BLOOD VOW

Dusk Peterson

Part Three
The Look of the Chara
 

CHAPTER SIX

Two hours after Lord Dean had left me gazing at the slave market from the council library, I was looking out of the same window, but my eyes were now on the black border mountains, and a smile was on my lips. I was thinking, not of the land that lay beyond the mountains, but of the night when Peter had joined me at my window vigil.

My thoughts were cut off abruptly by outcries that flooded into the room like sunlight from a window whose shutters have just been opened. Turning my head, I saw the council porter, with mouth agape, standing at the open library door. Behind him, the thirty lords of the Emorian council were shouting amongst each other.

The porter rapidly closed the door to the scene. "Heart of Mercy!" he exclaimed. "I thought I had already checked this room. The High Lord will have me up on charges for this."

I had been sitting atop one of the desks, the only way that I could see through the chest-level window while seated. Now I rose and said, "They've started already? I wasn't paying attention to the time."

"They have, and it's a closed meeting, as planned. Lord Dean sent all of the council officials away except myself. The Empire of Emor will not be wide enough to hide me once the council finds that you are here."

He was clutching the rod of discipline that denoted his office, yet his pale face looked anything but confident. I said in an unperturbed manner, "The fault is mine. I will tell Lord Dean so when I see him next."

Perhaps he had expected me to be as frightened as any other man would be to find himself an unwitting witness to a private council meeting. My deportment, though, must have assured him. He said in a less ruffled manner, "Thank the wisdom of the Charas that it's you, anyway. I heard Lord Carle say once that the Chara might as well make you a council lord since you receive a report on every meeting from the Chara himself. I will have to escort you out now. Perhaps by the time that this meeting is finished, Lord Dean will be too weary to trouble himself with me."

The council lords were still shouting, and their voices had risen to the point that I could hear some of what they were saying. The porter, mustering his courage, waited until I had joined him and then opened the door into the Council Chamber.

The enormous chamber was dominated by an oval-shaped table, around which the council lords were placed. At the near end of the table was Lord Dean, presiding over his fellow lords; at the far end was the Chara. Since I had seen him that morning, Peter had changed into his everyday, peasant-brown tunic; pinned at his neck was the emblem brooch he usually wore. He could not wear his formal clothes to the Council Chamber, for at its meetings the council served, not the Chara, but only the law of Emor. The Chara was here as the council's guest.

He was younger than most of the lords, but his pose had an ageless dignity, which may have originated from the fact that he was sitting calmly while all of the lords were on their feet, shouting in restless fury. As I stepped into the Council Chamber, the shouts cut off suddenly, as though I had intruded on the passionate lovemaking of a newlywed couple.

Peter's eyes flicked over toward me briefly. Then he rose smoothly to his feet, leaned forward to place his palms on the table, and said to the now-silenced lords, "I am the council's servant in matters where the law requires that I defer to you. In matters where I am the master, I am always happy to receive your advice. But you seem to have forgotten in this case that I am coming to you for your advice, not your orders. I am Commander of the Armies, and it is my duty as Chara to go to the scene of battle whenever war arises, whether to bring destruction or to bring peace. None of you has denied that we are on the verge of war with the Koretians. I must remind you, then, that I am not going to Koretia for the sake of my own pleasure, but because the law demands it. Therefore, the fact that I am going is not a matter which the council may dispute."

He waited for a moment to see whether any lord would speak, but the room was silent as the porter and I neared the door to the corridor. Changing from the hard voice of a father exacting discipline to the diffident voice of a son asking his elders for help, the Chara added, "Since that matter is settled, I would appreciate your guidance on how I may best deal with the problem that troubles me most in Koretia . . ."

I did not hear the rest of his speech, for the copper doors of the chamber had boomed shut behind me. Ignoring the disconcerted looks of the guards flanking the doors, I ducked under their spears and made my way back down the corridor.

I had intended to return to the Chara's quarters to consult his law books on some questions that remained in my mind. Instead, I found myself lying some time later under the only tree in the inner garden of the Chara's palace, my eyelids closed and ruddy as I tilted my head in the direction of the sun.

I must have slept. My next awareness was of something soft brushing my arm. I opened my eyes and saw, kneeling by my side, Lord Carle's Koretian slave-girl.

I stood up with a rapidity that must have frightened the girl, for she rose hastily herself and said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir! I just thought that you might have a free-man's weapon that you would be willing to use for me."

The oddness of this speech gave me a genuine reason to pause and take in the girl's appearance, as best I could in the dim twilight. She was about twelve years of age, on the threshold of womanhood as the people of the Three Lands judge such matters, and her skin was much darker than my own. She had been trained as a slave, for she kept her eyes carefully lowered, but had not been trained for long, for she was standing far closer to me than she ought to have been.

My silence lingered long enough for her to add hastily, "My master's free-servant sent me to pick some of the roses on the garden trellis, but I cannot pull them off, for they are too tough. It is not for me to ask such a thing, but I do not want to come back empty-handed, and I thought that if you had a dagger, you might be so very kind as to cut one or two of the flowers."

She stood with one foot slightly behind the other, poised to flee if I treated her as she might expect to be treated after speaking so boldly to a free-man. I had spent fifteen years in the palace, watching as lords plotted against lords, as officials betrayed officials, and as everyone attempted to sway the Chara, so it did not take more than a split second for me to perceive her plan. But I found myself saying, "As you see, I bear no weapon, but I would be happy to help you with the flowers if I can. Where are they to be found?"

She pointed the way to the rose trellis, which was still gleaming white in the dusk-light. I walked down the slope of the small hill on which the tree was planted, passed through a gate in the stone wall surrounding the garden, and walked over the narrow perimeter of pavement between the garden and the courtyard walls beyond. There, climbing one of the walls, were the white roses; I reached up to pull a bud from off of the vine.

Looking up at me, the girl said, "Excuse me for asking, sir, but you are Koretian, are you not?"

"I was born in Koretia." I kept my eyes fixed on the rose, which was proving to be tougher to handle than I had expected.

"I heard from one of the other slaves that you were once Lord Carle's slave. Is that true, sir?"

"Yes." I was beginning to wish I bore a free-man's blade; it seemed that I would have no luck pulling the rose out by hand. I sensed rather than saw the girl take a step closer. With a wrench, I pulled the rose out, pricking my finger on a thorn as I did so. I turned, but it was too late; the girl had used the moment to step close to me.

"I was surprised this morning when I heard you talking to Lord Carle as you did, and that was even before I learned that you were once his slave. It must take great courage to address your former master in such a way. I was . . . stirred by your bravery."

She took another step forward, brushing past my hand, so that the rose fell to the ground. I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice saying, "I would hate to see you waste your efforts here, Levina. If you must seduce your way into a new master's bed, I suggest that you take the trouble next time not to squander your skills on a eunuch."

Lord Carle had the sort of voice that demanded attention from his slaves, but for a moment before the slave-girl turned from me, I saw the changing expressions on her face.

First came the surprise. I knew that I could not attribute this solely to my strongly controlled pitch of voice, which had misled more than a few of the palace dwellers. Part of her surprise arose from ignorance. She had no doubt heard back home that a few of the more barbaric Emorians practiced such monstrosities on their slaves, but like most Koretians, she was unlikely to have met a gelded man before. If she had, my boyish appearance would likely have alerted her to what she was facing.

First the surprise; then came the shock, followed by the anger. And then came the expression I had seen so many times in the past fifteen years that it was forever present in my nightmares: the contempt.

Then she turned away with fright to face her master. He took little notice of her, but simply jerked his head in the direction of his quarters. When she had gone, he said to me, "Whatever else you may be, you are not a fool, Andrew, so I am unwilling to believe that you were taken in by that act."

I knelt down to pick up the rose. Without looking up, I said, "I did not want to hurt her feelings. If I had been your slave-girl, I too would have used any means I could to find a new master."

"I have no doubt that you would have." At his tone, I looked up, but I did not rise from where I knelt. Lord Carle continued, "But whatever your own views on the usefulness of changing from master to master, I would appreciate it if you would not give my slaves the opportunity to test the limits of their loyalty to me."

I looked back down at the white rose and touched it gently. As I took my fingers away, I saw that the petals were now stained red. I said, "Then you will have to punish the girl. I am sure that your discipline will work on her."

"It is a pity," said Lord Carle, "that it did not work on you. The Chara might be safer if it had."

I reached out to touch the rose again, my fingers brushing the velvet petals with restrained gentleness as I said, "The Chara, at least, has nothing to fear from me."

There was a silence so long that I was sure Lord Carle had gone, but when I looked up again, I saw that he was merely waiting for me to raise my eyes. He said softly, with emphasis, "If the Chara is safe, then I am sure that everyone else in this palace is safe. As I said before, you are not a fool."

He left then, but I continued to kneel beside the blood-stained rose for some time.

"I . . . am . . . dead."

Peter pronounced these words with the solemn gravity of the Chara reciting a proclamation, and then flung himself down onto the reclining couch in his sitting chamber.

I moved a vase of white roses onto the table next to him. "Here is your flower arrangement."

Peter grinned up at me. "You always know ahead of time what I need. Have you prepared my funeral oration as well?"

"You ought to have given me more advance notice. You will have to delay dying for a few weeks, so that I can have your clerk write it up for the records."

Peter turned on his side to look at me. His hair was sun-bright in the golden light of the late-night fire beyond him. He was lying near the north wall of the chamber, which contained the hearth, his writing table, and the door to the free-servant's sleeping chamber. I had returned to the window that faced south and was standing by it, pulling some berries from the bowl I had laid on the sill.

"You must have stayed to eavesdrop on the rest of the council meeting," Peter said. "That is exactly what Lord Dean told me. He seemed to think that I could arrange the timing of my own death in the same manner that I issue my commands. . . . Speaking of council lords, I met Lord Carle on the way here. He told me that he started a conversation with you this evening. He always tells me when that happens, though I have explained to him over and over that it is of no interest to me any more what goes on between the two of you, and that I am sure you and he can behave in a civilized fashion. Nonetheless, he struck me as having a particularly guilty look on his face tonight."

I withdrew my fingers from the bowl and wiped them on a cloth nearby. "Lord Carle only reported to you half the story. Our conversation was a continuation of one we started this morning, when I burst in on his quarters unannounced."

"What are you doing, training yourself to face danger in Koretia? What prompted you to do such a thing?"

I folded the cloth into quarters, then into eighths, before saying, "I heard him disciplining his new slave."

"Ah." Peter looked reflectively at me. "You mean Levina?"

I jammed the cloth under the bowl to keep it from being blown away by the night breeze. "All-knowing Chara, do you have the names memorized of every slave in this palace?"

"Probably," replied Peter cheerfully.

"Then you are as much a god-man as the Jackal. How do you keep them all straight?"

"Oh . . ." Peter let his voice trail off. He stared up at the ceiling, paused for a moment, and then recited, "'And being as it is more grave that a slave should strike a free-man, it is declared that if any slave does so, either to his master or to any other slave's master or to a free-man who does not own slaves, he shall be brought before the court under whose care he is placed, and the circumstances of the crime shall be determined by the use of at least one witness. Further, it is declared that, in order to be summoned on a charge of this crime, the slave must have done the following . . .' Skip the next part; I always used to fall asleep trying to memorize the Definition of each law, because it required me to learn the most circumlocutory clerks' language you can imagine. 'For just as it is required that the Emorian people show proper reverence toward the Chara, so also it is required that those who have been bound into slavery show proper respect toward their masters . . .'"

He caught my look and smiled. "I won't bore you with the rest of the law's Justification. It's one of Lord Carle's favorite Justifications, and I'm sure you've heard his version of it far too many times. 'This being so, the law has been used in the following Cases . . .' Switch over at this point to the Case volumes and spend an hour hunting up a dozen court cases and then memorize them. 'And so the prisoner shall be taken to his court, and witnesses shall be brought to show what happened, and it shall be the solemn duty of the judge to decide whether the striking took place with clear understanding and without provocation. . . .' Ignore the next reference; an entire law book is devoted to explaining what constitutes clear understanding and provocation for the various ranks, with subreferences explaining how acting with provocation is the opposite of acting willfully. I had those passages memorized by age seven. 'And then, if the judge has determined that the striking was done under provocation, he shall pass a sentence of mercy; and if the judge has determined that the striking was done without clear understanding, he shall pass a sentence of branding; and if the judge has determined that the striking was done willfully and with clear understanding, he shall pass a sentence of imprisonment. And being as it is more grave that a lesser free-man should strike a nobleman—'"

Peter stopped, looked over at me, and said, "Well, it goes on to the next law from there. I was required to memorize word for word the five hundred major laws, but I only had to remember the main points of the other eight thousand laws. After ten years of lessons like that, memorizing the names of a few slaves is easy by comparison."

I looked at the bowl again, then picked it up, placed it on a ledge nearby, and unfolded the cloth to place it over the top of the bowl. Peter said, "I am thinking of the right slave? The pretty Koretian one?"

"Yes."

I tried to reply in a matter-of-fact tone, but I saw Peter's eyes flick over toward me. He asked quietly, "Would I guess right if I were to assume that your conversation with Lord Carle concerned the pretty slave?"

I was silent. Peter sighed as he rose from the couch. "No wonder Lord Carle looked guilty. Here. Lie down. I'll bring you a drink – you probably need it as much as I do."

The reluctant corners of my mouth obeyed the command of his eyes, and I smiled and lay down where Peter had reclined. He came back after a minute, holding a pitcher and a single cup, and seated himself cross-legged on the floor beside me, pouring our wine.

"Does this mean that you're now the servant and I'm the Chara?" I asked as I took the cup he had sipped before handing it to me.

"I wouldn't burden even the Jackal with the sort of duties I have to undertake. Today has been the worst day I can remember in a long while. I'm actually beginning to look forward to the dangers of Koretia as a pleasant change from the dangers of this palace."

"The council was difficult?"

"The council and everyone else." Peter leaned his back against the side of the couch and stared morosely at the cup I had drunk from and then handed back to him. "I just had a four-hour discussion with my subcommander on the many nefarious campaigns he has devised to crush the Koretians. I was forced to listen carefully to all that he said, because I may need to use one of those campaigns. This morning I listened to three hours' worth of court testimony, only to finish by kissing the pendant and telling all of the people there what they already knew: that the prisoner was a council official and therefore under the care of the council, not myself, and that all I could do was to give the council judge my recommendation for the judgment and sentence."

"Will he accept the recommendation?"

"I believe so; he often does. So I suppose my morning wasn't a complete waste of time, though it felt like it. I never had a chance for a noonday meal – what was that you were eating just now?"

"Wild-berries." I laughed at Peter's expression. "There are some Daxion nuts by my bed. I'll get them."

"Stay where you are." Peter bounced up and darted into my room as though he were a light-footed goat rather than the ruler of an empire. Returning with the bowl, he seated himself where he had been before and popped a nut into his mouth.

"The council meeting was the worst, of course," he said through chews. "You heard how I had to remind the lords of my full authority before I could get them even to lower their voices."

I reached down to take a handful of nuts. "After that, I imagine there wasn't much they could say."

"You'd be surprised," said Peter dryly. "Lord Dean gave me a small lesson in logic. I felt as though I were a schoolboy again. It was offered to my attention that, firstly, the dominion governors are lords of the council. Secondly, the dominions are therefore under the care of the council. Thirdly, the Chara may therefore only interfere with the dominions when they are without governors or in wartime. And fourthly, in conclusion, as follows from the premises, propositions, and postulates, I should keep out of Koretia until war actually breaks out – at which time, of course, the law allows me to try to bring peace. In other words, my High Lord believes that I should wait until the land is half burnt before I try to extinguish the flames. I was not impressed by his logic, and said so."

"You must have succeeded in convincing him that you were right."

"Stubborn as a Chara – that's the phrase, isn't it? That characteristic comes in handy sometimes. At any rate, I managed to bend the conversation over to the subject of my travelling companions, so that the council lords ended up spending the rest of their time arguing amongst themselves over which of the lords would accompany me on the trip. To my mind, the most logical course would be for the High Lord to remain safe in Emor while I'm gone, lest anything happen to me. But Lord Dean insists on going to Koretia – I think he wants to keep his eye on me."

"I suppose that we can depend on him for pleasant conversation, at any rate."

"If pleasant conversation is what you're expecting, I must crush your hopes by telling you that the other member of our party is Lord Carle."

I reached down again to the bowl and fished among the smaller nuts. "That will be tedious for you. Didn't you have any say in the selection?"

"I could hardly refuse to bring Lord Carle. He knows more about Koretia than I do . . . and bringing him saves me the necessity of bringing a conspicuous bodyguard."

"He'll hate every minute of the trip."

"Actually, I think that he'll receive great joy from seeing all of his worst opinions about Koretia confirmed. Andrew, are you planning to touch every nut before you choose one?"

I smiled. "They are my nuts. Be grateful that I'm sharing them with you – it's not one of my duties as a palace guest."

"Mmm." Peter licked his fingers and stared straight forward, toward the window. "The question of your duties came up at the meeting, actually. Lord Dean and Lord Carle are travelling in their own identities, along with their free-servants, and I am to be plain Lord Peter once more – there are about half a dozen honorary lords of that name scattered around Emor. The council asked me what disguise I planned for you. They didn't think that 'palace guest' was enough of a title to explain your presence on the journey."

I held out the largest nut toward Peter and said easily, "If Curtis and Francis are serving Lord Carle and Lord Dean, then I'll be free-servant to you."

Peter took the nut from my hand. "Thank you. It wasn't something I could command of you, but it's in fact what I suggested to the council. Since I'm to be disguised as a mere lord, I saw no reason why you wouldn't be willing to take on a lesser rank as well. At any rate, I thought you might have a better idea than I do of what to pack for Koretia. I was going mad at noonday trying to figure out what to take."

"Are we leaving so soon?"

"We're leaving tomorrow. I can't depend on thirty council lords to keep a secret for long, and I'd prefer to reach the governor's palace before the Jackal has news of my presence in his land. I've felt obliged to send my private messenger to Lord Alan, telling him of our trip, but I'm hoping that the various threats I wrote behind the lines will inhibit him from announcing our journey."

"Then let me see what you've packed so far." I rose and walked into the Chara's sleeping chamber, leaving Peter to stay and collect the nut bowl.

He had laid a number of items out on the bed in an orderly fashion. Most of the clothes, I could see at a glance, were too heavy to wear in Koretia. I began placing to one side the items that he could not bring; in the process, I uncovered a bone-handled dagger.

I am not sure how long I stood staring at it. Presently I heard Peter say from behind my shoulder, "Lord Carle tells me that the Koretians wear their free-man's blades all of the time – not only on ceremonial occasions, but also as a form of protection. I can't bring the Sword of Vengeance, of course, so I thought that I'd take this."

I placed a breech-cloth to the side, being careful not to touch the dagger in the process. "I didn't realize you had kept it." Even to me, my voice sounded as cold as an Emorian winter.

"You said you didn't want it any more, so I kept it for myself, because it reminded me of the night I gave it to you."

I turned then. Peter was watching me with a carefully neutral expression and guarded eyes that brought back to me a shock of memory. When I was able to speak again, I said, "It isn't a night that I would want to forget either, so I'm glad that you kept the dagger."

Peter's expression eased. He reached over to the bed and said, "I suppose that I can't take the seal-ring; that would be proclaiming my title. I will take the brooch – nothing could part me from that – but I'll keep it hidden till we reach the governor's palace. Tell me, how does it feel to be returning to Koretia as an Emorian?"

"Despite my frequent assertions," I said wryly, "I don't feel very Emorian at times. If a Koretian asked me to explain the law-structure of Emor, for example, I wouldn't know what to say – and this, despite the fact that I've had the best teacher on the subject."

Peter's gaze flicked toward me and then back. Just as I never understood why he asked questions about subjects he was well versed in, so also he never asked the reasons why I made elementary enquiries. "We haven't spoken on the topic very often," he said. "The law is the last thing I want to think about when I have a free moment with you. What is it that puzzles you?"

I went over to the sleeping chamber's chest, pushed the lid open, and began pulling out his lighter tunics. "Nothing that's important. Just various things that are unclear to me about the law's division of powers between the Chara and his council. You said that the prisoner who was tried today was under the care of the council because he was a council official. But didn't you have a case recently where you yourself handed down judgment on a council official?"

"It was a more difficult case than that: I was judging one of the junior council lords who was being tried for murder. Ordinarily, the council takes care of its own, and I have no power to do anything other than offer my recommendations when the crime takes place in the palace. But if the crime is serious, then the council judge may ask me to sit in judgment on the case. If you ever want to explain Emorian law to a Koretian, you may tell him that an entire, thick law book is devoted to the three crimes punishable by the high doom, and I'm the only one who has that entire book memorized, so I'm usually the one who takes such cases. But since I and the council judge are the only ones who try prisoners for the Great Three, I don't suppose that most Koretians have even heard of the high doom."

The room was dark with night shadows. I could not see what lay at the bottom of the chest, so I stood up, took a stick from the fire that had blazed in the chamber all day, and reached over to light the oil-lamp attached to the wall. I said, without looking Peter's way, "How did you decide whether to apply the high doom in this case?"

Peter was silent for so long that I thought he would not reply. Finally he said, "In this particular case, the prisoner was placed under the high doom because he had killed an unarmed man."

The lamp had finally caught fire. I stepped back and watched to be sure that it would stay lit. Behind me, Peter said, "But perhaps that's another Emorian custom that a Koretian wouldn't understand."

"No," I said, tossing the lighted stick back into the fire. "Killing an unarmed man is considered just as serious an offense in Koretia."

I stared at the fire a moment longer. Then, feeling Peter's eyes at my back, I looked over at him silently. Peter turned away and carefully undid the sorting I had just made of his clothes. "I fear that I have led both of us into a pitch-black cave, without bothering to bring a light with me," he said. "Let us move on to another subject. How did you spend your day? Aside from listening to insults from Lord Carle, I mean."

"I spent my day doing absolutely nothing."

Peter continued to look down at the items he was aimlessly moving from one pile to another, but a smile crept up the side of his face. "That sounds glorious. Where did you do this nothing?"

I came over beside him and took a belt out of his hands. "In the council library, to begin with; hence my embarrassing appearance at your closed meeting. I must apologize to Lord Dean tonight before he takes vengeance on the porter."

"I wouldn't bother." Peter left the sorting to my hands and sat down on the bed near me, leaning back against the wall. "I was witness to the porter's own apology, which was the most eloquent piece of poetry I've heard since I had a Daxion bard up on charges of stealing a bit of butter from the palace pantry."

"You put a bard on trial for stealing butter?"

"It's hard to believe, but the law classifies that as a major crime. Any use of the Chara's goods or money for forbidden purposes is considered a crime of disobedience – though you'll be relieved to hear that I let the bard go free. As for the porter, he has nothing to worry about; Lord Dean is fully occupied with planning this trip. Where did you go after you left the meeting?"

"Out to do more nothing. I did it under a certain tree in the garden."

Peter smiled and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his interlocked hands around them as he leaned further back. "I'm glad that you found a good use for my birthday present. You've no idea the trouble I had in convincing the gardener that Emor would not crumble if he planted a Koretian tree in the palace grounds."

"Is it a Koretian tree? I didn't know."

"It turned out to be less expensive to bring a sapling over the black border mountains than to buy one of Emor's few remaining trees. I hope you won't stop using it, now that you know its barbaric origin."

I didn't bother to reply, but tossed a tunic at Peter. Laughing, he prevented it from landing in his face. "If you've spent an entire afternoon doing nothing, then you must have had a particularly terrible morning. I hope that our talk in the Map Room wasn't what drove you to seek pleasure ahead of duty."

I shook my head and knelt down to pull Peter's travel pack from beneath his bed. I knew that it was there only because I had cleaned the floor around it during my time as his slave. Over ten years had passed since it was last put to use.

As I stood up, I saw that Peter was still watching me expectantly. I said, "Lord Dean saw me in the council library before the meeting. We had a talk on marriage."

"Ah." Peter let the word drop like a heavy pebble into water. When the ripples were beginning to fade, he added, "Well, you needn't pass on to me what he said. I'm sure it's the same that was said to me at the meeting. That was what the council spent most of its time discussing: my ill-considered decision to visit a dangerous land when I have no heir. Fortunately, the lords did not insist that I beget an heir tonight, before leaving Emor."

I began to fold the tunics in the tidy manner which had never come naturally to me, but which pleased Peter. After a while, Peter said, "It seems a curious topic for Lord Dean to discuss with you. Did he say why he chose you as the messenger of his views?"

I noticed that his voice had taken on a note of quiet authority, but I ignored this and said simply, "He has asked me to mediate for him in the past."

"That isn't what I asked." He waited. When I did not reply, he said, "Andrew."

I continued to stare down at the tunics, but my hands were checked in their motions. Peter said, "Andrew, it is my duty as Chara to know what methods my council lords are using to try to influence me. Do not make me have to command you in this matter."

I stared at the items I was packing and took a moment to still my heart before saying, in the neutral voice that the Chara's clerk adopted when reporting the words of a witness, "Lord Dean said I would be able to demonstrate clearly to you the importance of fathering an heir. He also said he was sure that, like any other man, I understood the desire to raise a family."

I did not look up at Peter, but I heard him slowly let out his breath, as though he himself had taken the blow. "May he die a Slave's Death," he said. "He actually told you that?"

I did not reply. His voice dangerously low, Peter added, "High Lord or not, he can be summoned on a charge of insulting a free-man. I would request such a charge if you wished."

"No." I reached over and picked up the dagger without thought, and then placed it hastily in the pack before reaching for the tunics from the chest. Finally I said, "He probably just forgot."

"Lord Dean never forgets."

The bitterness in Peter's voice made me look up. Peter was staring into the distance as though peering at an invisible scene. "When I was four years old," he said, "Lord Dean took me to see some kinsmen of his in his hometown of Busedge. It was the first time I'd ever left the palace, and it was one of the happiest periods of my life. The High Lord let me have my way in everything; he wasn't strict with me the way my father always was. Toward the end of the visit, I confided to Lord Dean that I had once tried on the Pendant of Judgment to see what it felt like. Lord Dean promised to keep my secret – and he did, for many years. Then, one day about a year before my father died, I was talking with my father and Lord Dean – you may remember, for it was on the night when we first spoke. Suddenly, to gain a trivial point in an argument with my father, Lord Dean mentioned what I'd done. I've never forgotten the look my father gave me, and I've never trusted Lord Dean since then."

He pulled his gaze away from the past, reached to his tunic, and unclasped the emblem brooch in order to toss it to me. "You'd better pack this now. . . . It was perhaps unwise of Lord Dean to reveal his true nature so clearly to the Chara To Be. These days, if I were about to be cut down in battle and needed the help of either Lord Carle when he was being his most brutal or Lord Dean when he was being his most amiable, Lord Carle is the one I'd turn to."

"It's not a choice I'd want to make," I said, wrapping the brooch carefully in a face-cloth before packing it. "At any rate, Lord Dean does have a point in what he said to me."

"Lord Dean's points are like dagger points; they can only kill. Listen to me." Peter pulled himself forward so that he was kneeling on the bed close to me. "If I ever need advice on who to marry, it is you I will go to, not a man like Lord Dean. You know me better than anyone, better than even my father knew me, and nothing of what you are to the world changes what you are to me."

I said nothing, did not even look his way, but let my smile be my reply. After a moment, Peter pulled himself back to his place against the wall and said, "Well, you had better tell me everything that the old fox said to you this morning."

I told him, and when I was through, Peter said, "Some of what he says is true. He's wrong, of course, to think that I wouldn't marry for fear of hurting our friendship. You and I both know that it's possible to love more than one person at a time. But he's right in thinking that our friendship has affected the way I look at marriage. It is just that it goes much deeper than Lord Dean sees."

I tossed the pack to one side, drew myself up onto the bed, and sat down beside Peter, sharing the same wall as my backrest. "How deep?"

Peter thought for a moment before saying, "Masks. Do you remember that we discussed masks this morning? And I mentioned the slave-masks that you told me about when we first talked. Since that time I've had experience wearing an even more rigid mask, and it isn't the terrible bondage that I once thought it would be. It's a burden, of course, being the Chara and subsuming my own person in the role that I was born to play. But this is something I've chosen of my own free will to do, and I love to do it – sometimes. There are times, though, when I tire of being the law's embodiment and need simply to be myself. You're one of the few people with whom I can be myself, and that's one reason I'm grateful to know you. If I were married—" He stopped.

"You might find a wife with whom you could take off your mask," I said.

"Perhaps I will, but I haven't found her yet. And I couldn't bear to spend the entire day as the Chara, and then return to my quarters in the evening and be forced to continue that role. I want to remove my mask then, as I do with you. I think . . ." He paused, and then said deliberately, "I would never willfully neglect my duty, of course. But if my duty required me always to be the Chara, I think that I would become unbalanced."

I remained silent a moment, balancing in my mind what he had said and what Lord Dean had said. Knowing what I did by now of Peter's burdens, it was not a hard judgment for me to make. "Well, then, you are right not to marry yet. And you should place Lord Dean under the high doom if he tries to change your mind."

Peter smiled, the lines of pain in his face disappearing like scratches on the earth fading under rain. "I knew that you would understand. So will you promise me something, please? If you go back to Koretia and find that it's truly your home, of course you must stay – I'd be angry with you if you didn't. But will you please not stay in Koretia out of some misguided sense of duty that Lord Dean has tried to impress upon you?"

"I promise you, unless we discover some unknown law that requires me to stay in Koretia, I will remain with you as long as you need me."

"You've just given me a reason never to read the law books again," Peter said. "Lord Carle will be annoyed with you for interfering with my studies."

"I don't suppose that Lord Carle lacks reasons to be annoyed with me," I said. "But in any case, you needn't worry about Koretia. Emor is my home, and the dagger I just packed is proof of it."
 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Long before he arrived, I heard the cheering of the slaves lining the corridor to receive a glimpse of him as he walked back from the Court of Judgment. I had arrived at his quarters two hours before and had found that the guards were so overcome with excitement that they did not even question why a slave would be entering his master's quarters at so late an hour and on such an evening.

I stood with my head resting against the jamb of the southern window as the cheers intensified, and then the door opened and the acclamations died down as Peter entered the room and closed the door.

His cloak had become tangled in the chain holding the Pendant of Judgment. He brushed the cloth free with a heavy, stylized gesture, and his head turned with slow dignity as he began to look around the chamber. He caught sight of me before I could see his face, and by the time he had turned his head he was grinning. He looked no older than his sixteen years.

"Thank the spirits of the dead Charas that it's you," Peter said, tugging at his sword sheath with a fumbling grasp. "If it were anyone else, I would have to go on pretending that I was immortal and invulnerable, rather than ready to drop from exhaustion." He placed the sheathed sword on the writing table, pulled impatiently at the clasp holding his cloak, and hissed softly as the pin bit into his finger. Flinging his cloak onto the chair next to the fire, he stood smiling at me for a moment without moving, as though drawing upon my silence after the music and cheers of the court.

I did not bother to move to collect the cloak. "Did the ceremony go well?" I asked.

"The ceremony went very well. I, on the other hand, was terrible. Lord Dean has been drilling me for three days on where to stand, how to move, what to say – and when the time came for me to act, I simply forgot everything that he had told me. I am not at all sure what I did, and I'm certain that I've offended – or amused – all of the elder lords and officials who were at my father's installation." He threw himself onto the couch, letting one of his legs dangle off the side and pressing the back of a wrist onto his forehead. For a moment he stared at the ceiling, and then with the quirk of a smile he said, "I wish that my father had been present to show me what to do. He always used to glare at me whenever I was about to make the wrong move at ceremonies."

He added in a low voice, "But since it is not possible for one Chara to attend the enthronement of the next Chara, I did the best that I could. It was hardest of all to make my oath. I was supposed to be swearing my oath to all of my subjects, but you weren't there, and you were the subject to whom I would have most liked to have said those words."

I did not speak. Down below in the city, I knew, the celebration bonfires were blazing, set not only by the city inhabitants but also by the visitors who had flooded into the city from the Three Lands. Harp music drifted across from the southern end of the palace where the lesser free-men had gone after the ceremony. A more rowdy tune was being sung in the basement slave-quarters where I had lived for the past five years. The young Chara turned on his side, resting his head on his elbow, and for a moment his face was serious.

Then he picked up the emblem brooch from a nearby table. He held it up in the air but did not put it on, since he had not yet taken off his pendant. With mock despair, he said, "I would like to think that I have undergone the worst experience I will ever endure during my reign, but I'm beginning to understand why my father was so short-tempered. Today I spent an hour listening to Lord Carle explain how Emor will crumble if I'm not familiar with every subsection of every section of the Chara's laws. Tomorrow I preside over the Court of Judgment, which I'm dreading, though the court summoners tell me they have scheduled only easy cases for the next fortnight. And yesterday I spent most of the day with my clerk, trying to make sense of these—" He flung his hand out toward a pile of newly-penned documents stacked on a table next to the couch. His fingers caught the edge of the pile, and a few of the papers tumbled down. I walked forward, knelt by the table, and began placing the fallen papers back on the stack.

"My apologies," said Peter, watching me from an arm's length away. "As though my slaves didn't have enough to do, preparing for my enthronement. What terrible tasks has the palace slave-keeper been assigning you?"

As he spoke, I continued to stack the papers carefully together. Most of the documents were scribed in Old Emorian, the law language, but one sheet caught my eye because it was written in Modern Emorian. I glimpsed its title – "Slaves to be Assigned to the Household Service of Peter, the Great Chara" – and scanned the short list of names before quickly thrusting the sheet into the middle of the stack. Then, my heart thumping, I looked up at Peter.

He had not noticed my action; he had looked away momentarily to wipe the emblem brooch on his cloak, and now he was raising it up again to see it shine in the firelight. As he caught me observing him, he smiled at me, and at his look, I felt my chest grow less tight.

"Does not the Chara know what his own slaves are doing?" I asked, allowing my eyes to smile back at him.

"The Chara has—" He calculated rapidly in his head. "I have 936 slaves, 165 court officials, and 289 palace free-servants – minus one, Drogo, because I inherited him from my father and hated having him as my personal free-servant. Dismissing him was my one purely pleasurable deed during the past few days. Other than Drogo, I have no idea what any of the people under my care are doing. I feel like a babe who has just been given charge over an army and must issue his first proclamation."

The door to the corridor opened. Peter and I gaped up from where we were, Peter lying on the couch, and me kneeling close by to him. Then I carefully picked myself up and went over to the fireside to gather up the Chara's cloak.

Peter had risen as well, saying smoothly, "It is good to see you, Lord Carle. I did not think that you would be by here until later."

I turned around with the cloak and saw that Lord Carle was watching me. His sword was unsheathed and his expression unreadable. Then his gaze slid over to the Chara, and I saw that Lord Carle was looking at the brooch that Peter still held in his hand. I wondered whether he would scold Peter for holding an ornament that was not part of his ceremonial dress. But all that he said was, "The guards allowed me in, since you told them to expect me. I beg your pardon for not knocking. It is hard for me to remember that you are no longer a boy."

"Yes," said Peter tersely. "Andrew, please take Lord Carle's cloak—"

Lord Carle waved me off. "I was on my way back to my quarters to change, but thought that I would stop to give you my congratulations." He raised his fist to his heart and held his sword blade against his forehead, imitating the oath of loyalty he had just given in the ceremony. "I will come by later, as you had requested. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

Peter relaxed his stiff pose as the door closed. "Thank the laws that he's gone. He is always respectful and helpful, and I know that he is the most loyal free-man I have, but he makes me exceedingly nervous with his formality. I sometimes think that he privately considers me a fool who is unfit for the office of the Chara."

"Then he is the fool," I said softly. "The Emorian people are lucky to have you."

Peter started. As he met my gaze, he replied quietly, "Thank you. . . . Andrew, I have something here for you." He leaned over and fingered through the pile of documents for a moment before pulling out a sheet of paper and walking over to stand next to me.

"I was intending to show this to you later, when we had a chance to talk," he said, "but you're here tonight. Can you read Old Emorian?"

"Just a little, Chara," I said. "I learned some when I was young, and learned a bit more this spring when I was working in the court clerk's quarters."

Peter gave a quirk of a smile. Slaves are not normally to be found scribing documents in the quarters of the Chara's clerk. Normally I would have been assigned other work while Peter took one final trip to the northern dominions with Lord Carle. But at the last minute, much to the palace slave-keeper's consternation, Peter had announced his wish that I be assigned a scribe's duties. I had overheard Lord Carle roaring at him about that decision.

"Well, then, perhaps you can make some sense of this," Peter said. "I can read Daxion, Koretian, and half a dozen other languages, but I will never master clerks' language. I had my clerk scribe this today, and I've signed it and will seal it as soon as I figure out which court official has custody of my father's seal-ring. What all the language amounts to . . ." Peter held the paper out to me, his gaze fixed on my face. ". . . is that you are free. It is your manumission paper."

I stared down at the page, seeing nothing among the black-inked words except the signature of Peter, followed by his half-dozen new titles. As though pulled, my gaze drifted up to the window on the other side of the room, through which I could see the black border mountains.

Without knowing how I got there, I found myself standing by the window, peering out at the mountains as though I could look straight through them to my homeland. Behind me, Peter said, "I had planned to give you a present for your years in service at the palace. If you would like, I could give you the goods and money you will need to return to Koretia and restart your life there."

His voice pulled me back from the scene. I turned and saw that he was standing where I had left him, my paper of freedom in his hand. He was watching me with a guarded expression I was accustomed to seeing when he was with others, but which he had rarely used against me.

When I did not reply, he said, in the same, even tone as before, "On the other hand, if, for any reason, you should wish to stay in Emor for three or four years more, I am in need of a new free-servant and would be pleased if you took on the duty."

I looked back at the dark mountains, and for a long while I remained silent. My right hand was clasped around my left wrist, and my thumb was rubbing the almost imperceptible remnant of a scar. Then I said, without looking at Peter, "Chara, I do not think that it is a good plan for a Koretian to stay longer in Emor than he is required to. The bonds of blood loyalty and land loyalty can become frayed over time, and it is best for a man to spend as much time as possible in the land that he has chosen as his home."

I looked back at Peter. He had not moved; his expression remained neutral. It took me several more tries to force my words to the surface. "It would not be right for me to stay here for three or four more years and then return to Koretia. If, however, you would be willing to consider keeping me as your free-servant beyond that time, I would like to live as an Emorian and serve the Chara as long as I may."

Peter turned suddenly and walked rapidly into his sleeping chamber, beyond my sight. He was a long time returning, and I found myself wondering whether I had failed some test he had set for me. But when he came back, he was holding a bone-sheathed dagger.

He placed it in my hands and said, "I didn't think you would want this if you were returning to Koretia, because it is of Emorian design. But if you are to be a free-man in this palace, you will need a free-man's weapon to wear on ceremonial occasions. I had this made for you."

I stared down at the dagger. The last time before the enthronement that I had seen a free-man's weapon had been that afternoon. Released from my work so that I might attend the slaves' celebrations, I had instead spent an hour eavesdropping on some of the free-servants practicing their vows. While Peter had been in the ceremony, I had stayed in his quarters and whispered those vows to myself, imagining that I was watching him become Chara.

Now I pulled the dagger from its sheath, turned to face Peter, and placed the blade flat-wise immediately in front of my eyes so that it ran down the middle of my face like the nose-bridge of a mask. I did not kneel; an Emorian stands while giving his oath of land loyalty, in order to indicate that, while the servant has duties toward the master, the master also has duties toward the servant.

"I, Andrew son of Gideon, free-servant of the Chara, do swear this vow unto the Chara Peter: that I will respect and obey the laws of Emor as they were given to the first Charas and as they are proclaimed by the Chara Peter, that I will use my weapon only as the Chara would have me do, and that I will serve the Chara with loyalty until death and beyond. This is my free-man's oath, sworn on this blade."

My mind had been so much on the words that I was speaking that it was not until I was done that I saw Peter's face. It had a look on it that I had never seen before: his eyes were as I remembered them, but the lines of his face were molded into a severe and formal mask, as though he were something much more than a sixteen-year-old man. Placing his fingers upon the Pendant of Judgment that lay over his heart, he replied in a voice firm and sure.

"I, Peter, the Great Chara of Emor and Its Dominions, Judge of the People, Commander of the Armies, Lord of the Marcadian Mountains, Ruler of the Arpeshian Nation, Master of the Koretian Land, do swear this vow unto you: that I will judge without favor to any man, that I will wreak vengeance upon my people's enemies, and that I will have mercy upon those who serve me with loyalty. This is the Chara's oath, sworn to those who are placed under my care and receive my peace."

We stood a moment longer, frozen in our poses as though both of us had been taken over by something older and wiser than ourselves. Then we smiled, and I sheathed the dagger and hung it on my belt.

Nine years later, I stood in the same room, looking down at the same dagger.

I was standing next to Peter's writing table, which held the Chara's official documents, as well as a jewel case. I never touched the latter, but I did sometimes open the box beside it, which belonged to me and which hid my free-man's weapon. I reached out to touch the white and creamy hilt. The smooth bone was raised in rows of delicate lines criss-crossing each other, but at the very tip of the hilt, hidden to the casual eye, was the emblem that only the Chara could wear: the Balance, the Bird, and the Sword.

I heard a noise behind me, and I slipped the dagger back into the box where it had lain for most of the time during the years since Peter had freed me. With my other hand, I picked up the Chara's ceremonial cloak from the fireside chair where he had discarded it the evening before, and turned to place it on him.

Peter was wearing his silver tunic, and he was busy hooking to his belt the silver and gold Sword of Judgment. As I came forward, he said nothing, but turned to allow me to place the black cloak on his shoulders. When I had closed the cloak's clasp, he walked over to the small jewel box lying on his writing table and pulled out the drawer. He looked down upon it for a moment, then picked up the Pendant of Judgment and placed it around his neck.

He caught my eye on him. "What is on your mind?"

"You have been quiet this morning, Chara."

Peter gave a faint smile. "You are polite. You mean that I'm not turning you deaf with my usual chatter." His hand went up to his chest, and he fingered the teardrop-shaped gold pendant with its large, central ruby. His smile faded as though it had been a hard-kept illusion. "You will have heard of the case that I have been judging."

"Just a little. You mean the one involving Lord Carle's free-servant?"

"His former free-servant. After Henry retired last year, you may recall that Lord Carle astounded us all by allowing him to continue living in his quarters. I suppose that even Lord Carle is capable of appreciating thirty years of loyal service. Since Henry is now a palace guest, he has been placed under my judgment for this case."

"It was a murder, I heard."

Peter gave me that look he sometimes cast my way when I was not as successful as usual at pretending ignorance of his deeds. "If you don't know the details, I think that you must be the only man in this palace who doesn't. But I suppose that the other servants haven't wished to discuss this case with the Chara's free-servant. Opinions are strong on the matter." He turned abruptly, closed the drawer that had contained the pendant, and said, with his back still turned, "I hand down my judgment today, and I expect that every chamber in this palace will be unmanned as the free-servants flock to hear what I say."

He continued to stand with his back to me, and I waited to see what more he would tell me, but he merely said abruptly, "I must go. The people are awaiting my word." Without looking my way, he left the room.

I bent down to pick up a face-cloth that had fallen from a table, and then made my way through the room, straightening piles of papers and putting away small items. Through the half-open door, I caught occasional glimpses of people walking by, all travelling in the same direction. After a while, I stood up from where I had been cleaning the Chara's boots, alerted without thought by a sound. No, not a sound, but an absence of sound: for once, the palace was absolutely silent.

I looked into the corridor outside. The corridor was usually bustling at this hour with lords, officials, palace visitors, free-servants, and slave-servants. The only persons there now were the Chara's guards, and even they appeared restive beneath their standard stiff poses. I went to my room, changed my tunic, and then, formally dressed, I returned to the sitting chamber and took out the dagger that Peter had given me.

A few minutes later, with my free-man's weapon clipped to my belt, I arrived at the Court of Judgment. Peter's guess had been right: the court seemed filled with every free-servant of the palace, as well as many of its officials. The crowd poured beyond the ceiling-high gold doors leading to the court floor, the place where I had stood on the few occasions that I had attended cases. Turning away, I moved toward the staircase to the balcony reserved for the council lords, their free-servants, and the Chara's free-servant.

Even this proved to be crowded. As I arrived, the other free-servants, who had been talking in low voices amidst themselves, fell silent and parted without a word to allow me passage to the front of the balcony. There I found a space next to some of the council lords who were intently watching the proceedings.

I had arrived in time for the court clerk's summary, used only in cases that lasted more than one day. The clerk, a shy man who struggled to overcome a stutter, was standing atop the thirty-stepped throne dais and reading the witnesses' testimony in as low a voice as possible. I could catch no word of what he said. Behind me, the servants had resumed whispering amongst themselves; below, the rest of the crowd was murmuring its opinions.

"It is a difficult case. I would not want to be the Chara today."

I turned my head and looked over at Lord Dean, standing beside me at the balcony railing. He smiled and said, "Your name is Andrew, is it not? We have met on many occasions, of course, but I don't believe that we have ever before had a chance to chat. I was surprised that you weren't watching the case on the previous days, as every other palace servant seems to be here. The Chara nearly decided to give judgment in private, but such was the notoriety of the case that he felt it better to have the witnesses speak in public."

"I did not realize that the murder was so important, High Lord."

"The murder is very unimportant, I think – the killing of an insignificant subcaptain. But Henry is facing a second charge of disobeying the Chara, and either one of those charges, you know, is enough to place him under the high doom. Still, the Chara has been generous in such cases before, and Henry may be fortunate enough to escape with a branding or enslavement."

I could just catch sight of Henry, standing at the foot of the dais steps with his hands rope-bound behind him. His posture was as straight as it had been in the days when he had served Lord Carle, and his grey head was tilted to look upward, not toward the clerk, but toward the Great Chara, sitting in judgment above him. Peter's cloak flowed like black water over the white marble throne, his arms lay motionless on the armrests, and his face was cold and formal. I could not see his eyes.

"This case will take the rest of the week if that clerk cannot stop stuttering," said Lord Dean, and he turned to his side to face me, leaning with ease against the railing. "Would you like me to tell you what is happening? The case is complex, but not so complex as the clerk is making it sound."

I murmured to him my thanks, and then gazed back at the scene below as Lord Dean said, "The subcaptain was one of those soldiers who helped put down the Snow Hills Rebellion in Marcadia. I don't know whether you are aware that Henry was originally brought to this land as a Marcadian slave, several decades ago. He had already been free for some time when he took up service with Lord Carle. Henry's sister was also sent into slavery, though the court summoners have been unable to discover where she was sold – she was sought as a witness in this case, at the Chara's request. Henry claims that the soldier whom he murdered was the one who raped and enslaved his sister."

The clerk ceased to speak, and a group of men standing at the foot of the dais were beckoned forward to sign their names to their written witness. I watched them walk up the steps one by one: some soldiers, a few servants, and a lord.

Lord Dean followed my gaze and said, "Yes, Lord Carle chose to give evidence against his free-servant. He was the only witness besides the Chara himself to the charge of disobedience. As I'm sure you know, the Chara prefers not to give evidence in cases that he himself is judging, though he will usually do so if there is no other witness to a serious crime. In this case, however, Henry came to Lord Carle and confided to him that he had gone to see the Chara to ask him whether he might be allowed to bring a charge of rape against the soldier. The Chara told him that the court summoners had never allowed such charges to be made in the case of wartime assaults, and that he would not overrule the summoners. Then he commanded Henry to look no further into the matter."

I watched Lord Carle bend over the paper that the clerk proffered and sign it with a decisive stroke. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lord Carle's new free-servant watching his master, then turning to say something to Lord Dean's free-servant. My ear caught the word "Chara."

Lord Dean leaned over the railing and said, "Of course, what all of the palace servants are discussing is whether the Chara should have overruled the summoners, but that doesn't enter into the judgment of this case. Henry has admitted his disobedience; he is defending himself against the charge of murder without provocation. He says that he went to see this subcaptain only to learn whether the man knew where his sister had been sold. Some of the palace free-servants bear out this testimony, and certainly Henry did not bring any weapon with him. Soldiers passing the subcaptain's tent did not hear Henry speaking, but they heard the subcaptain laughing. Henry claims that the subcaptain not only refused to tell him where his sister was sold, but that he also made personal and disparaging remarks about his sister, causing Henry to grow mad with anger. He killed the subcaptain with the soldier's own sword."

Lord Dean cut himself off from his next sentence. The crowd quieted as the clerk and the last of the witnesses stepped down from the dais. Lord Dean leaned forward and joined me in watching the enthroned figure below.

Peter's voice, when it came, was strong and stilted with formality. "Henry son of Howe, palace guest of the Chara: you have been brought here to answer two charges. The first charge is that you did murder without provocation Colm, Subcaptain of the Palace Guard. The witness in this charge is Baldemar, orderly to Subcaptain Colm, and the sentence for such a crime is mercy or branding or the high doom. You have accepted the charge of murder, but deny that it was done without provocation."

The crowd was hushed as Peter reached toward the Pendant of Judgment. He raised the stone to his lips, kissed it, and then raised it to his forehead, where he kept it for a moment before allowing it to fall back to his chest. Dispassionately, he said, "The Chara's judgment is that the prisoner is guilty. The Chara's sentence is mercy."

A sigh went over the crowd, like a soft wave breaking against a shore. Some of the servants behind me began to murmur, but when I looked over at Lord Dean, his gaze was still fixed upon the Chara.

Peter continued, "The second charge brought against you is that you did willfully and with clear understanding disobey the command of the Great Chara. The witness in this charge is Carle, Lord of the Great Council, and the sentence for such a charge is mercy or enslavement or the high doom." Once more Peter's hand held the pendant next to his heart, where mercy resides; on his lips, where vengeance is spoken; and above his eyes, where judgment is made. Then he let the Pendant of Judgment fall and said, "The Chara's judgment is that the prisoner is guilty. The Chara's sentence is the high doom of death by the sword."

I did not see how Henry reacted to the sentence, and only faintly could I hear the grumble of the crowd as it began to disperse. My eyes and thoughts were on the Chara, a young man of twenty-five years, sitting as motionless as though he were as permanent a being as a land or a god.

Lord Dean said in my ear, "Many of the free-servants will be unhappy with the Chara's judgment and sentence."

I turned away then, and with a voice as dispassionate as the Chara's had been, I said to the council lord, "It is indeed a hard case to judge."

The white-haired lord smiled, the wrinkles on his face turning upward. "I have heard many fine stories of your tact and your loyalty to your master. Yet Peter tells me that you are always willing to offer your opinion on his actions, should he ask. That is a rare combination, a servant who is close-mouthed in public and candid in private. Should you ever wish to leave the Chara's service, I think that I could find some work for you that would bring good to our land. Or it may be that you will be able to find such a role while working for the Chara."

I bowed to the High Lord in acknowledgment of his words, watched him walk away to discuss the case with another lord, and then left the balcony.

I returned to the Chara's quarters and found Lord Carle there, holding the emblem brooch in his hand.

The door was half-open, and I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him. Lord Carle was looking down at the brooch with a smile, an easy, friendly smile which I had seen on only a few occasions during my years with him and which, it need hardly be said, he had never directed toward me. As he held the emblem up toward the light, he caught sight of me, but his smile did not disappear.

"Good day to you, Andrew," he said, carefully replacing the brooch on the table before him. "I hope that you are well today."

I stepped inside, leaving the door ajar as I had found it, and spent a minute assessing his face before I was able to convince myself that Lord Carle's words were anything more than his usual sarcasm. "Good day to you, Lord Carle," I said with detached courtesy. "May I offer you wine?"

"Thank you, but no," he said. "I am on my way back to my quarters to change. I only stopped to give the Chara my congratulations for his fine judgment in this case."

I kept my eyes fixed on his. It had been one of my keenest pleasures as a free-man to discover that I could now stare straight at Lord Carle without impunity. I said, in a voice still innocent of all emotion, "I am sure that the Chara will want to congratulate you as well for the help you gave in the case."

The smile disappeared then, like water trickling out of a cracked cup, and I saw him probe me with his look. When he spoke, his voice was without anger, but there was a firmness to it that had not been there before. "It was of course regretful that I should have had to give evidence against my former servant. But Henry disobeyed the Chara, and it is important to Emor that disloyalty not be allowed to flourish."

"Yes," I said. "I suppose the fact that Henry served you loyally for thirty years does not compensate you for discovering that you had a disobedient servant."

I had flung myself into battle while holding only a child's dagger, I knew. This was not the manner in which free-servants were supposed to address council lords. But servants were not supposed to address the Chara in such a manner either, and I had grown used to my freedom in more than one way.

Lord Carle was gazing at me now with narrowed eyes; his contented mood had vanished. "If Henry had been disobedient to me, I would have forgiven him," he said, raising his voice. "But he was disobedient to the Chara, to whom he swore, on his free-man's blade, that he would serve with loyalty. Betrayal of the Chara cannot be forgiven. The life of Emor depends on the Chara's subjects obeying his commands."

My own voice began to raise above its customary low pitch. "If you are concerned with the Chara and not with your own pride, then you might recall that the Chara also made an oath of loyalty, one to show mercy toward those placed under his care. It is an oath, I think, that all masters should be required to make." I paused, and then added recklessly, "Since you have so much loyalty toward the Chara, perhaps you would like to begin such a custom."

Lord Carle stood motionless; he was breathing heavily. He said, his words dropping like stones from a slingshot, "You are a fine one to talk to me of loyalty."

My hand, which was resting on my dagger hilt, curled into a fist. "What do you mean by—?"

"Enough," said the Chara.

He was at the doorway; one of his hands had swept back the door, while the other was resting on the hilt of his sword. He stood in that stance for a moment, his cloak widened to twice its usual size, as he looked at both of us with the expression of the Chara in judgment.

"Return here later," he told Lord Carle abruptly. Lord Carle bowed and left the room without a word. The Chara turned to close the door after the council lord, and when he turned back, his face had not changed.

"You two," he said icily, "could be heard halfway to the Court of Judgment. As I walked down the corridor just now, the only servants who were not staring at me with scorn were those who were busy amusing themselves by listening to the Chara's free-servant pick a fight with a council lord. I did not need this today."

He pulled at his cloak clasp, and then removed the cloak with one swift movement and threw it onto the fireside chair. His right hand came back to rest on the sword hilt.

"I know that Lord Carle is a difficult man," he said, "but you do not make things easy for him. You are insolent toward him, in both words and looks, and on the occasions on which he has been courteous to you, like a soldier laying down his arms, you have repaid him with words as cruel as dagger-thrusts. I am tired of having to intervene on your behalf to keep Lord Carle from going to the court summoners and charging you with the crime of insulting a free-man. I am also tired of overhearing whispered jokes about how the Chara is Master of the Koretian Land but that he is not master of his own free-servant." The immobility of his face was matched by the coldness of his eyes. "Let me be clear, Andrew son of Gideon. From this moment, you are not to begin any conversation with Lord Carle unless I am present. I say this as the Chara. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Chara," I said woodenly.

"Good. Then go change out of those clothes. And put away that dagger – you have not behaved today in a manner worthy of a free-man."

He turned his back on me and strode over to his writing table, but I did not move. When the Chara reached the table he paused, took off his pendant slowly, and held it in his hand for a moment. He said quietly, without looking back, "I saw you in the balcony. Was it Henry's case that you were fighting about with Lord Carle?"

"Yes."

The Chara let the pendant fall into the box where he kept it. He stood looking at the ornament for a moment longer, then turned and leaned back against the table. His face had lost its frigid lines, and he said in a low voice, "You should have saved your quarrel for me. I will have to defend my decision to every free-servant in this palace. I may as well try out my defense on you."

I stood as rigidly as I had before. With eyes lowered somewhat, I said, "It was a difficult case to judge."

I barely caught sight of the flicker of anger in Peter's eyes as he said, "That is the sort of statement I would expect to hear from Lord Dean, not you. I did not make you my servant so that you could tell me the polite lies that I hear from everyone else. I want your honesty."

I raised my eyes to match his. "I think that you were wrong in your judgment and wrong in your sentence and wrong in other matters as well."

"Thank you," said Peter. He pulled off his sword, laid it gently on the desk beside the pendant, and allowed his hand to rest on it for a moment. His gaze drifted over to the great blade beside him, and then returned to me.

"I would much rather have been Henry today, facing the high doom, than myself, placing him under the high doom," he said softly. "If it had been my decision, I would have let him go free. But the case was not decided by me but by the laws of Emor, which I am sworn to uphold. When I vowed not to show favor to any man, it was precisely this sort of trial that was meant. If I were to show favor to Henry because I liked him, then I would no longer be restricted by the law of this land, and it is the Chara's law that keeps Emor from dissolving into the civil war that nearly destroyed Koretia. I suppose that this is hard for you to understand, since you were not born Emorian."

"You could have found Henry guilty of disobedience but sentenced him to mercy."

"The sentencing is part of the law. I should have explained the law-structure to you long ago, for you can't understand my duties without it. I am bound as fast as a prisoner by what the law says I can do. I am as much a servant to the law as any of my subjects – if I were not, I would not be allowed to rule, and if there were no Chara to proclaim the ancient laws, then the laws would cease to exist. My main duty is to keep Emor alive through my judgments, and I cannot do this if my subjects believe that they can disobey me without penalty."

"Lord Carle said something like that just now," I murmured.

Peter picked the brooch up off of the desk and stared down at the royal emblem. "Contrary to your belief, Lord Carle does occasionally speak words that are true. One thing he has told me is that I do not discipline you enough. I would not want to imitate Lord Carle's methods of discipline, but perhaps you have so often seen me showing mercy that you forget I wear the Sword of Vengeance. Did you know that in ancient times one of the Chara's duties was to execute with his own hands those who were placed under the high doom? The Charas used this sword for that purpose. I thank the wisdom of the dead Charas that I am not required to carry out such a duty – customs do change in Emor, but the laws do not change, and one law is that those who willfully disobey the Chara's direct command must die."

He had been leaning against the table in as relaxed a pose as before, but as his eyes met mine, I saw he knew that we were in a dagger-duel as dangerous as any I had attempted with Lord Carle. Since he realized this, I did not hesitate before asking my next question: "And what of the custom that the Chara may overrule the court summoners?"

"Ah." Peter gave a somber smile as he pushed himself away from the table and went over to stand by the sitting chamber's southern window. He looked out for a moment, and the light breeze that seemed never to cease in Emor blew his hair over his eyes so that I could not see them.

"I knew that it would come to that in the end," he said. "This is harder to explain, because it has nothing to do with my duties as the Chara; rather, it has to do with my frailties as a man. In the court today, my duty was clear, and I had no choice but to take vengeance against Henry. But I had the choice of whether to take vengeance against the subcaptain for the rape he had committed, and I chose to have mercy."

He turned toward the window so that I could not see even his face. "It has been nine years now since I left the palace," he said quietly. "I would have had to leave the palace if there had been threat of a war, but no wars have occurred since I became Chara. I have never been in battle, but my father told me what it is like. He said that the worst moments come, not during the fighting itself, but in the nights before great battles, when the soldiers are forced to wait for hours, knowing that they may die the next day. My father said that many soldiers who have been brave during sword-battle desert their duties during that terrible waiting. I used to wonder whether I myself would some day betray Emor in such a way, for I have never had to face the possibility of death. That is why I find it so hard to condemn others to death, and that is why I am unwilling to punish soldiers who commit evil deeds during war."

He looked back at me, and I supposed that he expected me to make some gentle reply to this confession of fear. But I could see framed behind him the black border mountains, and there came to me an image of fear and destruction beyond that which he had given me.

I said bitterly, "And what mercy have you shown toward the girl who was raped? You said that you have never been a soldier – well, you have never been the victim of a soldier either. You have not been raped or killed or enslaved, or watched as your city was destroyed on the orders of the Chara."

Peter was still holding the emblem brooch. His fingers curled around it, not with vigor, but with tenderness, as though he were holding Emor itself in his palm. He said quietly, "I've never asked about your life in Koretia, Andrew, not even how it is that you came to be enslaved. I've heard you cry out in your sleep and guessed that that must be what you were dreaming about, but I did not believe that I had the right to question you. Since it is clear, though, that you blame the Chara for your enslavement, I think that I had better know what it is that you saw in that city when the Emorians attacked."

I said, in a voice as icy as the Chara's had been some time before, "You mention my dream. I will tell you what it is that I cannot stop dreaming about. I dream of the day that I was enslaved, and of the soldier who enslaved me. That is not why I cry out. I cry out because the same soldier who enslaved me killed my blood brother John and raped and killed my mother. I cry out because the fire consumed my city soon after, so that even if I were to return there today, I would not be able to visit his ash-tomb."

I failed to notice that the destruction in my mind had focussed itself on a single image. But when he spoke, Peter said, "I have heard of blood brothers but have never known what they are."

"They are created by a blood vow to the gods, a vow between two Koretian friends who may some day be parted. Shortly before you and I first saw each other, John and I exchanged blood and swore to be loyal to each other beyond death and to uphold each other's vows. John swore to help bring peace to our land." I paused, making sure that my eyes were firmly centered on Peter's. "I swore to kill the Chara."

When Peter spoke again, his voice was soft. "The Chara makes a vow to bring peace as well. My father believed that Emor could not have peace unless he attacked the Koretian capital. If I had had to judge the case myself, and if I had known what I know now – that the city would be destroyed, that all but a handful of its people would be enslaved or put to the sword, that your mother and blood brother would be killed and that you would be enslaved and gelded – if I had known all that, I would have given the same judgment as my father did."

There was a silence. Peter's hand had closed more tightly around the emblem, but his gaze did not falter. I turned and left the Chara's quarters without a word.

The Chara did not call me back. If he had, I would not have obeyed him.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

As the sun began to set that evening, I was sitting where I had been all afternoon, in the inner garden of the Chara's palace.

Peter had once said that I must be a reincarnation of the man who named this location, because I shared that man's talent for understatement. The "garden" was a courtyard the size of a village. Peter often visited there since he was not allowed to go into the Emorian countryside. The garden had been fashioned to look like the country, with pastures and meadows and the stone walls that bound every Emorian field, but with no trees, since these are rare in Emor, though its northern dominions were heavily forested. I had come here with Peter on occasion, since I now avoided looking out of windows but was still seeking scenery that would return to me the peace of heart I had left behind in Koretia.

I had never found that peace in the garden, nor anywhere else in the palace, save in the presence of Peter. Now, I knew, I would not even find it there.

I sat in the corner of the garden, hidden by bushes from the lords and officials who had been drawn to this place by the golden summer sun. My eyes were closed, and my fingers ran over the emblem at the tip of my dagger hilt. I had always thought that Peter had given the dagger to me out of love, the sort of love that sometimes grows between a master and his servant. I had raged against Lord Carle because he had not shown such love to Henry, but I had never doubted that Peter felt that way toward me. Now, though, there whispered in my mind Peter's final words to me. Had he really given me my freedom out of love for his loyal subject? Or had he simply been the Chara, fulfilling his duty by selecting a servant whom he could use as an intermediary with his slaves? I had once said that Peter wore a mask; now I feared that he wore that mask even with me.

I opened my eyes and saw that it was growing dark. The dinner hour had arrived, and as I stood up, I saw that the garden was now deserted but for two soldiers guarding a passageway running directly to the Chara's quarters.

I did not head that way. I was not sure where I would go, but I could not face Peter while I was still unsure of what sort of man he was. Instead, I stepped onto the cobbled pavement bordering the garden and walked toward a doorway for another passage that eventually ended at the corridor leading to the Map Room. I could see the soldiers watching me and exchanging whispers. They must have been among those who had overheard my fight with Lord Carle.

I was thinking this when I reached the doorway and nearly walked into Lord Carle.

He was about to step out of the doorway from the narrow passage behind, and my first impression of him was that he looked like a weary veteran from the Border Wars, retreating after some great defeat. He had changed out of his ceremonial dress, and his hand touched his belt lightly, as though he missed the sword there. He stopped the moment that he saw me, and a wariness entered his eyes. He did not speak, but neither did he move, and I did not expect him to move, for we were face to face, and he was waiting for the servant to step out of the way of the council lord.

I felt a sudden flicker of anger inside me, not only for his easy assumption of my inferiority, but also because he had been the cause of my quarrel with Peter.

We stood a moment more as I waited for him to tell me to move away. And then – it was a sight that every servant in the palace would have paid good money to see – Lord Carle stepped aside in the doorway to allow me to pass.

It was too late. The flicker of anger had grown into a cool blaze inside me, and I promptly moved to one side to block his way again. His lips tightened, but still he did not speak.

"We did not finish our conversation, Lord Carle," I said with a false tone of calmness.

Lord Carle was again silent. Then he said softly, "I do not think that you should be speaking to me."

"I beg your pardon for addressing a council lord in such a bold manner," I said, "but as you have often told me, I have little respect for my superiors. This being the case, I demand that you explain why you said that I am disloyal to the Chara."

Cold amusement entered into Lord Carle's eyes, though his mouth remained somber. "Loyalty is a subject I am now well acquainted with," he said, "since I have spent the past three hours with your master, listening to him explain what form he expects my loyalty to take. I must admit that I am surprised that you would pick these particular circumstances to defend to me your loyalty to the Chara. Nonetheless, since you have asked the question, I will answer it. I did not say that you were disloyal to the Chara – that is another question, for another day. What is beyond dispute is that you are a traitor to Koretia."

He stepped past me then, and stood on the pavement beside me. I was paralyzed at his words. Further down, I could see that the soldiers, though too far away to hear our conversation, were entertained by our confrontation.

I said, with a voice as cold as my body felt, "That should give you great joy, Lord Carle."

"On the contrary, it lessens my respect for you. When we first met, you told me that you had made a blood vow to kill the Chara – I do not think that you have forgotten that vow, as the Chara told me a short while ago that you had revealed it to him for the first time. It is not clear to me why you felt the desire to mention this matter to him, since you are now the Chara's free-servant, are wearing the Emorian tunic he gave you, are not planning even a short trip to Koretia, and do not, as far as I know, have any plans to kill the Chara. If you were in fact contemplating some secret betrayal, I might regain the respect for you that I lost on the night when I discovered you chatting with the Chara as though he were your blood brother rather than your sworn enemy."

Something rumbled inside me, like a small fire growing large, or a thundercloud in the moments before lightning strikes. I said, again calmly, "You will at least admit that, whatever my past loyalties, I am now loyal to the Chara."

"I would like to think that you are. It would give me joy to think that you plan to dedicate your life to serving the Chara. Or, if this were not the case, it would at least give me some satisfaction to find that you have been secretly plotting to kill him and that you have always remained loyal to your Koretian brothers. But what I fear is that you are dedicated to no man but yourself – that you are a creature incapable of loyalty, enjoying a pleasant childhood in Koretia, and then being tempted away by the luxuries of Emor. That is not the sort of loyalty that the Chara needs." The scorn was unshielded in Lord Carle's voice now.

I said, still keeping my voice low so that the soldiers could not hear me, "I swore an oath to be loyal to the Chara."

"As you swore a vow to kill him. You will not need to answer to any imaginary Koretian gods for breaking your blood vow, but you will have to answer to the Chara if you betray him."

I felt a crack of lightning go through my body as the cold fire inside began to rage out of control. I made one last effort to master my anger, saying through gritted teeth, "I will never betray the Chara."

"Your very words reveal your disloyalty. Only a few minutes ago, the Chara instructed me not to start any conversations with you, and I assume that he gave you the same command. You have already betrayed his trust by your disobedience here."

He walked past me toward the garden, but had not yet stepped off the pavement when he whirled around at the sound of hissing metal.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the soldiers frozen with their hands on their sword hilts, afraid to move forward lest they make matters worse. Lord Carle was frozen too, his gaze on the dagger that came slowly toward him. As I placed the dagger tip against his heart, his eyes rose to meet mine. I waited to see what his last words would be; I could read neither anger nor fear nor anything else in his look.

He said, in a voice as serene as our surroundings, "I see that I am to become acquainted with a new Koretian custom, that of killing an unarmed man."

The dagger ripped through a few threads of his tunic, then screamed and sparked as it skidded over the pavement toward the soldiers. In the moment that followed, I saw nothing except the smile beginning to form on Lord Carle's face.

Then the soldiers raced toward me. I did not run; I was looking at Lord Carle, who was lying on the ground where I had struck him down.

The following evening, the palace guards brought me, hand-bound, to see the Chara.

Each of my two escorts had a hand clasping one of my arms in an effort to ensure that their dangerous prisoner did not escape. Their other hands held unsheathed swords, ready at a moment's notice. We marched by the doorway guards, past the doors open to receive us, and into the Map Room, dark but for a single torch whose flame wavered in the nighttime breeze.

The Chara was leaning over the table, examining a piece of paper there; his finger-tips rested lightly on the black wood. He was facing the doors, but did not look up as we entered. The soldiers jerked to a halt, saluting their ruler with their swords, and then the senior guard announced in a loud voice, "Great Chara, we have brought the prisoner."

Still the Chara did not look up. His face and body were hidden in shadow. In an even, ordinary voice, he said, "You may leave the prisoner here and wait outside."

The guards released me, and after a moment their retreating steps were followed by the sound of the doors closing, and then silence. Finally the Chara looked up. He walked slowly around the table until he was standing at its side and his body was once more in the light. His face was cold and formal, and on his chest lay the Pendant of Judgment.

"Andrew son of Gideon, free-servant of the Chara," he intoned, "you have been brought here to answer charges made against you by Carle, Lord of the Great Council. The first charge is that you did willfully and with clear understanding disobey the command of the Great Chara."

He paused a moment, and I found that without thought I had fixed my gaze straight forward, as I did in the days when I was Lord Carle's servant. The torchlight cast dark shadows beneath the Chara's eyes so that his face appeared mask-like.

The Chara continued, "The witness in this charge is the Chara, and I have declined to give evidence. Therefore, the charge is dismissed."

I did not move, but stood as though my whole body were wrapped in chains. The Chara likewise was motionless as he spoke.

"The second charge," he said, "is that you did attempt to murder without provocation the same Lord Carle. The witness in this charge is Emmett, guard of the Chara's palace, and the sentence for such a crime is mercy or branding or the high doom." He stopped, waited three heartbeats, and said, "Lord Carle has withdrawn this charge, and instead charges you with striking a nobleman without provocation. The witness in this charge is the same, and the sentence for such a crime is mercy or branding or enslavement. Do you deny the charge?"

I had had time, shivering in the cool cells of the palace dungeon, to think what my answer would be. Carefully phrasing my words, I said, "I do not deny that I hit Lord Carle."

The Chara was still, assessing me. After a moment he said, "Do you deny that you struck him without provocation?"

I was silent. The gold and ruby pendant that hung around the Chara's neck shimmered in the light as his chest moved with his breathing. When he spoke again, the Chara's voice remained even and formal. "Did he provoke you?"

Again I was silent. The Chara moved his right hand slowly to his pendant. Then, in one swift and violent motion, he tore the pendant from his neck, turning to slam it down upon the table beside him. For a minute he leaned on the table, his palms fixed flat on the surface, and I could hear his heavy breathing. Finally he turned his head, and he said in his own voice, "Andrew, I cannot require Lord Carle to give witness against himself. Will you not tell me what he said to you?"

My tongue felt like a dead weight in my mouth; my lips could barely move. I said, "No."

Peter looked down at the table again and closed his eyes. He brought the fingertips of one hand up against his forehead and held them there. At last he spat out softly a brief and powerful curse that I had never heard on his lips.

He stood up, walked toward me, and passed me. There was silence behind me. Then my back stiffened as I heard him unsheathe the Sword of Vengeance. Cold metal touched me, and my bonds began to loosen as he cut them with the blade.

He said as he did so, "If you had used that dagger against Lord Carle, then I would have executed the high doom against you with my own hands for your being such a fool as to carry a weapon when you were angry. Most men can master their bloodthirst, but you cannot, and you ought to have realized that long ago."

I heard him sheathe the sword as he moved over to my left side. Holding the cut rope in one hand, he said softly, "But since you were wise enough to throw away the dagger, then I will admit that I believe you had every right to strike Lord Carle, if not for what he said to you, then for the shameful way he treated you during the years in which you were under his care."

He looked at me soberly, with gentle eyes. My expression did not change, but I felt something unknot within me, as though Peter had unbound not only my hands but my heart.

"Nevertheless—" Peter moved back to the table, tossed the rope on it, and leaned back against the wood planks, facing me. "I am the Chara. I have passed judgment before in cases like this – palace guards striking their officials and other such troubles. In many cases I have dispensed mercy, and therefore I would feel no guilt in doing so to you – if this were my case. But it is not."

I waited. Dimly, through the open window, I could hear the tramp of soldiers patrolling the city streets. Peter folded his hands but for the index fingers and brought these to his lips. He said, "My father was of the belief – and it was a good belief – that it is dangerous for the Chara to have too much power over his immediate servants. He believed that, if a palace free-servant committed a crime, someone other than the Chara ought to pronounce judgment on the servant. Therefore, since the council takes care of its own, my father bound over to the council the right to judge and sentence prisoners who are palace free-servants. And the High Lord has appointed as the council's judge one of his lords who has shown a great interest in matters of discipline."

This time it was Peter who waited. I said, my voice flat and dry, "Lord Carle."

Peter spread his hands in front of him in acknowledgment of my words. "You are under Lord Carle's care, and it is he who may judge you and pass sentence. I can give him my recommendation, but he has already told me in private that he believes you require once more the discipline of slavery. He has also told me who your new master would be."

My chest tightened, and I felt my fists begin to clench. Peter continued swiftly, "And so my clerk and I spent all of last night trying to find some way out of this problem. And I believe that, in the end, we found something a solution that will serve."

I did not unclench my fists, but my breathing eased somewhat. The breeze from the window made the light shudder once more, and the shifting shadows revealed to me what I had not noticed before: the dark circles below the Chara's eyes.

He said, "You are a palace free-servant; that is why you are under Lord Carle's care. But if you were under my care, I would be able to dispense the mercy I believe you deserve." He turned and pulled toward him the paper he had been reading upon my entrance.

My fists were still clenched. I forced myself to wait two heartbeats more before I said, in a carefully neutral voice, "You wish me to be your slave once more?"

Peter had been reaching for a pen. His head jerked up, and there was a moment's silence before he laughed and said, "I must admit that such a solution did not occur to me during my sleepless night. No, my idea is more devious. Prisoners who are palace free-servants are under Lord Carle's care, but prisoners who are palace guests are under my care. The Chara is reserved judgment in crimes involving men and women who visit the palace briefly, or men like that horrid bard Esmond, who stopped here one night during a rainstorm twenty years ago and whom we have not been able to get rid of since then. This document was prepared by my clerk – it is all clerks' language, but if you sign it, you will be resigning from the palace service and may remain here as my guest." He held out the paper and pen expectantly.

Still I could not find a way to unclench my fists. I stayed motionless and asked, in the same flat tone as before, "And what would my duties be as a guest?"

Peter put the paper carefully down on the table, placed the pen beside it, picked up the pen again, and stared at the quill for a second before his eyes met mine. He said simply, "To be my friend, I hope."

During the silence that followed, his gaze dropped again, this time toward the floor. After a moment he raised his head and said in a low voice, "Andrew, my father often told me when I was a boy that it was impossible for the Chara to be friends with a free-servant or a slave. I have come to see that he is right. Neither a free-servant nor a slave-servant is someone with whom one can converse candidly, as one can with a friend. But eleven years ago, I walked out of Lord Carle's room sick with anger and filled with loneliness from the fact that I could tell no one what I was thinking. And then I met you, and you listened to my troubles and told me honestly what you thought I was like and even smiled at my joke. And since that time I have considered you my friend, though I have never told you so."

He looked at me, and as I gazed at him I saw suddenly in him the boy-heir I had met long ago, courteous and quiet, afraid to speak openly, lest his words be used as weapons against him. He waited for me to reply. When I did not, he said in a voice even lower than before, "I do not speak my thoughts to many people – it is not wise for me to do so. Aside from you, I am candid with few men. As for you . . . Well, as far as I know, you volunteer your thoughts to no one. This too is probably wise. But if you would care to be candid with me tonight, I would very much like to know how you think of me."

I opened my mouth finally, spoke a word that did not reach past my lips, tried again, and said, "Chara . . ." My voice trailed off, as though the formal title had dropped somewhere in the stretch of space between us, too heavy to reach the young man before me.

When he spoke again, it was in little more than a whisper. "If you wish, you may call me Peter."

I whirled around suddenly and walked almost blindly to a small window overlooking the southern part of the city. In the dim moonlight I could see the black mountains bordering Koretia; down below, hidden in the blackness, was the marketplace where I had revealed my blood vow against the Chara.

When I looked to my side, I saw that Peter was standing next to me at the window, his eyes on me, and his fingers tenderly cradling the pen. My gaze fell, and I said in a quiet voice that matched his, "Peter, before I struck Lord Carle, he told me that I was a traitor to my people. He said I had broken my vow of loyalty to Koretia, for I had sworn when I first met him that I would never become Emorian and that my blood was dedicated to the slaying of the Chara. He pointed out that I now wore Emorian clothes, that I was free-servant to the Chara himself, and that I had no plans to return to my homeland. He said that the luxuries of my life here had led me to forswear my duty to my Koretian brothers."

My eyes were still cast down; I could see Peter's hand clenched about the pen, as though he were holding a weapon. I looked up and gazed into the Chara's eyes. "It is true, what Lord Carle said, that I have broken my vow and that I am a traitor to my people. But I did not do this for love of the riches here. I did it for love of the Chara, whom I never considered my friend, because I dared not aspire that high."

Peter's eyes remained solemn, but the corners of his mouth crooked upwards into a slight smile. He took a step forward and held out the pen toward me. "Dare."

Slowly I reached toward the pen. As I took it from him, I felt for a moment his wrist beating against mine, blood next to blood. Then his hand dropped for a moment, and when it rose again, it made a gesture I had not seen him make since his enthronement, a gesture that no Chara had ever made, because the Chara has no equals: he touched his heart and his forehead.

I returned to him the greeting, and then walked over to the table to sign the paper.
 

¶ Next Part

Blood Vow is part of the Three Lands series. To receive notice of book publications and free online fiction, subscribe to one of Dusk Peterson's e-mail lists or blogs.

Post a comment about this story at Dusk Peterson's blog.

[ HOME ] [ The Three Lands ] [ E-mail ]

This text was originally published at duskpeterson.com as part of the series The Three Lands. Copyright © 2008 Dusk Peterson. Some rights reserved. The text is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial No Derivatives License (creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0). You may freely print, post, e-mail, or otherwise distribute the entire text for noncommercial purposes, provided that you include this paragraph. The author's policies on derivative works and fan works are available online (duskpeterson.com/copyright.htm).