* * *
Sy
* * *
Elete settles into his quarters, and to my surprise, goes to sleep. I suppose he wasn't understating things when he said he could use some rest. His ailments are beginning to trouble me...
But then, we already know they're going to kill him, don't we?
I try to tell myself that he's let me know it's inevitable so that I don't waste my resources on saving him and instead can focus my efforts on what's important. He's even said outright that there will be a Poet King to replace him. One of his Poets, then? That's a daunting thought. Some of them, even I will admit, are quite capable - but no one has that sense about them of... of knowing. That complete, almost undoubtable authority. Most of all, he engenders trust in everyone... even myself.
How do we begin to replace that? We never sought him in the first place. He called us, and we gave him a position for being, well... Elete.
I rejoin the Trial after seeing to him. There's nothing else I can do until we've finished the proceedings. That, and I am eager to step back into the myself that is overseeing in Court and learn just what's been found out. The flash of knowledge is refreshing, like a cool drink.
Of course, the first surprise for me is that our defendant is still even alive. I should tell my Advocate she's done a good job, but I'm not sure if it's a success in my eyes.
It never has been, Tesynnodai. Yours and my standards are continually at odds. ...I'm done with Patrick Oghue'dvrinsidhe o'Deaghnn'on. Nap now?
Katherine lets out a snore from the cradle of Camden's arms. I look down at the floor in front of the two.
I admit I make a double-take. I know what the Advocate did - that she cleaned Patrick of the Cade identity and bound him into indenture until such time as he can appeal to a higher authority. But even in the visions of Patrick's memories, I didn't see the man this clearly.
He is short. Shorter than Camden, which makes enough sense in that he is his ancestor. His hair is a brown-red that brings to mind maple syrup, he is covered in freckles, and somewhere under that bandage he just might have a nose. His clothing is old as well - ancient garb made of furs and leather. Strangest of all, I don't have the overwhelming urge to destroy him.
I begin to ask the Advocate if she's cleaned him completely of Nul, and remember that she is sleeping now. Memories inform me that waking a sleeping baby Katherine is much more trouble than it is worth. It's a question that I can answer myself, though. I level Diyn over Patrick's body.
Clean. Little deserving of blood loss. Still enough to lock him in the cells below, though. Diyn's tone is grudging, but he's always greedy, and in his opinion every living person (and many dead) deserve to be locked up. The man is normal, then. But what to do with him? Elete would have ideas... but he is napping.
"Ach. What a sorry sot." Peacekeeper Camden eyes the man. "We should beat some use into him. But that's for later, aye?"
"You've no regrets?" I say it in an even tone. Camden has lost much because of this man.
"I wish I could have killed Cade myself, but wager that Katherine did it in a more painful manner than I ever could. The cur didn't smile as he went. What's left behind is merely a man, and I whip men into what they ought to be. It's my way. No, I bear no ill will," his eyes glitter with a strange spark, "but I am curious as to what more he might know. We've things to attend to now, though. Are we through with this Trial?"
I nod.
"What are the strange things on his hands? The 'mark' that the Advocate said would be laid on him?"
I nod again. Strange leather gauntlets cover the backs of Patrick's hands and reach all the way up to his elbows. They cover his fingers as well, ending in bluntly clawed tips. I've only seen one pair before, but they were metal, not leather. Still, I'd wager that Patrick's are just as unremovable as the metal ones were to their bearer. "A visible sign that none may kill him, by the authority of Emperor Theos." They make me uncomfortable - but then, they signify a negation of my very purpose and function. They damn well should make me uncomfortable. I sigh. "Well, let's stick him in the cells for now. No point in letting him run off and get himself filthied when he's just been bathed."
I adjourn the Court, and we depart.
* * *
It seems I already have an appointment - and so soon after a Trial! Then again, they do tend to build up while I'm in Court. Patrick is put away in a newly cleaned cell. It's a strange action for me to perform as caring for the renewed is something the Advocate traditionally oversees. I'm not used to being the... tender one. Once that's done with, I return to my office.
A very distraught Bronwyn Averseen is waiting for me, perched in the chair in front of the desk. Her handkerchief is balled up in her hands and tears are brimming up in her eyes. By the redness of her face and the hellish state of her general appearance, I can tell just what is happened. I catch my breath as I take my seat, unable to say anything just yet. I'm not sure what there is to say.
No, I am.
"My apologies, Jhe Averseen, on not sending someone out for you--"
"Oh, it's no matter s-sir, J-Jhe h'Akribastes, sir... Jhe h'Logos did! Please... please don't worry for my sake!" Her eyes are wide, and her concern is nearly bowling me over. "Is Jhe Katherine alright? Are you alright?"
"Jhe Katherine is in the care of the Peacekeeper until she is put to bed in the Armed Hall's nursery. The Trial went well and she is performing her functions as she should, despite her... handicap." I rest my hands on the desk, lacing my fingers together.
"Oh that's good! Just like normal, then. Sire... may I go there, then? I really do love looking after the little ones, and it'd reassure me so much to see her again!"
I nod. "Of course, Jhe Averseen. Someone else can be appointed to cover your duties here, as I am sure Jhe h'Logos already has a suitable candidate in mind." He would. "I am only sorry that this has caused you so much distress. Please, though..." I have trouble phrasing the next part. It's difficult to ask her.
"Yes, sire?" She looks at me, alert, back straight. It elevates her cleavage quite a bit, and I have to remind myself yet again to keep my eyes aimed above her chin.
"Is there anything you can say about her attackers? Did you witness the event?"
Her crumpled expression is so pitiful that I instantly regret asking the question and already know its answer. "No, sire. I was inside, and was only driven with a premonition that I shouldn't leave my cottage for love of anything. I think it happened in the wee hours. I was driven awake by the premonition, but I didn't leave my bed until Jhe h'Logos's messenger came." She bites her lip, and more tears build up in the rims of her eyes.
I nod. "Don't worry at all about it, Jhe Averseen. We already know who the assailants were, and something shall very soon be done about it." It was a stretch, I knew. I wanted to know if she'd seen Lyric or Stevane, but obviously not. "Go on and see to Katherine, then. I need you in the nursery, in any case."
She raises her eyebrows. "Sire?"
"I expect it will soon have a high occupancy." I rise from my desk as the meaning of that revelation dawns on her. "Don't worry. Soldiers die on the battlefield, and our battles are coming due. It's only natural, with Armed."
She replies with a stammered response that's unintelligible, but well-meaning, and then she leaves. I only stand there, frowning over my own words. Battles are coming up due, yes. But will our fallen return? As Aaren and Lute have discovered for me, there are so many who haven't... and never will.
I've more things to do, though. Diyn informs me that Jhe Kevrin would like a word with me, but would prefer to do so in his own quarters 'for security reasons.' And with that boy, you just never can tell.
* * *
Jax
* * *
We empty out of the Court slowly, heels dragging, most of us not even bothering to look up. The group of us - me, Amanda, Gerald, Rachella, Gerude, and Erynn - moves like a sullen stormcloud. These hangovers are monstrous, I tell you. And, well, I'm just not feeling top-notch, regardless of how much my head is pounding.
My Dad stole my girlfriend. Like it was nothing. My Dad! Gerald understood. Gerald had a few drinks with me to dull the pain. But then he found Rachella, man. And he may have been hangdog at the Trial, but other than that he seems pretty happy to be attached at the hip to her.
Me, I'm alone. I'm feeling stupid. And I can't even go off and do anything about it. I'm the Armed version of grounded. They say there's killing probably going on in the Aurocan Palace - why am I not over there? Why can't I go fight and at least do something! Because that's what I want to do. It's the same as when that notion got into my head to charge off to Sul that first time. Of course, look what good that did me.
Amanda raises an eyebrow at my sullen face. "You look like you've got two hangovers sharing your head, Jax. What's up your bum? Still need a girlfriend?" That extra eyebrow waggle of hers is cute, but I know she's not serious about it. Besides, she's not my type. And we're friends. It'd be weird.
I sigh. It is a deep sigh, reflecting the unconveyable amount of manpain that echoes throughout my soul. This pain is deep, reaching, and just a little bit macho. Even though it hurts, I'm sort of proud to have it. "I feel like I'm needed somewhere. Do you feel it too, sometimes? Am I the only one?"
Amanda frowns, her jaw tilted in such a way that it could almost be a wry smile if her lips moved slightly. "Nah," she says, "I just wanna get into a fight. I've been wanting to get into a fight for ages. You wanna find one?" Her eyes glitter in that dangerous way. One thing I've noticed in the Hall is that everyone gets nervous when the trainees get antsy. None of us have been 'blooded' yet, as they keep calling it.
And all of us are just aching for that fight.
I kind of lead us into a pub for some post-Trial snacks and talk. Gerald's able to explain some of what's going on with my sister the Advocate, which is frankly freaking me out. I mean, it's not the first time she's gotten taken out, and with any of the Armed or Poets you learn to expect that the next day they might just be miniature. Lives have fast turnaround in this line of work. But this stuff is freaking me out, and it seems like nothing's moving fast enough. Even Gerald agrees--
"I don't know what happened on the Court floor today. I don't think anybody in the stands understands it. But it looks like nothing's being done right now - like Father and Jhe Camden are waiting on something we don't even know about." He buries his hands into his hair. "It's frustrating! Katherine just went and died overnight and nobody's making a move about that! And we have the Pea- Jhe o'Sul in the cells, still awaiting a real trial!" Rachella scratches his head a bit, and Gerald's shoulders unhunch. A little smile even creeps up on his face.
"There's a lot Father has to do now, a lot for the Peacekeeper as well. It's hard to move forward with so many troubles at home." Gerude leans over the table, his fingers woven together and perched up in front of his mouth. I don't know if he means to do it, but it makes him look a lot like his dad. "I know it seems like things are moving slow..." he sighs, shoulders slumping, and flops his hands on the table. "Okay. They are moving slow. But what do you suggest be done about it?"
"Let's go get something done!" The answer's so immediate that I almost don't realize that it came out of my mouth. But as soon as it has, I back it up. "Let's go out there and do something! We're useless at home, and they need to stay here and... well, figure out whatever needs figuring. We'll help, instead of just... sitting here!"
Gerude opens his mouth to say something, something probably to the tune of that not being a good idea, but he's drowned out by my fellow trainees' excitement. Gerald doesn't say much of anything, but I think it's mostly his infatuation with Rachella that's to blame.
There's a lot of talking after that. About action, and all things exciting - and for once, I feel like I know exactly what to do, and why.
