Sworn in Steel (64 page)

“I don’t dispute that Bronze brought the swords and the laws home,” said Gold, “but at what price? Where is Ivory? Where is Steel? Without them here, we have nothing but
the word of the man on trial for their deaths.”

“You have no cause to lay their deaths at Bronze’s feet.” This from a voice that sounded familiar but I couldn’t place. Someone who’d questioned me in Ildrecca
about Iron? In any case, other voices rose in agreement. Still more rose against.

“I have their steel before me,” shouted Gold, his words smothering the rest like a blanket. “What else do I need? Which of us would willingly give up their steel and still
live? Oh, excuse me—which of us, save for Bronze?” A few laughs, but not many. “Are we to believe these swords didn’t come with a cost?”

“Of course they did,” answered Brass. “But you can’t simply assume Bronze killed them because he’s alive. If so, why should he even bother to come back? Why not
keep running? Or, if he’s the killer you say, why not keep hunting us? Why call the Order together and stand before us when he has so many other options?”

“Fear.” The word fell from Gold’s lips like a weight, and the hall grew silent. “Fear of being hunted. Fear of being found. Fear of being judged by the sword rather than
by his deeds. Fear, at last, of infamy. Our brother Bronze returned because he’d found more than he bargained for, more than he knew what to do with. Even an Oath-breaker and a killer can
have his limits, and Ivory’s blade was Bronze’s, I think. When he held the whole of the Order in his hands, it was too much even for him: too much to act on, and too much to
risk.” A pause. I could almost see Gold turning dramatically to face Degan as he said, “Am I right, brother? Was it fear that brought you back?”

“Yes.”

Even out here, I could hear the collective gasp within the hall.

“You’re right,” continued Degan. “I came back because of fear. But not because I was afraid of being hunted or found or defamed. Not because I feared you or what
Ivory’s sword represented. I came back because I was afraid for you, for the Order. I did what I did because, after I saw Iron lying on the ground, I knew that the Order was broken and that
something needed to change.”

“And you would be that change?” said Gold.

“I would be part of it.”

“And what kind of change would you bring, brother Bronze? A tide of blood and steel, as you say Steel would have wrought? Or would it come on the edge of Ivory’s sword, with the
bindings it holds? How would you save us?”

“Neither of those.”

“Then what?”

There was a long pause. Finally, when Degan spoke, I had to press my ear to the stone, straining to hear.

“Steel wasn’t wrong, at least in part,” he began. “I didn’t realize that at first, but as I spent time on the road coming back, looking through some of the other
books I took from Ivory’s library, I began to see his point. And Ivory’s.”

A murmur through the crack that I couldn’t gauge. After a moment, it faded and Degan’s voice slid through again.

“When you start something,” said Degan, “you have a picture in your head of how it will be. You build that image in your mind and you hold on to it, hard, because that’s
your guide. But once that thing starts to become a reality, once you actually start to bring it into being, you realize it will never be that thing you saw in your dreams. You begin to see the
flaws and the failures, the shortcomings and the mistakes; and try as you might, you can’t reconcile it all. Try as you might, the reality never shines as bright as its potential. It becomes
disheartening. This perfect thing, you suddenly realize, will never be—can never be. Not as you dreamed it when you first began.

“I think that’s what happened to Ivory, and to a lesser extent, to Steel. It’s what I think has haunted this Order from the beginning. We aren’t what we dreamed, and
emperor or not, we never will be. But that doesn’t mean the dream has to go away. The thing we made is still here, waiting.

“There are flaws in this Order, yes. They’ve been here since the beginning. In that sense, Steel was right—we need to start anew. But not with blood, and not with death. He
would have torn us down past the foundations, started from scratch—but that ignores everything we’ve done up to now. Everything we’ve done right.

“The main question for the Order is what to do about our Oath to preserve the empire. Wolf would have used the Oaths in Ivory’s sword to bind the emperor to us, to force him to
redefine our service and our purpose. To make us what we were before the Oath. But we are all of us more than the White Sashes we once were.” Sounds of agreement.

“Wolf’s mistake,” said Degan, “was thinking he could force us onto what he saw as the honorable path. But you can’t force someone to be honorable, just as you
can’t buy it with a promise.”

“And so what would you have us do?” This from Gold, not quite mocking, but not quite conciliatory, either. “Would you call on the emperor to decide? Would you use Ivory’s
sword and the laws to push us one way or the other? Be our arbiter and guide on whichever road you choose to redemption?”

“No. I’d choose a third path.”

“And what is that?”

Silence. Even the wind in the maple above me seemed to pause, waiting for the answer.

“I don’t know,” Degan finally said. “But I—” But his words were drowned out by the shouting that erupted within the hall.

It didn’t sound like the answer they were hoping for.

After more yelling and what sounded like someone pounding on a table with the pommel of a sword, the room was called back into a semblance of order.

“Well, this is enthralling,” said Gold after things had settled, “but it still doesn’t get us any closer to a solution for the matter at hand.”

“And neither do your questions,” said Brass, nearly shouting. Her voice had the taint of desperation now, making me wonder what the mood was in the room. As used as I was to
eavesdropping from my years as a Nose, it still didn’t help with the frustration I was feeling right now. Damn this crack for not being a window, anyhow. “Do you merely plan to cast
aspersions on everything Bronze says?” said Brass. “Is that your plan? To color his every deed with doubt? Because if so, I’d remind everyone here that this is Bronze Degan
we’re talking about. This is the man who—”

“We all know what he’s done,” said Gold sourly. “And yes, since you ask, it is my intention to doubt everything about him precisely for the reasons you say: This is
Bronze Degan. And because of that, we can offer him no quarter. He’d expect no less, am I right?” A majority of the room seemed to agree. “Our respect and admiration isn’t
sufficient reason to pardon him, let alone welcome him back with open arms.”

“Then what would you have him do?” said Brass, her patience clearly gone. “Would you have him summon up Steel or Silver and ask them how he came by their swords? Would you ask
Ivory what Bronze did to get his hands on the sword and the laws? Because if it’s a village shaman you want, Gold, I can be back with one in two hours’ time.”

Scattered laughter, but not enough. Not near enough. Brass and Degan were losing.

“I appreciate the offer,” said Gold, “but I think I have an easier way.”

“And what’s that?” said Degan.

“I would have you answer a simple question,” said Gold. “One that cuts straight to the heart of the matter, and that speaks to everything that comes after. Nothing about Steel
or the laws of Ivory—just one simple question.”

“Again, what’s that?” said Degan.

“Did you kill Iron Degan?”

Crap.

I was away from the tree and running in an instant. I didn’t need to have my ear to the crack to know what Degan’s answer would be, didn’t have to be paying attention to hear
the roar that came tumbling out the hall’s windows as I raced through the garden and around toward the main doors, Degan’s blade slapping against my back.

Of course Degan had answered honestly. Of course he said yes, because that’s who he was.

And, damn Gold, of course he’d phrased the question in a way that didn’t allow Degan to explain the circumstances, or the fact that by fighting Iron he’d actually been keeping
his Oath to me and, he thought, to the emperor. All the roomful of degans in there knew was that Bronze Degan had just admitted to killing one of their own. And, like him or not, there was only one
response for that.

Unless I could get in there and somehow make them listen to me. Or at least get Degan his sword, so he might have a chance. Either way, I wasn’t going to sit by and let everything come
crashing down on his head.

I sprinted through the courtyard, my wounded leg complaining every other stride, and took the steps two at a time. Through the doors, down the passageway, and then around the turn to the
entrance to the main hall.

Where Stone Degan stood, his sword in his hand.

I skidded to a halt maybe six paces from the degan. Fortunately for me, he hadn’t lowered the point of his weapon, otherwise I’d have been hanging off it like a piece of meat ready
for the grilling.

As it was, the degan widened his stance slightly and gripped his blade at the half-sword, one hand midway up the blade, the other still on the handle, ready for the close fight.

“You’re supposed to be gone,” he said.

“I need to get in there.”

Stone glanced over his shoulder. The doors hadn’t been shut all the way. Whether this was because they couldn’t be, or simply because he’d wanted to listen, I didn’t
know—all I did know was that I could hear shouting still coming from the other side.

“No,” he said.

“They’re going to kill him.”

Stone nodded. “Probably.”

“I can’t let that happen.”

“And I can’t let you in.”

I opened my fists, closed them. Stone stood waiting, doing a good imitation of his namesake.

Beyond him, I head the shouting subside, caught Degan’s voice rising above the din. “By my Oath,” he began, but was drowned out by Gold.

“By your Oath?” shouted the other degan. “By
your Oath
? You mean the thing you broke when you drew steel on Iron? When you killed him? The thing you threw away when
you tossed your soul and your sword in the dust? And now you want us to hear you swear on your Oath?”

I reached up over my shoulder and drew Degan’s sword. Stone lowered his stance and growled.

“No!” I said, quickly switching it so I held the blade at the forte, below the guard. “Look. I need to get in there. To bring this to him.”

Stone’s eyes went wide, but his stance stayed deep. “Where did you get that?”

Gold was still going at it on the other side of the door. “You threw away this Order when you threw away your blade,” he said. “You cast away your honor with your
steel.”

There were ominous grumbles and shouts of agreement.

“Where the hell do you think I got it?” I said, trying to peer around the degan. “He gave it to me.”

“Bronze?”

“No, the fucking emperor. Of course Bronze!”

I could hear Brass trying to say something, trying to come across as calm. No one seemed to be having any of it.

Stone lowered his sword a bit. “Why? Why give it to you instead of bringing it before the rest of us? It could only help him in there.”

I thought about what Degan had told me, about what it would mean if his fellows found out I was under Oath to him, let alone what I knew about the Order of the Degans. About how there might not
even be time to say, “Wait” before the sword fell.

I thought about it all, and then threw it away.

“He gave it to me because it holds my Oath to him, dammit, and because I know all about your Order’s dance over the emperor.” I swallowed and held the sword out farther.
“He gave it to me because he didn’t want the rest of you to know I was yours for the asking.”

Stone blinked.

I could hear Gold clearly now, addressing the room as only a man can when he knows he owns it, body and soul. “Can we trust the word of any man—even Bronze Degan—when
he’s willing to cast so much and so many aside? When he’s already stained his honor so?”

I held my breath as Stone reached out and ran a finger lightly along the flat of Degan’s blade. As he looked up and met my eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if he killed Silver or not,” said Gold. “Or if Steel did the things he claims. I don’t care if Ivory gave Bronze his sword with a smile on his
face and a song in his heart. None of those things matter.

“What matters is that Bronze killed Iron. Not for the Order, not for Ivory, not even to rescue the laws—but for the simple fact that Iron stood with the empire, and Bronze stood with
the emperor. Everything else came later. In the end, he killed Iron because—”

“Because,” I said as I pushed open the doors and strode into the hall, Degan’s sword held above my head and Stone Degan at my back, “he was under Oath to me, and the only
way for him to keep that Oath was to fight Iron.” I walked across the room and up to Gold and stared straight into his cold gray eyes. “Bronze fought Iron because it was the best and
only way for him not just to honor his agreement with me, but to protect the empire as he saw it. He did it to honor his Oath, not betray it. And I repaid him by clicking him from behind and taking
Iron’s sword. So if you want to talk to anyone about breaking their Oath, you should be talking to me, because Bronze has done nothing but honor his from start to finish—including
letting you walk all over him so I wouldn’t have to face you.” I lowered my arm and shoved Degan’s blade and scabbard up against Gold’s chest. “Now give the man back
his fucking sword and let’s you and me settle our business.” I was sitting outside on the steps to the courtyard, nursing the fresh bruise along my jaw, when Gold Degan came storming
out of the keep. He stopped long enough to glare at me, then took a turn staring at Stone and Crystal Degan, who were standing guard over me. They stared back.

Everyone having gotten their share of eye contact in, Gold stalked off down the steps, Opal Degan close on his heels. Copper was nowhere in sight.

Well, so much for my making any new friends today.

I took that as a good sign.