SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) (10 page)

Michael
grinned at Toma who looked as if he didn’t believe Pol’s assertion. “I can’t stand to see him pick on the little kids.”

“
Well, don’t think Nanna Mabbina’s going to let you off for fighting,” Toma warned him.

Jiin rolled his eyes but
Michael just smiled. “I’ll tell Abbess Ethene what happened. She’ll say I did the right thing.”

When
Pol, Jiin and Michael were called into Abbess Ethene’s office an hour later, Michael was proven right. He recounted his side of the story and was enthusiastically backed-up by the two younger boys summoned to tell their part, both of whom kept shooting worshipful glances at Michael in spite of Nanna Mabbina’s disapproving glare.

Telyr sat slumped in the chair next to
Michael, looking murderous.

A
bbess Ethene sighed and leaned back, peering at the older boy over steepled fingers. “Why must you always cause trouble, my boy?” she asked. “We have given you so many chances.”

Nanna Mabbina gave a soft grunt of agreement.
Telyr didn’t answer but stared at the toes of his boots.

“
Well? What have you to say for yourself?” Mabbina demanded, and she gave his shoulder a hard shove.

“
You can all go nik yourselves,” Telyr mumbled. The little boys’ eyes widened in shock at such language, and Michael only just kept himself from reacting the same way.

Mabbina clouted him across the back of the head, hard, but
Abbess Ethene held up a staying hand. “Mabbina,” and she glanced at the gathered witnesses.

“
You’re all excused, now,” Mabbina barked, but her hand rested on Telyr’s shoulder. He was not included in the blanket dismissal.

As soon as they were too far to be overheard, Pol whirled, his face alight, and said,
“He’s going to be tossed out! They’re going to throw him in the streets!”

Michael
’s happiness faded a bit at this. “But he’ll be kiska,” he said, and Jiin and Pol both frowned at him, annoyed that he’d suddenly sympathize with their enemy.

The little boys were too busy being thrilled they hadn
’t gotten into trouble to pay attention to any of this, and they squeezed between Jiin and Pol and ran off down the corridor, yelling, “Thanks, Michael!” over their shoulders as they went.

“
Always the nikking hero, aren’t you?” Pol said, exasperated.

Michael
shrugged, trying to hide his smile and failing.

“
The girls will be
so
impressed,” Jiin added. “Oh, Michael!” He affected a high-pitched, sing-song voice. “Tell us how you defeated the evil Telyr!”

“
Yes, yes!” Pol tried to match Jiin’s pretend-girl voice. “Tell us
all
about how you pummeled him to bits!”

Michael
regarded his friends with put-upon patience and was about to respond when the Sixth Prayer bell sounded. He sighed instead. “Fine. Now, I’m late, and now I will be yelled at.”

As he turned on his heel to head toward the main building where his art lessons took place, Pol called after him
. “We’ll tell the girls for you, all right?”

#

His lesson went well, as all of his lessons so far had. Though Robyn Vaznel was a celebrated artist—already titled “Magister” at only twenty-four years old—he donated his time to give these lessons, and he seemed to think Michael could be great one day.

Michael
had to guess he meant it, though, since Magister Vaznel was one of the few people he’d met whose mind didn’t all but shout at him. Most of the other people who had what he thought of as shadowed minds were adults, too, and he wondered if most grown-ups did know how to keep their thoughts to themselves.

It would be nice.

But Vaznel even
mentioned introducing Michael to his own mentor someday, so he had to truly believe Michael had talent. Michael didn’t really want to meet anyone as grand as the royal duke, but the man was very influential.

Even
Nanna Mabbina couldn’t turn up her nose at my becoming an artist if he said I had the talent.

Feeling light and
happy, he hurried back across the massive compound to his dorm room to drop off his pack before evening meal. Everyone he passed smiled at him, and he smiled back, unthinking. It wasn’t until Toma stopped him, a huge grin on his face, that he realized everyone knew.

“
I can’t believe it!” Toma exclaimed. “I can’t believe you got rid of him!”

“
He did it to himself.” Michael tried to deflect the credit. Or blame, depending on how you looked at someone getting tossed into the streets. “He swore at Abbess Ethene and Nanna Mabbina when they were trying to help him. I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“
Yeah,” Toma agreed, obviously not meaning it. “But you stood up to him and that’s why he was in trouble in the first place.”

This seemed to be the consensus, and a great roar of talking and clapping and shouts rose up when
Michael entered the dining hall a bit later. This was the one place where everyone was allowed to be together, and several of the girls were crowded around the table when Michael arrived, tray in hand.

He smiled, easing his way past the visitors to his
usual place beside Pol. The noise of emotions and thoughts and actual sound was so loud, his poor defenses were useless against the onslaught, so he mostly nodded and smiled at whatever was said and hoped he wasn’t agreeing to or approving of anything horrid.

Nella, a very pr
etty girl with bright gold hair whom all his friends admired, pitched her voice to be heard as if she were making a speech. “With Telyr gone, everything’s going to be so much better for all of us, and it’s all thanks to Michael!” And with that, she turned, threw her arms around his shoulders, pulled him around to face her, and kissed him right on the lips.

Which turned out to be a very nice way to end the day.

It was not, however, the end of the entire incident.

“
I don’t understand why we all have to go,” Lee complained, running a comb very carefully through his hair to be sure the part was perfect. “I wasn’t even there!”

All five of the dorm
-mates were lined up in front of the bathing-room mirrors, preparing for Nanna Mabbina’s inspection prior to this suddenly-required outing.

Pol said,
“Oh, you know Mabbina. She isn’t happy unless she’s making all the rest of us miserable.”

Michael
was excited. He’d not been away from JhaPel since his arrival. Holy Prayers didn’t count since the temple was only across the square. The point of the outing had been kept secret, but everyone in their age group—boys and girls—had to go. A nanna was assigned to each dorm, and there was a rumor going around that they’d all get some sort of treat afterwards, too.

The other boys were each doing their best to be the most cynical of the group about this outing, but
Michael could feel their excitement and knew they were all pretending. He decided not to play that game and didn’t hide his own enthusiasm.

The weather was typical, but the rain had dwindled down to sprinkles when they trooped out through JhaPel
’s front gate at last. Mabbina escorted their group, a circumstance which Michael tried not to let dampen his excitement.

“
At least no one got Tierna,” Pol muttered to him.

“
You may speak,” Nanna Mabbina said with incongruous patience. “This is a holiday, after all. I shan’t box your ears for enjoying yourselves. Just don’t run wild.”

Michael
grinned at Pol who turned around to walk backwards and face him as he spoke. His arms waved more wildly, and all the boys grouped together, breaking their disciplined single-file to better hear Pol.

“
I got a letter from my uncle who’s off in the fighting,” Pol continued a bit more loudly. Other groups nearby began to drift closer to listen. “He said there’s a bad fever in the fleet, so things aren’t going very well—”

“
This is true,” Mabbina agreed. “We must all say our prayers diligently that Vail protect our valiant fighting men who do so much to protect us.”

Michael
knew almost nothing of the war, but he nodded and mumbled agreement along with all the other children. He wanted to ask what the war was about and why they had to fight and who they were fighting and a dozen other questions, but he did not want to have Mabbina’s attention focused on him, so he didn’t say anything.

“
Yeah,” Pol continued. “And a lot of ‘em are coming back and at Landsend. With Nanna Tierna.”

“
I hope she doesn’t get sick!” Jiin looked horrified at the prospect.

“
They are very careful at the hospital,” Mabbina said. “Do not worry.”

But she
’s worried,
Michael thought.
Maybe that’s why she’s being so nice.

“
Are we going to get sick, Nanna?” Ned asked, voicing the very question Michael wanted answered.

She hesitated and turned, giving them the least
-convincing smile Michael had ever seen. “We are in no danger from the fever, children. The queen and the Duke of Reyahl are doing everything necessary to protect us.”

This seemed meant to shut them up on the matter, and everyone took the cue and started talking about other things amongst themselves.
They walked on through the twisting streets, and Michael looked all around, trying to figure out the pattern. He couldn’t really see one.

“
It’s all twisty,” he said to Pol.

“
You can get lost in tics, Uncle Harly always says,” Pol agreed and was about to say something else when Mabbina stopped and called for everyone’s attention.

She gave a short, snappish speech about being respectful and quiet and paying attention
and not shaming JhaPel. Then her voice filled with an excitement Michael hadn’t thought she was capable of feeling.

“
You are about to witness a most holy event, children. This is Vail’s justice for all those who stray from her path!”

Mabbina led them forward once more, and, as they trooped around the final bend in the street, they arrived above a large, open area filled to capacity with people.
In the center of this area stood a great stone arch, intricately carved and looking like a gateway to nowhere. Beyond this lay the harbor, filled with boats arriving and leaving, people moving to and from busily along the docks, and all behaving as if whatever was going on around this arch meant nothing to them.

“
It’s a pyre!” someone from another group shouted, enthusiastic.

Michael
frowned, turning to look toward the voice, but he turned back when he felt Pol’s hand grab his arm. His fingers squeezed hard, almost hurting, and Michael could feel his friend’s terror.

“
Pol, are you all right?” Michael gasped. Pol afraid did not fit into his world. Pol was never afraid of anything.

“
This is a burning, Michael,” Pol choked. “This is an execution.”

Michael
followed Pol’s terrorized stare and saw at last the mountain of cut brush piled in front of the arch. A stone pillar stuck out of the center of the pile with chains hanging off of it, awaiting a victim.

The rest of the even
t unfolded like a nightmare as they began moving forward again. Mabbina herded them all much closer to the pyre to an area apparently reserved for them. Most of the children seemed excited by the prospect of seeing an actual execution, but Pol was nearly sick with fear and horror, his feelings echoing through Michael’s body.

Michael
was afraid, too, but the idea of seeing anyone suffer anything always upset him. Pol hadn’t let go of his arm, and Michael at last gave into temptation and reached out to see if he could discover why Pol was so afraid.

Flashes
from Pol’s memory ran through his mind, oddly mingling terror and happiness. A lovely, smiling face with the same soft brown skin and curly hair as Pol’s.
His mother.
The memory of another pyre followed, this time already in flames, the heat roiling off it and burning small, helpless hands reaching toward that lovely face—

Michael
shuddered hard and swallowed a gasp of utter horror.
His mother was burned! Mabbina should never have made him come.
But it was like her to do it, to rub Pol’s face in his mother’s heretical death. He didn’t like to hate anyone—even Telyr—but it was hard not to hate Mabbina right at that moment.

The crowd roared suddenly, and all of them turned to see what had caused the sound.
People in rich, formal dress were walking out across the platform upon which the arch stood, putting them above the crowd and the pyre.

“
The queen!” Ned clapped his hands excitedly. The whole group of orphans joined him, and the crowd’s cheers swelled as well, but Pol stayed still. Michael, uncertain, followed Pol. He didn’t want to pull his arm away to clap, anyway. Pol seemed to need the physical contact to keep from falling apart.