Wall of Shiuan

He remained on the floor, untouched. Men came for Bydarra’s body, and they carried it forth on a litter in grim silence; and another corpse they carried out too, that of a man-at-arms, that Vanye dimly realized was to his charge. And thereafter, when the room was clear and more torches had been brought, men gathered him up by the hair and the arms, and bowed him at Hetharu’s feet.

Hetharu sat, while a priest wound his arm about with clean linen soaked in oils; and there was in Hetharu’s shock-pale face a taut and wary look. Armed men were about him, and one, bare-faced, his coarse bleached hair gathered back in a knot, handed Hetharu a cup of which he drank deeply. In a moment Hetharu sighed, and returned the cup, and leaned back in the chair while the priest tied the bandage.

A number of other lords came, elegant and jewelled, in delicate fabrics. There was silence in the room, and the constant flow of whispers in the corridor outside. As each lord came forward to meet Hetharu there was a slight bow, an obeisance, some only scant. It was the passing of power, there in that bloody cell—many an older lord whose obeisance was cold and hesitant, with looks about at the armed guards that stood grimly evident; and younger men, who did not restrain their smiles, wolf-smiles and no evidence of mourning.

And lastly came Kithan, waxen-pale and languid, attended by a trio of guards. He bowed to kiss his brother’s hand, and suffered his brother’s kiss upon his cheek, his face cold and distant the while. He stumbled when he attempted to rise and turn, steadied by the guards, and blinked dazedly, and stared down at Vanye.

Slowly the distance vanished in those dilated pale eyes, and something came into them of recognition, a mad hatred, distraught and violent.

“I had no weapon,” Vanye said to him, fearing the youth’s grief as much as Hetharu’s calculation. “The only weapon—”

An armored hand smashed across his mouth, dazing him; and no one was interested in listening not even Kithan, who simply stared at him, empty-eyed, unasking what he would have said. After a moment someone took Kithan by the arm and led him out, like a confused child.

Women had come, pale-haired and cold, who bowed and kissed Hetharu’s hand and returned on silent feet to the corridor, a whisper of brocade and a lingering of perfume amid the oil and armor of the guards.

Then, a stir among the departing mourners, brusque and sudden, came Roh, himself attended by guards, one on either side. Roh was armored, and cloaked, and bore his bow and his longsword slung on his back for travel.

Vanye’s heart leaped up in an instant’s forlorn hope that died when he reminded himself of the illusion that was Roh, when Roh ignored him, and addressed himself to the patricide, Bydarra’s newly powerful son.

“My lord,” Roh murmured, and bowed, but he did not kiss Hetharu’s hand or make any other courtesy, at which faces clouded, not least of them Hetharu’s. “The horses are saddled,” Roh said. “The tide is due at sunset, I am told; and we had best make some small haste.”

“There will be no delay,” said Hetharu.

Again Roh bowed, only as much as need be; and turned his head and for the first time looked down on Vanye, who knelt between his guards. “Cousin,” Roh said sorrowfully, as a man would reproach a too-innocent youth. Heat stung Vanye’s face; and something in him responded to the voice, all the same. He looked up into Roh’s brown eyes and lean, tanned face, seeking Liell, struggling to summon hate. It only came to him that they two had known Andur-Kursh, and that he would not see it again; and that when Roh had left, he would be alone among qujal.

“I do not envy you,” Vanye said, “your company on the road.”

Roh’s eyes slid warily to Hetharu, back again; and Roh bent then, and took Vanye’s arm, drawing him to his feet in spite of the guards. His hand lingered, kindly as a brother’s.

“Swear to my service,” Roh said in a low voice, for him alone. “Leave hers, and I will take you with me, out of here.”

Vanye jerked his head in refusal, setting his jaw lest he show how much he desired it.

“They will not harm you,” Roh said, which he needed not have said.

“What you will is not law for them,” Vanye said. “I did not kill Bydarra: on my oath, I did not. They have done this to spite you; I am nothing to them but a means of touching you.”

Roh frowned. “I will see you at Abarais. With her, I will not compromise—I cannot—but with you—”

‘Take me with you now if you hope for that. Do not ask an oath of me; you know I cannot give it. But will you rather trust them at your back? You will be alone with them, and when they have what they want—”

“No,” Roh said after a moment that trust and doubt had seemed closely balanced “No. That would not be wise of me.”

“At least take Jhirun out of this place.”

Again Roh hesitated, seeming almost to agree. ”No,” he said. “Nothing to please you: I do not think you hope for my long life. She stays here.”

“To be murdered. As I will be.”