Heroes' Reward (11 page)

Perhaps the laws
had been changed to enable Green to grant positions to the Council, but
choosing an Erstwhile Pair, that needed the consent of the Triple S. Which
Green didn’t have, because the council hadn’t known why we’d been summoned.

When Taro turned
around, he had the same expression of confusion as the others, and my stomach
dropped. Oh, hell.

He returned to
stand beside me and I quietly panicked. Was he going to start obeying the
orders of the Emperor and Lady Green, no matter how dangerous or stupid?

Then he put my
hand through the crook of his arm. With his other hand, he patted and squeezed
mine.

Oh, thank Zaire.
He was fine.

“We are
delighted We are able to come to a proper understanding,” said the Emperor,
with a smile that looked weak and crooked. “We must celebrate.”

Those words were
another cue, and the Imperial Guards opened the doors and musicians swept in,
followed by servers with trays of food and wine. All of a sudden, people were
talking again. They seemed calm, but it wasn’t a natural sort of calm. It was
as though something, some form of behaviour, was being imposed upon them. It
was no more comfortable to observe than the silence had been.

The nearest to
me turned and said, “This is a most glorious day, is it not?”

In what way? I
had no idea. “Lovely.” That was safe enough.

“It is almost as
though the Emperor can call the very sun itself.”

Oh, he was
talking about the weather. And being nauseating and ridiculous about it. I bit
down a laugh that would have been both dangerous and inappropriate. “Truly, it
is wondrous.”

Was that too much?
The speaker didn’t seem to think so.

Was that spell
able to create that kind of opinion, or had he had shades of it previously and
his oath had brought them close to the surface?

“Isn’t Lady
Green beautiful?” a woman asked.

Lady Green and
the Emperor had returned to their thrones and were watching us. I noticed
neither of them was touching the food on their plates or the wine in their
goblets. This made me wonder if there was something in the food or drink that
most would prefer not to consume. I decided to follow their example.

“It’s her mind
that astonishes me,” another commented. “That is what the Emperor needs most in
a consort. While he performs actions, she will give him the direction he needs
to know to perform those actions well.”

If I’d had a goblet
in my hand, I surely would have dropped it. Did she realise what she was
saying? That Green would be the mind behind the power? Not that it was a truly
terrible thing for a monarch and consort to operate according to their
strengths, but I would want the monarch to have some intelligence of his own.

I wondered how
Gifford would feel if he learned that people thought Lady Green was the smart
one.

The celebration,
or whatever it was, dragged on. People talked about the most trivial things,
fashion and theatre and who would win the next derby. It was tortuous.

Finally, Lady
Green announced, “You may all depart. We require, however, that Source Karish
and his Shield remain.”

Of course. We
couldn’t be allowed to leave and figure out how Taro was going to act brainless
before having to convince Gifford and Green that the casts had taken hold. Not
that Taro had difficulty acting brainless: he did it for convenience and
sometimes entertainment. It was just that he’d have to appear a different kind
of brainless this time.

Everyone else,
the servers and the musicians and all the titleholders, silently shifted in a
wave out of the room.

I wasted another
moment wondering about the prior Erstwhile Pair. Had they already left? Were
they currently packing up? Where were they going to go? Did they resent being
replaced or were they laughing in relief and referring to us as those
poor
bastards?

“We are not
aware of your understanding of the scope of the duties of the Erstwhile Pair,”
Gifford said to Taro.

“None, Your
Majesty.”

Gifford scowled.
“That the Triple S fails to instruct its Pairs in such essential matters will
be swiftly addressed,” he said sternly. “In the meantime, We will grant you the
honour of explaining these duties Ourselves.”

I wanted to roll
my eyes because that was
such
a pompous thing to say.

“First, you will
provide an example to all Sources and Shields of the necessity of loyalty to
the Crown above all others.”

Aye, good luck
with that.

“You are at Our
disposal. You will never ignore Our summons.”

We weren’t
servants.

“You’re expected
to be Our ears. You will report to us any words concerning any of Our laws, any
gatherings, any plans you hear of.”

We were to be
spies for the Triple S, and we were to be spies for Gifford. Both of them
overestimated our abilities.

“Shield
Mallorough.”

I was surprised
to be addressed directly.

“We are given to
understand that you often don apparel unsuitable to your station.”

This was a
priority for the Emperor? Was there anyone who wasn’t going to harass me about
the perfectly logical habit of wearing practical clothing?

“This is
unacceptable. You represent the Crown now. You will dress accordingly.”

“Yes, Your
Majesty.”

“You might want
to do something about your hair as well.”

This was
ridiculous. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You will have
access to the finest tailors and maids. You will have no excuse for a
substandard appearance.”

“Thank you, Your
Majesty.”

“Do you
understand your roles?”

Servants, spies,
and ambulatory art. “Yes, Your Majesty.” I must have sounded like a half-wit,
repeating those two words and saying nothing else.

“Yes, Your
Majesty,” Taro echoed.

“There is one
other matter,” Gifford continued. “You will, of course, be expected to
cooperate to the best of your ability during the course of Lord Tarce’s trial.”

My breath caught
in my throat. Whose what?

“My apologies,
Your Majesty.” Taro bowed. “We hadn’t heard of any complaints laid against Lord
Tarce.”

“There is no
reason why you should have,” Gifford said coolly.

All right, then.

“May we know the
nature of the complaints?” Taro pressed.

“All will be
revealed during the proceedings.”

Just …
brilliant. What were we going to do? This was Tarce. Fiona’s brother. An
annoying sort of person, but I didn’t believe for a moment he’d broken any
laws.

At least, not
any laws that made sense.

Gifford waved a
hand. “You may go.”

We bowed and
left the room. My brain felt frozen. I couldn’t remember getting to our suite,
just sitting in a settee and wanting to cry.

Chapter Thirteen

Tarce was
bruised and pale, unshaven, his blond hair greasy. His wrists and his ankles
were shackled, hampering his stride, which was already weakened by his limp.

The Guards,
either impatient or amused with each stumble, dragged him more quickly across
the floor of the courtroom. The manacles were unnecessary. There was no way
Tarce could escape from the ring of Guards surrounding him, and if he did
manage to do so, there were Guards at every door. The manacles were meant to
humiliate him.

Once he was in
the stall of the accused, though, he stood tall. He was trembling, just a
little, but he was attempting to face his accusers with pride.

He was glaring
at the Emperor, which might be foolish but was still admirable.

The courtroom
was nothing like Fiona’s. It was huge, built almost entirely of black walnut,
which gave the room an intimidating, suffocating aura. In the centre of the
room, isolated from everyone else, was the stall of the accused. The stall
faced rows of chairs and desks, four levels ascending to place the highest row
well above Tarce’s head. And in that top row, a dark wooden throne had been
built for the monarch.

The Emperor was
in attendance, Lady Green seated beside him. In all of the surrounding desks
were members of the Imperial Council and a collection of titleholders.

Along the sides
and the back of the room were rows of benches for the spectators. I would say a
few hundred could be accommodated. Right then, the benches were packed.

The Emperor
settled everyone in the crowd with a wave of his hand. He nodded at the
Minister of Justice, who stood and read aloud from a stack of paper. “Lord
Tarce Yuno Det Keplar, by the Emperor Gifford, High Commissioner of Justice, is
hereby accused of treason, conspiracy to commit treason, sedition, attempted
murder, common assault, sexual assault, and theft.”

Tarce wasn’t
capable of any of those crimes. What had happened?

“On the
allegation of treason, how do you respond?”

“Not culpable.”
His voice shook a little, but it was loud and clear.

“On the
allegation of conspiracy to commit treason, how do you respond?”

“Not culpable.”

“On the
allegation of sedition, how do you respond?”

“Not cupable.”

And so on.

After he had
declined culpability for theft, the Minister of Justice declared, “We shall be
adding perjury to the list of allegations.”

“Why?” Tarce
demanded.

The Minister of
Justice scowled. “It’s not your place to ask questions,” she scolded. “The
allegation of perjury must be included. Obviously, you lied when you denied
responsibility for the other allegations.”

So logic wasn’t
going to have a place in this event. Why were we even there if he was already
as good as convicted?

“I didn’t commit
perjury.”

I looked about
the room frantically, trying to find a means of escape. There had to be one. No
room was impossible to escape.

But I couldn’t
see any options.

“Regarding the
allegation of treason,” the Minister continued, “letters were intercepted.
Letters written by you, giving details of a parade being planned for his
Imperial Majesty, details known to no one but a core few at that time. These
letters included suggestions where assassins might best assault the Emperor.”

So they were
going to give him the details
after
demanding a response to the
allegations. Very just.

“I wrote no such
letters.”

“These letters
were signed by you. We were told by the woman you hired to deliver them that
she received them straight from your hand.”

“What woman?”

“We can’t leave
the witness vulnerable to retribution.”

“I have the
right to – ”

“You have only
the rights We grant you!” the Emperor thundered.

According to how
the law used to work, Tarce did have the right to question witnesses. No
longer, apparently. Tarce changed tactics. “May I see the letters?”

“I don’t think
that’s necessary,” the Minister said.

Taro had once
created a sort of cyclone in a room to prevent a whole bunch of people
murdering a whole bunch of other people. Could that work this time? Maybe we
could get Tarce away in the confusion.

No. The cyclone
would whip around the heavy chairs and benches and desks and tables and kill
everyone. Including Tarce, Taro, and me.

“The letters
were addressed to five recipients, and included inducements to turn honourable
and loyal people against the Crown.”

“What people?”
Tarce asked.

Did he really
think he would get an useful answer?

“Interrupting
the proceedings will be of no benefit to you.”

Clearly nothing
would be of benefit to him.

“Do you deny
being in the company of Lord Elken eight days ago?”

“No.”

“A known
traitor.”

“I don’t know of
any accusations made against him.”

“The allegations
were filed against him two days ago.”

From the look of
his beard, Tarce had been incarcerated longer than that.

I could kill
people with the black cloud cast, much as the idea repulsed me. That would
definitely cause a distraction, while keeping Taro, Tarce, and me untouched.

I was appalled
my mind could work that way. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Do you admit to
being in the company of Lady Denden twenty-one days ago?”

“I don’t
remember.”

Of course he
didn’t remember that far back. Who would, barring some enormous unusual event?

“How
convenient,” the Minister drawled. “She spoke of being in your company that
night.”

This time the
Minister paused, obviously waiting for Tarce to respond.

He clearly had
no idea what to say. “All right.”

“So you don’t
deny it.”

“I don’t remember.”

“She has been
found to be engaging in treasonous activities as well. Your choice of
associates has been unfortunate.”

I no longer
believed that people should be judged by their acquaintances. I had kept
company with criminals, and it hadn’t been voluntary. Usually.

“Do you admit to
meeting with Lady Isle, Lady Tressing, Lord Linor, and the Minister of
Waterworks – ”

So that was what
had happened to the last one.

“ – for the
purpose of luring others into a conspiracy to oppose the passing of the River
Laws?”

“Of course not.”

“Lord Linor
states otherwise.” The Minister gestured at a young man sitting at one of the
desks surrounding the Emperor. The man’s head was bowed so he could avoid
looking anyone in the eye.

He’d lied to
save his own life, throwing Tarce at the Emperor, I was sure of it. Coward.

“Lord Linor also
informed us you made an attempt on his life –”

“No!”

“– with an idol
of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Constia. This is a disgusting violation of a
Crown image.”

“That never
happened.”

“You are calling
a member of our Council a liar?”

“You are calling
me
a liar.”

“And who are
you?” the Minister sneered. “The useless lackey of a defiant titleholder, a
titleholder who is too arrogant to come to the Council to show proper obeisance
to our Emperor. She banished you here, to rid herself of you while throwing
dirt in the face of the Emperor himself.”

I hoped Tarce
knew that wasn’t true. Fiona had sent him to Erstwhile to do a difficult job,
and she had felt he was doing it well.

“And because
you’re weak and desperate for relevance and importance in the eyes of virtually
anyone else, you sought the respect of those striving to undermine the
Emperor’s true and noble authority.” The Minister cocked her head to one side.
“One would almost pity you, but weakness is not a defence under the law.”

Was there
currently any defence under the law?

“And,
coincidentally, the idol is now missing.”

Tarce clenched
his teeth briefly before saying, “I don’t know anything about that.”

“That idol is
over forty years old, created by one of the finest craftsmen of the time. How
could you think you would get away with such a theft?”

“I did not – ”

“And then there
is the vile rape of Lord McCon.”

“I’ve never
raped anyone!” Tarce objected.

Everyone knew
his protests were pointless, but if he said nothing, it was as good as
admitting responsibility for the crimes.

“Stand, Source
Shintaro Karish.”

There was a
rustle of words and clothing as everyone acknowledged Taro’s presence with
their attention.

Taro stood with
no hesitation, no apparent reluctance. Almost as though he were eager to do as
he was bid.

“You were
present for Lady Westsea’s scandalous assault on Lord Kent, his people, and his
estate, were you not?”

Kent had
assaulted her first. Fiona’s closest neighbour, he had begun his attempt to
acquire the Westsea estate through an offer of purchase, and then an offer of
marriage. When those were firmly refused, he had attacked the resources of her
tenants, to undermine Fiona’s relations with them and their trust in her. Then
he had sent people, fighters and casters, to attack her tenants directly.

Fiona had had to
do something. She couldn’t let the violations continue until the estate and
everyone on it were destroyed. So, as permitted by old, almost forgotten laws,
Fiona had led her tenants, armed with nothing more than farming, fishing, and
whaling tools, into an actual physical battle against Kent and his tenants.

It had been
horrifying and barbaric. Still, looking back, I couldn’t think of what might
have been an effective alternative.

I didn’t
understand why Fiona’s actions were now considered scandalous. Shortly after
the whole bloody affair, the Emperor had given the Kent estate to her. None of
us knew why, as the Emperor had made clear his dislike of Fiona, but surely it hadn’t
been part of some trap to be sprung five years later. Who could plan that far
in advance?

“Yes, Your
Eminence,” said Taro.

“In fact, you
participated in this assault, did you not?”

“Yes, Your
Eminence.”

“Are you aware
that this was a grave violation of the law? You were neither a servant nor a
tenant of Lady Westsea. She had no right to include you, and you had no right
to follow her actions.”

Huh. I’d never
considered that possibility.

“However, we
concede that you must obey the commandments of the highest titleholder in your
sphere.”

Not true, in
theory.

“We must commend
you on your adept handling of what was truly a delicate and difficult
situation.”

It had been
difficult. I didn’t know about delicate, though. There hadn’t been time for a
thorough examination of any alternatives.

“You are
therefore forgiven for your illegal activities.”

Taro bowed.
“Thank you, You Eminence.”

I blew out a
breath of relief. Taro wasn’t going to be subjected to a travesty of a trial.

“However, we
have been told Lord Tarce has no excuse for his attempted assault on Lord
Kent.”

Tarce hadn’t
assaulted Kent. He had merely gone to his manor to warn him Fiona’s family
would be supporting her, to order him to stand down. He had been beaten nearly
to death as a result, and I was pretty sure it was only due to Browne’s
incredible skill that he had survived. Even that hadn’t been enough to cure him
of his limp.

His beating had
been Fiona’s last line, the event that had pushed her into action.

“Lord Tarce is
not a titleholder himself, and we know he wasn’t ordered by the titleholder to
attack Kent.”

How the hell did
they know that? Who had told them? Had there been a mole among Fiona’s people
way back then?

“This is true,
isn’t it, Source Karish?”

A long pause.

I had no idea
what he should say.

Taro said at
last, “I don’t know, Your Eminence.”

This brought on
a new wave of whispering, and my heart started pounding. Taro had given them an
answer they didn’t like. What would be the consequences?

“Silence,” the
Minister ordered, and everyone shut up. She delivered a hard look on Taro. “I
remind you, Source Karish, that in this place, above all others, the truth must
always be spoken.”

Such bold
hypocrisy.