The Consequence of Ignorance

Bethniel winced at each dab of the washcloth. Fiery welts webbed over her cheeks and forehead, striped her fingers and the backs of her hands. Everything stung, and she prayed the abrasions wouldn’t scar. Rinsing the cloth, she swiped it once more over her face and looked in the mirror. “Lovely,” she muttered, wishing for the pot of face powder on her vanity. Homesickness rose up, clogged throat and nose with longing, and she swallowed hard, squashing it all into the box where fear and anger belonged. Blubbering wouldn’t help Vic.

Neither would a desperate wild woman. As she tamed rogue curls, her thoughts whirled through meager knowledge of the Council period: the Council had fought Meylnara, and their war had destroyed the rainforest of Direiellene, leaving behind the vast wasteland she and Vic had crossed to rescue Ashel from Olmlablaire.

Poor Ashel! He must be mad with worry, and if he were here, he’d know what to say and do to get Vic where she belonged. If only she’d taken his course on the Council! She’d always avoided his classes so she wouldn’t have to endure her friends ogling him. Why hadn’t those ninnies chattered about his knowledge instead of the fit of his damn trousers?

She shoved the if-onlys into the box with homesickness, fear, and anger. No point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. The woman in the mirror blinked the creases from her eyes, donning a semblance of confident serenity before she put on the clothes Thabean’s servants had brought. Victoria of Ourtown was a member of the Council. Her deeds—whatever they were—were a matter of record. The Council would rescue her. History had deemed it so.

Clinging to that certainty, she shimmied into a clean shift, then stared at the bewildering array of sashes and slits on an embroidered silk overgown.

Someone cleared a throat, and she spun round to find Thabean eying her through a gap in the privacy screen. Mortification heated her cheeks—how long had he been there?

“Flagrant tardiness may be the prerogative of future sovereigns in your land, but it will not endear you to Saelbeneth.”

Swallowing ire, she emerged from the bathing area, robe in hand. “I don’t know how to tie this.”

His eyes flicked over his own garment and its complex fastenings. “The flat panel goes in front. Slip it on.” She thrust her arms into the sleeves, then shivered as a static charge crackled through the silk. Sashes wove through slits and round each other, binding the gown closed.

“Too tight?” His eyes grazed her figure.

She took a breath, working hard to keep it steady. “No. Thank you.”

He looked over the spacious tent with its silk partitions and the bower where’d she’d spent a fretful, sleepless night. “I hope you found the accommodations suitable, Your Highness.”

She ignored the sarcasm cloaking her title and copied his formal manner of speaking. “Please, sir. I would have you call me by my name only: Bethniel.”

Smirking, he unstoppered a decanter and streamed pale wine into a cup. “Bethniel of . . . ? You haven’t told me from whence you hail.”

“Might I remind you of your warning against tardiness?”

“And I would warn my Council leader against spies and charlatans. Saelbeneth agreed to meet you because she is curious why so strange a trio was expelled from Meylnara’s Lair—more importantly, why you were there in the first place.”

“Yesterday you refused to hear my plea—why do you want it now?”

He drained the cup and tilted it toward her. “Look at the hospitality with which you—a possible spy—have been treated. Perhaps you should respond in kind, with the truth.”

Her brow knit. “I have not lied to you, sir.”

“You mentioned a prophesy.”

Squaring her shoulders, she raised an eyebrow. “I do not wish to be late for my audience with Saelbeneth. I will explain everything to her.”

He twirled his hand in a mocking salute. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Lillem fell in beside her as she exited the tent. “What did he want? I tried to stop him going inside, but he froze my bloody limbs; then some barrier kept me from following him in.”

“He wanted me to hurry up,” Bethniel muttered as they followed Thabean down a narrow alley between tent stakes. “We are his guests, lieutenant. Antagonizing him or any other wizard won’t help us gain their aid.”

“My duty, Highness, is to protect you.”

“Where’s Gustave?” she asked, teeth grinding.

“I sent him to his own people,” Thabean tossed over his shoulder.

Regretting she couldn’t consult with the pirate, Bethniel followed the wizard down a wide lane past neat rows of tents busy with soldiers, farriers, and smiths. The Council’s encampment was huge. Minutes stretched and footsteps multiplied as they approached a central area occupied by two gigantic pavilions with a lone tree towering between them. One structure was plain white canvas stretched taut over a massive frame. Banners flapped from multiple peaks on the other, its walls a riot of color and patterns, from scrolling scarlet to rippling azure. “The Council hall,” Thabean waved at the wildly colored pavilion. “The hospital, the lookout station. Saelbeneth’s camp is directly opposite mine.” He led them on into a wedge bustling with soldiers chattering in Old Lathan.

“These people haven’t seen much action,” Lillem muttered. “Everything’s too clean and orderly.”

“Did you talk to anyone last night?”

“No. I slept outside your tent entrance.”

They came to a pavilion walled in elaborately patterned erinsheen. An aide led them down a fabric-walled corridor and into a room lit with dozens of glowing orbs that floated near the ceiling. Lillem stopped dead; Bethniel had to pinch him to get him to move out of the doorway.

A handsome woman with spiraling brown curls smiled from a table laid with tea and bread.

A man seated beside her sneered. “Are these the vagabonds you found near the Lair?”

“Madam,” Thabean said, “this audience does not concern Nelchior.”

“It must if you’d rather I not hear it,” rejoined the other man.

Saelbeneth’s benevolent smile remained fixed. “Nelchior worries you have a scheme that requires thwarting. Have you breakfasted?”

Red spots appeared on Thabean’s pale cheeks. “We have, thank you.” He paused while a Caleisbahn officer entered, Gustave at his heels. The pirate had a new sword and fresh clothes. Bethniel’s nose twitched at Lillem’s stinking uniform, and she wished he had been able to change.

Saelbeneth said, “Commodore, thank you for joining us. Your counsel is always welcome.” She nodded at Bethniel. “Who have you brought before us, Thabean?”

Jaw bunched, he shot Bethniel a warning glance. “This is Lady Bethniel of the East Reach, a territory across the Senacna Kein. She and her sister Victoria led a force of two hundred warriors to assist us but were waylaid by Meylnara’s minions and wiped out. Only Lady Bethniel, her retainer, and this Caleisbahnin escaped. Meylnara holds her sister captive.”

“What nonsense is this?” Nelchior spat. “There are no territories on the other side of the Senacna Kein.”

“It is a colony established by my forebears and Semena steed herders,” Thabean replied.

Bethniel maintained her courtier’s mask, but her pulse thudded as she wondered why Thabean had concocted this lie. Still, if it meant he’d help Vic, she wouldn’t contradict him. “The East Reach is a distant place, known to few, madam,” she said. “My father is liege-bound to Sir Thabean and sent us to join your cause.”

Saelbeneth tilted her head sympathetically. “My condolences on your losses, my lady.”

“Madam, my sister—I came to beg your help rescuing her.”

“I’m afraid we cannot expend resources to rescue a single captive.”

Bethniel swallowed. Saelbeneth had to see value in rescuing Vic. A glance at Gustave gained her no counsel but a slight shake of his head. “Madam, Meylnara kept my sister but expelled the three of us for a reason: my sister is a wizard.”

“Treason!” Nelchior shot to his feet.

Saelbeneth’s gaze pierced Bethniel’s certainties. “Did the Purge miss the East Reach?”

Gustave’s head shake was more emphatic, and Bethniel feared she’d made a terrible miscalculation. What in Shrine was the Purge? “Not that I know of, madam.”

“The Reach was cleared forty-three years ago, in the last round of the Purge,” Thabean interjected.

“Then how did your retainer get the Elixir?” Nelchior snapped.

“I know not.” The red had drained from Thabean’s cheeks, leaving them white as cerrenil bark.

Victoria of Ourtown was on the Council, Bethniel reminded herself, trying to slow her breathing. They will rescue her. Shrine, why hadn’t she taken Ashel’s class on the Council? Now there was no way through this morass but to hew close to the truth. “Madam, Sir Thabean knew nothing of my sister’s powers. Neither does my father, or anyone else in the Reach. She acquired them on our journey here, from a tribe of friendly Kragnashians—”

“Preposterous!” Nelchior cried.

Thabean’s eyebrows shot up, his forehead creased.

“Quiet, Nelchior,” Saelbeneth ordered. “My lady, that story is absurd. There are no friendly Kragnashians. They all serve Meylnara. Do you as well? Have you concocted this ridiculous tale to sow discord among her enemies?”

Bethniel felt the wizard prying into her mind, a clumsy attempt at Listening that she might have laughed off if she weren’t desperate for the woman’s help. She dropped every bit of baffling she always held over her thoughts, allowing Saelbeneth to Hear the truth. “Madam, my sister Victoria obtained the Woern from Kragnashians who refer to Meylnara as the Oppressor, and these creatures claimed Victoria was prophesied to destroy her. But Meylnara’s forces killed our troops and captured her. My retainer and I, guided by this seaman, attempted to rescue her, but we failed and were expelled from Meylnara’s stronghold. We come to you with a sincere offer of aid in your war, if you will only help us free my sister.”

Saelbeneth narrowed her eyes, glancing between Bethniel and the other wizards. “I Hear no lies, but not the entire truth, I think.”

“We did not come to betray or harm you, I swear on the old mothers and Elesendar.”

“Since the Purge the world has had twelve wizards serving on the Council. Twelve wizards only. We have come to this place to execute Meylnara for being a rogue wizard. If your sister has the Woern, she is subject to the same fate.”

Bethniel’s skin pebbled as the blood drained from her face. “We did not know there could be only twelve, Madam.”

“Clearly you must remedy some educational deficiencies in the East Reach, Thabean.”

He glared at Bethniel. “I will indeed, madam.”

“In the meantime, we cannot risk Meylnara having another rogue wizard for an ally.”

“No wonder you wished to speak to Saelbeneth privately,” Nelchior said. “Did you think if you confessed your sins to her alone, you would dodge the consequences?”

Jaw bunching, Thabean placed a fist over his heart. “I will find and expunge the second rogue, madam. And if I can, I will kill Meylnara as well.”

Nelchior laughed, and Bethniel’s heart lurched. She looked desperately from Lillem to Gustave. The pirate whispered to the commodore, who bowed to Saelbeneth. “Madam, although twelve wizards sit on the Council, two are drained or nearly so. As your tactical advisor I suggest you consider the advantage of permitting this new rogue to live so long as she fights for your cause.”

Nelchior’s mocking laughter ceased, and Bethniel released a silent prayer of thanks. Saelbeneth raised an eyebrow. “The law is the law, commodore.”

“During wartime it is not uncommon to suspend laws that impede victory, madam.”

The Council leader’s gaze landed on Bethniel. “Perhaps we should give the accused a chance to defend herself before the full Council. Thabean, this situation is yours to remedy. Go to the Lair, find the rogue, and arrest her; do not kill her. However, if you have a chance to dispatch Meylnara, do so. I miss the Kiareinoll and would be happy to return.”

“Madam,” Bethniel interjected, “Victoria was severely injured by Meylnara’s minions and won’t be fit to defend herself in a tribunal. I beg you, let me speak for her, but give me time to prepare her case.”

“You have many requests, my lady. First, let Thabean find your sister. I promise you she will not face justice until she can bear the consequences.”