Elizabeth Moon - Oath of Fealty

“It was not that—” Dorrin stepped back again as the young man still advanced, dagger now in his left hand, right hand reaching for his sword.

“I saw it too,” said one of the counts. “Seize her—”

Glancing around, Dorrin saw only hostile faces, weapons drawn. Nobles and palace guards alike, they formed a ring around her, all clearly frightened but determined. Was this the gods’ punishment for killing her parents, even though they were evil? Well, if so, at least she had saved her king. She folded her arms and stood still, waiting for the blow that would kill her.

“Hold!” That shout from the palace stopped Kirgan Marrakai’s arm in midswing. “Stand away—let me see her.”

The Marshal-General of Gird, with Duke Mahieran and the king, came down the palace steps and across the courtyard. Slowly, reluctantly, the nobles sheathed their weapons and bent a knee to the king. Dorrin, arms still folded, made her bow as well.

Into the moment of silence, Aris Marrakai spoke, a boy’s voice shaky with fear and surprise. “He’s—he’s breathing.”

“What?” Kirgan Marrakai turned.

“Wait,” the Marshal-General said. Everyone stared at her as she went to Duke Marrakai, knelt beside him, and looked him over. “How did he fall?” she asked. A dozen voices answered, tumbling over one another.

“She did it—he fell backward—he just fell—I didn’t see but I heard—”

“He’s alive,” the Marshal-General said, “but he hit his head on the paving stones.”

“She made him fall,” Kirgan Marrakai insisted, pointing at Dorrin. “He was beside her and there was a flicker of light and then he fell. She used magery—”

The Marshal-General turned to Dorrin. “Well? What say you?”

“I did use magery, Marshal-General. Duke Marrakai pointed out the man we were sure had poisoned the horses a tenday or so ago … not the real groom, but a Verrakai who had taken over his body during his illness. I thought he would attack me first, but he attacked Duke Marrakai, and my attempt to shield him from that attack was not enough. To my shame.”

“Is this what you were telling me about on the way, Duke Mahieran?”

“Yes, Marshal-General. I went to warn the king before he came out here, and she and Marrakai went to find Pedraig—the groom.”

“You are convinced she was telling the truth?” Before Mahieran could answer, she turned again to Dorrin. “How did you kill him? And do you know which Verrakai he was?”

“I killed him by magery, Marshal-General, because he was too far away to reach with the sword when he attempted another transfer, to another innocent man.”

“Which Verrakai was he?”

“My father.”

The Marshal-General chewed on her lip for a moment. “To kill with magery condemns you to death, under the Code of Gird—you know that.”

“Yes, Marshal-General.”

“Did you think of that at the time?”

“No. I thought how horrible it was that another man might die—and hated what I did, but—I did it.”

“The Code of Gird offers no alternatives to death for your act,” the Marshal-General said. “Do you feel that is just?”

Dorrin just stopped herself from shrugging, which would add rudeness to her crime. “Marshal-General, laws are written as they are for a reason. I swore fealty to the king, which included swearing to obey the Code of Gird as administered in Tsaia. I have no complaints.”

“I do,” the king said. He looked from Dorrin to the Marshal-General. “I believe she saved my life—and other lives—by acting as she did. This man nearly killed my brother and Aris Marrakai; we asked Duke Verrakai to help us find the one who did so, and she has done that. By all reports, she has carried out the commands we first gave her, when we asked her to take on the Verrakai domain. I am not moved to waste a valuable peer for a quibble of law.”

“You must, my liege,” Dorrin said. “For if a king does not obey the law, how can his subjects?”

“I do not want to see you die, Dorrin Verrakai.”

“And I am not particularly eager to die,” Dorrin said. “But the law is the law, and we are both sworn to it.”

“ As administered in Tsaia ,” Duke Mahieran put in, quoting the oath. “And in Tsaia there are other things to be considered, mitigating factors, and also the King’s Mercy. That Dorrin Duke Verrakai killed with magery is not—since she freely admits it—in question. But the King and Council may, if they choose, consider her motives, what alternatives she might have had available, and then at the king’s discretion, he may choose an alternative punishment.”

A mutter from those watching.

“Let us consider,” Mahieran went on. “First that this man, as Duke Marrakai and I were both convinced from Duke Verrakai’s words, did poison the horses of Prince Camwyn and Aris Marrakai, and thereby imperil their lives. He was guilty of treason, and for that alone would have been condemned in a trial to shameful death. Second, that since he was not really Pedraig the groom, but a Verrakai in Pedraig’s body, his life was already forfeit under the Order of Attainder. Third, that he was no doubt conspiring to assassinate our king on the very day of his coronation by poisoning his horse—and perhaps others—the very same way he had done with the prince and young Marrakai’s horses.”

Mahieran looked around; the peers and palace guards were nodding.

“So that Duke Verrakai having killed this traitor is no crime, but a service to the Crown. She used magery to kill him, that is true, and killing by magery is against our laws—but suppose she had pierced his body with a poisoned blade? Killing with poison is also a crime—but is there anyone here who thinks if she had done that she would deserve death for so dispatching an enemy of the Crown and people of Tsaia?” Heads shook, the murmur rose.

“So I say, it is unfortunate that circumstances forced her to use magery, but if she had not, we would face worse problems. If this Verrakai had taken another body—if she had not been able to shield—at least partially—Duke Marrakai—if she had not been so determined to find and dispatch this villain that she ordered me around like one of her soldiers—” His glance at Dorrin was almost mischievous. “Then our king might be dead, and the realm in chaos worse than frightened horses loose in the palace court.” He turned to the king and bent his knee. “I ask the King’s Mercy for Duke Verrakai, my liege.”

“And I—And I as well—” Other dukes chimed in, all but Marrakai who lay still on the pavement. Mahieran turned to Kirgan Marrakai.

“Will you answer for your father, Kirgan?”

“I—” The young man looked at Dorrin. “My lord Duke, I mistook you, and what I saw. My pardon, my lord.” And to the king he said, “My liege, I also ask the King’s Mercy for Duke Verrakai.”

“Kneel,” the king said. Dorrin knelt on the rough stone; she felt one of her stockings rip. The king drew his sword and put the tip at her throat as she looked up at him. “For that you have done this thing, your life is forfeit.” Then he laid the flat of it on her head. “But for that you have done this thing in our service, and by it have served the Crown and People of the realm well, I pardon you, Dorrin Duke Verrakai, and if the gods would punish you, let the punishment fall on me, as your lord and king. Now rise.”

Dorrin rose; someone in the rear of the throng clapped, but it died away; the matter was too serious for applause.

“And we still,” the king said, “have a procession to ride. But we will see each horse unsaddled and examined.”

Under the king’s saddlecloth, Dorrin saw a brown lump, thumb-sized, just where the king’s weight would break it. With the king’s permission, she lifted it away by magery, and then ran her hand over the stallion’s satiny back. “It is unbroken; it can have done no harm, and there is no irritation to indicate he did anything else.”