Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (11 page)

Jihan unlocked the door and left the room to find curious women in the hall. Again he was surrounded by whispers, but this time they were punctuated by titters and quiet laughter. He inclined his head to them but didn’t speak. He locked the door and pushed the key into his sash for safekeeping. His mother’s room would remain undisturbed.

It was time for the judgement, but Jihan did not concern himself with his lateness. He strode through the corridors and down the tower steps until he reached the ground floor. He could hear the murmur of conversation coming from the great hall as he approached. The doors were opened by two of his father’s cronies just as he reached them. He did not acknowledge the courtesy as he strode through. He stopped just inside the doors to survey the hall. He saw nothing to make this judgement in any way unusual. Behind him the doors clicked shut.

The noise quieted as Jihan moved to take his place upon the dais. Heads turned in his direction and elbows nudged causing more heads to turn. Athlone sat in his chair glaring. He was in a bad humour, but when wasn’t he? Standing upon the second step of the dais was Vadin. He was holding a sheaf of parchment with the names of the petitioners and their requests if known. Jihan ignored Vadin and climbed the dais. He turned and stood at his father’s right hand. He would have preferred to be somewhere else.

Anywhere else!

“You’re late, boy,” Athlone grated.

Jihan didn’t answer.

“Where were you?”

“Practising with the bow,” Jihan said keeping his words to a minimum.

If he hadn’t answered, Athlone would likely have set some kind of petty punishment—cleaning the stalls was an old favourite for insolence. Not that Jihan was bothered one way or the other about that, but it did waste what little time he was allowed for himself.

“You don’t need it,” Athlone grunted.

They both knew he was a master of the weapon, but practise was the only way to keep his skill. Besides, he enjoyed it. Jihan was skilled in many weapons. His teachers had been masters in their chosen fields. After teaching him the basics of each, they had demanded that he choose just one. He had said sword, dagger, bow, lance, fists, feet… and on until he finished their list. His instructors hadn’t been amused with his rebellion, but Jihan would not be forced. They worked him hard trying to make him choose one weapon—they even tried to bribe him with promises of reducing the level of work and pain they put him through. Yannis and Cowan were the only ones among his instructors who understood this side of him, but even they failed to realise where his determination came from. Although Jihan did enjoy weapon practise, he had wanted to be the best with every weapon so that he might one day kill them all. Jihan suspected that they had learned his motivations just before leaving Malcor. He was the reason for their sudden departure. Nowadays, if asked his preference he said sword, bow, and dagger in that order, but secretly he always chose the weapon best suited for the task. That, in his opinion, was just common sense.

Vadin called for quiet and the judgement commenced. Jihan absently listened to the proceedings. The usual things came before Athlone. Things such as so and so the farmer was said to have allowed his cattle to stray into another’s fields causing this or that amount of silvers in damage. Athlone ordered the cattle butchered and the resulting money given to the aggrieved party. It was a harsh judgement. Without cattle, the man would lose the farm, but it was Athlone’s standard penalty for such cases. The owner should have ensured proper fencing, but Jihan thought that half the money should go to the owner. He would have ordered it so if he were lord.

Petty cases came and went, but near the end, Jihan snapped to attention as a man was brought forward in chains.

“This man, one Celek by name and a farm labourer by trade, is accused of the murder of a girl named Nerina late of Bluefield village,” Vadin announced.

Bluefield was roughly two days easy riding to the south. It was named Bluefield because its main industry was linen. The flax plant had blue flowers, and fields of the stuff were needed to produce sufficient fibre to make the linen. The fields looked as if a blue tapestry had been laid upon the ground.

“Who speaks for this man?” Athlone said in a bored voice.

A man in clothing that had seen hard use stepped forward and made his bow. “I do m’lord. I am Kelda m’lord. Celek has worked for me for many a year with no trouble out of him m’lord. I say he is innocent. He lives on me farm and don’t ever leave.”

“Never?” Athlone said. “I find that hard to believe man.”

Jihan nodded; so did he.

Athlone leaned forward. “Does he not go into the village to buy ale?”

“Never m’lord. He is a good boy. Besides, we make our own.”

“Hmmm,” Athlone said and turned to Vadin. “What do we know of the girl? Was she a tease… a wanton?”

Vadin glanced at his notes. “Nerina was quiet by all accounts my lord. She was young—barely fifteen. She helped her father serving tables in the inn. She was found naked in a ditch…” Vadin looked sick.

“Go on man, what else?” Athlone said with sudden interest.

“The girl was raped and tortured, my lord.”

Jihan gasped in shock and even Athlone paled. Murmurs sprang up all round the hall. How could anyone be so vile as to hurt a woman… Jihan glanced at Athlone remembering his mother.

“Quiet I say!” Vadin shouted. “Listen to the lord’s judgement!”

“Hang him!”

“Foul murderer—”

“Disgusting animal!”

Jihan couldn’t help but agree. Women were protected in Deva. They weren’t living in Tanjung with their disgusting brothels or in Japura with their slaves. How could he do it? Why did he do it?

“Quiet I say! Shall I call the guard?”

“No—”

“…see him hang—”

“…send him to the God—”

The sound died away to whispers then to nothing as the guardsmen stepped forward in readiness. Athlone was glaring hard, but not at the accused, Jihan was surprised to see. Jihan looked along the wall to where Athlone was staring and found a guardsman. Haiger was the name, he thought. They had never had occasion to speak—Haiger was one of the cronies. Why was Athlone glaring at him?

Athlone switched the glare to Celek who had tears running down his face. “Step forward.”

Celek shuffled forward clanking all the while.

“Did you murder Nerina?”

“No m’lord,” Celek hiccoughed. “I would never be doing such a thing I swear!”

Jihan saw the attempt to make the sign of the God, but the chains limited the movement. What resulted was more like a semicircle rather than the full one of the God, but the attempt had been made.

“Why are you in chains?” Jihan asked.

Celek looked frightened. “I found her m’lord. I was walking the fence and I found her.”

“That’s no reason for your council to chain you.”

“No m’lord. I was drunk… when I found her, yer see? They thought I did it, but I never! I picked her up and took her to the village, but the folk saw me and hit me on the head. When I woke I was like this.”

There were more murmurs, but they were confused ones this time. If Celek had killed her, why take her home? Surely only an innocent man would do so.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Jihan whispered to Athlone. “No one would be stupid enough to do that to a girl then take her home.”

“He was drunk boy,” Athlone said dismissing Jihan’s words. He turned his attention to Celek. “How did you know to take her to Bluefield inn? If you have never been there you should not have known her or where she lived.”

“Kelda didn’t know m’lord, but I sneak out to the village sometimes to see my sweetheart.”

Jihan groaned. The fool should have told Kelda before he testified! Now it looked bad for him. “A sweetheart? Not Nerina?”

Please make him say no!

“No m’lord. Her name is Adaira. I’m going to marry her… I was.” He hung his head. “Nerina is her friend. That’s how I knew her.”

He’s innocent. Jihan felt he was, but he was also a fool. Athlone was leaning toward guilty and he could well be right but for this feeling that said no.

Athlone decided. “Guilty. Death by hanging and body to be burned the next day.”

“No!” Celek screamed. “I’m innocent m’lord! I swear by the God I am innocent. Don’t hang me… not the noose.” He sobbed.

“Take him—” Athlone began.

“No!” Jihan burst out.

“What now boy?”

“I—”

Celek was begging and pleading and Jihan didn’t think he was guilty, but there was no proof that he wasn’t, and more that he was. Jihan stepped down from the dais and approached Celek who was sobbing his heart out.

Jihan gritted his teeth. “Look at me.”

Celek looked up. “M’lord, don’t let them. Please don’t let them—”

“I can’t save you, Celek, we have no proof. If only you had told Kelda about Adaira it wouldn’t look so bad but—”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I’m innocent m’lord!”

“I know you are,” Jihan said sadly. “I can stop the hanging,” he would whether Athlone agreed or not. “But you will still die. Do you want the grace Celek?”

Celek braced up and stopped his tears. He nodded jerkily. “I… anything but the rope.”

Jihan drew his sword and—

“I forbid you Jihan!” Athlone roared from his throne. “No mercy for this man!”

—struck Celek’s head from his shoulders.

Blood fountained high into the air and the women screamed. Jihan stepped back a pace to avoid the blood as Celek’s body fell twitching to the ground. He tried to avoid looking at Celek’s rolling eyes.

“May the God watch over and comfort you at journey’s end,” Jihan said and closed his eyes.

I’m a murderer.

* * *

5 ~ The Candle

Julia glanced around the entrance hall hoping to find Brian. He was on guard here sometimes, but not today it seemed. She popped her head through doors of the citadel and found him on the battlement. He was on watch. Keverin and Renard were in the courtyard with a mage in yellow robes. Haliden she thought his name was. He was one of Mathius’ friends. Renard was the senior man among the mages in Athione. It was to him Julia had posed her question about returning home, but Renard had been unable to help her. He explained that although he was the strongest, he wasn’t near as strong as Darius had been and Darius had died of the spell he used to bring her here. Even if he knew how to send her home, which he didn’t, Renard was not strong enough to do it. Frightening as the prospect of leaving Athione was, it might be the only way she would find her way home.

Booom!

Julia flinched at the explosion and stepped back, but she reversed the move almost immediately. She wouldn’t let a little noise scare her. The sky was an exquisite blue with not a single cloud to mar it. It felt so good to get out. There was a tang in the air like hot metal. From the fireballs? No, she decided it was the smithy. The steady clang of a hammer on metal continued unaffected by the rhythmic explosions.

“You should not be here, Lady,” Keverin said marching toward her. “Get back inside!”

Julia’s face froze. “I was looking for a friend.”

“You won’t find her out here,” he said sharply and motioned her to step back. “She would have more sense.”

“I didn’t say my friend was a woman. I came looking for Brian if you must know.”

Keverin’s lips thinned. “He has his duty to perform.”

“I can see he’s busy. I’ll come back later.”

“You’ll not! You will stay inside where it’s safe.”

“I thought you Devans valued honesty. You told your mother that nowhere in the fortress was safe. Did you lie then?”

It was a petty accusation, one Julia wished unsaid the instant the words left her lips, but it was too late for that. Keverin’s eyes blazed and Julia fell back a step from the fury she saw in his face.

“If you were a man...” he took a breath and his face blanked. “You will learn. You will learn what I am if you live long enough. I am lord here and you will obey me like your father. Get inside and
stay!
”

“You are
not
my father,
Lord
Keverin,” Julia hissed. “I’m not your dog to stay when you say the word! I’ll go back inside because I want to, not because you order it.”

“Go then.” Keverin said.

“I will.”

“
Now
.”

“I’m
going!
”

Julia glared at the hint of a smirk she saw on Keverin’s face and spun on her heel to stalk back inside the citadel. Impossible man! Why did he go out of his way to rile her so? She made her way up to the second floor of the citadel and stopped to look out of a window. Keverin was on the wall talking with Brian. Whatever he was saying couldn’t be pleasant. Brian stood at attention silently listening to his lord’s words. A moment later he saluted and trotted off toward the gate tower. Julia hoped she hadn’t dropped Brian in hot water.

Julia leaned against the casement and watched as a fireball arced into the air on its way to strike the wards. Why did they bother? It seemed obvious to her that Renard’s wards were too strong for fireballs. What the sorcerers needed was a nuke! Thinking of the sorcerers made her wonder if they knew of a way to send her home. It didn’t really matter she supposed. Keverin would never let her go down and ask. Not that she would. From all she had managed to learn about the invaders, they were evil incarnate, but then the other side in a war was always evil. Apart from a few strange looks, Julia had learned almost nothing about the reasons for the war. All she could gather was that the Hasian’s ruler wanted to govern the entire continent. Like some kind of empire she supposed. There were six countries in Waipara, but the sorcerers ruled two of them from their island. Those two, Hasa and Bandar, composed fully half of Waipara. She knew that part by heart. Julia’s problem, one of many she now had, was Mortain’s ambition. He had turned his attention eastward making Deva the next kingdom on his list of future conquests. She was about to be in the middle of a war spanning most of the continent. She needed to get home, or out of Deva at least. Maybe there were mages in Tanjung. She would ask Mathius, he would know being one himself.