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When she was a little girl of five, Ges Ra Ividar had seen the dungeons of Dalsaman. Her father had been taking her through the rose gardens when he learned that an assassin was going to be executed that hour. The assassin had been trying to kill him, but still Gahandin Ro Ividar did not want anyone dying on his account. Some thought this made him a great beylan. Others felt exactly the opposite.<\/p>\n
The dungeons were two stories below the surface, underneath the wine cellars. Made entirely of Makhese brick, the walls and floors were a dingy, reddish brown, covered in niter and cobwebs, bestrewn with rat droppings and hair from torn beards and worried scalps.<\/p>\n
The \u2018assassin\u2019 was a stick-thin boy of twenty whose older sister had died on a ship that sank in the harbor. The boy somehow felt the beylan was responsible. Gahandin did not disagree. He sat with the boy and talked of their families for an hour. In the end, he begged forgiveness, which the beylic granted. He begged for freedom too, but that was not granted. Gahandin Ro Ividar was a kind man, but not a fool. So most thought. The boy, supposedly, died in the dungeons. In truth, she had never thought of him again until now.<\/p>\n
Ges thought the dungeons might look or feel different from the inside, but they were just as dismal and depressing. Her left shoulder was throbbing horribly; with each heartbeat, it seemed to wrench tighter and tighter. Her right shoulder was as dense and dead as ever.<\/p>\n
She sat in the back corner of the tiny room, her back straight. Beyond the bars and out of sight, a nearby torch threw dim orange light upon the wall. She supposed she should be grateful for that. The Monosi seemed not so much cruel as careless, and much of their evil seemed lain at the foot of convenience, more than any conscious malice. It was almost more frightening, this way.<\/p>\n
They had not fed her, but she was not sure she could eat. It had only been a few hours, she was sure, before the sounds of armored feet thudded down the hallway, and three figures blocked out that light.<\/p>\n
Even in the dim glow, she recognized the blue armor he still wore. His helm was off; she was shocked at how young he was. No older than twenty: grim, humorless, hard, but a boy still. Next to him stood a knight in purple and yellow silks, still in mail, with a bulbous nose and a grey beard. On his other side was a woman in a red skirt and a white silken blouse, her yellow hair tied back in a braid. A speller, though dressed a little finer than the others.<\/p>\n
\u201cGes Ra Ividar?\u201d the blue knight asked. She nodded. \u201cI am Ardromor Vuliparo, Prince of the Blood. I believe you have met my brother, the King of Kings.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have,\u201d she croaked, \u201ca charming boy, to be sure.\u201d Her throat was raw.<\/p>\n
Ardromor pursed his lips, then nodded to the speller. \u201cFetch a skin of water for the commander.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she rasped, looking at the knight. \u201cMake him do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Prince of the Blood narrowed his eyes. \u201cLord Urriment?\u201d<\/p>\n
The knight, who was evidently a lord, was surprised to be given such a menial task, but it was only a moment before he was off down the hallway.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe seemed shocked by the command,\u201d she noted, clearing her throat several times after speaking.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe is a lord. A minor lord, but a lord nonetheless.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd she?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe is a speller.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it a speller\u2019s task to fetch?\u201d She wanted to say more, but her throat was closing up, and she could not get enough saliva in her mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cA speller is below a lord, my Lady. Do you not have degrees or hierarchies in Zalja?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many lords are women?\u201d she choked out.<\/p>\n
The young man pressed his lips together. Cenedras would have quibbled the point, as would Lord Borromeo, but this Prince Ardromor accepted her meaning. She was grateful for that. It was painful to speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cLord Urriment was pivotal in our victory,\u201d he said, more to pass the time as they waited for water. \u201cIt was his idea to take ships from Supola Jengo and sail south down the far side of the bay and take you from behind. The wind was in our favor. The King of Kings still has not reached us. No doubt he will sorrow to learn the battle was won without him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2026\u201d she started, but could say no more.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did he escape? He says he climbed the walls by the bay and swam past the northern shore. As for the truth, I could not say. Cenedras\u2026 likes to embellish.\u201d<\/p>\n
She coughed at that.<\/p>\n
In good time, Lord Urriment returned with two skins of water, passing them both through the bars. Small though the cell was, Ges still had to crawl on her hands and knees to reach them. She downed one in a few seconds, then took her time with the second. \u201cWe thank you,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe?\u201d asked the prince.<\/p>\n
She shook her head. \u201cA matter of faith. Let it be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFaith,\u201d the boy half-scoffed. \u201cLord Eugeno tells me he has mentioned something of our own faith to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething of it. It sounds\u2026 confusing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo doubt it is, to Lord Eugeno. Others embrace the vagaries of belief, to their great benefit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ges suddenly felt very tired. \u201cWhat do you want, my Lord?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ardromor nodded at that. \u201cAs I said, the King has not yet arrived. We have some time to decide what to do with you before Cenedras decides to make a spectacle of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI should hate to make a spectacle,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cTraditionally, knights and lords are ransomed back to their families. However, as I understand it, you paladins foreswear your families and inheritance when you say your vows. Do families still pay ransoms for their kin under service to Satar?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at him again. She had never heard a Monosi say the holy name. Slowly, creaking, she got to her feet. She stood a few inches higher than him, which gave her some small comfort. \u201cSome have. Not all. Not even most.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWould yours?\u201d he asked shrewdly.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy family is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour cousins?\u201d he asked at once, unsurprised. \u201cThe beylan of this city is a relative, is he not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe is also your captive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut surely he has family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSurely.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow is it you know so much about me, my Lord?\u201d The prince glanced at the speller, only for a second, but it was enough. \u201cWhat is your name, my Lady?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
She started, unaccustomed to attention. \u201cPietta, Madam.\u201d She looked in her thirties, the first Monosi woman she had seen past twenty-five years.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo last name?\u201d<\/p>\n
She was briefly at a loss. \u201cMy father was a glover,\u201d she offered feebly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it you would have us do with you?\u201d the prince asked.<\/p>\n
She glared at him. \u201cDo with me? Put a sword in my hand and set your king before me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you desire death so much?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI would die a thousand deaths, my Lord, if one of those deaths cost your king his life.\u201d<\/p>\n
The prince sighed. \u201cCenedras is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do not need to be told what he is,\u201d she said sharply. \u201cI have met him. I have seen him. I know what he is, my Lord, better than you I should wager.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said, some heat coming into his voice for the first time, \u201cnot better. I watched him stand aside as\u2026 never mind.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this another sad tale about your mother, my Lord? Spare me, I have heard them. I am unimpressed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere?\u201d he asked at once, then breathed the venom back into his voice. \u201cEugeno.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe too was very sympathetic toward your dear brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLord Eugeno is a buffoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYet he is a great lord,\u201d she countered. \u201cAre all great lords buffoons? Merely because their fathers were lords? Is family more important than proper governance?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo Zaljan families not inherit? It seems to me we are one up on you. The Zaljans go so far as to expel their most valiant members from their line, disinheriting their heroes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAs I understand it, your uncle expelled<\/em> his entire line, save you and your wretched brother.\u201d<\/p>\n Ardromor froze. He looked as though had been slapped.<\/p>\n \u201cYour Grace,\u201d said Lord Urriment.<\/p>\n Ardromor turned and walked off, his steel boots echoing off the floor.<\/p>\n \u201cYour Grace!\u201d Lord Urriment cried again.<\/p>\n The boots ceased. There was a long pause before she heard the prince\u2019s voice. \u201cYou have one hour to decide how you wish this to end. My brother\u2019s power will be here before sundown, and if I do not prevail against him, he will likely hang you, like a lowborn brigand.\u201d The boots sounded again.<\/p>\n Ges finished the water. \u201cWhat is it he wants?\u201d<\/p>\n Lord Urriment cleared his own throat. \u201cHe wants to remove his brother\u2019s trophy, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n The speller almost spoke, but stopped herself. Lord Urriment, remarkably, took a step back.<\/p>\n \u201cSpeak,\u201d Ges said.<\/p>\n \u201cI think,\u201d she stuttered, \u201cI think the prince feels fighting a woman is a losing proposition. If the King arrives, the prince thinks he might try to kill you.\u201d<\/p>\n She hummed at that, remembering when they first met. \u201cCenedras fell out of his saddle then tried to save face by playing a fool. You think he might challenge me to a duel? Something like that?\u201d<\/p>\n She cast her eyes down. \u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPietta,\u201d she said, her voice even and firm. \u201cLook me in the eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n She shuffled her feet, but she looked up into Ges\u2019 face.<\/p>\n \u201cYou think your king will try to fight me? Sword to sword?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think, if he lets you live, he fears Monos might say he failed to kill a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA mere woman.\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded at that, nearly casting her face down again. \u201cBut, you see, if he kills you…\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen he\u2019s nothing more than a woman-killer,\u201d she nodded. \u201cWe have similar views about killing the unarmed.\u201d And peasants<\/em>, she thought, though that rarely stops us<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, the prince wants to get rid of you, before the king arrives.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPrince Ardromor has proven himself wiser than\u2026\u201d Lord Urriment trailed off. \u201cWiser than others.\u201d<\/p>\n Ges smirked at that. \u201cI understand his family has a reputation. Mine does as well.\u201d She was no stranger to the weight of reputation.<\/p>\n \u201cThen you understand,\u201d Urriment said. \u201cHe isn\u2019t\u2026 He\u2019s not\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t care what he is or isn\u2019t. You have invaded my nation.\u201d She hesitated, but pressed on. \u201cYou have invaded Dejitsa, my home, you have invaded Dalsaman. You have taken my home from me. There is no forgiveness for that.\u201d<\/p>\n Even now, she expected these foreign barbarians to chide her, to tell her she had no home, save Satar\u2019s grace. She had no mother but the All-Mother, and no father but the Holy Archon\u2019s guidance. That she was a selfish heretic, and a failure. A failure. The word echoed unspoken in her ears.<\/p>\n Instead, all he said was, \u201cNo. No, I suppose not.\u201d He ran his fingers through his grey hair. \u201cWe must all obey our king. I suppose it is in our nature, then, to convince ourselves we are right to obey him.\u201d<\/p>\n Ges\u2019 left shoulder throbbed. \u201cWhat you need tell yourself is none of my concern.\u201d<\/p>\n The lord nodded, then walked away. Ges looked at Pietta. The speller would not hold her eye for more than a second.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can read, Pietta?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s my vocation, my Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do men fear literacy so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLiteracy, my Lady?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReading. Spelling.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMagic is a dangerous force, my Lady. It can be\u2026 it\u2019s disruptive. People abuse it.\u201d<\/p>\n So instead, they abuse you<\/em>. Ges felt an icy stab in her heart. She was horrified to think of a nation, with kings and lords, that so abhorred the written word. Did they have art? Music? Stories? How could they plan to construct buildings? How could they scribe their laws? How could they have beaten you<\/em>?<\/p>\n \u201cSpeller is a new profession to me. You are the oldest one I have yet seen.\u201d<\/p>\n She seemed to take offense at that, but masked it quickly. \u201cMany spellers were\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour last king. Dalabar, was it?\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded at her feet.<\/p>\n \u201cLook at me, Pietta.\u201d<\/p>\n Pietta obeyed.<\/p>\n \u201cThis king. Cenedras. Do you believe he will challenge me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know his brother the prince, better than the king.\u201d Ges continued to look. Pietta looked away twice, but finally kept her gaze. \u201cBut the prince seems certain, and he seems a good judge of character. From what I know\u2026 yes, my Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou trust this prince?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe is a good man, my Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n Ges almost choked on the words. A good man does not invade a neighboring khaganate for no reason<\/em>, she wanted to shout. He does not help his vicious, dishonorable brother to break treaties or abandon his armies or murder innocents. Or burn down my home<\/em>. But she knew there was no point. Whatever cruel customs the Monosi had, Pietta had been raised in them, and like a sword taken fresh from the forge and shoved into ice-cold water, she had been broken by them. She could be remade, but Ges did not have the time nor resources here and now.<\/p>\n She nodded dismissal. Pietta stood for a moment, seeming to want to say something, but Ges backed into the corner and sat again, her aching shoulders her only company. A moment more, and Pietta turned and left.<\/p>\n When they finally came for her, her left shoulder had become a slow, dull throb. She stood when she heard their footsteps. A man in black and brown with a skull badge on his breast stood at the head of six armed pikes. Even now, they fear me<\/em>, she thought. Good. Good<\/em>.<\/p>\n The palace throne room was an immense chamber of white and green marble, with a commons\u2019 balcony running all along the second level, so everyone could see proceedings and understand how justice was done. Ges remembered watching from those balconies, surrounded by the unwashed masses, along with her guards, and thinking how wonderful it was that even the peasantry were allowed to see her father work. It all seemed so evenhanded, so right. Now, the balconies were empty. The great chamber held about a dozen guards, eight more knights, and six lords.<\/p>\n On the great dais sat the seats of power. In the left-hand one sat Prince Ardromor, changed from his armor into a quilted doublet of blue and gilt wool, tied with gilt laces, tame pantaloons of black wool and stocks of black silk. His boots were simple brown leather. His sword, sheathed, was leaning against the arm of the throne. The prince was straight-backed, stiff, and grim, but he looked more comfortable there than he had in the dungeon, or even on horseback in battle, if Ges\u2019 memory could be trusted.<\/p>\n Lord Urriment stood at the prince\u2019s right hand, still in mail and plate but without helm, still armed. To his left stood Lord Borromeo, in black and grey silks, unarmed, still looking half a corpse, but smiling faintly. Lord Eugeno was not present.<\/p>\n The guards brought her before the dais. There was a pause, and one of the guards pressed firmly down on her throbbing left shoulder. She did not move.<\/p>\n Borromeo\u2019s smile devolved into a smirk. \u201cIt is customary to kneel before your liege.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI am aware of it, my Lord,\u201d she answered.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is what comes of reading,\u201d declared a skinny young lord in red and pink, a cloud of black hair floating about his face. \u201cThis woman is too proud by half.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLet it be,\u201d the prince said. \u201cLady Ividar, as commander of the enemy forces, you are condemned to die with them. Do you have anything to say in your defense?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I am their commander, then call me by my title, your Grace.\u201d<\/p>\n The red-and-pink boy scoffed and crossed his arms, but the prince ignored him. \u201cDivine Commander Ges Ra Ividar, is there no one to ransom your freedom?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI belong to the Holy Solulan. The All-Mother alone pays my ransom.\u201d<\/p>\n The prince shifted awkwardly in his throne. \u201cThe divines above may keep our souls in death, but is it not better to live?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is better to die a thousand deaths with honor than to live one second without it.\u201d<\/p>\n The prince sighed. \u201cVery well.\u201d He angled his head upward a bit and cried out, \u201cBring them in!\u201d<\/p>\n She heard a door open in the balcony above. Ges turned around to see over a dozen people emerge, most of them armed guards. In their power were four paladins: Sir Yniv, Sir Priyandar, Sir Rehfan, and Dame Hali. Sirs Yniv and Priyandar were scarce twenty years old, Sir Rehfan twenty-five. Even Dame Hali had not yet seen thirty years. Out of their armor, in grey linen shifts, they looked like children.<\/p>\n Sir Yniv\u2019s beard had only just come in during their ride to Dalsaman. Sir Priyandar was still fuzz-faced, much like the red-and-pink silked boy who crossed his arms near the dais. Sir Rehfan showed the barest shadow of stubble coming through; Ges wondered briefly what the boy would look like with a proper beard. Dame Hali was hiding her face, looking at her feet. The speller Pietta flashed before her mind. Ges continued to stare, but Hali would not look up.<\/p>\n Something struck her at that moment, and she looked around. There were no spellers present.<\/p>\n \u201cHonored guests,\u201d the prince said, \u201cyour commander informs me that there is no one in Zalja who will pay your ransoms. I therefore have no choice but to execute you as prisoners of war.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d Sir Yniv cried out, before mastering himself. He glanced at Ividar, embarrassed.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me, Commander,\u201d the prince continued, \u201cdo you see no other option for these four prisoners? Must they die for your folly?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Undirads are a wealthy family,\u201d Sir Yniv burst out again. Again, he had the grace to look ashamed, insubstantial as those looks proved.<\/p>\n Ges looked back at the prince to find a mild look of amusement. \u201cThe Undirads. Is this his family, Commander?\u201d She shrugged. \u201cSurely not. These are paladins, yes? They have no family. No worth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut steel in their hands,\u201d she insisted, \u201cand they\u2019ll show you their worth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill they?\u201d The prince sat up straighter, prouder, more comfortable. \u201cWe did not overpower and capture these four, as we did you. These four gave up their weapons and surrendered. If we put steel in their hands, as you say, they\u2019ll just give it up again.\u201d<\/p>\n She managed to turn slowly and glare, instead of whirling and gawking. If she was honest with herself, Ges was not surprised at Sir Yniv. This was his first true battle, and many times on the trail he had betrayed the callow boy he was. Sir Priyandar had put down two rebellions, though. Peasants\u2019 rebellions<\/em>, she was forced to admit. He was fond of boasting and braving, yet when facing armored men with castle-forged steel in hand, he had shown himself what he was.<\/p>\n Sir Rehfan\u2019s honor had been balanced on a knife from the first. More than once he had allowed his courage to overwhelm his reason. Only now did she come to see that what she thought was courage was mere bravado. She stared at him. He did not look away. That at least could be said in his favor.<\/p>\n Dame Hali still stared at her feet. She was a veteran of several rebellions, but most of her career had been spent guarding cattle trains from brigands. Ges seemed to remember her killing some Khabarese brigand king in single combat, nearly a decade ago. Still, she supposed, brigands who call themselves kings came in all shapes and powers.<\/p>\n \u201cWell?\u201d the prince pressed, \u201cwill no one pay their ransoms? Are paladins truly without family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, write to the Undirads in Tsen Ikha,\u201d pleaded Sir Yniv, lost to all dignity. \u201cThey are a great family, they will make you wealthy!\u201d Despite his shame, he still had the decency to say they<\/em> instead of we<\/em>.<\/p>\n The prince gestured upward. \u201cAnd you, Sir? Will your family speak for you?\u201d<\/p>\n Ges did not look. After a moment, Sir Priyandar\u2019s voice answered, meekly, \u201cThe Baryanads of Tsen Ikha, too, are a wealthy family. I cannot say how they would respond, though.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwo, then\u201d the prince said. \u201cAnd you, Sir?\u201d Silence followed. \u201cForgive me, your name eludes me. Sir\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSir Rehfan.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh. Sir Rehfan. And your family name?\u201d<\/p>\n There was a pause, before his quivering voice erupted. \u201cSatar is my mother!\u201d he cried. \u201cThe Holy Archon is my father! The All-Mother shall pay all ransoms in Heaven!\u201d The throne room echoed, very faintly, just for a moment, with his words. His voice had been thin and weak, but Ges drew strength from it all the same.<\/p>\n \u201cAdorable,\u201d the prince answered in a bored tone, sounding for a second like his abominable brother. \u201cAnd you, Sir? Forgive me, not Sir. My Lady\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDame,\u201d she said, firmly.<\/p>\n \u201cDame? Very well. Dame\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHali.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHolly? That is a significant name in Monos. We Host-Keepers name the most sacred places after the holly tree. Truly, you carry both faiths in you, Dame Holly. And what is your family name?\u201d<\/p>\n Silence answered him.<\/p>\n \u201cIs it Satar, by chance?\u201d Again, a flush of fury swept Ges\u2019 face to hear a foreigner speak the name. \u201cSatar is a popular name, it seems, though less popular than I might have thought.\u201d<\/p>\n Faintly, she murmured, \u201cParsad.\u201d Ges would not look at her.<\/p>\n \u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d the prince called up. \u201cI missed that.\u201d<\/p>\n There was a long pause before she answered, \u201cI was born to the Parsads of Khair, a great southern city near the Holy Solulan.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMm. A great family?\u201d<\/p>\n There was another pause before, \u201cA great family. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd would they pay your ransom?\u201d<\/p>\n Silence answered.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is customary to answer a prince when he addresses you. It is also wise to answer a man who holds you prisoner. Will the Parsads of Khair pay your ransom?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe loved each other very much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTouching. And will they pay your ransom?\u201d<\/p>\n Ges was seconds away from a defeated sigh, when her voice sounded out, low but steady. \u201cSatar is my mother. The Holy Archon is my father. The All-Mother will pay all ransoms in Heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n Ges turned once more to look up at them. Sirs Yniv and Priyandar\u2019s faces were cast down like beaten spellers, Sir Rehfan\u2019s fiery and defiant. Ges locked eyes with Dame Hali. Her face was even, betraying nothing. It was carved out of wood. Ges nodded to her, then turned to face the prince.<\/p>\n \u201cIs this your ideal?\u201d he asked with a roll of his eyes.\u201d Speaking the same, thinking the same? No family, no value?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is a great sacrifice,\u201d she said. \u201cHonor comes at great cost.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. It sounds to me like you want to die. Wouldn\u2019t that make living in shame the greater sacrifice? So your poor subordinates can live?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need my permission to ransom Sir Yniv and Sir Priyandar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd yet I want it. Your cousin is the beylan of this city, is he not? We have already written letters of ransom for his relatives in Qabarjat and Tsen Ikha. Would they not also ransom someone as famous as you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have no family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen no Ividars have family. Perhaps I should execute the beylan as well. And his wife. And his children. What do you say to that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMurder them if you must. Satar is my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou have the power to save them, Commander. Name your price, and they will live. Otherwise, their blood is on your head as much as mine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDalsaman is my price,\u201d she nearly shouted. \u201cLeave our verdant fields, never to poison us again with your barbaric presence. Do that, and I\u2019ll live or die, however you wish. It has always been my faith to live and die for Zalja.\u201d From the corner of her eye, she saw a faint smile on Lord Urriment\u2019s face, perhaps of admiration. She sneered at him.<\/p>\n \u201cVargano is now part of Monos,\u201d the prince continued. \u201cIt is the property of the King of Kings, and I am his agent until he arrives. All the citizens are mine to ransom or execute. Do they have families?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill you be ransomed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have no family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDammit!\u201d he thundered, rising to his feet. \u201cThe King will not will called a murderer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen he should not murder!\u201d she roared. It came through her like warm, bubbling water from a spring, her voice clarion and clear and true. \u201cIf you fear your king\u2019s honor, then he must act honorably. If you fear your own honor, you<\/em> must act honorably. Honor! Not family! Not wealth! Not disgusting conquest and piracy! Honor!\u201d She twisted away from her guard, and every man in the room reached for his sword. \u201cYou stand on that dais, where my mothers and fathers have stood for a thousand years, ruling and protecting and providing for Dejitsa, for Zalja, for a thousand years! And you try to shame me by laying your murders at my feet! Blanch!\u201d she screamed, as even then the prince grew paler and stumbled back onto the throne. \u201cBlanch! Ghast as death, you soulless beast! A warrior would blush for shame. A khan would blush for shame. But you, that have no shame, grow paler still when your inhuman crimes are thrown back in your face!\u201d She could feel her own face twisting into a fury, but still she pressed on. \u201cNo writ! No defiance! You roped me like an animal, but you<\/em> are the animals! You are thieves and cutthroats, and you think you can shame me<\/em>? Can a mouse shame the lion! Never! Do what you will! Murder who you will. I will not kill my soul to patch your so-called honor<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSatar is my mother!\u201d Sir Rehfan cried above, ecstatic.<\/p>\n \u201cSatar is my mother!\u201d Dame Hali echoed. She was not as firm, but she still said it.<\/p>\n The prince\u2019s face had returned to normal. He took a breath to steady himself, then drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne. \u201cYour mothers and fathers. Hm. For a thousand years. That sounds like quite a lineage.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt is.\u201d<\/p>\n He stood again, calmly this time. \u201cI will not be called a murderer. Take these all the dungeons. If their families will ransom them, let them. If not, let them rot and be forgotten. The Hosts do not smile on martyrs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut a sword in my hand, you coward!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou had one,\u201d he answered curtly. \u201cYou lost it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAgainst four men!\u201d Dame Hali cried from above. \u201cYou sat on your great white horse and did nothing! Face her now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d he sighed, \u201cthat sounds very heroic. But I am not a vainglorious hero. I am a prince, and my duty is to my people. Not my honor<\/em>\u2026\u201d He had the gall to turn the word into a curse. \u201cLock them away. I\u2019ll not see them again.\u201d<\/p>\n The guards had her before she could resist. Her shoulder throbbed and rumbled as they kept her restrained, turned her around, and began marching her out of the throne room.<\/p>\n She would not gnash and scream, nor drag her feet. She had shaken them. She had reminded Sir Rehfan and Dame Hali of what they were, and perhaps even shown Yniv and Priyandar what it is to be a paladin. It was not a glorious end, but neither was it an end. Someday, she would escape, and she would die with the king\u2019s blood on her hands. Somehow.<\/p>\n A great boom sounded, and the doors flew open. Standing there, haloed in light and surrounded by knights and guardsmen, stood a man in gilt-and-bronzed armor, an enormous red plume erupting from his great helm. His sword was sheathed, but he still wore a crest shield, enameled bronze, with a gold crown upon it. Below the golden crown was a fox, curled up and resting.<\/p>\n Another knight took his shield, allowing him to remove his great helm and examine the throne room. \u201cArdy! My dear brother!\u201d he cried out in sunny elation. \u201cWhat have you done with my war!?\u201d<\/p>\n CHAPTER THIRTEEN><\/a><\/p>\n <CHAPTER ELEVEN<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When she was a little girl of five, Ges Ra Ividar had seen the dungeons of Dalsaman. Her father had been taking her through the rose gardens when he learned that an assassin was going to be executed that hour. … Continue reading