46.
The Murdano
It’s not easy to shackle a dairne. Our wrists are not built for it. It will only work if you squeeze the manacles on very tightly.
That was what the Murdano’s soldiers did. Supervised by Luca.
To me, to Khara, and to Tobble.
They did worse to Gambler. They wrapped thick rope all the way down his body, binding his legs to his torso. Then they loaded him onto a cart.
That was how we were pushed, shoved, and dragged down marble and mirror corridors until we were finally deposited at the base of the Murdano’s throne.
I tripped and tried to right myself. Luca shoved me down on my face. “Kneel before the Murdano, dog!” he said.
Terrified as I was, I had a hard time taking it all in. The room was enormous, and had been made to seem even more enormous with massive mirrors. Gold was everywhere: on candle chandeliers, in wall sconces holding still more candles, in the grout between marble squares, in the frames of paintings portraying stiff, scowling, unnatural-looking humans.
Six steps led up to a platform on which sat a massive throne. Ornate carvings on the throne featured humans, felivets, raptidons, natites, and terramants—and, in a position of surprising prominence, a very dignified dairne.
“What is this interruption?” a voice demanded. It was a sneering, petulant voice, and it belonged to an older human male. He stood to the left side of the throne and wore a long, draping gown of darkest blue.
On the other side of the throne was another male. He was broad and beefy, with strong arms crossed over his barrel chest. He wore a magnificent version of the soldiers’ livery, covered with medals and ribbons. His black boots were tall and polished to rival the mirrors.
Luca spoke. “I have brought a rare gift. A gift of inestimable value.”
“And who are you?” the man on the left, who seemed to be an adviser of some kind, asked.
“I am Luca, a student from the the isle of Ursina. But my full name”—he paused to send a look of pure hatred toward Khara—“is Luca Corpli, second son of Fredoro Corpli.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath from Khara. She sent him an icy stare. “Treachery runs deep in your family.”
Luca swung a backhand and hit the side of her face with a sharp report that seemed to echo off the walls.
Khara did not react.
The adviser started to speak, but the Murdano cut him off with a wave. “Why should I value this gaggle of nondescript creatures?”
The Murdano seemed young by human standards. He wore a carefully trimmed beard that matched his gleaming ebony hair. Unlike the medal-bedecked soldier to his right and the fabulously attired adviser to his left, the Murdano favored simpler clothing, leggings and a tunic. They were of the finest materials, but still humble compared to the others.
“Your Majesty,” Luca said with a bow and a sweep of his hand, “I bring you the world’s only surviving dairne. The endling of her species.”
The dozen or more courtiers standing nearby murmured excitedly.
The Murdano said, “Clear the chamber, all but my chamberlain and my general-in-chief.” He leaned forward and directed a hot gaze at the withdrawing courtiers. “And I warn you that if word of this escapes this room, the guilty person will rot in my dungeons until disease takes him.”
The murmuring stopped and the courtiers quickly departed.
“A dairne, eh?” the Murdano said, eyeing me. “It is said that a dairne can tell if a statement is true or false.” He stroked his beard. “I will put you to the test.”
I nodded. I was quite sure I didn’t need to grant my permission.
“This morning for breakfast I ate a cold pheasant breast and dates with yogurt. Is that true or false?”
“True.” My voice sounded puny in the great room. “I mean, true, Your Majesty.”
“Yesterday I attended a wrestling match.”
“No, Your Majesty. You did not.”
“Lucky guess,” muttered the beefy man with medals.
“Perhaps, General.” The Murdano smiled. It was not a nice smile. “Three days ago I was shown an ancient scroll.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.
“And the day before that I watched a sword-fighting class.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“It was held in the central auditorium.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“The ballroom?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“In my private chambers?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And as I watched I was joined by my daughter, Princess Coral.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“She enjoyed the demonstration.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The Murdano aimed a sideways glance at his general. “In fact, the princess excused herself after just a few minutes, claiming to be upset by the . . . exertions.”
The general grimaced. “I still don’t believe her.”
“Sir, that is not true,” I said. “You do believe me.”
“Why would my general lie?” the Murdano demanded.
“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” I said. “I only know whether a statement is true or—actually, Your Majesty, what I know is whether the person speaking believes what they’ve said or not. I do not know whether a thing happened, or anyone’s motives. Only whether they believe they speak truth or falsehood.”
The Murdano’s eyes were alive with the possibilities. “General Origal, do you love your Murdano?”
The general blinked. “I love Your Majesty with all my soldier’s heart!”
The Murdano cocked an eyebrow at me.
I realized how right Khara had been about the danger I could pose to other people. Including this general. Reluctantly I said, “No, you do not, General.”
“Indeed,” the Murdano said mockingly. “Well then, General, let me ask this. Are you a loyal servant?”
“Absolutely!”
“True,” I said.
The Murdano nodded. “I care nothing for love, but loyalty is something I value highly, just as I despise disloyalty.”
“The general is loyal, Your Majesty.”
The Murdano sat back, all the while keeping his gaze on me. Finally he said, “Lord Chamberlain. Prepare a room for our guests in the remotest tower. Treat them well. This creature will prove useful. Araktik returns tomorrow, and I shall speak with her about this expensive eumony she staged. She’ll need to explain herself in the presence of this proof that the dairnes are not quite extinct.”
Luca spoke up. “And me, Your Majesty?”
“You and your family will be well rewarded for this service,” the Murdano said indifferently. Then to me he added, “The general will select his best men to guard you. Men who understand that if they speak of this, I will have their tongues torn from their mouths.”
The general nodded obediently. “I will send the Pale Guard.”
“Yes,” the Murdano said. “And understand this, dairne: if you attempt escape, I will do far worse than remove the tongues of your companions.”