Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

“We would have because we had to. And that is not arrogance speaking. I know my people as well as you know yours.” He turned and looked at Phfas. “Thank you, Uncle, for saving my life.”

The shaman sat on the ground, his chest heaving, but he managed a weak smile. “Armoring you with air had to be done. That magick was strong.”

The general nodded. “Mistress, have you any idea what those were?”

“Another Aurolani abomination?” She shook her head. “I shall have it investigated. I will put some of my trackers on them, too, and see if there are more about.”

“Very good, thank you.” Adrogans waved the trumpeter over. “Sound a recall. Then get me two riders and send them back to the infantry. I want them here in three days to hold the ford.”

“Yes, General.”

The man stepped away and blew the recall. Troops began to return to their units and the officers began to take a toll of the casualties. Men helped battle-broken comrades, staunched wounds, and set bones. The first Blackfeathers crossing the river started to move among the cavalry, directing the most seriously wounded to the edge of the river, where their healer would begin casting spells to help them recover.

Adrogans squatted beside Phfas and felt Pain crowding against his back. “Well, Uncle, we’ve hurt him. I don’t know how long it will take him to learn that fact, but when he does he’ll react. Do I wait here and make him pay dearly to take this ford back or…”

The old man shook his head. “Ever forward; ever forward. If you remain here, you are a target. If you go on, he has to find you first.”

“Yes, and in war it is much better not to be hit at all.” Markus Adrogans stood again and bowed his back, feeling a crackling running from waist to neck. “On to Svarskya, then. I remember it having been pretty in the spring. Perhaps this year it shall be again.”

Will hated people treating him as if he were sick, because he really felt fine. Well, fine as long as he was bundled up in warm clothing. Growing up as a thief he’d preferred looser-fitting things, since he could slip out of them if someone made a grab for him, and because they provided ample hiding places for loot. Those same loose clothes suited him well now because he could wear thick woolen undergarments beneath them and have a chance of staying warm.

Despite the cold, he had been determined to leave his face bare. It still angered him that the court had chosen to listen to Nefrai-kesh speak against Crow. He’d have refused to attend the court that morning, even though Crow was supposed to be released, but Princess Alexia had some ambassador guy explain why it was important for him to be there.

And why it was important for him to wear a mask.

Will balked at the mask and was surprised to hear Resolute agree with him, but the ambassador pointed out that by being present, Will would again assert his claim to the title of Lord Norrington. Since Crow’s release would likely be conditional, having his liege lord there to accept custody of him would be important. In order to show respect for the customs of Oriosa, Will would need to wear his mask.

Sitting there in the court chamber beside Princess Alexia, Will did his best to kill a smile. The assembled spectators from Oriosa had seen him come in and a buzz had run through the crowd. Reactions varied, but he did see some firm nods of respect for his gesture.

Will reached up and adjusted the mask he wore. It was not the one King Scrainwood had given him, but a white lace courtesy mask, of the sort that King Augustus, Queen Carus, and Princess Alexia had been given. They were worn by non-Oriosans in respect for their station. The courtesy masks showed a respect for customs by the visitor, but also marked him as an outsider.

The mask the king had given him he wore on his upper right arm. Its dark green showed up nicely over the red velvet jacket he’d picked out, and the red in the eyeholes was perfect. He’d thought that solution up all by himself, and having both the ambassador and Resolute agree with it had pleased him no end.

When he’d taken his place beside the princess, Crow had looked over at him from the prisoner’s docket and knitted his brows with concern. Will winked at him and lifted his chin just enough for Crow to see the twin scars. The older man’s eyes tightened in a wince, but Will shook his head to dismiss the concern.

The sharp rap of a staff on the floor up on the tribunal’s dais quelled the chatter in the room. Through the open doors at the far end came the three judges. Queen Carus came first, wearing a gown of deep scarlet with triangular ivory panels pointing toward her waist in an hourglass formation. Her black hair had been pulled back and pinned up with golden sticks festooned with rubies.

Augustus came next, more martial than regal in bearing. His clothes mixed green and white with some gold trim, and had a military cut about them without being hopelessly severe. The half-horse, half-fish creature he’d chosen as his insignia appeared as the buckle on the wide white leather belt he wore around his waist. His courtesy mask had been cut from white lace and properly notched at the eyes to reflect the death of his parents.

Linchmere brought up the rear—and while Will knew this was because he was the most important figure in the tribunal, he found it fitting that the prince should be last. His slouched shoulders betokened a general sagging of his body, which resulted in a paunchy belly that jounced as he walked. Linchmere even moved each hip forward as he walked in a fat-man’s stroll, though he was not really that heavy.

Even Kerrigan carries himself better.

The tribunal took their places, then Linchmere stepped forward to address the court. Wroxter Dainn and his aides slipped from their seats and dropped to one knee, but Crow stayed in his chair. Will waited to see what Princess Alexia would do, and when she remained seated, he sat there with her.

The Oriosan Prince cleared his throat once, and once again. “Lord and Ladies, King and Queens, distinguished visitors, citizens. This proceeding has been conducted in a solemn manner. We have listened. The evidence has been weighed and we have discussed the truth of this matter.“

The prince spoke slowly and had lowered his voice for the sake of authority, but right from the first, right when he realized he should have said “Kings and Queens” before “Lord and Ladies,” anxiety beset him. Will could read it in his eyes and the nervous quiver running through Linchmere’s lower lip.

“The charges against Crow were charges made against Tarrant Hawkins a long time ago. He was charged with treason and tried. He was sentenced to death but that sentence was never carried out. This man, Crow, was identified as being Tarrant Hawkins. Because of his marriage to Princess Alexia, a new trial was required. A new verdict was sought.”

The prince chewed his lower lip for a moment. “In our deliberations, a flaw was noted in the prosecution case. The events took place twenty-five years ago, so the value of eyewitness testimony is questionable. Court sorcerers said their spells established a link between Crow and Hawkins, but the material alleged to have belonged to Hawkins has now gone missing, so their conclusions cannot be reviewed and proven to the satisfaction of the court. The only positive identification offered was that of Nefrai-kesh and, as an enemy, it is expected he lied.”

Will frowned, utterly confused. King Augustus had greeted Crow as an old friend, and they had talked about knowing each other. Will hadn’t heard Crow admit that he was Hawkins, but he’d never denied it either. The whole question of Crow’s identity should have been beside the point.