Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

Crow rose. “Will, stay back.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be.” Crow looked at the sullanciri . “And you, baiting children?”

“He wears a mask. He is a man, with a man’s responsibilities and duties. You remember those, don’t you, Tarrant?” Nefrai-kesh stepped to the Throne of Truth. “King Augustus, you will recognize the truce and my right to speak. My heir presumptive has asserted a claim that is invalid, since neither I nor my son is deceased, and the formalities to dispossess us have not been observed.”

Will brandished his dagger. “Don’t listen to him.”

Augustus frowned. “This is a legal proceeding, Lord Norrington. Rules must be observed. I believe you can be seated, Nefrai-kesh, if you will be sworn to tell the truth.”

The young thief snarled. “He works for Chytrine. She made him into a monster! A snake can slither a straight line easier than he’ll tell the truth.”

Linchmere uncoiled timidly. “We have to hear him. It is the Law.”

“Then it’s stupid!” Will reached up, ripped off his own mask, and tossed it into the well of the court before turning and stalking out of the chamber. “When Chytrine comes to kill you, you’ll give her a courtesy mask and say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Rot the lot of you!”

Only the tiny snapping of the flames on the sullanciri’s cloak filled the silence in the wake of Will’s departure. The assembled Oriosans stared at the flaccid mask lying on the floor. Even Crow looked stricken as he slowly sank back into his chair.

Nefrai-kesh raised his right hand. “I swear to tell the whole of the truth, accepting Kedyn’s retribution if I lie.”

Wroxter Dainn, whose florid face streamed with sweat, struggled to compose himself. “You have come to testify about the conduct of Tarrant Hawkins?”

“From afar, yes, I have come.” Nefrai-kesh’s rich voice filled the chamber, but Alexia felt as if she was hearing him with more than her ears. Magick is at work here . Even knowing she was being manipulated, she could not shake the sense that his words were sincere and truthful.

“I led the expedition into Boragul. Once there we did encounter the Empress Chytrine, but none of us knew it at the time. We accepted the hospitality of the urZrethi and only discovered too late that we were in a trap. The woman we had pursued had us at her mercy.”

The sullanciri opened his left hand toward Crow, letting the handkerchief flutter to the ground. “I would first speak in praise of Hawkins. Of all the accusations against him, the most foul are those of cowardice. On the day of our damnation he was the most courageous. He alone fought his way back to our chambers. There he found me, he succored me, and did all he could to safeguard me, as a vassal should. I was sorely wounded—mortally so, save for the intervention of magick. Let no one who hears me ever think he was anything but a hero.

“Once a hero, however, and once a knave. He did commit treason that day. He defied me. Thrice I asked him to do me a service. I demanded it of him as was my right.”

Dainn mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “What was that duty?”

Before the sullanciri could answer, an agonized groan twisted from Crow’s throat. “I could not kill you.”

“Oh, but would that you had, Tarrant.” Nefrai-kesh laid his hand against his breastbone. “Had you done that, I would not be here. Queen Lanivette would not have died by my hand in this very place. Fortress Draconis would not have fallen and the Southlands would not be in jeopardy. You had, in your power, the means to protect your homeland and your friends, but you defied me. You committed treason, against me, against your nation, against the world.”

“You know why I could not.”

The sullanciri slowly shook his head. “The reasoning of a vassal is nothing when it contradicts the order of your lord. So, Augustus, you see what it is? He could have saved you all this, but he did not.”

King Augustus shook his head. “Being dead does not preclude one from joining the ranks of the sullanciri! ‘

“True, but everyone on that expedition knew the qualitative difference between those who had become sullanciri pre- and postmortem. He knew.”

Crow looked at his hands. “I didn’t believe you would be so weak.”

“But I told you, Hawkins. I trusted you, and you failed me.” The sullanciri stood. “Despite what my grandson charged, I have spoken the truth, and Hawkins has verified it. I know Oriosan law and custom. You may have many speak for him, and more speak against him, but your duty is clear.”

Linchmere sat forward. “Do not presume to lecture us, changeling!”

Nefrai-kesh’s smile flowed into a predatory display of teeth. “Oh, someone thinks he has a spine. It can be torn out, you know, bone by bone, so numb death slowly spreads through you. I would enjoy that, my prince. Will you indulge me?”

The Oriosan Prince squeaked and curled into a ball in his throne.

Augustus stepped forward. “Enough, Nefrai-kesh. Preserve the illusion that a bit of the man I respected resides in you still.”

“If you wish to believe in illusions, Augustus, feel free to delude yourself as long as you like.” The sullanciri stood, then raked the clawed fingers of his left hand through the air. Black slits appeared as if he had rent some canvas. “The man you respected is no more, but the man you know to fear is yet here. And shall be for a long, long time.”

As he spoke his gaze shifted from Augustus to Crow and then her. Their eyes locked for a second and a huge jolt ran through Alexia. It did not feel as if he’d read her mind, but she felt certain he knew it. That realization shook her, but before she could act or speak, he slipped through the rents and they vanished behind him.

Crow turned toward her. “Are you hurt?”

She shivered and shook her head. “No, not at all. You?”

He shifted his shoulders stiffly. “In no real sense.” He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I couldn’t kill him.”

Alexia did lean forward and rest a hand on his shoulder. “He knew that when he asked you to do it. Just as I did when I asked you to promise to kill me if I ever looked to go over to Chytrine. You were right in what you told me, and you were right in denying him then.”

“But he’s right, I could have saved everyone.”

Alexia gave him a brave smile and squeezed his shoulder. “And yet you shall, Crow. And yet you shall.”

The sharp, raw, torn sensation in the back of his throat remained with Kerrigan Reese even after the echoes of the harsh cough that awakened him had faded. Curled up as tightly as his girth would allow him, he lay naked, in complete darkness, on his left side. The cold, hard stone beneath him had leached a lot of his body heat. In his mouth was the sour taste of old vomit, and his head ached.

As he tried to straighten out, two more things added to his discomfort. The first was the aching in his back. Whatever had hit him had done so very solidly. Battered muscles protested, and the fatty flesh covering them provided a chorus accompaniment. Even his kidneys ached, and Kerrigan dreaded the damage he’d find if he cast a diagnostic spell.

He would have been tempted to do that, but had a more immediate concern: he was fettered. Stout manacles surrounded his wrists and ankles. Reaching down, he could easily grasp the heavy chains to which his bonds had been joined, though when he took up the slack, the wrist chains did not pull at his ankles. The chain did tighten, though, and one wrist did pull against the other, so he imagined some ring in the floor of his prison to which he was fastened.