Judge (4 page)

“What were you studying?” Kien asked as he walked with Beka down Temple Hill’s shaded dirt road. He needed a distraction. Something lighthearted. A cheerful discussion to make him forget his fears for Ela. Not to mention Scythe’s testiness at his departure. He hoped the destroyer wouldn’t uproot every tree on Temple Hill in a fit of resentment.

While Kien would have welcomed Scythe’s presence in ToronSea, Ela’s situation in Parne was more dangerous, and more distant. She could ride the destroyer to Parne. And Scythe would protect her on the journey. As would the Infinite, he prayed. Kien pushed back his fears for Ela and concentrated on Beka, who was answering his question.

Unsmiling, Beka said, “We’re studying one of the Books of the Infinite.
Wisdom.
Do you think it will help?”

“Those who have wisdom are always eager for more. Those who need wisdom rarely gain it.”

“And, often, those who have wisdom need to use it!” Beka snapped.

“Meaning what?” Kien raised an eyebrow at his sister. “That sounded like an attack.”

“It was. And is.” Beka mimicked his lifted eyebrow. “You and
Ela love each other. Genuinely love each other. My friends have all recognized it.” She stopped on the road’s edge. “I say you two should marry.”

“Instantaneously? As you married Jon?”

His sister turned pink and huffed. “Our marriage
wasn’t
instantaneous. I’ve loved Jon for most of my life, as he’s loved me. You’re changing the subject.”

Kien’s throat tightened. “Some subjects are best left alone.”

“And some subjects are too important not to discuss. Marry her, Kien! Today. Twist Father’s arm for special permission. Twist Ela’s arm—nicely.”

Did Beka know what a wound she was opening? Kien listened to his boots crunching against the gritty dirt road as he and Beka resumed walking. The decision was Ela’s, actually. But he wasn’t about to twist her arm, as Beka had urged. Not yet, anyway.

At last, protective of Ela, he said, “We can’t marry. Imagine the two of us together. Today, for example. Ela’s been sent to Parne. I’ve been sent to ToronSea. One or both of us could die.” The strain in his throat worsened. His voice rasped. “What if we marry and have children? They’d be orphaned.”

His sister was quiet for about ten paces. “Jon and I would cherish your children while you’re gone. You know we would.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t help.”

“Even so, it’s true. We’d protect your children.” Then, as if summoning courage, Beka blurted out, “Jon and I have been married for seven months, and I’m still not pregnant! We—”

Kien flung up a hand. “Stop! Spare me the details—I don’t want to hear.”

“Well . . .” Beka quavered, “we’ve w-wanted babies. . . .”

“Beka!” He softened his scolding with a fond shake. “Hush. You’ll be wonderful parents. Just allow me to be a proud, ignorant uncle, and we’ll leave it at that.” If he survived ToronSea.

Her lower lip was out. “I suppose I don’t blame you for being grouchy.”

“Grouchy doesn’t begin to describe my mood.”

“You’re worried about Ela.”

Surprise. “Yes.”

Beka kicked at a pebble. “Jon and I could accompany her to Parne. We’ve been eager to travel with our destroyers, and she’ll have Scythe, so it’s ideal.”

Kien linked an arm with his little sister’s. “It’s not ideal. There’s going to be a siege.”

“We’ll leave before then,” Beka promised. “And you’d feel better, wouldn’t you?”

“I might.” But only a hint. Certainly not enough to make a dent in his fears for Ela. Plus now he’d fret about Beka and Jon’s safety while they were in Parne.

They marched into East Guard and tramped through its main streets to the quiet residential area Beka and Jon called home. Though a long walk, it did little to settle Kien’s nerves.

The instant they passed through the stone-arched gate leading to Jon and Beka’s huge private courtyard, Commander Jon Thel bounded out of the house, grinning, while armed with his new Azurnite sword. Smiling, Beka kissed her husband’s cheek. “Dearest, cancel your military leave. We’re traveling to Parne.”

Jon’s dark eyebrows rushed together. “What?” He glanced at Kien for clarification.

Kien punched his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “Good luck with the siege—and enjoy your new sword. I’m leaving for ToronSea. I hope to rejoin you within a few weeks—and find some way to assist Ela.”

“What?!” Jon yelled after him, “Hold on, Kien!”

Kien pretended to walk off. But then—as Jon bellowed again—he turned around. No doubt Beka would invite him to share a meal while they talked. And they needed to talk.

Surely the Infinite was testing their loyalties to Him, sending them all on hazardous missions with virtually no information. In silence, Kien begged his Creator,
Be with us!

 4 

I
n Kien’s tower room, Father stared as if Kien had grown a second nose. “Siege?”

Kien almost chuckled despite his bad mood. Rade Lantec, preeminent member of the Grand Assembly, prided himself on his network of spies. Well, they’d clearly failed him here.

“Ridiculous!” Rade protested. “The Tracelands has nothing to do with Parne. Or Belaal!”

“Ela said new ores have been discovered in Parne. Ores that can be used to create weapons. Ores dangerous enough that Belaal is preparing to attack Parne for them, while Istgard and Siphra will fight to protect their own interests.”

Garbed in a comfortable tunic, boots, and a cloak, Kien buckled a dagger onto his sword-belt. After checking his sword, he gathered a spare tunic, sandals, a small tarp, a cooking pot, his flint and metal fire kit, fishing net, and packets of dried fruits and meats, and shoved them into his knapsack. “The Infinite will allow Parne to fall.”

“The Infinite.” Rade pursed his lips and looked up at the tower’s roof beams.

Kien ignored his father’s disdain. Though Rade and Ara Lantec refused to believe in the Infinite, Kien hoped to eventually change their minds. Finished packing his gear, he pulled about a third of the coins from his pay bag, dropped them into the
pouch slung from his belt, and handed his father the balance. “I promised Mother I’d make restitution for the damage to her garden. Here’s the initial payment.”

Rade blustered, “We don’t need your money!”

“It’s a matter of honor, sir. Have you seen the garden?”

“Of course not. Your mother ordered it curtained off for this evening. Did you get rid of that destroyer?” Rade looked hopeful, not quite managing to disguise his loathing for Scythe.

“I’ve left Scythe with Ela. She’ll ride him to Parne.”

“Oh. Well. I wish them a good journey.”

And glad to see them go, Kien knew. He slung a waterskin over his shoulder, then landed a fist on Father’s shoulder and gave him a ferocious hug in farewell.

Rade thumped Kien’s back. “Let’s go find your mother.”

Downstairs, Kien halted Mother’s reception preparations just long enough to kiss her and murmur, “I’m sorry. Father has my first payment for repairs to the garden. I hope to see you in a week or so. Until then, be safe.”

Ara’s big gray eyes misted. “
You
be safe, dear. I’m sorry I lost my temper this morning.”

He grinned. “After seeing the garden, I thought you restrained yourself admirably.”

Mother hugged him tight. “Oh, my boy, I miss you already!”

“I miss you too.” He gave her a final hug and another kiss. Before she could add to the ruin of his day with sobs, Kien fled outside to the stables.

He approached the low, long stone building and looked over the selection of Lantec horses. Handsome creatures, every one. But even the best was nothing compared to Scythe. “C’mon, you mouse,” he muttered to the sturdiest beast. “You’ll have to do.”

A year ago, Kien would have been overjoyed at the thought of escaping one of his mother’s parties by way of a week-long jaunt on a horse. But now, as Kien rode through East Guard, the horse’s puny snufflings and the minuscule clipping sounds of its hooves against the street pavings made the notion ridiculous.
Really, he must pity the horse, who was—after all—one of the Infinite’s creations.

The thought didn’t help.

As he turned the beast south onto the coast road, Kien studied the cliffs on his right. He could see the ruins above on Temple Hill. Was Ela watching him depart?

How could he leave her to face Parne alone? Surely there was something he could do to ease her situation. Remembering her deathly pallor, and her tears, Kien shut his eyes.

You are about to be tested,
she’d said.

In what way? He’d been given no instructions whatsoever. Was he supposed to be tested for his willingness to warn a town full of obtuse Tracelanders against spiritual corruption? Was his courage being measured? His love for Ela? Or perhaps his good judgment was being tested. What about his abilities as a military judge? Might they be the true focus of this test? If so, which situation was more critical? ToronSea or Parne?

Besides, what if ToronSea’s citizens ignored his warnings? Would he be blamed? Kien scowled, puzzling out his options.

You must obey the Infinite,
Ela’s voice whispered in his thoughts.

Fine. He would go to ToronSea. But then he had to help Ela.

Wasn’t ToronSea on Siphra’s border? Kien would use his connections in Siphra. He’d hunted with the rebel Akabe “of no other name” before the young man became king of Siphra. Despite his now-regal status, Akabe would certainly remember Kien and grant him an audience.

An uncomfortable shiver slid upward along Kien’s backbone. Doubt nudged his conscience.

Would it be wrong of him to somehow interfere in Parne?

No. He refused to think of it.

He would ride this pathetic little horse to Siphra the instant he finished with ToronSea.

Holding the branch, Ela watched General Rol turn loose his destroyer in the clearing. The destroyer, Flame, a striking but fierce creature Ela had always admired, immediately charged into the woods.

To eat, Ela hoped. Not to fight with Scythe. Nor to pester Tzana and her little friends—girls who frequently visited from the dwellings scattered over Temple Hill’s lower slopes.

The general greeted Ela with a smile and an air of concern. “You frightened my daughter this morning, Prophet. Are you well enough now to talk?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry Nia was upset.”

“It doesn’t take much to alarm her,” Rol muttered.

Protective of her student, Ela said, “Nia is a tenderhearted girl with a lovely soul. I’m grateful I’ve had the chance to study with her.” She led the general to the mat where she’d conducted the morning’s class. “You wish to discuss Parne.”

“You are blessed with perfect insight as usual.” The general nodded at Tamri Het, who marched over to Ela.

Her normally pleasant face set in stern lines, Tamri warned, “General, do not upset my girl.”

“Doing your duty, eh, Het?”

Ela frowned at the pair. Why did they dislike each other? Was it because Tamri was Siphran and General Rol didn’t trust her? “General, please sit down.”

He sat, but rested one hand on his sword’s hilt. As if certain Tamri was half monster and wholly venomous. “Now, Ela.” Rol’s tone turned fatherly. “Tell me about Parne. What’s all this fuss?”

“The Parnians have chosen disaster.” Ela tried to convey facts without allowing emotions to overwhelm her. Without allowing the vision to reemerge. “After I left home, the Infinite’s enemies within Parne shunned Him and began to openly worship Siphra’s goddess Atea, enticing others to do the same—as they’ve secretly done for generations.” Infinite! How had she been so blind? Ela struggled to quell her frustrations and fears. “Parne also initiated
trade with Belaal and foolishly gave them samples of new ores they found while repairing Parne’s walls.”

“Ores for new weapons,” Rol observed. “Yes. Nia told me. Do you know anything about these new ores?”

“They aren’t Azurnite,” Ela said, nodding at the general’s new sword. “One of the ores is yellow and has poisonous characteristics. Merely handling the ore without gloves can cause ulcerations. Weapons forged with an alloy of this ore are softer than Azurnite, but they inflict wounds that won’t heal.”

“Causing a slow kill after the initial wound?” The Tracelands’ general fumed. “We can only hope the fools cut themselves with their own weapons.”

Ela waited. When Rol looked her in the eyes, she said, “The second ore is silvery. Powdered and mixed with wax, it can be ignited with oiled tapers, resulting in an uncontrollable fireburst. One ignited ‘brick’ can burn a small building.” She allowed the general to ponder this horror, then added, “Also, Belaal has recently learned that Parne’s temple is filled with gold.”

“Huh. Gold alone is enough to tempt Belaal and its allies.”

“Perhaps. But the thought of Belaal controlling those ores will be enough to alarm Istgard and Siphra. And, unless Parne repents of its self-destructive ways, the Infinite will allow the city to fall. Otherwise, countless future souls will be lost—souls He loves even now.”

Somber, the general said, “Naturally, you feel you must travel to Parne. Sounds like a thankless task.” He sighed. “I am so sorry. Do you need weapons? Unofficially, of course.”

Ela allowed herself a humorless chuckle and settled the branch in the crook of an elbow. “No, sir. But thank you. The Infinite provides my weapons.”

“As you wish.” Rol’s expression eased a bit. “Commander Thel and his wife have asked to see you safely to Parne. If the situation becomes critical, I will ask the Grand Assembly to appoint him as our envoy and oversee matters.”

He paused, as if expecting Ela to be surprised. She smiled. “Thank you, General.”

“Hmph. Of course. In addition, I am sending several crates of courier birds with Commander Thel. I ordered him, and I am asking you, to use them wisely. Keep us informed.”

“Again, thank you, sir.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he glanced over the Temple Hill site. The ruins. The orchard. And the stone bluff beyond, which sheltered Ela’s temporary residence—an entry tunnel leading to a stone chamber carved within the high bluff. “Who will watch this place while you’re gone?”

“I will, sir.” Tamri plainly dared him to disagree.

Rol made a face. “Aha. I’ll see that the locals do not interfere with you.” Before Ela could decide whether his statement required thanks or a gentle rebuke, he gazed at the ruins. “My daughter and I hope to see the Infinite’s Temple restored to East Guard within a few years. It will be a sight to behold!”

A fragment of a vision emerged in Ela’s thoughts: the temple rebuilt. Pristine, majestic, and honored on this hill. “
That
will be a joy, indeed!” Sadly, she would probably see it only in her vision.

“Do the writings go or stay?” Tamri asked.

Ela glanced across the stone chamber at its trove of precious writings. Neatly categorized, gem-studded ivory plaques shimmered at Ela from their stone niches carved within the chamber’s walls. An ancient collection of the Sacred Book of the Infinite. “They’ll stay. They belong to the Tracelands. Just be certain the researchers return them to the shelves—the grown scholars are worse than the children.” She would miss studying the Sacred Books.