Chapter Thirty-Two

TWO guards brought Garith to the dais and shoved him into the line of prisoners. Raffa saw that Garith’s face was streaked with tears.

“Senior Jayney,” the Chancellor said, “the six adult prisoners are to be taken one at a time to the stream, and executed as the captain of the guards sees fit. The others will remain in sight of everyone here, until it is their turn.”

Some of the Afters could no longer contain themselves.

“Savagery!”

“Murder!”

“What about their right to be Deemed?”

The crowd was now simmering with restlessness. More angry voices filled the air. At that moment, with the guards and the Chancellor focused on the crowd, Raffa felt a familiar whump on his shoulder.

“Echo!” he whispered as quietly as he could. “Get under my tunic, quickly!”

The bat obeyed, but before he disappeared from sight, he squeaked out a few words.

“Not Mam horse,” Echo said. “Da horse.”

Da!

Da was on his way here! He had somehow escaped from the Garrison!

His heart nearly bursting from his chest, Raffa lowered his chin and spoke into his neckline. He had to find out if Da was bringing the Advocate with him.

“Echo, was there someone with Da? Another man?”

“Da horse,” Echo repeated.

Raffa held his breath to keep from blubbering in distress. And fear, too: The Advocate isn’t with him. He mustn’t come here! He’ll be caught and executed along with the rest!

“Man horse man horse,” Echo chirped.

The world stopped. Raffa forced himself to speak calmly.

“What did you say, Echo?”

“Da horse. Man horse man horse.”

Raffa closed his eyes for a long moment. He had never known Echo to count any higher than two.

Da, with at least two other people. The Advocate . . . But who else?

Callian!

Raffa opened his eyes. He craned his neck, looking down the line of prisoners at Salima. He saw her glance in the direction of the path into the clearing—not once, but twice.

She’s looking for them! She’s thinking—hoping—that they’re going to get here at any moment!

But it was no longer a matter of the Advocate arriving in time to free the Afters.

Now it was a question of saving the lives of seven people.

Including Mam.

The noise from the crowd grew louder. The Chancellor stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. She raised a closed fist in the air over her head. All the guards immediately brandished their weapons.

The protests subsided, except for a murmur of voices in a far corner of the pavilion. Then a single voice was heard over the others.

“Hoy there! I need to speak to the Chancellor!”

Kuma!

Panic stampeded through Raffa’s gut. No no no—get away, get back to the Forest! They’ll put you in the Garrison, too! For someone like Kuma, who loved being outdoors and spent most of her life there, being locked up in the Garrison would be worse than dying.

The Chancellor looked up and out over the crowd. Kuma was hurrying through the clearing toward the pavilion. Two guards rushed to meet her; she raised her hands above her head and continued to walk toward the dais.

She stopped within arm’s length of the Chancellor, her back straight, her body steady.

“Roo is somewhere out there, in the trees,” she said. “All I have to do is call her, and she will come to my aid. She will rip and claw and tear anyone she thinks is hurting me. And look where I am—standing right next to you.”

Raffa couldn’t believe his ears. Kuma was threatening to use Roo as a weapon, the very thing she had sworn never to do!

The Chancellor went very still. “The bear would never get to me,” she said. “My guards would lance it on sight.”

Kuma lifted her chin. “You’ve seen her. You know how big she is. She could take a dozen lancers before she went down, and I doubt you have a dozen guards brave enough to face her. If she thinks I’m in danger, nothing in the world will stop her.”

The Chancellor hesitated.

Kuma went on, “Let them go”—she gestured to the nine captives—“and order your guards to put their weapons down.”

Chancellor Leeds pressed her lips together for a moment. Then— “Guards!” she shouted. “Silence her!”

Kuma responded calmly as a javelancer was thrust dangerously near her face. “I wouldn’t do that,” she said. “I don’t actually need to make a single sound. Roo can smell me—she can even smell my fear. If I’m in distress, she will know it in an instant.”

The Chancellor turned to Jayney. “Have some of the guards defend against the bear,” she ordered.

Jayney seemed to falter for the merest moment, then turned to look out at the guards, who stood menacingly over the Afters seated on the ground. Every last guard suddenly focused on their charges, prodding the Afters with their weapons or barking orders. Raffa snorted in derision: It was obvious that not one of them wanted to be chosen to face Roo.

“One from each platoon!” Jayney shouted.

The guards only increased their efforts to look occupied.

Jayney took a step forward and raised his lancer. “Platoon leaders! Choose someone now, or come forward yourself!”

More shouts followed. The platoon leaders issued orders, but had to resort to threats and coercion before any of the guards would obey. Both Jayney and the Chancellor looked furious.

Finally fifteen men and women took up defensive positions around the dais. They muttered amongst themselves, plainly unhappy—and afraid.

They’re not with her, Raffa thought. They’re following orders because it’s their job—not because they believe in what she’s doing. Most of them, anyway.

The Chancellor sneered at Kuma. “Go ahead,” she said. “Let us hear you scream.”

Raffa’s eyes widened as he stared at Kuma. She opened her mouth . . . for what seemed like a very long moment.

But no sound came out.

Slowly she closed her mouth as she lowered her head.

She can’t do it. She was bluffing. He let out his breath; he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. For a moment, he couldn’t decide if he was dismayed or relieved. Then she looked at him, and he gave her a firm nod.

It’s okay, Kuma. You did the right thing.

A smile spread across the Chancellor’s face. Again, Raffa was struck by how . . . how normal she looked. If I didn’t know what I know, I would have said that she has a nice smile.

“Apparently we are going to be able to proceed without interruption,” she said. “Guards, please see that our latest guest is properly welcomed.”

A guard tied Kuma’s hands and forced her into the line of prisoners.

“At last we’re ready,” the Chancellor said. Her gaze raked over the prisoners, now ten of them. Then she looked again at Salima.

“You”—she nodded—“you will serve as our first example, as your act of treason is the gravest. It is one thing to commit a crime. It is another to betray those who have trusted you. Guards?”

Two guards grabbed Salima by the arms. She folded her body limply, which angered one of them.

“Filthy wobbler,” the guard said. He struck Salima across her back with the shaft of his lancer.

Raffa cried out at the crack of wood on flesh. He couldn’t see his mother; she was at the other end of the dais.

“I’m all right, Raffa,” Salima called to him, her voice steady upon solid.

They’re going to execute her. They’re going . . . to KILL her.

Raffa’s stomach roiled in such fear that the foul, burning taste of bile rose in his throat. He swallowed, almost gagging.

Where was the Advocate? If Echo had seen him, it meant he was on this side of the river. How much longer before he arrived?

“Captain, what is the matter with your charges?” the Chancellor demanded. “Are they always so slow to respond to orders?”

The guards had pulled Salima forward, so now Raffa could see her. She was looking at him, her eyes on his face as if she were holding him, as if she would never let go.

He wanted to shriek and wail and bawl like an infant. He tightened every muscle in his body to stop himself.

Crying won’t help her! Think—THINK!

How could he distract the Chancellor? It would have to be something big, something that would totally command her attention. . . .

Then it came to him.

“CHANCELLOR LEEDS!”