CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
She emerged onto the grasslands, throat parched and heart numb. A rushing river swept by, wider across than she could see. Stopping on the sloping bank to slake her thirst, she saw Child-Who-Gathers-Water swim by. She called out in warning, but the child ignored her, diving down, then flying from the water like a dolphin.
Ayal’s worry turned to wonder, tinged with fear.
—THE AYALYA
Darvyn paced the small room, wearing out the woven rug in front of the fireplace, where the dying embers gave off a light smoky scent. He leaned on the mantel and let his forehead hit the wood.
Papers rustled behind him. Jack and Jasminda stood at the massive desk, paging through the law books they’d had brought in from the library.
“There is precedent here, I think.” Jasminda’s voice was low and insistent. “After the Princeling’s Scourge two hundred years ago, the new Prince Regent declared the wartime trials null and void.”
“I don’t think so,” Jack said, shaking his head. “He nullified the tribunals set up by the previous monarch. We’re talking about trials we ourselves approved.”
Darvyn turned around. He moved to a chair in front of the desk and fell into it with a thud. Jasminda’s kind gaze held pity. Jack’s brow creased as he read over the enormous book before them.
“Nothing?” Darvyn asked.
Jasminda stood. “The ruling monarch can reverse the judgment of a wartime tribunal, but we’d need to prove some sort of wrongdoing took place.”
“They’ve been … unusual,” Jack said, “in their speed and efficiency. But nothing that is illegal by current law.”
Darvyn sank back into the seat farther, cracking his hands. His whole body ached from head to toe.
“The judgments have brought some measure of peace to the Lagrimari,” Jack explained. “And has made the call for two states more nuanced. Sympathetic Elsirans learning of what the people suffered under the True Father’s rule have been supporting unification. Given the current division, for us to nullify a ruling…” He looked at his wife, who looked at Darvyn with anguish.
“No, I understand,” Darvyn said, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. “You would look capricious. It could undo what little goodwill exists toward my people. There could be chaos and riots by Lagrimari already wary of rulers and their whims. It would be a disaster.”
Jack ran his hand through his hair and nodded.
Jasminda rounded the desk to sit next to Darvyn, taking his hands in her own. “I believe she didn’t want to do any of those things and that the True Father forced her with magic, and I know that she saved your life … but even if Ydaris testifies to that effect, it doesn’t look good. I’ve spoken with the Keepers. As the prosecutors, they could petition the tribunal for a retrial if new evidence came to their attention. But even telling them how Kyara helped save my brother’s life has done no good. They said no good deed can erase the bad ones.”
Her jaw tensed, and she looked away. “I don’t know what we can do that won’t make things worse.”
Darvyn’s eyes clouded over.
“We are teetering on the edge of unification and division,” Jack added. “A gust of wind in the wrong direction could be disastrous.”
He couldn’t just accept this. He understood the king and queen had tried their best, but Darvyn wasn’t done yet. He jumped up from his seat. “You say it was the elders of the Keepers who gathered the evidence?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “Why?”
“I would like to have a word with them myself.”
“I should have a place among the elders.” The door to the assembly hall’s meeting room had barely shut behind Darvyn before the words were out of his mouth.
Six faces looked up at him with expressions ranging from bewilderment to shock to disapproval. At the table sat Turwig, Aggar, Talida, and Rozyl, along with two additional elders he was familiar with, Lyngar and Hanko.
Darvyn did a double take at Rozyl. “Are you an elder now?”
She nodded gravely. “Fresh meat,” she said, quirking her lips. Darvyn cracked a smile, grateful for another cool head among the leadership.
He turned to Turwig, whose rank was the most senior of those gathered. “I believe the Shadowfox should have a seat here. I think the people, were they to be consulted, would want it to be so.”
Turwig remained impassive, but Lyngar, seated beside him, frowned. From the corner of his eye, Darvyn saw Aggar puff up, as if he’d been personally insulted.
No one spoke for a few moments.
Finally, Hanko swiped at his face and shrugged. Unruly tufts of hair clung to the sides of his bald head. “The boy has a point. For all he has done, I think Darvyn has earned his place here.”
“Arrogant one, isn’t he?” Lyngar said. He was the eldest of the elders and looked even older due to the permanent scowl etched into his deeply lined face. “I’m not sure we should make any change just now. Could throw things into confusion.”
Darvyn gritted his teeth to hold back any unwise comments. He took a breath and waited for the others to have their say.
“A powerful Song does not make someone ready for leadership.” Aggar spoke up, his voice like gravel. “And I think Darvyn has proved very recently that his judgment is suspect.”
No surprise there. He hadn’t expected any support from that quarter.
Rozyl leaned back, appearing uncomfortable in the Elsiran chair. “I agree that the people would want the Shadowfox to represent them. And I think Darvyn’s judgment has been just fine.”
“You weren’t there in the days before the Mantle fell. You didn’t witness his wild temper.”
Aggar’s gruff tone didn’t appear to bother Rozyl at all. “And who made the decision to collar a fellow Keeper?” Her low voice was unemotional, her face placid, but steel edged her words.
Aggar’s nostrils flared as his jaw worked silently.
Talida squared her shoulders, looking between the two of them. “The Shadowfox has been an important tool. But I agree with Aggar: The decisions we make here go beyond his expertise. He is not ready for a place at this table.” She ignored him as she spoke, as if he was unworthy of addressing directly.
“Should we hold a vote, then?” Turwig asked.
“Fine,” Lyngar spat. “Let’s get this over with so we can get back to more important matters.”
“All in favor of elevating the Shadowfox to the rank of elder?” Turwig asked. He touched his hand to his forehead to indicate his vote. Rozyl and Hanko did, as well.
With a grimace, Lyngar added his vote to the mix. Aggar and Talida didn’t move a muscle.
With that, Darvyn was in.
“Have a seat, young man,” Hanko said. Darvyn dragged over a chair from against the wall and sat between Rozyl and Turwig. Waves of bitterness flowed from Aggar along with icy disregard from Talida, the Keeper here he knew the least.
Turwig picked up the top page of a stack of papers before him. His voice filled the awkward silence. “The order of business now is the trial of Osyn ol-Krastigar, former Commandant of the Enforcers. What discussion is there?”
Talida cleared her throat. “Witness affidavits have been notarized and delivered to the judges. All that needs to be decided is the manner of his defense. No witnesses have come forward on his behalf, and due to his position and the nature of his crimes, none of the settlers who speak Elsiran are willing to translate a statement for him for the Elsiran judges. I propose we submit a waiver of his right to defense to the tribunal.”
“I agree with Talida,” Aggar said, spiking a vicious gaze at Darvyn. “Really, none of these swine should be allowed the privilege of a defense. If no one can be found to speak up for them, why force the people who have been their victims to hear another vile word from their vile mouths? We all know what he’s done.”
Darvyn blinked back his shock. “That isn’t justice. That sounds more like a continuation of the old regime, not a new way forward. Elsiran law requires a sincere defense for all accused of a crime.”
“Yes, but a defendant can waive their defense if they have no statement to give and no witnesses,” Talida said, jaw tight.
Darvyn shook his head. “Osyn’s crimes may be undeniable, but we sink to the True Father’s level when we subvert the law in the name of justice and deny him the opportunity to speak on his own behalf. I’ll translate for him if no one else will do it.”
Stunned faces peered back at him.
“In fact,” he said, soldiering on, “I think all those who have been convicted in absentia, and thus denied a defense, should be retried only when they are located. No one should be sentenced to death without having had the chance to have their say.”
“You’re referring, I take it, to the Poison Flame?” Aggar asked, unmoved.
Darvyn met his hard eyes. “Why should she not get the opportunity to speak up for herself?”
Aggar scoffed.
“What could she possibly have to say?” Rozyl asked. “What defense is there for crimes such as hers?”
“Blood magic.” Darvyn’s words were met with silence and bewilderment. He continued. “When Kyara was only a child, the Cantor carved a spell into her skin that made it so she could not disobey the commands she was given. She could not even raise a hand against herself to take her own life and escape her bondage. Her life was not her own.”
He curled his hand into a fist, staring at nothing as he relayed Kyara’s tale. “She was forced to become an assassin. Yes, she killed for the True Father, but it was not by choice. Even the pay-rollers had free will. What they did, they did of their own volition. The soldiers were trained from childhood but still chose to embody the brutality they were taught. It was not so with her.”
“You seem to know quite a lot about her,” Turwig said, sitting up straight.
Darvyn looked over at the old man, pleading with him. “She saved my life. More than once.” His gaze went to everyone around the table. “At the least, she deserves a new trial so that she can tell you all this herself. If we’re creating a new way forward, we must embrace justice, not just revenge. You all can petition the tribunal.”
The silence stretched on and on. Darvyn waited, his heart beating faster, his body taut with anticipation.
Aggar snorted. “This changes nothing. It does not take away the lives she’s stolen. You speak of justice for her, but what about justice for them?”
“A dog that’s been trained to kill must still be put down,” Lyngar said.
“She’s not a dog,” Darvyn gritted out.
“I don’t think we can go back on this,” Hanko said, his voice kind. “The True Father manipulated with many methods, some magical, some not. But the victims still deserve to see the perpetrators held accountable.”
“She saved my life,” Darvyn plead. “At her own peril, she saved me.”
Rozyl spoke quietly from his side. “I’m sorry, but the others are right. If the Poison Flame is allowed to walk the streets free, imagine how the people would react. We need to show a united front and prove that the old regime is gone. Forever.”
“Then exile her,” Darvyn said. “Send her somewhere far away where no one will ever see her again.”
“She’s too dangerous,” Turwig said in a low voice.
Not him, too. Darvyn wanted to scream at them all. If they knew how dangerous Kyara truly was, how much restraint she practiced every day, they would never get a night’s sleep. What they knew about her could fill a thimble.
“None of you will listen?”
“I’m sorry, oli,” Turwig said, resting a hand on his arm.
Hanko looked down, pursing his lips. Lyngar scowled, and Aggar closed his eyes before shaking his head.
On his other side, Rozyl inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, Darvyn. We wouldn’t be safe with her on the loose.”
He jerked out of Turwig’s grip. Anger burned through him, throwing a haze across his vision. Briefly, he considered using Earthsong on them and trying to change their emotions, but he knew that wouldn’t work. They were firmly entrenched in their bids for vengeance.
He had done everything he could within the system. Now he would just have to go outside of it.