Part 33 (1/2)

Two Thirst knights stepped sheepishly from the crowd, bowed unsteadily to their chevard, and left.

A Lunt man also came forward and bowed to Lord Renald. ”I fear, m'lord,” he said in a slurred voice, ”that I am unfit for this occasion.”

”You may go,” Lord Renald told him.

Gavril stepped toward Lord Odfrey. ”I am to blame, my lord,” he said lightly. ” 'Twas my idea to cheer and reward the men for a hard day's fighting. I did provide ale from my private stores, after Sir Bosquecel granted permission.” Lord Odfrey scowled at his captain-at-arms, who looked deeply troubled. ”I saw no harm, my lord,” he said quietly. ”Permission was sought the moment we rode in, before this other trouble began.”

”I see,” Lord Odfrey said, and let it pa.s.s.

Dain, however, drew in a sharp breath and glanced at Gavril. How smug the prince looked. He must have planned this all in meticulous detail. Why? Dain wondered. What had he ever done to warrant the prince's total enmity? Was this retaliation for that long-ago day when they'd scuffled over the bard crystal? Could Gavril harbor a grudge for something that trivial? Or did blind hatred stem simply from bigotry and prejudice? Gavril had gone to great trouble to see him destroyed.

The ceremony continued. A green square of cloth embroidered with Lord Odfrey's crest of leaping stag and his bars of rank was brought forth by a trembling page. He handed the cloth reverently to Sir Bosquecel, who held it up by two corners and draped it across Lord Odfrey's sword as it was drawn.

Dain noticed that tonight Lord Odfrey's weapon was not the usual utilitarian blade that he wore into battle but instead one longer and very old. It was not fas.h.i.+oned of magicked steel forged by dwarves but instead of some metal equally mysterious, ancient in fact, with a resonance that traveled along Dain senses. He had never seen such metal before, and he could not get a clear look at it with the cloth draped across the blade, but he closed his eyes and listened to the hum of it.

”I am Truthseeker,” it said within the hum. Great power flowed inside the blade. Long ago, many battles had it fought. Images of blood and death mingled with war cries in tongues that Dain had never heard before. He shuddered and opened his eyes as the draped sword was pointed straight at his heart, thenturned sideways and laid at Dain's feet. Gold wire was wrapped around the two-handed hilt and a row of fiery emeralds studded the straight edge of the guard. Glittering and gleaming, Truthseeker lay on the floor in humility, but even the cloth could not mask its greatness.

Wide-eyed with awe, Dain stared at Lord Odfrey, and his entire image of the man changed to something new. Of what lineage was this man that he owned a sword made of G.o.d-steel? Such ancient weapons were legendary, more myth than fact in these times. Jorb had sometimes spoken of G.o.d-steel wistfully wis.h.i.+ng he could touch some of it, just once, in his lifetime. In the olden days, dwarves and other treasure-hunters had scavenged the Field of Skulls in hopes of finding such a weapon among the fallen.

To see a sword of this kind, here and now, obviously well preserved and handed down from generation to generation, so astonished Dain that he could not remain silent. ”Truthseeker is-” Lord Odfrey's gaze snapped to his in warning. As Dain broke off what he'd been about to blurt out, the chevard said a soft, grim voice, ”My ancestral sword is named aptly. And you are found guilty, it will take your life.” Dain gulped, but Lord Odfrey was already turning away from him. Standing alone, Dain met the eyes of the a.s.sembly and told himself that doomed or not he would see the truth to tonight, would hold to his honor and show them eld courage. The six knights who had escorted Dain here from Lord Odfrey's wardroom now knelt in a semicircle before him. One by one, each man drew his sword beneath a plain cloth and held the draped weapon on the floor before him. The three judges stood facing Dain on his right; Lord Odfrey, Gavril, and Sir Los stood facing him on his left.

At the rear of the Hall some of the wounded knights hobbled in with a.s.sistance. Four other men were carried on wooden boards, with Sulein hovering in attendance. A loud babble of conversation rose through the Hall, until the herald raised his hand for silence.

”Hear this!” he said, his voice ringing out so that all could hear. ”The eld called Dain stands accused by Prince Gavril of crimes and foul deeds against his person. His highness will lay those charges now.”

His face alight with eagerness, Gavril stepped forward and pointed at Dain. ”In the afternoon of this day,” he began with great formality, ”this pagan creature did walk into the common chamber of the fosters and interrupt my conversation with Mierre and Kaltienne. He did swear at me and give me great insult, then without provocation he drew his dagger and attacked me, with intent to commit grievous bodily harm ... or my death.”

Dain stiffened, incensed by so blatant a lie, but he'd been warned not to speak out of turn. It took all the willpower he had to stay silent, even as hostile murmurs rose through the Hall. Their emotions beat at him, stronger than ever: guiltyIguiltyIguiltyIguilty.

Clenching his jaw, he drew his bard crystal from beneath his doublet and clutched the pendant in his fist.

He thought of Thia, his beloved sister, whose pale, blonde-haired beauty had been like a song in the air.

She would not want to see him here, judged for his life by this a.s.sembly of men and bound by their treachery and lies. He thought of her proud spirit, her courage that had never faltered, even in her final hours as she lay dying of a Bnen arrow. If he did not prevail tonight, he would join her spirit in the third world. But he would not go like a baseborn coward, cringing and pleading for mercy. Dain stared coldly at Gavril, whose lying tongue had finally fallen silent. Mierre and then Kaltienne were brought forward to speak their lies. Furious, Dain kept his shoulders erect and his chin high. Gavril had hated and persecuted him from the first day because he was an eld; there was no other reason. The prince's blind prejudice did him no credit, and someday perhaps these men and others who followed him would see the truth of his character and follow him no more.

When the accusations ended, silence hung over the Hall. Dain faced the a.s.sembly, refusing to act guilty or let his fear show. He had no witnesses to contradict the lies Mierre and Kaltienne had spoken.Truthseeker lay at his feet. He wished with all his heart that the sword would spring into the air guided by the hand of Olas, G.o.d of war and justice, to smite them. But that was an unworthy wish, Dain told himself. His problems were his own, too small for the G.o.ds to concern themselves with. He had gotten himself into this by his own action and choices. Foolishly, he had played into Gavril's evil hands.

The Hall seemed to grow warmer as someone else spoke at length. Dain stopped listening and let his mind drift. His arm was throbbing more than ever. He could smell the food not yet cleared off the tables.

His stomach growled and rumbled, and took all his willpower not to grab some of the table sc.r.a.ps at his back. Between his wound and his hunger, he felt faint. Yet he was determined to stand tall and look brave.

Something pale and indistinct near the ceiling caused the banners to flutter. Trying not to sway, Dain let his gaze wander upward. He frowned at the shape, which swirled like mist and was no creature of this world. His mouth went dry and for an instant he knew fear. But he sensed nothing evil about it. His eyes closed a moment, fighting off a wave of weakness, and when he opened them again the mist was forming itself into the likeness of a man such as Dain had never seen before.

He blinked, unable to believe his eyes, and glanced swiftly around to see if anyone else noticed this vision. But Lord Odfrey was speaking, and all eyes were trained on the chevard. Dain found his gaze drawn back to the vision. This stranger was an awesome sight, a handsome man in the prime of life, broad-shouldered and strong, with a chiseled face too angular to be Mandrian. There was a look of the eld to his features, although like Dain his frame was as large and muscular as an human's. His breastplate of gold embossed with symbols of hammer and lightning bolts gleamed as though with a life of its own. In his right hand this man held a magnificent sword with a blade that shone white and magical. His thick black hair fell to his shoulders, held back by a circlet of delicate gold that only enhanced his masculinity.

His ice-blue eyes were eagle-keen. They pierced Dain as though they would look deep, to Dain's very soul.

Unable to draw a complete breath, Dain felt his knees buckling. He tried to kneel before this king, but the apparition pointed his sword at him and his deep voice rang through Dain's mind, ”Kneel not to me, Faldain of Nether.” Dain gasped. From the corner of his eye he saw Gavril glance at him sharply, but Dain's gaze remained rapt on the king. His heart was pounding with suppressed excitement. Faldain of Nether. The name ran through his thoughts. In his mind, Dain replied, ”Great One, what would you have me do?” Again the apparition pointed at Dain with his mighty sword, which glowed now to a blinding degree, like a tongue of white flame. ”Beware!” rang the words in Dain's mind. ”Danger lurks close. You must not fail.”

Dain frowned, finding this warning hardly useful. He had little chance of prevailing at this trial, especially the way truth was being mocked tonight. ”How can I win?” he asked the king. ”Have mercy, Great One, and show me the way.”

”The way is already known to you. Lose not your courage against your foe.”

”But-”

”The danger is not what you think. Beware, Faldain. Pay heed to my warning.” The apparition vanished, leaving Dain shaken and disoriented. He lifted his hand to rub the sweat from his brow, and wondered if his own weakness had made him imagine the vision.

Yet its words still echoed in his mind. Frowning, Dain slowly turned the warning over and over in his thoughts. Some spirit from the third world had reached through to warn him of danger other than what hefaced right now. The hair suddenly p.r.i.c.kled on the back of his neck. Were Nonkind here, concealed in the hold, perhaps in the Hall itself? He sensed nothing, yet his sense of unease grew rapidly.

Lord Odfrey was saying, ”I will remind you of how this boy first came to us, starved and wretched, how he did risk his own life to save that of the huntsman Nocine, who stands now at the rear of the Hall.”

As he spoke, he pointed at the man. Many of the a.s.sembly twisted their heads to look. Others did not.

”Dain rode into battle unarmed at my back that day,” the chevard continued, his voice hard and measured. ”He risked his life to guide us to the dwarf raiders who had done wrong to Thirst. He risked his life to save mine.” The chevard pointed to his scarred face. ”Thanks to the boy's quick actions, I survived my wound and lived. It was your wish, knights of Thirst, to make him a foster. I granted your pet.i.tion and allowed him to stay as one of us, to be trained arms. It has been our united intention that he one day be knighted and serve Thirst in its defense. You know his good qualities, which are many. But, yes, he has had his moments of mischief. What boy does not?” A few of the knights chuckled, but others stayed silent frowning while they listened.

”He disobeyed me a few days past and went forth in the smith's company to help him buy sword metal from a dwarf. Since Dain was raised by Jorb maker, it was not unreasonable of our smith to ask for his help in securing a good price.” Behind Lord Odfrey, Gavril was sighing impatiently and fidgeting. Dain stared hard at him, wondering where the Nonkind could be and how he could stop the proceedings to warn Lord Odfrey.

As though feeling Dain's stare, the prince glared back until Dain s.h.i.+fted his gaze away.

”In leaving the hold without permission, Dain did wrong, Lord Odfrey continued, his speech apparently endless. ”But who among you cannot remember your own boyhood escapades?”

There were more chuckles, but Dain hardly noticed that the chevard's words were swaying the knights in his favor. He wondered if the chevard had yet answered the direct accusation Gavril had laid.

Lord Odfrey pointed at Dain. ”Many of you have worked with Dain, and sought to a.s.sist him in his training. Others of you have supervised him in his ch.o.r.es. Have you known this boy to lie? To ever strike someone else in anger? To treat any one cruelly or unjustly?”

The chevard paused, holding the a.s.sembly with his stern gaze. ”The answer to each of those questions is no. For the months he has lived among us, has he not had ample opportunity to do harm against myself, against any of you, against even the prince, had he wished? Why has he chosen to attack his highness now? Did he attack at all, or did our prince misunderstand boyish high spirits and-” The stench of something rotted and foul reached Dain's nostrils. ”Stop!” he shouted loudly.

His interruption silenced Lord Odfrey, who swung around to glare at him. Sir Bosquecel scowled.

Others glared at Dain for daring to interrupt. ”You have not leave to speak, Dain,” Sir Bosquecel said in annoyance. ”Await your turn.”

Dain paid them no heed. He looked in all directions, seeking the Nonkind that was among them.

Released at last, as though the creature could no longer contain itself, a foul stench so overwhelmed Dain's senses that he wanted to retch. Swallowing, he looked but saw nothing wrong.

Everyone was staring at him, and Gavril said, ”He is surely mad, or pretending to be so. It is a thin defense.” Even now, Gavril refused to accept any beliefs or abilities save those that he valued. Despising him for a fool, Dain said, ”There is a Nonkind here.” Sir Bosquecel and Lord Odfrey swung around in alarm. Sir Polquin swore aloud and reached for his sword hilt.

”Where, Dain?” Lord Odfrey asked. ”In Thod's name, what is it? Where is it?” Dain could not tell him, for as yet his eyes could not penetrate the creature's spell of concealment. He shook his head in frustration. The stink intensified, worse than ever, causing the hair to stand up on the back of Dain's neck. It had to be close now, must be coming closer, yet he saw no movement save that of a knight, striding forward from the back of the Hall. Dain eyed him narrowly, unsure. He was unwilling to make the wrong accusation. ”Dain!” Lord Odfrey said sharply.

He drew a sharp breath and glanced at the chevard. ”I cannot see it, but it's here in the Hall. It must be a shapes.h.i.+fter.”

”G.o.ds!” Sir Bosquecel said, half-drawing his sword.

Sir Los stepped in front of Gavril with his hand on his own weapon. Gavril laughed scornfully. ”Will you believe more of his nonsense? Will you let his spells and lies cloud your minds?” He held up his gold Circle and aimed it at Dain. ”This pagan has no-” One of the wounded men jumped to his feet, knocking Sulein aside, and suddenly s.h.i.+mmered and changed shape, becoming a shadowy, snake-headed creature with black, leathery wings. It screamed, and the sound pierced Dain's ears.

Several knights cried out, clapping their hands to their ears and sinking to their knees. The shapes.h.i.+fter flew through the air so swiftly it was only a blur, and came straight for the front of the Hall. It aimed itself at Gavril, who was standing dumbstruck with horror. The prince raised his Circle, but Sir Los pushed Gavril back and swung his sword at the shapes.h.i.+fter's belly. His sword glanced off the creature's hide without effect, and the shapes.h.i.+fter sank its poisonous fangs into Sir Los's throat. Sir Los screamed, a high, keening sound of death, and his sword fell from his slack fingers as the creature pulled his body up into the air and drained the life from it. With shouts, Sir Polquin and Sir Terent rushed at it, striking to no avail. Through the Hall, there was shouting and pandemonium. Lord Odfrey and Lord Renald bellowed orders that went unheeded in the confusion. The priest held up his bra.s.s Circle, but retreated, wailing a prayer aloud. Someone rushed to grab one of the torches and whirled it about so that the flames popped and guttered. Gavril rushed foolishly at the shapes.h.i.+fter, brandis.h.i.+ng his Circle and his jeweled dagger, and Lord Odfrey flung himself at the prince to save him. One of the shapes.h.i.+fter's leathery wings struck Lord Odfrey and knocked him sprawling to the floor. He lay still, unconscious or perhaps dead, his forehead b.l.o.o.d.y.

Sir Bosquecel grabbed Lord Odfrey's shoulders and dragged him out of the thing's reach just as it struck viciously. Its fangs snapped on thin air, and it screamed in rage.

”Back, demon of the second world!” Gavril shouted.