Songspell

This story is a work of fiction. It contains crudities, references to violent and sadistic behaviour between adults and children, 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.

Warning: A section of this chapter is not easy reading; a number of pages involve violence to a minor and its effects.

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.

28 And Shall I Couple Hell?

O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?

And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, my heart;

And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,

But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

In this distracted globe. Remember thee!

Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5, lines 92 ff.

As afternoon followed afternoon, Danlienn grew more comfortable in Evendal's presence, though he spent the first day or two following his discovery giving suspicious and anxious perusals to everybody. He came to understand that, even though Evendal never moved from his large but spare apartments, he still held Court and had an unofficial Council he relied on. From Danlienn's perspective, a great deal got accomplished because Evendal ignored traditional protocols. No penning a note directing the Manorlord of the Tinde'keb that he send a petition to the Chancellor for monies from the Royal Thesaurus for the casting of three hundred and twelve silver rings, with the request to include a gift by said Manorlord to the Chancellor to compensate him for his time and attention. Instead, Evendal told his Chancellor that he was removing the monies required to commission the fashioning of three hundred and twelve silver rings. The King also reminded Master Fillowyn aghd'Efferdiy that, as it was a private expenditure, the Chancellor's only proper response was to see that Master Gwl-lethry received a reassurance that the commission had been presented to the Silversmiths.

It was the same when Punfaesyl requested and received an audience with the King. Only three days after her humiliation the girl blithely walked in from the next room, and no one barred her way or remarked on the informality. Danlienn was relieved to see that Punfaesyl at least performed a courtesy and waited on Evendal's gesture to rise.

"Your Majesty, I merely wanted to thank you for your unnecessary kindness and mercy toward me, so undeserved."

The King of Osedys scowled. "Do not mark it so. You shall do better, now that you can follow your ambition more wisely. We expect that you shall find life more of a challenge and less of a whelming frustration. That you will no longer feel like you are pretending to your life, but actually living it."

"I have begun my instruction with Guard Kinmeln, Your Majesty. And I beg yet another indulgence, straining your goodwill."

"Speak plainly, child."

"When Guard Kinmeln recovers, you have commanded him to retrieve a lad from Alta-edda, Limmal, exiled five years past."

"Yes?"

"I would rather not be parted from my... from my tutor so soon upon beginning lessons. Might I be permitted to journey with Guard Kinmeln to Alta-edda and back?" Punfaesyl stood, her whole body a knot of anxiety.

"What does Guard Kinmeln say of this ambition?"

"After much argument, he declared I had a twisted urge for suicide in approaching you again, and that he could not bear to witness my success."

Evendal laughed. "If Guard Kinmeln would endure you, and he sees no problems ensuing, then you have Our permission. Understand, though, that when the time comes for your trek, Guard Kinmeln shall be Our voice and will with you. We shall not countenance debate or rebellion over anything he directs of you. Do you understand and accept?"

Punfaesyl but barely contained her happiness. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good, now go to your new father with Our leave, and impart Our good wishes for him." The girl knelt a second time and left.

Two bells later, Mulienhas approached and bowed. "Your Majesty, you have visitors." The woman barely held a grin back, not unlike Punfaesyl's had been earlier.

"Where from?"

"Within the realm, differing spots. We started collecting them like seaweed in a net, after the first one that we evicted wandered back under some obvious compulsion."

"How many have arrived?" Evendal asked, otherwise nonplussed.

"Only seven so far."

"What?" His voice rose. Aldul grinned at his friend's surprise.

"Four of them are helpers or accompanying family. One will need a chair. What would you, Your Majesty?"

Evendal thought furiously for a moment. "That one can use one of the chairs in here. But keep them for a bit and send to the Archate, asking the Lady Sygkorrin for her company or the attendance of one of her associates."

The Guard bowed and left. A bell later a beautiful woman with long raven hair and regal demeanour appeared, bowed to the King from the doorway, and approached unmolested.

"Lady Sygkorrin, Our thanks for coming."

"It served more than one purpose, Your Majesty. I know you do not request out of caprice. Also I wanted to see how two of my new friends were faring."

"Metthendoenn?" Evendal glanced over to the man lying quietly on the cot. "He is not well. His grief and uncertainty eat at him. When Ierwbae is here, it is like the sun comes out in this very room. When Ierwbae leaves, if it is for more than half a bell, Metthendoenn writhes in a muddle of recrimination, and then self-recrimination for distrusting so readily."

"They have a rough path to clear," Sygkorrin agreed. "What of the daystar of your life?"

"Better tidings there. He hates it that he sleeps so much, but otherwise Kri-estaul has been of better humour than We would be."

Sygkorrin strode past Evendal and approached the bedside. "Health and peace to you, Your Highness."

"Peace and joy to you, Lady 'Korrin."

As Danlienn watched, dumbfounded, the High Priestess of the Archate shooed the Ruler Absolute of the Thronelands over to a far corner in order to have a private talk with and physical examination of His Highness, as well as the recumbent Guard. When she was through she kissed both on the forehead and smiled on them. Evendal, Aldul, and Danlienn gravitated back to their chairs.

At a gesture from Evendal, one of the Guard seated the High Priestess while another left to retrieve Mulienhas.

"Now, how may I assist the Majesty of Osedys?"

"A few days past We sang to summon those who repeatedly spread the most virulent and insidious malice and poison regarding Our son and heir. Today the song-culling reaped a small harvest."

"And you wanted my presence for?"

"You or someone of near-equal authority. We intuit that you might prove invaluable. Also We wanted someone of like or close estate to stand as witness, lest We overstep the bounds of Our authority."

While waiting, the Mistress of the Archate took up the most relevant topic she felt prepared to speak on. "If I did not know better, Your Majesty, I would suspect you of singing for Kri-estaul's betterment."

Evendal smiled at his son before responding to his guest. "How so? Is there a hindrance?"

"Just the opposite, Your Majesty. Might I address His Highness, but with your attendance?"

Evendal blinked surprise at the High Priestess even asking. "Certainly. As you need to, henceforth."

Sygkorrin caught Kri-estaul's attention and held eye contact. "Your skin covers are progressing remarkably. Sometimes, after an amputation, the bones will protest, chips or flakes may separate off a cut bone. Not so for you, Your Highness. No bone complications. Your skin appears healthy and you have no less muscle tone or circulation than you had prior to the cutting. No progressive bruising, which means you might now be free of that muscle pain and inflammation you had. It is early yet, but like I said, you are healing more quickly than I could have expected. Take heart, Your Highness."

The boy stared back at Sygkorrin, hard and intense, muttering softly.

"Your Highness?" The High Priestess grew concerned at the lack of response. Knowing she would see it but his son would not, Evendal shifted his hand in his lap, palm outward in a gesture requesting patience. Not for her to know that he, sensitive to the spoken word, could readily hear the child's repetitive chant of "You're loveable, you're good. You're loveable, you're good." Kri-estaul encouraged himself, buoying himself to say or ask something.

Sygkorrin said nothing more but waited, fixed on her patient. Soon enough Kri-estaul stopped chanting and, after taking a deep breath, asked in a strangled whisper, "Do you like me?"

That was the very limit of his courage. With a grimace and a fast pull of his arms Kri-estaul, frightened and embarrassed, sought to hide himself under the bedclothes. The Priestess, having focused on the boy's physical state, had not expected a question of an emotional nature, one seemingly irrelevant. She flicked a glance at an impassive Evendal, then back to the burrowing boy, and realised the question was not at all irrelevant to the Heir.

"Your Highness," she murmured, tugging lightly against Kri-estaul's grip on the covers. "Your Highness, it is only proper to wait on a lady's answer when you ask her such a question."

Kri-estaul froze, took two audible gulps of air, and let go of the counterpane. He watched Sygkorrin like someone confronting a tooth puller, eyes wider than coins and heart pushing against his throat.

Faced with such clarion intensity, Sygkorrin came to a second realisation; she had kept her distance, and not just from the Royal Heir. Proficient and compassionate, with a manner painstakingly gentle, she accomplished much but she knew these people not at all.

Matching the child vulnerability for vulnerability, Sygkorrin confessed as much. "I admire you, Kri-estaul. I admire you immensely. What I have seen of you is endearing. But I have not been around you enough to say more. That is my error. Will you permit me to change that?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"I would like to spend more time with you, to become better acquainted with Your Highness. Is that acceptable to you and your father?"

Evendal nodded, grinning.

"You want to come see me? Why?" Then, perhaps fearful she might change her mind, Kri-estaul did not wait for an answer. "Yes, please! Yes."

"Good, I am glad. Now let me attend some matters with your father, and then maybe we can visit more."

"Yes," Kri-estaul replied solemnly, trembling with his relief. "I'll be good."

Sygkorrin and Evendal shared a glance of bitter perception on hearing the boy's promise. They understood "I'll be good" as equivalent to "I'll be quiet, I won't be a bother."

Evendal signalled Mulienhas. Three Guard entered the room and stationed themselves just in front of the large bed. Then Evendal and Sygkorrin settled back in their chairs as more Guard escorted the citizens in.

Three people entered together first, two men sidestepping through the door because they carried the third, a woman who sat supported on their interlocked arms. The woman was past childbearing years, straight-backed even after the two carriers placed her in the chair Evendal indicated. The men carrying her were slightly shorter than the King and broader in the shoulder. They bowed low to the King, while the woman, with dull black-dyed hair, and dark muddy-grey eyes, bent her back and lowered her head.

Two blind people, one male, the other female, walked in with escorts. Danlienn swallowed hard.

"Seated mistress, let us begin with you, so that you may return to the comforts of your home," Evendal directed. "How are you called?"

"I am called Hyalit." She paused, then added, "Health to you and yours, Your Majesty."

Evendal laughed, a crow's cawing. "If you wished that for Us in all verity, mistress, you would not now be here."

Hyalit squinted at the King, as though uncertain that he spoke. "You mean you have caused this? This plague on my senses?"

"Is that how you are feeling Our summons?"

"Whispering voices, constant and without mercy. Keeping me from sleep, from successful labour. You call that a summons? How have you bespelled me? Why?"

"What do the voices say?"

Hyalit looked about, uncomfortable. "What they say is private, no one can tax me for it and no one can punish me for what is thought only."

"Mistress Hyalit," Evendal assured her, amused. "We do not need to treat with you, if you will not answer honestly. Leave if you wish, We need do nothing more. You already endure Our punition."

"These voices, then, will not cease without your intervention?"

"That is correct."

"To what purpose?"

Evendal ald'Menam shook his head. "We ask the questions. You answer. What do you know of Our son and Royal Heir?" He stared past the woman, toward the door.

"Very little, Your Majesty. Merely that he is the brother of the revered Quillmaster. Thought dead but found, rescued from vile durance, and promptly adopted, by your August Self. To everyone's great surprise and joy."

"What else?"

"What do you want of an old woman? That he has eight years, and must have a sweet and winsome personality to so charm Your Most Wise and Puissant Majesty."

Evendal moved his now burning gaze from the empty doorway to the aged woman and her helpers. "Very pleasant, Hyalit. Now you will tell Us what bile you pour into every ear you can reach regarding Our son."

Without blinking an eye, Hyalit began. "That he is the most accomplished catamite and passive in the City. That Abduram, Polgern, Horest Stone-smith or Gres-lauri used to swear he wore them out. That he begged his mother and sister to release him into the Beast's custody and tutelage. When his mother refused, appalled at her son's depraved habits, he convinced the Beast to have her killed. That he plays you like a puppet, coercing you to execute your own mother under the fiction of her funding and employing mercenaries to attack her own home. That you came from the Freelanders of the East. You are not Hramal, nor human. You, not the Beast, killed the true Prince Evendal. You freed the people under-grounds to draw attention away from the Stone-haulers, whom you torture and bugger because the suffering of humans excites you. You encourage the ascendancy of the Rosette, working to raise them as your own army that would rely solely on you. What I say depends on to whom I talk."

Evendal laughed, unable to resist. "Enough of that for the moment," he bade. Listened to in summary form, the poison sounded ludicrous, but seen as conclusions a listener could be guided to, the woman was a fagot searching out a pyre.

Pointedly, Evendal kept his attention on the floor in front of him. "Now explain what joy you get from such ordure."

After Hyalit recovered, she started out with a stammer, "I was there, naive and headstrong at Mausna. Ready to defend the mainland against the Nikraan infestation. Some oaf, rushing away from the fighting, knocks me down and leaves me in the muck for your father's damn war chariot to trample. I get left in the melee for over a day and a half, then get sledded to Kwo-eda for healing without a painkiller or a clean up. I come home to a city in the dung-hole, get my mustering-out pay 'held' because Mean and Ugly want the money. And you wonder why I think all rulers and gentry are snakes waiting to bite me?"

When Hyalit paused for breath, Evendal ald'Menam brought his visage up to confront hers. "Tell Us again how you lost your legs and why you spew such rubbish."

"Never went to Mausna. A cart loaded with ale ran over my legs when I was lying squiffed in the road one morning, about twelve years past. All someone would have had to do was move me up against the wall. But no one did. Why do I tear at you and the stupid chit? Because it feels good! It's fun. I may not be able to kick my husband in the ass, but when I hear someone tell me a bit of nasty that I myself had created, and then hear them swear it came from the Court, I feel just as good as if I'd kicked your Royal ass."

"That you attack Us, a figure of power, We understand. But to attack Our son? A child who, like you, will never walk. Who endured more than enough pain and degradation..."

"What do I care about some whining, delicate, pampered brat? It is just what we have in common that guarantees the effect of my story crafting. Being legless, no one would ever imagine I could feel anything but empathy for the little dearling. So any bilge I say, hint at, or help someone else to say about the bastard boy must be true -- anything I permit another to say in my presence must be undeniable since I don't contest it."

Evendal accosted the two who had brought the woman. "What do you know of this woman's malice?"

The youths knelt, abashed and afraid. After a moment without diversion, one of them spoke up. "Your Majesty, this is the first we knew of the scope of our great-aunt's ill will. We merely take her where she commands, as our mother instructed us."

The other lad piped up, "Though it explains why our mother and uncle have hated each other without specific cause. We have seen her take pleasure in discord."

Evendal m'Alismogh nodded, and then looked around among the Guard. He singled out Mar-Depalai and lifted his eyebrows in query. The grim looking Guard declined her head in comprehension and agreement.

"Hyalit, you will have to find other hobbies and pleasures more wholesome. We shall not permit you to work toward the destruction of people's respect and confidence in Our son. We shall not allow you to undermine any degree of the authority Kri-estaul might hope to exercise before he even reaches majority.

Every word from your mouth that's not true

Shall burn slow through your gut 'til you rue.

Every act of sure spite you express

Shall award you nothing but pure distress.

Through every limb you will feel a fire,

Until you detail how you're a liar.

"What say you now? Repeat for Our son's ears the mouse droppings you have spread as truth."

"Like how Abduram found him an eager and enthusiastic home for his bolt pin. Urgh! I think I'm going to pour back my food! Oh! My stomach! May you rot in a waterless waste, you scum-spawned prig. Even if I have to do it one statement at a time, I will broadcast your perfidy!"

"We think not, since the effect is cumulative, getting more immediate and intense with each bit of libel and falsehood. Note Our proviso, 'Every act of spite,' ensuring safety from more than just your tongue. Gentle men, wretched woman, you have Our leave."

The King stood and moved to the blind woman and her aide. Feeling less than amiable, he ignored the niceties. "We address you whose sight has failed. Woman, what do you know of Our son and Heir?"

"Much as the woman Hyalit first said, Your Majesty. That he had been held in the Palace by one of the co-rulers. That you restored him to his family, but you had no intention of letting him stay. His sister, under threat, gave him over to you and your disgusting lusts and unreasoning jealousy. You toy with him, inflicting pain and mutilations on him whenever someone defies you. He is Your Majesty's whipping post. Ir knows what he will grow up to become."

This weave of delusion at least painted Kri-estaul as blameless, but utterly helpless. There was more to this than the first impression indicated. "You say all this without compulsion and without compunction. Wherefore?"

The woman shrugged. "You are going to kill me. I might as well die for the truth."

"And what truth is that? Whence comes your tale?"

"I am older than I seem, Your Majesty, and have learned the self-serving ways of the nobility, the powerful.

The King realised that, uncoerced, he could expect naught but hyperbole and layered lies from this person. He asked the companion, "And who are you to this unfortunate?"

The young girl did a troubled, trembling courtesy, from which Evendal lifted her. "I am Silleg, a daughter of her neighbour's. Your Majesty."

"Is she always this absolute in her bile?"

"This is the first occasion that I have spent any time in her company without my mother, who often shuts her up if she thinks I am listening. Your Majesty."

"Smart mother," Evendal m'Alismogh muttered.

Oh woman with eyes not seeing,

Testify to your vile dreaming.

Divulge the source of your malice,

What you get from your wickedness,

And your hopes for the poison seed

Your words plant in those who will heed.

"You reside here, tended to and pampered while I have to endure a dolt of a husband and my shiftless son, fools for neighbours and clients, thieves robbing me because I cannot see them and my husband's brat doesn't see them as he would rather sleep in his chair than guard me and mine. You can see, you can go about by ship, on foot, by horse, in a palanquin, without having to fear attack, mischief, accident. People come to you, if you choose to stay in your Palace, and they count it an honour. You don't wonder if you can afford a meal, or what you will have to do to get it cooked. That little worm of yours, who hasn't lived long enough to even know what he has lost, gets a palace, constant comfort, and a kingship, his every want met.

"I cannot see. But no one makes way for me. No one offers to cook or clean for me, even a little bit. No one helps me out without cheating me, or taking advantage of me. No one seems to understand what it is like being blind. The problems and the insults, the cruelties and injustices. And does anyone care? Not really. Day after day, year upon year, I struggle and suffer, ringed about by those who don't care, who think only of themselves, not of me or my hardship. What right do you have to hoard all the wealth? To indulge yourself when I have to bear the stigma of my misfortune?

"None of you has any idea. You all sicken me, all of you enjoying the life that wealth and your estate gift you with. Indulgences I have as much right to, paid for with the coinage of my misfortune. Comfort that my adversity should entitle me to."

Evendal m'Alismogh let the woman blather. What he heard was not a tale of woe nor a planned malevolence but a disposition, used as a weapon indiscriminately on those about her. It amazed him, but not so much that he hesitated. "Enough. Tell Us what your heart is most anxious to share."

For several breaths, the woman muttered and mumbled, plumbing the shell of her heart. "I want... I want everything I want, and I don't want anyone else to be happy if I am not. I am miserable, and I hate everyone for not being more miserable than I. And I have no use for anyone who is more miserable than I."

The first libel from the gate of your lips

Shall bring the cause for it racing after.

No word wilfully twisted may pass through

Without amends spoken as loudly too.

Whoever you have wronged to another,

Shall learn it from you, not from another.

Woman, you have Our leave. Mulienhas? An escort for Silleg to ensure her a pleasant return home."

Evendal waved for the next person, and was shocked when a Guard brought in a familiar face. Guard on one side and his personal guide on the other, the blind man stopped and immediately went down on one knee, practically dragging his reluctant companion down.

"Estalevrh? Our summons netted you as well? Do you also impugn Our son? Or do you respond to Our invitation?"

Though a blindfold hid his eyes as before, the cloth was cleaner and narrower, displaying hints of scarring beneath. The face Kri-estaul and Evendal could see was more clean-shaven than when they had first met Estalevrh, but yet unmistakable.

"What would you, gracious Majesty? I do not know what you speak of. I am but here at my brother's urging."

"The fellow beside you is your brother? So you found your family?"

Estalevrh nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Thanks to your Guard. It was as you said; they treated me most graciously, and proved respectful and expeditious. Our parents died, caught in the Most Unwise Counsellor's last gestures of spite. Might I present my brother, called Astalendh, to Your Gracious Majesty?"

"Greetings to you, Estalevrh, and to you Astalendh. With Our home secure again, during these last few days We had asked after you, Estalevrh. We were told that Our wishes for your attendance had been delivered. Had no one presented themselves to you?"

The young man frowned, confused. "No one, Your Majesty. I have spent my days in solitude but for my brother's care."

Evendal glanced over to Astalendh, puzzled. The older brother knelt, asweat and tense, his steel-grey eyes darting about and his head jerking on occasion as though he wanted to move it but dare not.

"Astalendh." The man started, caught by Evendal's shining orbs. "You must be of mixed emotions to have your kinsman back, alive but so sorely wounded."

"I am just relieved to have him back and safe. Your Majesty. Your recovery of the victims was a surprise, a delightful surprise for so many... of us." The man grew more nervous, not less, under Evendal's gently attentive regard. He seemed to have a difficult time completing thoughts or comments. Indeed Evendal himself delayed in turning from Astalendh and back to the young blind man, as though distracted by yet another speaker.

"Mitretkol?" the King addressed the Guard flanking Estalevrh. The woman declined her head. "Would you provide a chair for Our friend and guide him to it?"

"As Your Majesty wishes." The Guard quickly attended.

Again an expression of consternation draped Estalevrh's visible features as Guard Mitretkol escorted him into his seat. "But... but what of my brother?"

"That is a question," Evendal agreed obscurely. He sat in silence, and scrutinised Astalendh with the attentive manner of someone listening to an engrossing monologue.

"Your Maj..." Estalevrh began but, sensing that he interrupted his Liege, fell silent.

Finally, Evendal ald'Menam pushed himself back in his chair and sighed. "Estalevrh, thank you for your patience. Do you know why your brother cleaned you up and all but dragged you here today?"

The young man blushed, bowing his head as he muttered.

"We heard you, young man," Evendal alerted him. "But others need to hear that as well. Repeat it louder, please."

Slowly, repressing his reactions, Estalevrh complied. "I said, 'You wrong him, Lord. He means well by me. I know I am a trial.'"

Sygkorrin scowled at the still kneeling Astalendh. "A trial?" she echoed.

"Again, dear man, do you know why he dragged you here, where you felt too ashamed to come back to of your own accord?"

Parchment pale, Estalevrh sputtered, "No, Your Majesty, I do not."

"We summoned to Us all whose malice impinges against the wellbeing of Our son. Not simply words spoken in a tidal kind of frustration or mindless boasting or unconsidered braggadocio. But those who repeatedly and deliberately spout unfounded libel and malice toward my son."

"This is within your authority?"

"Yes, and it is this summons that your brother is responding to."

"How so? Astalendh is good-hearted."

"You cannot see, but your brother is flushed and sweating. He strives to seem unaffected but cannot help glancing around for the source of the goading voices he keeps hearing, but which those of us with free hearts do not hear."

"Goading voices?" Estalevrh asked, while Astalendh spoke up unsanctioned, "You are the one so plaguing me?"

"Astalendh, attend Us. You have lied to Us twice already. You shall not do so a third time."

Alarmed, both at Evendal's conclusion and the threat, Estalevrh asked, "But Your Majesty, he made no assertions! How has he lied?"

Evendal shared a sad glance with his son, who had been silently attentive throughout, then wielded his luminous stare on the kneeling figure. "He lied in expressing relief at having you back and safe, Estalevrh. And in implying that his surprise at your recovery was a delightful one. Our condolence, young man."

"Astalendh?"

Astalendh did not immediately answer, but remained held in Evendal m'Alismogh's gaze.

"Tell him," m'Alismogh commanded.

"Did you think you were the only casualty of your tongue, Estal? Do you know how long I have kept mine? Selfish! Selfish! I worked so hard to get what you got so easily. Father's acknowledgement, respect; the Limners practically drooled over you with the work that won you journeyman status. When you were taken, father did not mourn you. Mother did for a little. But father changed her attitude quickly enough. I thought perhaps they would notice me finally, turn to me finally. He turned to me alright! He turned to me in every conversation and asked why I was not more like you! Or he compared me to you! Mousy coward as opposed to glorious hero. Of course he boasted of you! Insisted you would live to be vindicated! They did not think of me at all. I was never their son."

"That is not true, Asta. You know better!"

"It was only you. Ever and only you! I was some flawed rough draft. The first try. The sum of their mistakes in learning how to raise children. Again and again I told myself that you were not to blame for their cruelty. Then I learned about his will."

"What will?" Estalevrh sounded like a man getting punched too many times by an opponent he could not see, could not fight, and with whom he could not guess where the next punch would come from.

"The will you were never to see. But of course since you cannot see, that will remain true, oh crippled might-have-been hero. The will in which both father and mother left eight residences and their income to you. No provision made on the off chance you were dead. No provision made for the executor of the will, me, their eldest son."

Evendal wondered what any of this had to do with Kri-estaul. "Enough of your self-justifications, Astalendh. Address Us hence. What did you do?"

"I had discussed with Horest Stone-smith's assistant where and when my brother would be both out in public and alone. I had no idea, at that time, that he had so earned the ire of the Most Wise Counsellor. The Counsellor's Guard got to him sooner than Horest's guild members did, which meant I had to give Kilent-ror his money back."

"You... you paid to have me press-ganged?" Disbelief fountained from Estalevrh's voice. "Asta!"

"It did no good anyway. As soon as I left that hothead, I knew I had done the worst thing I could have done, short of killing father." The man indeed had the sense to appear pain-wracked. "When I learned of their aborted nabbing, after I escaped from that obsessive idiot, I... found myself crying. And hoping, like father, that he would survive." He winced as he stared up at Evendal. "Then I would wish, just as wholeheartedly, that he were dead. Then again wish he were home and safe!" Unable to pull himself from Evendal's stony countenance, Astalendh's tears -- a confusion of rage, grief, and remorse -- trailed down his neck. His voice had grown thick with pain and fear.

"There is more, and more recent," Evendal reminded.

Astalendh swallowed hard, then resumed. "When the King's Guard brought him home, I went crazy. I told him that father and mother were dead. That he had not evaded the minions of the Wise Counsellor as I had, and how he had spoken out too loudly and too often about what led to Estal's detention. In truth he had endangered himself.

"They did come searching for him, many times, that much is true. But they are both alive and well, living secretly ensconced in a cottage out in the country, in hiding in the easternmost corner of the Eastern Dark. They do not know that Estalevrh is alive."

The King allowed a moment's quiet, to aid Estalevrh's assimilation of this turnabout in his understanding. The moment passed. "Continue," he growled.

"Your Guard have come to our door three times, with an invitation for Estalevrh to attend Your Majesty and His Highness. All three times I have explained his absence and told them I would convey the written invitation to him, then ashed the request."

"Why?"

"It was one more sign of his privilege! The favoured son comes out on top again! He makes me crazy! One moment I want to tell him every nasty loathsome thing I've done and beg forgiveness, the next I want to tell him just to wipe that... that contentment off his blind face!" By sheer force of pain or will, Astalendh tore his gaze away from Evendal, first to his brother's tearless, bewildered, and grief-stricken face, then to the ground at his knees.

"Your Majesty, I thank you for your grace. If you would, direct my brother to remove his cloak and coat."

The blind man's expression changed from ravaged to alarmed. "Asta, no!"

"Please, Your Majesty. Then I will accept whatever you will."

"Your acceptance or lack of it matters not at all. But We do indeed ask Estalevrh to remove his winter-wear while in this room; it is quite unnecessary."

"Your Majesty!"

"Yes, Estalevrh. Do you need assistance?"

The young man seemed uncertain. "Not immediately, Your Majesty." He stood and unclasped his mantle, then his cape. He unhooked his coat and let its weight pull it to the puddle of cloth on the floor. Taking a deep breath, Estalevrh tugged his doublet up over his head and whispered, "Is this what you wanted them to see, Asta?"

Astalendh nodded, then realising again his brother could not see it, whispered, "Yes,"

Bruises and cuts littered Estalevrh's back and sides, some yellowing, some still dark and blue. The yellow to some of the bruises, and the lines of scabbing, testified to a habit of abuse. Not questioning his own knowledge, Evendal knew the cuts came from a belt applied without restraint.

"Is it enough?" Estalevrh asked, muffled by the doublet.

"Yes, 'tis enough," Evendal confirmed. And Estalevrh quickly pulled the tunic back down.

"Times when I cannot stand either him or myself, my brother suffered for it. 'Twas what made matters clear to me."

"How so?"

"I understood that I had no excuse, but so long as he was there, I could not stop myself. I would recall our father's looks at me, the... the pity in them. I would remember how he did not even mention me in the will, not even an acknowledgement that I was his son. And I would make Estal hurt. Had your Guard visited one more time, I had planned to relinquish him."

"Your Majesty," Estalevrh pleaded, "might I address my brother?"

Startled from his own thoughts, Evendal nodded. "Of course."

"Astalendh, how did you come so far down such a twisty path? We all love you, have loved you. None of us knew how to tell you so you'd hear it."

"Loved me? Like a carbuncle!"

The blind man was not put off. "I was always the loud one, the impulsive one. You were so quiet, so withdrawn. We all worried about you. But you never said what went on in your head, you never let us near. Thunders, Asta, when any of us went to hold you or came near, you fled."

"It was always in consolation, some gesture of pity. I couldn't stomach that!"

Estalevrh shook his head; his blindfold loosened slightly but was ignored at the moment. "It was love. No one pitied you; there was no reason to. Thunders, Asta! I relied on you so much, did you never see it?"

"What nonsense is this? How?"

"Beloved brother, it may truly be I am the one father blathers on about, though I never heard it. Courageous? For a moment perhaps. Daring, certainly. But you have mother's sense. The Limners appreciated my journeyman gift? Who kept me from making what would have been the most gaudy, gauche, tasteless bit of sea-foam ever to be etched for posterity? You!"

"It seemed overly ambitious to me, Estal. But it was beautiful..."

"It was juvenile!" Estalevrh insisted. "I was an over-eager colt. And I would have been a laughingstock but for your reining me in. Every time I came to you with a success, did you think I was rubbing your nose in it? Blood and thunder, Asta! I was trying to thank you. Each time, it was some commission you had contributed to, so I hoped to show you how much I appreciated you. You would not hear it, so I tried to show it. Father was the same way."

Astalendh got a haunted look on his tired face. "What do you mean?"

"He told me he had less success than I at talking with you, getting you to speak of what held your heart. So he tried to show his respect for you in the only way you might accept. He made you his trustee or executor, or whatever they call it, of all that he bequeathed to me. He tried to show his trust in you."

Astalendh's voice had gotten uneven, shaky. "I suppose you are the executor for all that he left to me?"

"Father is a little more sensible than that, though not much. He resigned himself that I know little and care less for such confusion. Mother is. She has been since the day you were born. Or so father insisted to me. When I got nabbed, that entailed ten residences and their rents. Originally mother held the papers on father's disposition of property as it pertained to me, until father gave that responsibility..." Estalevrh paused for emphasis "...that trust, to you.

"And it's not pity. We rely on you! The quiet one, the steady one. I'd wager you secreted mother and father away when his bragging got him noticed. Got him away just ahead of the Abacus, didn't you?

"And the looks you say father gives you? What can you expect when every attempt to get you to unburden your heart to him ends with you running out the door? It is not pity you have seen on his face, my dear dense brother, it is worry. Concern for his beloved firstborn son."

Astalendh faced his brother with mouth agape, utterly motionless. When he seemed made of stone, Evendal interceded. "Breathe," the King commanded.

The figure kneeling in front of Evendal inhaled noisily then collapsed, tucking his head down against his breastbone. The King waited.

"Asta? Your Majesty?"

When no one responded and no one moved, Astalendh curved his upper torso and again dared Evendal ald'Menam's glowing eyes. "Your Majesty?"

"We have yet to understand what brought you here. And you never told why you brought your brother with you."

"I brought Estal because I did not want to leave him with no one aware of him, no one knowing he didn't have family tending him. As for what brought me here... Must I say it, Your Majesty?" Astalendh complained.

"Yes, you need the practise, it would seem."

"What I heard, what brought me were two voices. That is how it seemed to me, two voices. One representing my plaints and ravening thoughts at my brother, those that crowd about me when I..." Astalendh stopped, unable suddenly to continue. "Your Majesty, can you not simply execute me?"

"No," Evendal declared promptly. "We are not that gentle."

Under the scrutiny of the King's half-closed lids, the wretched man finished answering. "One voice mimicking the thoughts and detailing the feelings that race through me when I whip... beat my brother!"

"And the other voice?" Evendal knew the answer but refused to cater to the man's high emotional state.

"The other voice promised what I have wanted the most these past two sennights, were I to come here."

"Your brother's death?"

"My own."

"We may not be that merciful. Have you more to confess?"

"Too much. The urge and planning of his death in my care, many times."

The King had turned and was staring at his son, who stared back at him with a sad and troubled face. "Is that all?"

Astalendh looked confused. "Is all I have detailed not enough?"

"Enough to know what needs doing. First, stand, Astalendh." When the man complied, Evendal signalled for the nearest Guard. "Mitretkol, the loan of your blade, please." The Guard began to unbelt. "No, not for Us. Astalendh should only need it for a moment. Unsheathe it for him."

Wearing an expression identical to Astalendh's, Mitretkol obeyed, holding the hilt out.

"You have a choice, Astalendh. Should you wish to kill your brother, We, as Ruler Absolute over Osedys and the Thronelands, can absolve you of all culpability. We have heard quite enough of all this, want the matter thoroughly resolved, and see only one way. You may choose to fall on that sword, or finish what you started -- what you have fancied interminably -- and strike Estalevrh a mortal blow. Either act will be a solution We can accept."

"Your Majesty toys with me."

Evendal thought to incite, to uncover the degree of repentance. "Of course We do. Such is your worth. Even blind, Estalevrh is preferable, shows such quality as proves him the mould of form. His equanimity, his courage, and perception. Do you deny any of Our speech?"

Astalendh twisted his gaze from Evendal to Estalevrh, mournfully assessing. "I have always known him to be all that, and so much more he never knew of himself. It was like watching some changeling of the Forestdwellers, the Freelanders, growing up in our home." He grasped the sword, as though responding to an afterthought.

"Thunders, Asta! I'm just me! The little brother who couldn't keep his mouth shut. How many fights did you get into because of it?"

Astalendh was not listening. Again he knelt, arms extended, gripping the sword by the hand guard. His arms were just long enough. Evendal m'Alismogh and Kri-estaul watched, almost lulled by each smooth, deliberate movement. "I repent of my stupidity. Thunder and lightning witness how I repent! I hit you. I can't believe I hit you and hit you! And you just took it, and apologised for angering me! I almost had you killed, and you..." Sweat gathered along Astalendh's brow, but resolve shone there as well. "Accept my repentance, dearest brother." He settled the point of the borrowed blade against his breastbone.

Unseeing, Estalevrh opened his mouth to reply.

"Sunder!" Evendal sang out, even as Astalendh thrust himself forward. Mitretkol's sword cracked, and cracked, and cracked repeatedly as the elder brother's weight bore down on it.

"Papa!" Kri-estaul shrieked, before his mind registered what had actually come to pass.

"What? What is happening?" Estalevrh cried out. "Asta? Asta!"

"Be at ease, Estalevrh. He thought to leave Us. Twice foolish man," Evendal m'Alismogh spat. "Thrice a fool, We say. You shall have the chance to demonstrate your repentance, Astalendh, and not by some grand grief-causing gesture."

Three labours We set you, childish man.

Three chores you'll not escape:

Reveal all your pain and rage to your kin,

Tell all the truths you rue.

Do not flee their answer, for good or ill,

Nor flee their love again.

Swiftly declare your need and heart henceforth.

At once tell all, tell true.

Astalendh, once he knew himself yet alive, broke down.

"Your Majesty, what has passed?" Estalevrh begged.

Evendal recalled a comment he had made once, and paraphrased. "Your brother thought the city, and you, to be better for his death than his life. We disagreed. It is now for you and your parents to convince him of Our wisdom. We have given you the means to do so."

"How? When you sang just now?"

"Our songs have unusual efficacy. One such drew him here, though We as yet do not know why it did so. What We sang for was not for just anyone in the grip of envy."

Astalendh huddled on the floor at Evendal's feet. "Forgive me, Estal, forgive me," he mumbled repeatedly.

"Your Majesty, have I your leave to comfort him?"

Evendal snarled, "He sought your death, bent his will and imagination to it twice, and you want to sooth him?" He flicked a glance and a wink at his wide-eyed son.

"Even so, Your Majesty." The sincerity in Estalevrh's voice was unmistakable. "He has yet done more for me than against me."

"Good. Mitretkol, help him to his brother's side."

"Your Majesty, would it not be easier on them both if Astalendh was given a chair and allowed to sit beside Estalevrh?" the Guard asked.

Evendal shook his head. "Just do as We have asked."

After the Guard obeyed, and Estalevrh sat behind his brother holding him as Astalendh wept, Evendal explained briefly. "Words and hand-holding can only help so much, Mitretkol. What started this man's misapprehensions was his isolation. He felt alone in a family that loved him and hurt for him. Now, by Our reluctant intervention, he cannot evade the proof of their love and pain. Though it will be proof of their pain he learns of first. We need not judge him, he will do so himself. And his family will put him through more punishment -- through their feelings of betrayal -- than We could."

"You seem certain of their forgiveness of him, Your Majesty."

Evendal smiled grimly. "They will take their direction from Estalevrh. Astalendh has a rough path ahead. He will not be capable of the silence he lived in for so long. When he needs to be reassured, his lips will betray that need, faster than the thought even forms. When his insecurity leads him to anger, to jealousy, he will confess that to his family as well, without fail.

"Lady Sygkorrin?"

The Priestess grinned gently. "Yes, Your Majesty, I will be pleased to send a healer to them to tend Estalevrh's cuts, and to be certain nothing worse was done to him."

"Estalevrh? Astalendh?" As Astalendh scrambled to kneel again, Evendal waved a hand to halt him. "Stay for a moment. We merely wanted to say that We will be sending Guard to retrieve your parents and to apprise them."

"Asta?" Estalevrh chuckled. Astalendh raised his head. "Father is likely to make them into hedgehogs, knowing him!"

"Oh! I forgot. Have the vanguard wear a white headscarf, Your Majesty. Otherwise either the place will prove swiftly deserted or your Guard will end up shot at. Father is a bit excitable."

"Mitretkol? Two Guard, so accoutred. And a horse for what possessions they need to return with, and to carry Estalevrh."

"Your Majesty, surely there is no need to distress my brother with a trek like that."

"We have said how it shall be, for your own sake."

"Your Majesty, must I go horseback?"

Evendal thought for a moment. "No, you are right. That would be even more distressing. However suits you."

Three Guard appeared and bowed.

"Please escort these two where the one, Astalendh, directs. You are to retrieve their parents, honourable folk who are yet unaware of the change in authority. For the purpose of remarking your pacific intent to them, acquire and wear white headgear once you are out of the city. Be respectful, of course, and patient. Should they become distressingly abusive toward this their son, make it clear to them that he has been brought before the Majesty of Osedys, Evendal ald'Menam, and granted leave with all liberties intact."

A sennight after Danlienn's unmasking, Metthendoenn had been moved to his own apartment. The move signalled nothing but the Guard's desire for privacy, for solitude to repair his sangfroid. Ierwbae, by mutual agreement, came and went much as always. Metthendoenn insisted on a full accounting of what Ierwbae had experienced with his liaisons, which proved a strain. And though gratified by Ierwbae's consistent affection, Metthendoenn found himself questioning every open declaration of love Ierwbae voiced. The destruction of his certainty was not to be quickly or simply healed; he put what hope he could pretend to in the support Ierwbae could get from their friends, Ierwbae's ambition to be a man of integrity, and his own stubbornness. And time.

So the King had been enjoying a measure of freedom when Bruddbana accosted him during his lunch with Kri-estaul. "Your Majesty." The Guard knelt, eliciting a roll of the eyes from the King. "Three vagrants were caught lingering in the Palace."

At Evendal's direction, citizens and visitors were welcome to wander the grounds and the antechambers off the main entrance of the Palace, these locales being under a sparse but regular Guard presence. Anywhere beyond required Palace livery, or a Guard attendant and sealed papers. While principally liberal in that aspect, the directive also applied to guild members and manor folk: no trespassing without Guard chaperone and sealed papers that must be relinquished upon the request of any Guard or Palace clerk. "Whereabouts?"

"The Council Chamber."

The King's brow bunched in puzzlement and he nodded to Bruddbana. Two men and a woman, flanked by Guard, made their way in and Evendal felt no surprise at their being detained. Separately hobbled and gagged, their hands bound in front, two of the detainees pulled fitfully against the Guard shepherding them. Dressed as though in a blind rush, with eyelets ignored and loops unhooked; knees, hands, and hair dusty and patchy with half-frozen mud. Eyes black-rimmed and fierce from lack of sleep, roving furtively, searching. Skin pale but for where it had bruised. The two men whimpered in pain until they saw to whom they had been brought. At the sight of Evendal they hooted frantically and loudly through their gags, but whether in rage or fear was unclear. As Evendal watched, bemused, the two strove to stretch their bound hands across their faces to plug their muck-fouled ears. Blood ran along the side of one man's head.

The woman, unsoiled and free of the restraints, knelt in a frazzled courtesy and waited on the King's will.

"You found these in the Chamber?" Bruddbana nodded. "What were they about?"

"Sitting, Your Majesty."

Evendal blinked a couple of times, uncertain of what he heard. "Just sitting?" Unsuccessful in their ear stopping, the two men returned to droning vociferously. They had obviously abused their vocal chords, in as much as they managed only painful-sounding rasps though the muscles of their necks strained and their lungs inflated and deflated like bellows.

"No, Your Majesty, else I would not have bothered you. The two men were most raucous, the woman sat between them trying to quiet them as they shouted and... sang loudly. One of them collapsed on the floor and beat his head against a seat repeatedly. That is when we realised they were truly unhinged.

"When we tried to escort them out, the two men refused to leave, clawing, punching, and biting to escape us. Begging to be left alone. They seemed in desperate desire to be near the Throne. Cursing it one moment and begging it for silence the next."

Unprodded, the two males collapsed on their knees, groaning loudly through their gags. The woman watched in distress, biting her lip.

Kri-estaul peeked out from the top of his covers. The two men seemed fearsome and comical, dirtier than he remembered ever being and ridiculously garbed, but wild-eyed and strong, frenetic and desperate.

"Anything else you wish to report, good Bruddbana?"

"Only that they did not cease their shouts and cries, or their violence, and so we present them as you see them. The woman, from the first, showed all proper care and gave her parole. If her word is to be credited, she is the blameless spouse of one of these poor madcaps." At a wave from his Liege, Bruddbana stood and moved to the ring of Guard.

Evendal nodded and, gimlet-eyed, barked, "Tsalem!"

After a moment's grating drone, the two men stopped and cocked their heads as if listening. Evendal m'Alismogh nodded to himself and then gestured; the five Guard surrounding the two vagrants unsheathed their swords.

"Mistress, arise."

Head bowed, the woman obeyed, clearly disturbed by the blades, eyes reddened and damp with old tears. Distraught, she gripped a linen in both hands and heaved a deep breath.

"Unfortunate lady, how are you called?"

"Senneh-rien, Your Majesty," the middle-aged woman murmured in a husky alto.

"And these two men?"

"My husband, Tothofir, and his dearest friend, Hanikrest. Oh, Your Majesty, can you not help them?"

"What are the particulars of their affliction?"

"Several days ago my husband asked me, at different times, if I had spoken to him when I had been silent. He asked it of our daughter. After that he demanded we repeat conversation to him, as though he could not hear us when we spoke to him, or as if he had been listening to... other voices. He flew into a distemper, threatening and terrorizing our daughter and a neighbour boy. He has not slept in five days. He swears he hears voices, but will not divulge their words. When he is not screaming curses he shouts that we will not send him off to his death, that he will not be executed for what everyone has done. All I can think is that his conscience is so ascendant it has overwhelmed his better sense, and thus he obsesses over trifles as though they were monstrous faults."

"And Hanikrest?"

"The same complaint." With that terse summation, Senneh-rien conveyed her ambivalence toward Hanikrest.

"Tell me of your children, Mistress Senneh-rien."

"We tend a daughter, Asurena, having seven years, and a son, Hanekys, having three. Our daughter does not know how to take this change in her father. She is hysterical."

"How so?"

"She alternates between gleeful laughter, and weeping and hiding."

"Is he a good husband, Mistress?"

If Senneh-rien thought this exploration into her home life an odd topic for her ruler, she wisely left the opinion unvoiced. "He is the best. The only man I have known. A good man and good helpmate. And a loving father to both our children."

"Kindly-affectioned to both children, then?"

"Yes. You would think that he had birthed Asurena himself. Insists on tending her through her childhood fevers and illnesses, tucks her into her attic bed at night and tells stories to her until she falls asleep. Takes her on walks when I have my hands full with Hanekys, and sometimes takes them both on visits to Hanikrest just to give me some quiet work time. This all is incomprehensible to me, Your Majesty!"

"Not to me," Evendal murmured. "And is Hanikrest likewise gifted with a trusting wife and children?"

"No, Your Majesty. He never married."

Through Senneh-rien's explication, Hanikrest and Tothofir knelt in wide-eyed silence.

"Your Majesty," she tried a second time. "Is there naught you can do for these men? For my husband? Like yourself, he is a veteran of Mausna. They both are. Surely to have so served your father grants them some grace in your... sight."

Aldul stood in the doorway and bowed, awaiting acknowledgement. Distracted, Evendal beckoned him in, his attention fixed on the three before him. Four steps into the room, the Kwo-edan paused and peered at the two men now ringed about by Guard. Luetral shifted out of Aldul's line of sight, giving him a clear view at the same time Hanikrest twisted about to note the new arrival.

"No! No! No! No! No!" What began as a whisper escalated into a shouted litany, punctuated each time by a stumbling step backward. Having moved about to better view the detainees, Aldul's retreat halted against the wall.

Evendal looked up with the first denial. Aldul's expression was that of a man face-to-face with Death, shock and horror vivid and commingled with disbelief.

"I did what you wanted. I did. I did what you wanted. I did. I did."

"Aldul," Evendal stood, stepped around the supplicants, and walked slowly toward his friend. The King snapped his fingers and pointed to the door, whereupon Bruddbana moved from the prisoners. The nearer Evendal came, the wider Aldul's eyes grew. When the King got within ten ells of Aldul, the Kwo-edan bolted. Bruddbana reached and filled the doorway an instant sooner than Aldul thought to flee.

Aldul barrelled into Bruddbana in his panic. The solid Guard, expecting just that reaction, dissipated the force and momentum of the mad rush and wrapped his arms around the frightened man. Though the Kwo-edan had a short and leaner frame, Evendal knew he possessed the skill -- when sensible -- to topple the larger Guard. All that sense was submerged however, at least for the moment.

"Ah! Don't. Don't touch me! Let me go! Let me go! Please! Please! Don't touch me. Please."

Bewildered by the utter change in his friend, after a moment Evendal rallied and slowly approached the Guard and the priest. The temptation to sing a calm upon the unnerved man was tremendous, but only briefly entertained. Evendal flicked his hand and Bruddbana loosened his grip, letting Aldul pull himself away while still barring the exit.

"Aldul. Aldul, you are safe," the King promised the winded and still wild-eyed Kwo-edan. "Aldul, you are in Osedys. Osedys. You are safe."

Aldul could not respond immediately; he stared around and through the room for several breaths.

"M'Alismogh? Evendal?"

"Welcome back, my friend."

"Back?"

"Yes," the King replied gently. "You went somewhen else."

"Oh, thunders!" Aldul sagged, held upright by Bruddbana for three hard-fought for breaths. Then, when some pretence at calm asserted itself, he stood under his own power and asked, "How? What are they doing here?"

"Fish caught in the net of my spellsong. How is it with you?"

Aldul waited, considering before he answered. "Better than in the too-foul dreams they inhabit."

The King heard some muttering behind him and turned around to silence Hanikrest in mid-utterance. "You may not speak at all unless We address a question to you."

Aldul had seen past Evendal's shoulder, and when the King unbent the Kwo-edan was leaning against Bruddbana, hiding his face, one hand gripping the other, and shuddering. The Guard moved to comfort him, but Evendal shook his head, wordlessly advising against a second unrequested touching.

"Aldul, you said 'they,'" Evendal ventured softly. "You know both of them?"

After a pause as the question penetrated the quicksand of his panic, Aldul nodded against Bruddbana's shoulder. "Hani and Tothi. That's what they called each other. That's what I remember, anyway. What are they doing here?" He straightened as another thought occurred. "Who saw me just now?"

"Lialityne. The Guard contingent, including Luetral and Bruddbana here." Aldul glanced at Bruddbana, then away, a flush deepening his sun-darkened complexion. "The two miscreants, the woman, and Kri-estaul."

"Bloody thunders!" Aldul hissed. "Kri-estaul! Quick, go to him! Get over there!"

"Not to worry," Evendal reassured. "Bruddbana has the two hobbled and bound. If they make a move we will all know it."

"So what! You left no one between him and a pair of polecats except the Guard he fears. He is not a fool."

"No, he is not. And he knows what I can do, without distance impeding. Stop diverting attention from yourself, Aldul. Do you truly think you matter so little?"

Aldul's reply came swift and sure. "Yes! There was no one! No one! Except a couple of women, doxies who hated me for being the object of their men's fury and lust, instead of them." Aldul choked back a sob and drew a harsh breath, striving for calm. Bruddbana, carefully immobile, speared Evendal with an anguished expression.

"Can you join us, Aldul? I would not deal with these scum without you here to witness. But if you cannot bear it, if the surprise is too great..."

"Oh, no! I may not be worth much, but I am no longer nine years old, and some kind of accounting is called for."

"Just so you know, the one called Tothofir is a father of two, a daughter and a toddling son."

"Kul vent him!" Aldul swore. "Evendal, Bruddbana, I may need help..."

"It will be hard, but think on this: There are only three people who do not wish you well, in the entire Palace and Temple. And they're powerless. They are powerless, not you," Evendal assured.

"Bollocks that!" Bruddbana snorted. "Think on this instead. They so much as twitch a finger your way and I'll make them into supper for the local cats and crows."

Aldul smirked at Bruddbana's zeal. "That... that makes a lovely image." He took another deep breath. "Let us carry on, then. I may need reminders of where and when I am, or I may get up and walk about."

"Whatever you need to do," Evendal acceded. He escorted Aldul to a chair adjacent to his beside Kri-estaul's bed.

Bruddbana went to stand where Metthendoenn's cot had been, near to Aldul and Kri-estaul but not stiflingly close.

Evendal returned to the chair he had vacated and addressed Senneh-rien. "Mistress, if you have not discerned for yourself, We shall lay matters out plainly for you. Your husband and his friend are here as a result of a geas We invoked. 'Twas a spelling against those who voice, repeatedly and without compunction, most deliberate malice against the person of His Royal Highness Prince Kri-estaul. The nature of Our summons caught the conscience of your spouse and his friend."

"'Tis true he has often spoken out, imagining His Highness a pampered child. But that is hardly a punishable offence, is it? How? How can you do such?"

"Such thoughts spoken are not punishable, nor was punishment Our intention in gathering such rumourmongers, but to confront them with their oft-disguised motives. Again, the way in which Our spelling goaded your husband was to drown his waking mind with his own malicious thoughts and words, with the understanding that the only rescue would be found with Us. Your husband's thoughts are apparently reflected in deeds unknown to you, else he would not have assumed execution awaited him here."

"What? What kind of deeds?"

"You have asked all the questions We can directly answer. Now is Our time. Mistress, you affirmed that both your spouse and his friend fought at and survived Mausna. What of yourself? Did you accompany them?"

The woman lowered her head. "I wanted to, but Tothofir insisted I abide and 'give him a reason to return,' as he said."

Evendal m'Alismogh heard truth and, looking on the distressed face of this woman, it gave him a queasy feeling. "Mistress, off to your side is a chair. Please accept Our leave to sit." And the King gestured for Hielbrae to retrieve it for the woman.

Once seated, Senneh-rien waited expectantly on her Lord.

Tothofir, Hanikrest,

Tell Us only the truth,

No pleas or epithets.

What you have done and why,

Not what We might want said.

No defiant silence,

Speak out what's in your head.

"Luetral, if you would remove the gag from Tothofir?" Grimly, the Guard obeyed. "Tothofir, do you recognise anyone in this room, aside from your wife?"

"You, rightly enough. There are more pictures and caricatures of you posted on Crier's Posts and tavern walls than there is money in the kingdom." Tothofir's tone was genial, conversational.

"Anyone else?"

"That molly-boy you were coddling earlier seems familiar, but I can't think of where from."

"How do you feel toward Senneh-rien?"

"I love her, she's as sweet and simple as they come. Not the most exciting lay, and worries at me a lot, but no one is everything you want."

Evendal nodded, refusing to notice the woman's reaction to the bald assessment. He took a bracing breath and continued. "And have you been true to her?"

"No."

Senneh-rien's manner grew troubled, angry, and uncomfortable.

"You have trysted?"

"You could call it that, I suppose."

"With whom?"

"With Hanikrest, using Asurena and Prinnecteh."

The wife gasped. Evendal stopped, giving Senneh-rien time to separate the content of her husband's speech from his indifferent vocal delivery. He turned his head and motioned Hielbrae back over to her.

"Who is Prinnecteh?"

"Our neighbour's child, a rebellious brat."

"What? What is this?" Senneh-rien cried, aghast.

"How many years does Prinnecteh have?"

Tothofir shrugged. "I don't know, maybe six."

"How long have you been buggering your daughter?"

"Disciplining her? A year now."

"Tothi!" Senneh-rien rasped, utterly bewildered by revelations rapidly forced upon her. Hielbrae held the wife upright in her seat as she blanched drastically.

Evendal stopped, allowing her to recuperate. After a moment of stillness, he twisted in his chair. "Mistress?"

Senneh-rien, eyes swimming, motioned for the interrogation to continue. "I have heard of this fell gift you use, Your Majesty. Please, I would like... I need to know... what I have been living with all these years."

The King sat back properly and waved for Tothofir to continue. "Why have you been anally raping your daughter?"

"She just begs for it. Those times when she really infuriates me, I want to march my soldier through her front gate, but she still hasn't irked me bad enough yet."

"And for how long have you shared your rapes with Hanikrest?"

"I reckon it to be near unto eleven years now."

"Why?"

"He's easy to please and easily impressed. He has been a good friend; he found many of the virgins I've cracked. He enjoys disciplining the stubborn ones."

"Are all your pleasures taken from children?"

"Most. Children call for it, are always begging for it."

"You have a wife, one who by all evidence loves you and would therefore be willing to satisfy whatever rutting wants you might have. Why pursue what can only bring pain and grief to others, and eventually to you and your family?"

"Deflowering, making kids behave, relaxes me and quiets them. I have enjoyed it since before I married Senneh, and will enjoy it until I die. If others condemn me they are being hypocrites, too soft."

"But why?"

"Did you not hear me? Or did I misunderstand the question, Your Majesty?"

"We think you have not heard the questions. Some We will ask again." Evendal's eyes brightened anew as he glared hard at Tothofir's sweating face. "Why attack children, despoil them, as your path to pleasure? People who need danger or need to feel the illusion of supremacy can climb the cliffs or wrestle or gamble. What lies beneath this facade you created for yourself? "He stopped, aware that his queries were too objective, requiring emotional distance. He focused on a specific that was relevant for Senneh-rien. "Why assault your own daughter?"

"You don't understand. You have no idea of the restraint and patience I have shown with her."

"Do you hate her that much?"

"I don't hate her at all. I love my children. Do you know what I do to keep my miserable family fed, Your Royal Majesty? I chop down the wood used to make ships and boats. The time of year and weather conditions do not matter much. When the Shipwrights want to start one, or want to instruct their journeymen, I go out with Hani and others and start cutting and carting. We go where we can get arrowed by zealous poachers or ignorant manor-guards, gored by the animals, crushed by the trees we fell. I face danger every time I labour. What do I get for it? Complaints and demands. I come home, the baby is screaming, the Noise-box is screaming or crying, and my wife is shouting and screaming or -- worse -- whining at me. No thanks or any gratitude, no appreciation. They get me so riled that I am ready to kill my wife or her mother, but should I strike them I would be before a saemond and press-ganged." The wife he referred to looked around, confusion giving way to annoyance. "So, instead I discover a reason to visit my shield-brother Hanikrest and also spend some time with my suddenly well-behaved daughter. Those trips to Hani's are the quietest moments I get from that Noise-box."

"This makes no sense, if you seek relief from verbal bombardment, then go visiting. Alone. Whatever child you take surely is loud or troublesome when you attack him or her."

Tothofir's conversational tone had disappeared, replaced by escalating fervour. "But the little bitches and brats are not enjoying it then. They are not trying to manipulate me with their nonsense and mock crying. The emotions out of them then are the only honest ones. The sounds they make then are the sweetest in the world. The only good child is one about to get what he deserves, or is one getting it, from me. Like my son Hanekys, who is learning not to use his new word 'No!' with me!"

Senneh-rien scowled, her face tightening into lines of fury.

Evendal dreaded to ask, "And what have you been about with Hanekys?"

"I am taking my time with my son. He is not going to become like the Noise-box if I can help it. Right now I am merely finger fucking him, dry, so his body doesn't like the feelings. He may have only three years, but he's going to be a randy little chit, I can tell."

"You will keep silent until We call upon you again," Evendal m'Alismogh ald'Menam commanded. He glanced over at an engrossed Lialityne. The pause made the scribe look up from her work and note Evendal's attention. The scrivener grimaced and declined her head, then held her stylus like a knife and mimed cutting around the groin, an indicator of her wish for the miscreant whose crimes she recorded.

"Luetral, attend." The Guard straightened, squinting. "Have someone bring a decanter of hot mead and direct them to pour for Senneh-rien and Aldul first, not Us. And the Lady Sygkorrin?"

"Has arrived a trifle late," announced the voice from the doorway. "Though you did say to attend any time after the lunch bell."

"Yes," the King confirmed, then called out, "And a cup for the Archate."

Hielbrae quickly commandeered a chair for the High Priestess as Evendal began to explain matters to her. During this monologue, the fire in his eyes dimmed to a force more supportable for his companions.

"Aldul," the Priestess asked, "are you certain this is wise? That you will take no harm from facing these dastards?"

The Kwo-edan shrugged. "Wise? Doubtful. Harm? How can one know? But I know that I would not feel as safe back in my old home as I do here."

"Then I suggest you sit flanked by those you feel most comfortable with. And should you feel overwhelmed, signal us in some way."

Aldul huffed, "I feel overwhelmed now."

Evendal agreed with the Priestess. "We will stop or interrupt the proceedings whenever you need, for as long as you need."

"Don't cosset me so much! I will be..." he glanced at the two perpetrators and forced himself to finish "...be fine."

Not surprisingly, Aldul sat at the foot of Kri-estaul's bed, with Evendal on one side, Bruddbana standing on the other, and Sygkorrin beside Bruddbana, her entourage of three seated behind them against the windowed wall.

When Luetral returned, the King had the Guard remove Hanikrest's gag. "Mercy, Your Majesty! Mercy, Your Eminence! I beg of you."

"Look upon Us, Hanikrest," the King commanded. When the man obeyed, Evendal asked. "Was anything in your companion's perambulation in error?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"And how many people have you forced yourself upon?"

"I have not thought to count. Over thirty."

"Hanikrest, did you defer to Tothofir on every assault?"

"No, but nearly so. He enjoys the struggling, the pointless resistance when the lucky ones pretend to defend their virtue. The battle and blood. I do not."

"What do you mean 'nearly so?' You clearly have an occasion in mind."

"Yes, Your Majesty. The one time I took a virgin, it was one that he himself provided."

Evendal raised a shaking hand to the bridge of his nose. "His daughter, Asurena." Eye-shine reflected off the palm of his hand.

"Yes, Your Majesty. While he enjoyed a friend of Prinnectah's in my guestroom, I had the pleasure of his daughter in my bedroom. As sweet and delightful a little girl as any I have ever had. I kept the cloth I cleaned myself up with as a memento."

Once more Evendal's eyes flared.

"Fiend! Ferine dupe! Heartless, false..." Senneh-rien burst out, weeping in rage.

Evendal shook his head cautiously, wishing he had not eaten a lunch. "Did you assault anyone independent of Tothofir's abetting?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"What possible joy did you glean? We heard your friend's explanations, but their sense eludes Us. Despite his bold words, he credits you with the finding of these victims. How? Why?" He waved his hand helplessly. "You both are men grown. Why children?"

"Certain children call out. Show me a crowd of children and I can point out to you the ones ignored by their family and lonely, those needing an attentive friend -- like me. And children can be frightened or cajoled into an unbroken silence. Like Tothi, surely I deserve what makes me happy. And when I see some little boy or girl all flirting and sexy, I know of no reason to refuse them what they want -- even if they don't yet know what it is."

The lanterns in the room provided nearly as much light as the King's countenance when Evendal asked Hanikrest a question he had yet to ask Tothofir, simply because he would not have thought to seriously ask such a question of anyone: "So, those whom you help deflower want it?"

"They don't know it until we break them in, but yes. They are all little animals, wild little animals that need subduing. They need and want to be mastered."

"Someone's being vulnerable, unable to defend themselves, means they want to be raped?" The light of Evendal's eyes jaundiced Hanikrest's features.

"I want them. I know how to get them. They get what they deserve while showing me the respect I deserve. That is all the justification I need. Whether you see it as right or not hardly matters."

"We will deal with your delusions presently. For now, you will provide names or precise locations of the homes of your 'conquests,' Hanikrest. And their ages when you attacked them."

As Hanikrest obeyed, Shulro's helper arrived and distributed the mead. Lialityne set hers on the floor while she worked on the listing, then took a large quaff.

The King turned his attentions to the unfortunate spouse. "Mistress Senneh-rien, We will not ask how you are feeling. We expect that you would be unable to answer. Nevertheless We must ask a few unpleasant questions of you."

"You have been most generous with me in my distress, Your Majesty. I shall strive to repay your kindness with diligence and honest answers."

"Had you no intimation that this man harboured and indulged these elements of his nature?"

Senneh-rien considered. "He was ever my husband's friend, Your Majesty, never mine. I never felt safe or at ease around the scum. And now I know why. I want to witness his branding. Will he be gelded?" She glared at Hanikrest, the force of her rage focused on the friend, the emotionally safer target.

"Mistress, you delude yourself. Your husband is the one who abused your daughter most regularly. Your husband. Had you no intimation that he harboured and indulged these elements of his nature?"

Senneh-rien hesitated, forcing her attention to the man kneeling next to Hanikrest. "It is difficult in this moment to even think. I beg your continued patience, Your Majesty. I want to say no. But certain moments and habits leap out, even in my distress. I can reflect back and say what had seemed common now takes on disturbing aspects."

"For instance?" Evendal dared not be genteel.

"Times when he bedded me, what I took for passion, for a sign of the excitement I stirred in him, I fear may indeed have been passion, but a passion of rage. There was always little of tenderness in him, after." Such a possibility, clearly a likelihood in her own mind, only added to her misery.

The King examined the woman. Dark brown hair troubled and tousled by her struggles with the two men, her nose severe, aquiline, but with eyes plum and grey toned that would enchant were her countenance not so grieved. Her figure had turned softer than her face, more comfortable and matronly than attractive. But what Evendal had seen in her manner, her speech, the strength and boldness she displayed without thought, endowed Senneh-rien and the sum of her features with considerable charisma. "Mistress, We doubt that time has diminished any of your attraction, regardless of your husband's personal motivations."

Senneh-rien bowed her head in all modesty, once she understood.

"Had you no sign he was a man without real personal discipline? No hint of a consistently selfish direction to his actions or expectations?"

This man, her husband, so good and kind in so many ways, would not live to see the sunset. He had accepted her widowed mother's presence in their home and lives and had never raised his hand to either of them. Instead, he poured out his unvoiced fury, his injured merit, on those most easily intimidated, and in the most devastating and personal ways.

"Your Majesty, I had no reason to look for such in him. And no thought to look for better from another man, upon receiving what tenders of affection he gave in his courting." Her hand flew to her mouth, upon realising how she presented herself in those words. At the time they courted, it had all seemed so clear and inevitable. In this moment, she could not say why it had seemed so.

Evendal nodded, not sure he understood someone so willing to settle for just any person. "Do you doubt the actions or disposition of this man as We have extracted them?"

Senneh-rien shuddered, thinking of how word of her spouse's infamy, once posted, would spread quickly, mercilessly, through her borough. She would soon confront ridicule, disbelief in her ignorance and innocence. And her daughter! Adults and children would see her as a target, a female of easy or no virtue, complicitous in her own despoiling. Hanekys would grow up with everyone around him whispering, comparing his every gesture to his father's, as they waited for him to re-enact his father's disgrace. Or the troubled neighbours might choose not to wait, and 'execute' the boy quietly one day as an act of revenge against the father he remembered nothing of. With her name always associated to Tothofir's, his crimes would ever cripple her family's future. Unable to prevent the thickness in her voice, she forced herself to answer the question. "No, Your Majesty. I wish I could do so honestly, but no."

"Very well. Mistress, do you acknowledge any ties or bindings to this Tothofir?"

"Your Majesty?" the woman gasped, confused. As this question registered, she bowed her head again. The question was one asked by magistrates in marriage sunderings, and during the implementing of wills.

She stared at Tothofir as someone abandoning her homeland, her face full of haunted grief and mournful resolve. "He is a stranger to me, but a danger to myself, my family, and my people." Surprise and horror still numbed her, but she expected she would be overwrought soon enough. She accepted the grace the King offered: freedom from the stigma that bearing his name might carry. It sealed the man's fate and served as a gesture toward restoring order, control, for her and her family. No one could ascribe any foulness to her or her kin, on risk of Royal displeasure and legal action.

"So We judge as well," Evendal pronounced. "Let it be noted that Tothofir agdha Tohenfys bears no relation to Senneh-rien olm'Asereneh nor to her offspring. No ties of heart, blood, or coin." Senneh-rien started at the King's knowing her parentage. "That her children, to be named as she sees fit, shall bear her matronymic with all honour."

"Might I, Your Majesty?" Lady Sygkorrin intruded. Evendal waved her to proceed. "Mistress Senneh-rien, if you are willing, I would send a priest to your home, to help with the confusion of feelings you and your daughter are suffering and will suffer."

"I don't think I need... What am I saying? I have no idea what to do now. Your help would be most welcome. I would be grateful, Your Eminence." The very public care of both the Palace and the Archate could only help how her family was perceived and treated by her neighbours.

"You sound like you hail from the Nightingale Hobblers area."

"Yes, most everyone there knows me. Though I suppose I shall have to move, too." Senneh-rien eyed her former husband, uneasy. Sygkorrin glanced to Evendal, who declined his head slightly in an affirmative.

"Oh, I doubt that such a drastic measure will be necessary. But when they visit, they can bring the documentation from His Majesty of your family's privilege, your freedom from any legacy of that nobody, any reparation."

"I thank you both for your kindness to me and to mine." She performed a steadier courtesy than when she had entered the room.

"You have Our leave and Our goodwill, Senneh-rien," Evendal bade. "We only ask that you be as a friend to your neighbours, those whose trust these two abused, once We have informed them of their violation. To those who will permit it."

The all-but-widow paused in leave taking, wanting to say something to comfort the silently tortured Kwo-edan, thinking she should give some parting to her former spouse, but, nothing coming to mind of any efficacy, she simply walked out.