Douglas Hulick - Sworn in Steel

“I think that’s what happened to Ivory, and to a lesser extent, to Steel. It’s what I think has haunted this Order from the beginning. We aren’t what we dreamed, and emperor or not, we never will be. But that doesn’t mean the dream has to go away. The thing we made is still here, waiting.

“There are flaws in this Order, yes. They’ve been here since the beginning. In that sense, Steel was right-we need to start anew. But not with blood, and not with death. He would have torn us down past the foundations, started from scratch-but that ignores everything we’ve done up to now. Everything we’ve done right.

“The main question for the Order is what to do about our Oath to preserve the empire. Wolf would have used the Oaths in Ivory’s sword to bind the emperor to us, to force him to redefine our service and our purpose. To make us what we were before the Oath. But we are all of us more than the White Sashes we once were.” Sounds of agreement.

“Wolf’s mistake,” said Degan, “was thinking he could force us onto what he saw as the honorable path. But you can’t force someone to be honorable, just as you can’t buy it with a promise.”

“And so what would you have us do?” This from Gold, not quite mocking, but not quite conciliatory, either. “Would you call on the emperor to decide? Would you use Ivory’s sword and the laws to push us one way or the other? Be our arbiter and guide on whichever road you choose to redemption?”

“No. I’d choose a third path.”

“And what is that?”

Silence. Even the wind in the maple above me seemed to pause, waiting for the answer.

“I don’t know,” Degan finally said. “But I-” But his words were drowned out by the shouting that erupted within the hall.

It didn’t sound like the answer they were hoping for.

After more yelling and what sounded like someone pounding on a table with the pommel of a sword, the room was called back into a semblance of order.

“Well, this is enthralling,” said Gold after things had settled, “but it still doesn’t get us any closer to a solution for the matter at hand.”

“And neither do your questions,” said Brass, nearly shouting. Her voice had the taint of desperation now, making me wonder what the mood was in the room. As used as I was to eavesdropping from my years as a Nose, it still didn’t help with the frustration I was feeling right now. Damn this crack for not being a window, anyhow. “Do you merely plan to cast aspersions on everything Bronze says?” said Brass. “Is that your plan? To color his every deed with doubt? Because if so, I’d remind everyone here that this is Bronze Degan we’re talking about. This is the man who-”

“We all know what he’s done,” said Gold sourly. “And yes, since you ask, it is my intention to doubt everything about him precisely for the reasons you say: This is Bronze Degan. And because of that, we can offer him no quarter. He’d expect no less, am I right?” A majority of the room seemed to agree. “Our respect and admiration isn’t sufficient reason to pardon him, let alone welcome him back with open arms.”

“Then what would you have him do?” said Brass, her patience clearly gone. “Would you have him summon up Steel or Silver and ask them how he came by their swords? Would you ask Ivory what Bronze did to get his hands on the sword and the laws? Because if it’s a village shaman you want, Gold, I can be back with one in two hours’ time.”

Scattered laughter, but not enough. Not near enough. Brass and Degan were losing.

“I appreciate the offer,” said Gold, “but I think I have an easier way.”

“And what’s that?” said Degan.

“I would have you answer a simple question,” said Gold. “One that cuts straight to the heart of the matter, and that speaks to everything that comes after. Nothing about Steel or the laws of Ivory-just one simple question.”

“Again, what’s that?” said Degan.

“Did you kill Iron Degan?”

Crap.

I was away from the tree and running in an instant. I didn’t need to have my ear to the crack to know what Degan’s answer would be, didn’t have to be paying attention to hear the roar that came tumbling out the hall’s windows as I raced through the garden and around toward the main doors, Degan’s blade slapping against my back.

Of course Degan had answered honestly. Of course he said yes, because that’s who he was.

And, damn Gold, of course he’d phrased the question in a way that didn’t allow Degan to explain the circumstances, or the fact that by fighting Iron he’d actually been keeping his Oath to me and, he thought, to the emperor. All the roomful of degans in there knew was that Bronze Degan had just admitted to killing one of their own. And, like him or not, there was only one response for that.

Unless I could get in there and somehow make them listen to me. Or at least get Degan his sword, so he might have a chance. Either way, I wasn’t going to sit by and let everything come crashing down on his head.

I sprinted through the courtyard, my wounded leg complaining every other stride, and took the steps two at a time. Through the doors, down the passageway, and then around the turn to the entrance to the main hall.

Where Stone Degan stood, his sword in his hand.

I skidded to a halt maybe six paces from the degan. Fortunately for me, he hadn’t lowered the point of his weapon, otherwise I’d have been hanging off it like a piece of meat ready for the grilling.

As it was, the degan widened his stance slightly and gripped his blade at the half-sword, one hand midway up the blade, the other still on the handle, ready for the close fight.

“You’re supposed to be gone,” he said.

“I need to get in there.”

Stone glanced over his shoulder. The doors hadn’t been shut all the way. Whether this was because they couldn’t be, or simply because he’d wanted to listen, I didn’t know-all I did know was that I could hear shouting still coming from the other side.

“No,” he said.

“They’re going to kill him.”

Stone nodded. “Probably.”

“I can’t let that happen.”

“And I can’t let you in.”

I opened my fists, closed them. Stone stood waiting, doing a good imitation of his namesake.

Beyond him, I head the shouting subside, caught Degan’s voice rising above the din. “By my Oath,” he began, but was drowned out by Gold.

“By your Oath?” shouted the other degan. “By your Oath ? You mean the thing you broke when you drew steel on Iron? When you killed him? The thing you threw away when you tossed your soul and your sword in the dust? And now you want us to hear you swear on your Oath?”

I reached up over my shoulder and drew Degan’s sword. Stone lowered his stance and growled.

“No!” I said, quickly switching it so I held the blade at the forte, below the guard. “Look. I need to get in there. To bring this to him.”

Stone’s eyes went wide, but his stance stayed deep. “Where did you get that?”

Gold was still going at it on the other side of the door. “You threw away this Order when you threw away your blade,” he said. “You cast away your honor with your steel.”

There were ominous grumbles and shouts of agreement.

“Where the hell do you think I got it?” I said, trying to peer around the degan. “He gave it to me.”

“Bronze?”

“No, the fucking emperor. Of course Bronze!”

I could hear Brass trying to say something, trying to come across as calm. No one seemed to be having any of it.

Stone lowered his sword a bit. “Why? Why give it to you instead of bringing it before the rest of us? It could only help him in there.”

I thought about what Degan had told me, about what it would mean if his fellows found out I was under Oath to him, let alone what I knew about the Order of the Degans. About how there might not even be time to say, “Wait” before the sword fell.