Ottily bowed her head.
"I needed something a bit sturdier, Your Majesty. It takes knife thrusts better."
"Sensible."
Gwl-lethry turned a more interesting shade than crimson. "Kumys?" he gasped.
"So the drink needs to be sturdier as well, eh?" Evendal jested. The Guard shrugged with a smirk. Aldul likewise grinned.
"Now, good Gwl-lethry, go see to Our mother and then reassure yourself of the Temple's care for your heritage. Then, return within the next few days, please, to keep Us company here."
Gwl-lethry looked confused again. "Here?"
"Our son remains here for several days, a supplicant of sorts." Sygkorrin turned a sour look on her King.
"Your son?" To Evendal's surprise, the courtier turned to the High Priestess. "Lady of the Heights, is this a man of probity, in your reckoning?" The man's voice emerged without physical strain.
"He is. An upright man of honesty, honour, passion and compassion. The Temple is at the service of Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam."
Ottily looked ready to protest Gwl-lethry's rudeness, but Evendal carefully motioned her to let it pass. The last person the courtier would want to continually address would be the man who incarcerated him.
"And how... Whence the son?" Gwl-lethry asked calmly.
"The child of ?mmas-dawyl and ?nosien of the Keh'my-ralur(55). Adopted by Evendal, with the benison of the child's surviving sister, the Quillmaster."
"Why is he here? Really?"
Sygkorrin looked at Gwl-lethry without expression. "Do you recall nothing regarding a child named Kri-estaul?"
Gwl-lethry nodded. "Died two years ago. It made me sick to my stomach. Sweet child as I remember. Livened a room without trying."
"He did not die. He ran afoul of the Beast, who later awarded him to a sycophant. They kept him in the under-ground for two years, hamstrung twice."
Gwl-lethry nodded again, and grimaced. It was easier to talk, and think, seated. "And I am to credit all this... affability I am witnessing? The latest usurper is a man of honesty and good intent? He has adopted an unfortunate, who wondrously managed to live for two years in a hole no one else had managed to survive two months in? This wonder of a child, who will be legless, is his Heir? His mother, my mentor and... is merely recovering from a bout with a winter cold? Did someone finally find a price for the Archate or am I hearing fear talking?"
Sygkorrin scowled at the young man, jerked him out of his chair and pushed him up to the bed upon which Kri-estaul lay.
"Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir elthra'ma Tinde'keb, I present to you Kri-estaul agd'?mmas-dawyl, pier'Evendalh, sulen nis-ureg isadah." Spitting the words out with a fury of impatience and exhaustion, the High Priestess lifted the blankets covering the sleeping child. "I draw your attention to the bite marks, still healing on his face, his shoulders and his chest. That you can count not only his ribs, but can also track many of the veins around them, is due to the diet he shared with the roaches, rats and mice of the fourth level of the under-grounds. The swelling of his testicular sac, caused by both vermin and abuse, is a condition we are concerned about, but not certain how to treat as yet. I am not about to flip him over for your edification, but let me assure you that he has an anal fissure stemming from the large intestine. And, as you may also note, he no longer has any leg from just above where his knees had been. This last was accomplished a bell ago."
"Yes," Evendal spoke up, but the one word came out harsh. "He is too fragile, at this time, to move him back to the Palace. And feels safe only when I am at his side. So here I remain for the present."
Gwl-lethry stared at the drugged child; if he heard Evendal, he gave no sign. "I remember those eyelashes," he whispered. "I thought them ridiculously long and dark for a child. And his energy. You are not simply destroying and humiliating the Keh'my-ralur ?"
"The Quillmaster herself has stood as defender of the Palace, of her own initiative, when she thought Us in peril. Alongside the Mistress of Oaks and the Typika of the Eikhonists. Do not make my error, Gwl-lethry, and judge without knowledge or consideration."
The courtier reached out to touch the sleeping youngster. Only after Gwl-lethry retracted his hand, his gesture uncompleted, did Evendal realise he had tensed, prepared to intercede. His eyes unfocused as Evendal acknowledged to himself that he was utterly irrational and proprietary regarding Kri-estaul. Territorial. Aldul and Sygkorrin knew and had treated his attitude with levity, but the degree of... of his urge to protect and defend whelmed him at that moment. Whatever the expression on his face, it made Gwl-lethry grin briefly.
"I want to believe you. I want to hope I may live to see my old age." Gwl-lethry hissed, looking at no one.
"Sit down again before you fall down." Evendal snapped. Shakily, Gwl-lethry obeyed.
"We cannot give you peace-of-mind. We could only take it away. We wish it were otherwise. Lady Sygkorrin, can and are you willing to provide Consecrated, with offensive skills, to escort Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir to his home and abide with him until such time as he discharges them?"
"I have kept a list of possible attendants since you first tried digging your way out of your cell. Three stand ready to accompany you. Aldul? Please alert Hod-kenest, Liant-elrodd and Prifentelest of their new duties." The Kwo-edan left the room.
The courtier turned a relieved grin on Sygkorrin. "So the Court comes to the Temple? That is going to be a prolonged headache for you, Your Eminence."
"You have a nose for the ridiculous and a gift for understatement, Gwl-lethry." Sygkorrin snapped back at the man. "His Majesty is not a man for joyless fetes for the sake of a pretense at prosperity or normality. So there will be no pointless social gatherings or assemblages."
Evendal amended. "If the courtiers wish to celebrate, they must give the citizenry reason to do so, and then celebrate together. Until such happens... they will know only Courts Juridical and Courts Critical."
"You have a rather austere view of courtiers, manourlords and guilds. Your Majesty." Gwl-lethry tendered.
"Yes."
Sygkorrin grinned a slight, feline grin. "Have you other concerns that my presence requires, Your Majesty?"
Not at the moment. We appreciate your patience and care, Your Eminence. You, of course, do not need Our sanction to come and go, but accept Our gratitude."
"Most humbly. Then I shall retire, Your Majesty."
After the High Priestess left, the King simply stood and watched his son breathing.
"You have naught else to say? Your Majesty?"
Evendal hesitated, then forced himself to attend the man. "We have much to say, Lord Gwl-lethry. First that We shall have published, as We hinted, the manner in which We have wronged you. Second, We would ask of you the same questions We have asked of other manourlords and guildmasters."
Cold and implacable, the Left Hand of the Unalterable turned his shining eyes on the Lord of the Tinde'keb. "Gwl-lethry aghd Gilbrahalnir elthra'ma Tinde'keb... What have you done to comfort the grieving? To heal the wounds inflicted by the two traitors? What measure of defiance have you offered as citizens and strangers were press-ganged, imprisoned, tortured, starved, raped and killed?"
"Have you asked this of every landowner?"
"All who have come before Us." Aldul returned and nodded to the King.
"Then I must wait, for one who has not yet approached you. The answer is not only mine to give."
Evendal ald'Menam, Seners me'Oatelharh(56), stared hard at the courtier sweating before him. "We ken that you are demonstrating honour, Lord Gwl-lethry, and shall accept your deferral. Your answer also assures us that you were not indifferent to the... leeches feeding on an already frail kingdom. Thus acknowledged, you have Our leave and favour."
And Gwl-lethry fled.
"That went well. Another friend of the Throne." Evendal's tone held all the aridity of the Kul Wastes.
Aldul, silent throughout, shook his head. "Just as you yourself recommended to him, Evendal, give him time and consideration. That young man is not going to love you for a long time, nor should you expect him to. Ever."
"Explain, please."
"You can sympathize and empathize with many, but you have no idea what isolation and abject fear, in concert, can do to a man."
"I tried to be as considerate as I dared..."
Aldul waved at him to desist. "What did I just say, ...Your Majesty?"
Evendal took a breath, then another, and realised that Aldul had given an observation, not an accusation. "This is true. While I ken isolation, the only creature I feared in my solitude was myself. That seemed sufficient cause for dread."
Aldul let out a tired, long-suffering, sigh. "Evendal, how long was Kri-estaul in the undergrounds?"
"Two years," Evendal replied. But Aldul shook his head.
"No, Evendal. He was there... his whole life! For an eight year old, to be incarcerated for more than a few months, much of anything before that time is rendered less than a memory."
Once again, Evendal found himself wanting, with utmost care, to flay the heartless Nisakh handspan by handspan. Aldul interrupted the fantasy.
"Do you understand?" With a start, Evendal redirected his attention.
"That I was asking too much of a child, so soon." Evendal tendered.
"No," Aldul huffed. Out of patience, and at a loss for words, the Kwo-edan said the first thing that came to mind. "Evendal, do you know what Gwl-lethry will be about when he arrives home? Take a guess."
"Reassuring his staff and servants?" Evendal knew he did not know. His mind filled with fruitless worry over Kri-estaul, he felt hard-pressed to care about anything else.
Aldul looked on his friend with disdain. "He will be securing his manour, or finding a place more defensible. He will be sitting or pacing most of tonight, waiting for a noise unaccounted for, a knife in the dark. He will be waiting for your henchmen to come and make his disappearance permanent. He will do this for many nights. He will do this until he sleeps out of total exhaustion, or because he has managed to convince himself he is safeguarded from all possible attack."
"And this is my responsibility...?" Like a moment of prescience, Evendal saw all that his friend tried to explain: Gwl-lethry. A man whose wit had betrayed him, who doubted his mentor, his own judgment, and his safety. Perhaps waiting, shaken, in a darkened room in his home - or waiting among a crowd of people and compensatory noise - for the sound of a door forced or a window violated.
"Primarily. My friend, neither you nor I have any comprehension of what life has been like for the courtiers of Osedys. You, because the past nine years don't exist in your memory. I, because Kwo-eda did not have the same ambitious vermin gnawing at its foundations as Osedys had. Or, perhaps I should say that we had vermin with different ambitions than those here."
The Temple tolled the third bell of the day when a tired Ottily returned to Kri-estaul's apartment in the labyrinthine halls of the Healers' annex.
"Ottily, see that Metthendoenn's protection remains, and that he and the Palace are alerted to Our change of residence and audience. Until the Archate announces Kri-estaul recovered sufficiently, Metthendoenn remains my voice in the common concerns and Bruddbana remains Commander of the Guard."
"As you say, Your Majesty. What of the cause of His Highness's infirmity? And what of your foster-mother's aspersion?"
"Thunders! That will have to be delayed." The Lord Absolute of the Thronelands thought on the Dowager, and the very idea of her abiding any longer in the Palace under-grounds left him queasy. "Who takes your assignment?"
"Ierwbae, Your Majesty."
"Good. When he arrives, send for another as you retire. Also, have someone notify both the Criers and the Maritime Counsel that Onkira's execution shall be delayed, so that both ruler and heir may attend."
Ottily nodded. "And Nisakh?"
"That shall wait for Ierwbae's watch."
Ottily nodded, bowed, then stepped outside the door, to stand and Guard.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- (53) A stone equals 14 pounds. (54) Can mean 'shadow' or 'base', 'fundamental'. (55) (Hem-mas-da-will & Ian-no-see-in of the Cay-me-raloor); Keh'my-ralur: Clan/House of the Chamelion. (56) Left Hand of the Unalterable.
Here is the re-write I promised/threatened. Please let me know what you think. I do not intend to leave Nisakh or Onkira "hanging".