March 17, 708 CR
The Caial brought them to a fortress in the midst of the city and marshalled them into separate cells with only a bit of hay for bedding. There they were left throughout the night. A healer visited each of them and tended their wounds while soldiers with spears stood ready to skewer any who thought to take the opportunity to escape. None of the wounds they suffered would linger more than a week or so, even the magical bolt of energy that had struck Akaleth's leg. He would limp for a while but the muscles would heal in time.
Once the healer had left, Czestadt brooded, Kashin asked the healer to send word to Cardinal Bertu, and Akaleth laid down to sleep. They never heard word from the two mages or the blind man. The sun rose and grey light penetrated the gloom of their cells. Akaleth woke and said his morning office, while Czestadt snored after having finally fallen asleep, and Kashin stretched and began his morning exercises.
Another hour later Bertu arrived with an escort of Caial. They brought him to Kashin who stood to greet the cleric. "Good morning, your eminence."
"Good morning, Kashin," Bertu replied with a slow shake of his head. The two Caial soldiers gave the Cardinal a little distance, but their eyes never left the Yeshuel. "I warned you this might happen."
"We are grateful that it did," Kashin replied. "There was a mage behind Father Akaleth's kidnapping who tried to kill us all. If not for the Caial's arrival, we might have died last night."
"So Captain Heyland tells me. It seems one of the mages has confessed to masterminding the kidnapping. I'm told you three will be released and free to leave the city soon. Although I think they want to offer you a stern word of reproval at the very least for not alerting them immediately when you discovered Akaleth's disappearance."
Kashin nodded for a moment and then shook his head. "I could not take the chance that the Caial would be as hostile to us as the Mage Guild. If they found Akaleth wandering by himself, they may have killed him before learning why he was there." The two soldiers scowled but said nothing.
"As you said last night. Still," Bertu smiled in sympathy, "I do not believe you give them enough credit."
"One tried to kill him before we even set foot in the city. I do not think my fears were unjustified."
Bertu grimaced and spread his hands weakly. "Perhaps not. But he has been kept safe and healed of his wounds as much as they are able. The simple irony is that of all six involved in this nonsense, only he is going to escape without any punishment. I imagine rumours of his masterminding the whole affair will spread if they haven't already. What a tale though, the only innocent in the whole affair is the dreaded Questioner! Marigund's citizenry will not be pleased. I'm told the Mage Guild has a special anger prepared for Hugo and Diomedra." The Cardinal sighed, shook his head, and lowered his eyes. "What a foolish waste."
"Don't let it be a waste. Good will come out of this. Even if only in their souls."
Bertu rubbed his chin for a moment and then began to nod. "I have said before that you do not understand our history. I come to understand now that I do not understand yours, nor can I comprehend the sacrifices and suffering you've had to endure. Your faith, Kashin, and that of your companions, is a true gift. Thank you for sharing it with me."
Kashin said nothing for several long seconds, his hand crossing his chest to clutch at the end of the sleeve covering his left stump. "I'm just a servant, your eminence. If you can, please see Father Akaleth and Sir Czestadt and let them know the good news as well."
And with that, Cardinal Bertu
thanked Kashin one last time and was gone.
The blind man knew night from day by the sounds of birds announcing the dawn, and the warming air brought by a sun he had only heard described to him. He had often attempted to imagine it as the hottest of fires spinning and spinning above him like a wagon wheel, but otherwise it meant little to him. All it truly meant to him was warmth and that those blessed with sight would be about and from them he might beg some coin.
Not that he needed to beg. His skills kept him well-fed, dressed, and housed by Demarest as one of his private troubleshooters. Nor was this the first time he'd been inside the Caial prisons. But this was the first time he'd ever been here when not under Demarest's orders. It was only a matter of time before his employer arrived.
And in that he was not disappointed. A few hours after waking, he heard the familiar bootfalls, a chair scrape across stone, and then a heavy grunt as the man sat down outside his cell. "Well, Cornelius, you've helped create quite a stir. You cannot leave this time without some punishment, I hope you know that."
The blind man nodded and shifted on the bedding of hay until he was facing his employer. "I am aware of that."
"Good. Before I speak to any of the others, I wanted to speak with you. Tell me exactly what happened. Leave nothing out."
"We're alone?" He hadn't heard anyone else enter the dismal hall in which he'd been locked up.
"Your ears should tell you that well enough, but yes. I do have sway with the Caial in this regard. Captain Heyland knows you are of mine. Now go on. What happened?"
Cornelius licked his lips and flexed his fingers. "I received orders in the usual manner to wait in the Gauntlet for an enemy of Marigund to be left there. I was to kill him and make it look as if he'd been fomenting religious strife."
"And you believed those orders?" There was venom in Demarest's powerful voice.
"You have asked stranger things of me in the past. The orders appeared genuine. I had no reason to doubt them."
Demarest sat silently brooding for several seconds before telling him to continue. Cornelius then relayed the instructions not to bring any metal swords and how he'd armed himself with glass daggers instead. Demarest muttered under his breath but the blind man couldn't quite make out what it was. He then described waiting in the Gauntlet, the wagon's arrival, chasing down the fleeing man, the fight that ensued, and then Hugo's confession and the arrival of the Caial. He ended with Diomedra's attempt to escape, hitting her over the head with his cane, and surrendering to the Caial. Demarest mostly stayed quiet during the recitation, but he knew his employer was smouldering with barely concealed rage.
"Were any others implicated in Hugo's confession?" He asked at length.
"No. I was under the impression that Hugo didn't want anyone else to take the blame but himself."
"That won't happen," Demarest growled. And then he stretched and stood. His voice, when it came again, was imperial in command and terror. "I must decide whether you have broken faith with me, Cornelius. It seems as if you have not, but I will be the final judge of that. I will ensure that your punishment by the Caial is light, but you will be under close scrutiny until I can be sure of your loyalty and trustworthiness. If so, I will return you to your position in my employ."
"This trial period, how long will it last?"
"As long as I deem it necessary." The chair was dragged back against a far wall. "Good bye, Cornelius."
"Good bye, Demarest.
Thank you for your kindness." But the head of the mage guild stalked
from the hall and a distant door clanged shut. The blind man leaned
back against the cool stone wall and sighed. If it came to it,
he could always spend his days begging again.
Hugo was grateful of one thing only, that after thoroughly interrogating him the Caial had let him keep Boots in his cell. A magical ward prevented the rat from leaving the room either beneath the door, through the slot for food, or out the window. Hugo cared not. His heart, even after so many hours, was still aflame with the miracle of his healing. A miracle wrought by a hated Questioner of the corrupt Ecclesia no less!
As the mage lay on the hay, Boots was curled up on his chest, nose to tail. The day had dawned and grey light came in through the tiny window. He ran one finger down Boot's black back and smiled as the little eyes popped open and found him. An array of whiskers twitched up and down as he uncurled himself to stretch forward and sniff at Hugo's stubby chin hairs.
When that man touched you, Boots, what did you feel?
The man you don't like? I felt all the pain go away, Master. I felt as alive as the day you first spoke to me.
The day he'd bound Boots to him as his familiar. The day that Boots's life had been linked to his own. If neither suffered accident or fell to illness, they'd live a full man's lifespan the both of them. He'd still only been a boy who didn't want to lose his only friend in the world. Even now that he had risen in the guild ranks and made many other friends and thought he'd fallen in love, none was as close to him as this little rat who loved him without reserve.
I don't hate him anymore, Boots.
Oh Master, thank you. I hope we get out of here soon. I don't like this place.
I don't like it either, Boots. And I hope we get out soon too. Just trust in me and we'll do it.
I always have, Master.
I know, Boots. I love you my little one.
And I you, Master! Boots rubbed his little nose against Hugo's cheek and the man laughed faintly.
But the laugh died when he heard the outer door to his hall screech open. Somebody came through dragging a wooden stool across the stone hall. When they stopped in front of his door, he could see through the little slit that it was Demarest. He couldn't see much more of him than his face, but that was enough to make Hugo's blood run cold with fright.
"Hugo," Demarest began in a cold, lifeless tone, "I trusted you. I entrusted you with helping me manage the many in my employ and even sponsored your entry into the Guild. And this is how you return my trust? You use my own resources for a personal mission to kill a Questioner. Yes, he was insufferable, but he provided valuable information to us that we could not have obtained on our own. Further, you've brought shame and embarrassment to the Guild. The King is furious at this diplomatic breach. Why did you do it?"
Hugo lowered his eyes. "I hated him, Master. The law is clear, or so I thought, no Questioner may enter Marigund on pain of death. The Caial was not doing its job, so I took it upon myself. I recruited Diomedra because I knew she hated them as much as I did. I used Cornuelius to circumvent Akaleth's light powers after hearing of his demonstration. It was my plan and my intention that brought this shame upon us. Let me suffer for it."
Demarest grunted, but his voice lost none of its venom. "That is not entirely up to me. But, what I can assure you, Hugo, is that you will not be in my employ any longer. I cannot trust you. It agonizes me, because I loved you as a son. You betrayed me, Hugo. And for what? To kill a man who'd done nothing; and you failed at that."
"I'm glad I did," Hugo said softly.
But the head of the Mage Guild heard him. "We all are. If you had succeeded, we might have riots on our hands right now. As it is, rumours and tales are spreading, but thankfully that is all. This is being explained as an attempted murder, which it was. But the King insists that those responsible be punished severely."
Hugo gently stroked Boots down his back. "Is there any hope that my life will be spared?"
"You forfeited your life when you tried to kill the Questioner. You should know that."
"It's not for my sake that I ask. I worry about Boots. I don't want him to die too."
Demarest rolled his eyes and stood up. "Your life is out of my hands, Hugo. And no matter what the Caial decides to do, I expect you will be out of the Guild too."
The guildmaster turned to leave. Hugo felt tears come to his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"I know." There was a long pause followed by a sigh. "And maybe that will be enough. Good bye."
Hugo cradled Boots close as
Demarest dragged the stool back out into the hall.
"Well, well," a voice with authority said just outside Sir Czestadt's cell. "So you're the one who can manipulate swords. I never expected to meet you like this."
Sir Czestadt lifted his head and stood, crossing his arms before him. "And who you are?"
"Captain Heyland. We met briefly last night when I brought you in. I've been left in charge of deciding how to proceed in your cases. I must tell you that nobody is happy right now. To bring complete satisfaction to the city, I ought behead all of you."
"I've never before beheaded been," Czestadt said through gritted teeth. "Just use a sword."
Heyland laughed, but not in a vicious sort of way. "And I've been told that you heal any sword wound inflicted on you. It's almost curious to see if you'd heal a beheading too. But that is what I would do if I were to satisfy all of the crowds. I don't do that. Justice and seeing that people are punished only for the crimes they committed. And so far as I can tell, you have not committed any crimes worthy of death."
"That is reassuring."
"But you did fail to report the kidnapping and tried to circumvent the Caial. That cannot be ignored."
Czestadt grunted and rolled his eyes. "Would anything you have done?"
"My duty!" Heyland snapped with far less humour. "You may not believe it but some of us here in Marigund do believe in doing our duty. We Caial must especially be neutral. The man who tried to kill your charge ere you came into the city has been demoted to cleaning refuse from the slums." When Czestadt made no reply, Heyland continued in his officer's voice. "You are going to be sent from the city today and you will not be allowed to return."
That suited him just fine. He expected they knew that so made no objection. "And my charge, Father Akaleth?"
"He committed no crime that we can determine. Unless we learn otherwise, he will be free to go where he wills; within reason. He will be strongly encouraged to leave Marigund, but I doubt that will bother him overmuch."
"Thank you," Czestadt replied with a breath of relief.
Heyland turned to one side. "Now I have other duties. I expect we'll have this wrapped up by noon. We'll escort you from the city then."
"Until noon." Czestadt
sat back down to wait. Heyland lingered a moment longer before
leaving the knight to his contemplations.
Diomedra's head ached. She wanted to wring that blind man's neck but knew she was in far worse trouble. She'd be lucky enough to save her own neck. Everything had gone wrong in the worst possible way. She'd decided, after finally waking up in a magically warded cell, to do as Hugo asked and lay the blame on his shoulders. Advancement in the guild was out of the question now. Guild membership alone might have been squandered if they were angry enough at her. Best to wait and see just how angry they really were.
The Caial captain had come not long after she'd woken and she'd emphasized her reluctance to take part in Hugo's conspiracy, but that her affection for Hugo had overridden her better judgment. But then she'd been left alone for what felt hours. So when the door to her hall opened, she stood eagerly, rubbing her head to emphasize her pains, wondering who it was.
"Diomedra," Demarest's voice was even, neither angry nor glad. "How could you have done this to us?"
"I didn't plan for any of this to come out like this. I listened to Hugo who assured me that it was the right thing to do and that none would ever know. I should have told you earlier. I'm sorry."
Demarest shook his head and crossed his arms, grey eyes hardening. "Diomedra. I know you're lying to me. I know Hugo is just trying to protect you because of his sense of guilt. That I can respect, even if I can never trust him again. But you... you were entrusted with many secrets and much authority. And now you lie to me. I'd hoped you'd be wiser than that."
"I'm not lying!"
Demarest's face went stone cold and he snapped like a whip. "Stop it. I know it, Diomedra! I know it. You wanted this Questioner dead and were willing to break any law of Marigund in order to do it. You've shamed the guild and me. Had you told me the truth, I would have interceded for you. Now... I'm going to let the Caial do whatever they wish."
Diomedra felt her blood run cold. She dropped to her knees and trembled. "Please, Master! Don't let them kill me. I was only trying to do what I thought was right! I'm sorry! Please!"
"Good bye." Demarest said
by way of reply. She continued to beg, crying out in fear, all
the way until he shut the door behind him. She screamed a vile
epithet of rage, beat the cell door with her fists, and crumpled to
the floor to weep in fury.
Father Akaleth spent most of his day in prayer. The cell was actually bigger than what he'd lived in at the Questioner Temple in Yesulam and felt amused at the extravagance. That morning he'd explained what he knew to the Caial Captain and since then had seen nobody. From the way the light moved along the cell floor he judged it to be roughly noon by the time two pairs of steps came down the hall to his cell. He glanced up when he heard a key fitted into the door. It groaned as it swung inward.
Beyond stood Cardinal Bertu and the Captain Heyland. The red-haired Cardinal was genuinely smiling, while the captain appeared somewhat relieved. "Well," he stated, "we find you guilty of no crime, and so we release you into Cardinal Bertu's care. We strongly suggest you leave the city as soon as possible. Both your companions Kashin and Czestadt will be escorted out of the city under armed guard, but you can rejoin them there."
"Thank you, Captain. And their things?"
"You can bring them to them. It has to at least look like we've inconvenienced them." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be letting a Questioner go free. Did you really heal that mage's rat?"
Akaleth blushed somewhat and nodded. "Well, not so much I, but Eli chose to use me as His instrument of healing. I did not understand until I saw the man confess. His heart changed in that moment. How often do hearts truly change, Captain?"
The question made Heyland frown. "I've seen a lot of people come in and out of these cells, Father. I don't often see them have a change of heart. It's rare. Far too rare."
Akaleth rose to his feet and left the cell behind. Bertu clasped him on the shoulder and guided him toward the end of the hall where freedom awaited. Akaleth paused and turned back to the captain. "And what of him? What are you going to do with him?"
Heyland's moue deepened. "Since he confessed, and it was judged attempted murder and not murder itself, we have decided to be lenient. Flogging followed by exile. Not permanently, but long enough that most will have forgotten his face by the time he returns."
Again, he wasn't quite sure why, but the Questioner said, "If he is to be exiled, I would like him to be in my care."
Both Bertu and Heyland stammered in shock. "Your care?" the Captain managed. "He tried to kill you."
"And is sorry for it. I forgive him."
"He is a committed Rebuilder and will not want to travel in the company of Followers," Heyland pointed out. Bertu just watched with a very curious expression.
Akaleth spread his hands wide. "Then we shall have some very interesting discussions during our travels together. If it will appease your sense of justice, consider this a portion of his punishment. I suggest cutting the number of strokes by half and replacing it with the condition that he is to be in my care during the term of his exile."
"It's a three year exile!"
"Then his skin will be quite browned by the time he returns. That should keep him from being recognized."
Heyland opened his mouth to object, closed it and shook his head. He turned to the Cardinal and asked, "What do you think, your eminence?"
Bertu shrugged his shoulders. "I have not always found Father Akaleth's counsel to be wise. But in my few days of knowing him, I know it is also fruitless to argue with him when he sets his mind on something. I suggest you change your sentence. If Eli worked a miracle through Akaleth to save the man's rat, then perhaps there is no better friend he could have during his exile."
Heyland let out a long sigh and with a heavenward look surrendered. "So be it then! He and his rat are yours, Father! You'll have to leave today. The flogging is in an hour at the grand square."
Akaleth lifted an eyebrow. "The alacrity of your justice is rather frightening."
Heyland's frown darkened. "It has to be. It's the only way to keep the city safe. And once you and your friends are gone, things will return to normal and this nonsense will be behind us."
Akaleth opened his mouth to
argue but closed it when Bertu gave him a very withering stare.
Together, the three of them left the cells behind and headed toward
their unexpected fortunes.
A dozen soldiers with Captain Heyland at the command escorted Kashin and Czestadt toward the Dawn gate. The choice to travel through the main Follower district had been an easy one, as was the decision not to shackle the two. Not a one of the guards carried a sword. Spear points were kept at their backs, though only a few of them were held tightly.
Along the street watched the city-folk, eyes wary and questions murmuring behind hands. Several children ran into the street to say hello to Kashin. Their parents called them back to no avail. Kashin patted each on the head and bade them return with a warm smile and tender eye.
They met no resistance, and once out the massive gates, felt a warm breeze bending the grasses and racing over the hills. The caravansary thronging the road was quiet. At the far end a familiar carriage draped in brown canvas waited, a pair of horses readied, each held by in place by familiar faces.
Kashin wasn't sure what to think but did his best to smile. "Mistress Lumas, Sir Rivers, I see you've readied our carriage. Thank you."
Elizabeth's expression was polite but sour. "As a parting gesture, and as our way of apologizing for Hugo and Diomedra's treachery, we've also replenished your supplies. You should have enough for two, three weeks if you manage it well enough."
"You have our gratitude," Kashin replied with a slight bow and his sole hand pressed to his heart. "I do express my sorrow and apologies for the contentiousness of our visit."
Sir Rivers chuckled at that and shook his head. The smile he bore did not appear sarcastic, but almost sympathetic. Coming from the man who hadn't even wanted to look at them when they'd first arrived discommoded them both. "Your visit has proved one of the most entertaining two days I can remember in many years. I do so wish I could have discovered if your swords are as sharp as your tongues!"
Sir Czestadt lifted an eyebrow and Elizabeth glowered at her fellow mage. In even tones, she reproved, "It was quite a bit more contentious than it should have been. And you were no help at all, Alex, need I remind you." She then held up her hands and closed her eyes. "But enough of that. Let us leave in peace and leave it at that."
"I agree," Kashin said with a warm smile. "I do hope that the information we brought was valuable to you."
"Very much," Sir Rivers crowed with delight. "More than you could imagine."
Kashin wasn't sure if that was meant to be a barb or not. He choose to ignore it. "Good. Then no matter what else, our purpose here has been fulfilled. When Father Akaleth joins us we will be off and not to return."
"Back to Yesulam?" Elizabeth asked.
"By a circuitous route," he replied with a gentle laugh. "We have one other duty to tend, but it is not for you to concern yourself with."
Her face was inscrutable for a moment but she eventually nodded politely. "Of course. May your journeys be swift and safe and far from Marigund." With that she started past them toward the soldiers still lurking behind the two foreigners.
Sir Rivers lingered a moment longer, his eyes glancing at the various detritus, farm implements, broken wheels, and other leavings that littered the grounds. He grinned, eyes returning to Sir Czestadt. He took a few steps, and gestured with one hand at his sword. "I do still wonder how you would have fared with that," he raised his arms high and all the bits of rusted metal and broken wood lifted into the air behind him, "against this."
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulders and then rolled her eyes. With a firm shake of her head and set of her shoulders she marched back to Marigund. Kashin noted the floating debris with a lifted eyebrow as he continued on his way to the carriage. One of the horses turned a head toward him eagerly and he gently stroked it across the face and ears.
Sir Czestadt, for whom the show was meant, crossed his arms and made a point of noting every one of the objects that Sir Rivers had lifted with his magic. Then he returned his gaze to the mage and nodded in apparent surprise. "A close fight it would be."
"Aye," Sir Rivers said,
frowning a bit. All of the debris crashed to the ground and new
splinters scattered about. "It would be." He turned stiffly and
marched after Elizabeth. Czestadt smiled and joined his friend
at their carriage. Neither said a word.
Father Akaleth had not known how serious the Caial were about enforcing the laws until that day when he stood beneath the Cardinal's canopy watching them mete out justice on the three who'd attacked them. Over a hundred of the armed Caial were present, not a one of them bearing a sword he noted with little amusement, most of them stationed to keep the crowd of curious onlookers from getting too close. The rest kept the three prisoners isolated and immobile, their arms shackled to narrow spires too heavy for one man to move. All of their backs were exposed and had been for over an hour. He could see them shivering, even though midday was only mildly cool. Even the rat had been stuck in a wicker cage and hung from a pole where he could not escape to work mischief.
But the chief instrument of that justice was the long coiled whip left on the ground where all could see it, including the prisoners. Hugo stared at it in dejection, his face cloaked by tears of shame. Diomedra's eyes were sometimes furious and sometimes seductively pleading. The blind man of course stared at nothing and so could only imagine what he was about to endure.
Akaleth studied the whip with increasing distaste. It was longer and thicker than anything he'd ever used, and fashioned from good strong leather. It would not rend flesh from the bone like a scourge, but its scars would never heal, and whoever felt them would neither walk under their own power for days, nor ever never forget the excruciating agony it would bring.
And not only they, but all who watched knew it. Justice could be truly horrifying.
Father Akaleth knew precisely what would come to pass, the pain, the screams, the buckling, the twisting, the striving to find some direction they could move to diminish their agony but failing time and again until finally their count was finished and the whip moved to the next prisoner. They had neither the luxury nor the fear of wondering if this stroke was to be the last or if there were more to come. They had only a number to endure.
That he was so familiar, so intimate with the agony about to transpire sickened and shamed him. Akaleth turned aside and trembled.
"Is something amiss?" Cardinal Bertu asked softly. Along with Father Marchel and some personal guards, Bertu kept Father Akaleth shielded from scrutiny while they watched. Behind them one of the serving wagons used by the Ecclesia waited to transport Akaleth and his supplies, as well as Hugo once he was released, back through the Dawn Gate and to his companions.
"It is a little too uncomfortable, your eminence," Akaleth admitted after swallowing and breathing deeply. "I used to do what is about to happen. Only my whip wasn't as large, but it left such scars... such vicious scars."
Bertu's expression deepened. "And did you use it to punish?"
"Insolence, evasiveness, and from peevishness. All things foul, your eminence." And then, in a much, much quieter voice he added so that only the red-robed Bertu could hear him, "I even beat my father to death with one."
Bertu looked surprised but did not say anything for some time. The crowd milled and whispered. The Caial stood watch while they waited for the presiding officer, Captain Heyland, to return from escorting Kashin and Czestadt from the city. Hugo moaned. Diomedra seethed. The blind man said nothing.
Akaleth lowered his eyes and rubbed his thumbs against his temples. "He was a Rebuilder." His voice remained as silent as stone. "He whipped and beat me when I was young because of my ability with light and because I was interested in the Ecclesia. Rebuilders in Ainador are a very secretive group and they would have been wiped out had I joined the Ecclesia or even said that I was a Rebuilder."
Bertu's look of concentration did not fade. He did not speak, but from his patience Akaleth knew he should continue.
"I hated him and all Rebuilders. I assumed they were all like my father. When I was old enough, I escaped and joined the Ecclesia. I knew of the Questioners and sought to join them. I was accepted readily, a fact that appalls me now. But it would be a few years before I was ordained and another before I saw my father again." He trembled let out along breath. "When we finally found them, I was chosen to learn what I could from my father. He died spitting hate against the Ecclesia and his traitor son. I've spent the last few years of my life beating everyone with my whip as if they were my father. Only last year did I realize how evil it really was. It took the evil of Marzac and the kindness of Magyars to help me see what I'd become."
He looked toward the plaza and felt his heart tighten. Captain Heyland and the others were returning. "I will not lay a hand on any other for the rest of my life."
"Truly?" Bertu asked softly. "And why tell me this? I assumed you have confessed these sins."
"I have. And I have done penance for them. And in many ways still am. I just did not think seeing this would hurt so much. But it does."
Bertu let out a breath that Akaleth hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You have changed then, more than most. But this must be. Let justice run its course and then you may leave. I will keep you and your companions in my prayers."
"Thank you."
Akaleth straightened himself and used Questioner techniques to master his composure. And just in time. The Captain had handed the whip to a burly man wearing a black hood. His voice carried over the plaza. Beyond him at the edge of the crowd Akaleth recognized several of the mages who'd interrogated them the previous two days.
"Citizens of Marigund! Today we exact justice against these three who conspired to commit murder. They failed in their task, and there is overwhelming evidence of their guilt. Further, they have confessed to their crimes. Because they confessed and because they failed to kill their victim, their punishment is not death. First, Hugo Maclear, magus of the Second Circle and master of animals. By his own word he declared himself the progenitor of the conspiracy, and the executor. He used his familiar to spy on their victims and to observe the murder. He hired the assassin, and drafted his coconspirator. For his confession, he is allotted thirty lashes and then he shall be exiled."
While the crowd roared their approval and the mage guild watched with stony expressions, Heyland gestured to the hooded man. Akaleth noted his brawny muscles and solid girth. He was built like the trunk of a tree, much as Czestadt was. But what he could see of his complexion was gnarled and not speckled like the people of Stuthgansk. Gloved hands engulfed the leather whip as he stalked behind Hugo's pristine, peach-toned back.
Akaleth swallowed. One arm lifted, and then struck. The whip cracked, Hugo screamed in anguish, and a violent red welt blossomed like a rose unfolding across his back. Heyland calmly pronounced a in a voice magnified by magic, "One."
The crowd roared their approval, with fists waving and jeers cascading from eager tongues. Akaleth grabbed the front of his robe with one hand and clenched tightly. The whip lifted into the air like a proud stallion's tail, and then flung forward. Another rent crossed the first, leaving behind a bright red line. "Two."
The red cross on Akaleth's robe distorted under his grip, twisting in a circle until all the arms were crooked. The executioner lifted the whip again and it curled like a cobra; the chattering eagerness of the crowd resolved into a sibilant hiss of expectation. Hugo wailed as a third stroke gouged into his back, a third blossom of scarlet that dripped down his side and began trailing down his fine breeches. "Three."
The younger mage with the scars across his face, Chalcus, spat on the ground and turned his back on the scene. A sharp crack echoed through the plaza and another vile stripe seared through Hugo's tender flesh. "Four."
The adjudicator grinned beneath his hood, yellowed teeth the colour of bile against his swollen red lips. White eyes, brilliant like diamonds, glowed as the hand and burly arm lifted the whip once more. Hugo's eyes were clenched shut tight and he pressed into the black tower, hands sclerotic in their chains. "Five."
Akaleth took a deep breath, twitching and nearly gasping in pain as the whip landed again. "Six."
Sweat drained from Hugo's head as the blood drained from his back. The little rat squeaked in alarm, rattling back and forth in his cage so that it swung from side to side on the tall pole. The whip fell again and Heyland's voice resounded as merciless a gong. "Seven."
The crowd's tentative cheering had turned into a swelling living thing. In the aftermath of each blow, it would fall into a breathy silence, swelling like a wave front rising against reeds and sand to crash in exultant fury with the rise of the whip. They cajoled and yearned for each stroke to bring justice to their city. "Eight."
Cardinal Bertu turned and put a hand on Akaleth's shoulder to steady him. The Questioner priest could not keep his face or shoulders still. They heaved, and his heart beat against his chest like a funerary drum. A single question kept repeating over and over in his mind. What would he have done had his father repented? Akaleth saw the whip rise into the sky and feared the answer. "Nine."
Of the mages who'd come to watch, now only Master Demarest watched. The others had turned their backs and were trying to hold conversations, as if wishing none of this had ever happened. Hugo's body convulsed as his back glistened with cris-crossing bright red lines like a basket weave. "Ten."
Akaleth lowered his face and shut his eyes, but all that came to him was his father's face on that day. At first he could see the dark features, the hair, the chin the protruding cheeks, and the chiselled cold eyes. The whip was not in a hooded man's hand, but there where it had once been with his father. It lashed, cruel and with purpose. "Eleven."
Chained to the pillar next to Hugo, the blind man, though he could not see the scarlet ruin that was his conspirator's back, nevertheless flinched away from each stroke, his face contorted into a rictus of fear and anxiety. His turn neared with each projected cry of Heyland and with each scream of the animal loving mage. "Twelve."
The crowd hungered for the next stroke; those who did not approve were not present at all. Many stayed in their homes and wished the spectacle away. Akaleth stayed with his eyes shut, but the image of his father crowing with each gasp of relish from the masses also stayed. Only it was now his back that was bruised and torn and Akaleth's hands that held the whip. "Thirteen."
His father's gaze bored into him, but Akaleth could feel no more hate. Behind the fierce contempt was a man created by Eli, one suffering in the world like all the rest, and one given to Akaleth as the only family he ever knew. What if his father had repented like Hugo had done? Akaleth cried in agony, heart speared like Holy Mother Yanlin, eyes open to witness the whip fall another time in justice. "Fourteen."
But what was justice without mercy? Akaleth slipped free of Bertu's concerned touch, slid past the startled Caial who shouted and chased him, and ran toward the hooded man with the whip. It struck another blow even as the crowd murmured at the sight of the black-robed priest racing toward the man who wanted him dead. "Fifteen."
Akaleth outraced the Caial soldiers and stood between Hugo and the hooded man. He stretched his arms wide and shouted, "Stop!"
The adjudicator paused in dumbfounded surprise. The crowd murmured at the interruption, and Captain Heyland and the Caial rushed to his side. Soldiers grabbed him, but the Captain held up one hand and they stopped. "What is the meaning of this!" Heyland demanded, his voice still projecting over the crowd.
Father Akaleth lowered his eyes as he turned toward the perplexed and furious captain. "He is mine as you promised. Half the number of lashes and he is mine. You have had your half. Leave him be."
Heyland snorted a half-laugh, his head shifting back on his neck in bewildered anger. "The thirty was half of sixty!"
"You promised me half, and you announced thirty. I know no different. You are done with him. Give him to me."
Heyland was not amused. "His punishment has not been completed. Take this priest back to the Cardinal. Or we shall give you his fifteen lashes."
Akaleth steeled his face and nodded, arms hurting from where the Caial soldiers gripped. "Then give me his fifteen. I beg you give them to me if you will not be merciful to this man."
The crowd's cheers were gone. All of the mages were watching in open-mouthed astonishment. Bertu and Marchel watched in anguished worry. The Caial soldiers looked at each other in confusion. Hugo whimpered but tried to steady his breathing. The rat peered out of the cage at him and squeaked in fear. Heyland scowled in a hot fury, face white and red. In sarcastic tones, he pointed with one hand at the mage. "Mercy to this man? This man who tried to kill you?"
"Aye. Mercy. I beg of you. He has had his half. He has repented. Give him to me, or give to me what you wish to give to him. But touch him no more." Akaleth lowered his head and closed his eyes, and could almost see himself extending a hand to his beaten and bloodied father. The wounds did not look so vicious anymore. They were scarlet bandoliers capturing tears as precious pearls that would heal wounds of the heart and soul.
"You must be mad!" Heyland snapped. "You must all be mad! All of you!"
Akaleth smiled faintly, though he did not look up. "Would you not rather mend bones than break them? Comfort children than make them cry? Would that justice meant healing for those oppressed and comfort for those in misery. Be merciful, Captain Heyland. I leave it up to you."
Heyland lifted his hand to strike the priest but held it back. "Do not speak to me that way, priest! I have shown you mercy because you are a guest, oh Questioner! Do not press us any further."
The Questioner lifted his face and gazed at the Caial captain with clear eyes. The threatening hand lowered. "Do I truly ask so much of you?"
The other Caial grunted uncertainly. The crowds who'd gathered to watch the whipping all milled and whispered to each other. Cardinal Bertu and his attendants had moved into the square to reclaim the wayward priest. The mage guild were arguing amongst themselves. The representative of the King, a tall man in fine livery with a gold crown sewn over a running wolf on his breast looked nearly ready to intervene but kept back at the edge of the crowd as if he couldn't decide what should be done. Heyland and Akaleth locked eyes during it all, neither of them concerned with what happened elsewhere. Against the pillar Hugo's wretched moans continued.
Heyland's face, at first hard as flint, drooped like candle wax until even his eyes sagged as if years had been piled onto his back. His hands fell the rest of the way and then his chin fell to his chest. He cast a brief glance at the King's man who finally nodded his head slowly. Heyland sighed. "You win, priest. Have your mercy. Guards, release them both. Hugo Maclear, you are exiled from Marigund for a period of three years. If you return during that time you will be executed. And during your exile, you are to be in the care of Father Akaleth of the Questioners who you tried to kill."
Hugo moaned in response as the guards undid his shackles. Akaleth stepped to his side and supported him under one shoulder. His back was red, several flaps of skin dangling like festive ribbons. He shivered the whole time and could make no argument. Nor did any in the crowd who were all dumbstruck by his sentence and by what had just happened.
"Come with me, Hugo. I will see to your wounds." Akaleth turned toward the Cardinal. Behind him Father Marchel was leading the horse-drawn wagon. Akaleth glanced back at Heyland and said, "Bring his rat too."
Heyland gestured and a guard lifted the rat's cage from the pole and followed after them. The Captain called after him, his voice loud enough to be heard by all, "If you ever return to Marigund, Akaleth of the Questioners, you will suffer those lashes you asked for. And more. And it will be merciful for our law calls for your death."
"Then I am glad that you know there is a higher law still," Akaleth replied in a quiet voice, too quite to be heard by any save Hugo who was in too much agony to repeat anything.
Bertu's face was nearly as red as his hair, but the Cardinal didn't say anything. He helped Akaleth lay Hugo face down in the wagon. Akaleth climbed in beside him and inspected the wounds. He'd seen worse, but they'd need to be treated if they were to heal properly. Father Marchel had brought a basin of water, salves, and bandages. Akaleth dipped one of the cloths into the water and began gently dabbing the strokes. Hugo twitched and moaned but could say nothing more.
"Here's the stupid rat," the soldier carrying the cage sneered as he tossed it in the back of the wagon.
Akaleth glanced at him and asked, "Could you let the rat out please? He is no more a prisoner either."
The guard scowled but did so. The black-furred rat with white paws rushed out of the cage, along the wagon, and up to Hugo's face. He leaned back on his haunches and rubbed those white paws against his master's cheeks. A slight smile creased the mage's lips.
Cardinal Bertu nodded to Marchel. "Lead us to the Dawn Gate, Father. It is time we left."
Akaleth kept his focus on Hugo
and tending his wounds. But he did hear Heyland offer the next
sentence as they passed through the unbelieving crowds. Thirty
lashes for Diomedra. He smiled. He'd cut the number in
half for her too.
"What you did was crazy," Cardinal Bertu reprimanded him after they reached the main thoroughfare heading east. "He could have had you lashed too. You are very fortunate. Far more fortunate than you should be."
"I couldn't bear it, your eminence. Thirty lashes for a man who is not repentant... that I can understand. But not one who has wept for their sins." He lowered his eyes and began applying the salve to the cleansed wounds. The whip had left clean rents in Hugo's back. They would heal in time, but he'd bear the scars for the rest of his life.
"I don't like it either," Bertu admitted as Marchel drove the wagon. The young priest did not say anything, but there was an unbecoming smirk teasing the edge of his lips every time he looked around. "But I did ask you not to antagonize anyone. You haven't listened to my advice at all."
Akaleth chuckled slightly and set the salve aside. "I have not done so well at that, no." He picked up the bandages and then in a gentler voice said, "Hugo, I am going to need you to sit up. I apologize. It will hurt."
Hugo struggled to rise, and with Akaleth's help managed. The man, his face creased and weary, looked at the priest and asked, "Why?"
"Because you are hurt. And," he nodded his head to one side, "you were sorry. Now lift your arms and stay still."
Hugo did as he was bidden. The rat Boots watched him and the others curiously. The mage's eyes would brighten when he glanced at the rat; otherwise he looked lost and in a daze of pain. Once Akaleth finished bandaging him, he almost laid back down but managed to keep himself sitting upright. He glanced at the buildings drifting past and sighed. "Why am I going with you?"
"I asked for you. Exile is a horrible thing. You'll need friends on the way."
"But..." his body trembled and he crouched forward, wincing as the muscles of his back pulled, "I ha... don't like..."
"Followers?"
He nodded.
Akaleth sat back and put the remaining bandages back into the knapsack. "I haven't always gotten along well with Rebuilders either, but I think we'll accommodate ourselves sufficiently in time."
Hugo blinked but could find
nothing more to say. He held out one hand and Boots crawled into
it, nuzzling his chest. The mage glanced at the buildings and
did his best not to cry. The priests said nothing.
The Dawn Gate opened before them at long last and the wagon rolled past. Akaleth breathed a sigh of relief when Marigund fell behind him. It was a little past midday. There'd be a few hours of road, plenty of time to leave the city's environs completely. Hugo whimpered a little.
"Have you ever left Marigund before?" Akaleth asked him.
"A few short trips to the villages and countryside. Marigund has always been my home."
"Your exile is only for three years. The time will pass quicker than you realize."
Hugo shook his head and slumped. He winced as the pain cascaded across his back. "I can never go back to the Mage Guild. I have no family left. What is there for me to go back home to?"
Akaleth frowned but nodded. "I do not know why things happen the way they do. We must trust Eli. That is all we can do. Come. Let us give you a more formal introduction to your new travelling companions."
Kashin and Czestadt were waiting for them by the carriage. Both of them looked troubled when they saw Hugo in the wagon. Akaleth had draped a heavy woolen blanket across his shoulders to give him warmth but he had no shirt. They'd have to remedy that. "Sir Czestadt, can you ready one of the beds? Hugo's suffered some wounds to the back and will need to lie down while he heals."
"Hugo?" Czestadt scowled. "The one with the rat?"
Akaleth smiled. "He has been given to my charge and will journey with us. And his rat Boots too."
Kashin blinked and them smiled, shaking his head. "I will never quite understand how you make such interesting friends, Father." He opened the carriage door and with Czestadt's help set about preparing the bed.
Akaleth climbed down from the wagon and offered a hand to Hugo. "Take my hand. Go slowly. You don't want to move your back too much for a few days. The wounds aren't deep at least. They'll heal soon."
Cardinal Bertu helped him climb down as well. He then set he rat on Hugo's shoulder who smiled very faintly. Father Marchel jumped to the ground and started gathering the trio's belongings from the wagon. Hugo was unsteady on his feet but with Akaleth and Bertu's help reached the carriage in time to be hoisted in by Czestadt. He laid face down on the bed stretching from one end of the carriage to the other and lay there shivering beneath the blanket. Boots curled beside his head.
"And now we must return," Bertu announced once Marchel had handed over the rest of their belongings. "There is much we will need to attend to. I expect the city to be speaking of this for months."
"It was not our intent to cause you such difficulties," Kashin said with an apologetic bow of the head. "I hope it does not lead to any more bloodshed."
"I hope so too." The Cardinal turned on Akaleth. "But I think in some ways you are right. I'm going to try something I would never have done before. In a few months, once things have calmed down, I'm going to hold a Eucharistic Procession through the Grand Plaza near the Cathedral. Small. But visible. It will be the first in over a century." He smiled. "Perhaps it is time we stopped hiding our faith in Marigund and lived together openly, peacefully."
Akaleth pursed his lips and then smiled. "You are a very brave man, your eminence."
Bertu quirked an odd smile and shook his head. He then turned to Kashin. "And where are you headed now?"
Kashin glanced at his two companions and then at Hugo who had turned his neck to look at them with one eye. "Metamor Keep. We have some affairs there that need tending."
"Metamor!" Bertu's surprise lasted only a moment. "Does this have anything to do with Patriarch Akabaieth?"
"Some," Kashin admitted with a heavy sigh. "But there's more yet. If ever you journey to Yesulam, your eminence, we will tell you."
Bertu smiled and stepped back. "One day then. Eli's peace blessing be upon you all. May your journey be a swift and safe one." He made the sign of the yew over each of them, even Hugo who twinged. Then he and Father Marchel climbed into their wagon and started back for Marigund.
Kashin sighed and stretched his one arm. "We should be on our way then. We have a very long journey ahead of us."
"Aye," Akaleth agreed. "Let us begin."
Kashin and Czestadt climbed to the buckboard while Akaleth slipped into the carriage with Hugo. He opened the windows to let light in and sat opposite from his new charge. The mage lay disconsolately on the bed, groaning a bit. Most of the bandages were red already. A jolt rocked them back and forth and the carriage started moving. They were turning south to go around the city.
Akaleth laid one hand gently on Hugo's arm. "I will need to change your bandages soon. But for now, we have many miles ahead of us. I have a copy of the Canticles with me. I can read them to you if you wish."
Hugo lifted one eyebrow. "Are they in Galendish?"
"Suielish. Do you know the language?"
"Somewhat," he admitted grudgingly.
Akaleth smiled and opened a chest beneath the seat. "You will learn well enough in time. I will teach you. Now." He pulled a weathered and well-loved tome from the chest. He turned the lock and the spine creaked as it fell open to the middle. "Where should we begin?"