Date: Sun, 28 Mar 2004 12:15:26 -0800 (PST)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SS-28 (Revised)

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.