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'But at what time, my lord Commander?' Alwir asked. 'It may not have been until hours later. We want to see justice done here.'

Justice? Gil felt the rush of anger heat her as the broken ends of her collarbone ground together. That man tried to kill me. And she looked over at Stooft in time to see him settle back into his chair; a just perceptible movement of relaxation told its story. He had spoken to Alwir beforehand. He knew he was not going to die. Rage went through her like a river of blood, rage greater than what she had experienced in the fight at the gate. She knew exactly what policemen felt when they heard a junkie or pimp or mugger they'd hauled in get off with a suspended sentence. Janus' fingers tightened over her good arm to remind her she was still in the presence of the Council of Regents.

'Indeed,' Alwir continued smoothly, 'I think the whole question of food theft and hoarding can be resolved by consolidating the stores under a single proprietorship. With Maia and his people coming within our walls, the danger of black marketeering is doubled. Proper guarding can nip the problem in the bud, and we will have no more troubles of this kind.'

'Consolidation?' The Bishop's fine eyebrows rose, but her eyes remained like wet pebbles in a stream bed, as emotionless as a shark's. 'Under the wardship of the Council, with yourself at its head, my lord Chancellor?

Alwir's shoulders stiffened. He kept his voice suave. 'Surely you can see that it would be better than the present chaos...'

'I cannot say that I do.' The wind-dry whisper of her voice was mild, considering. 'But if a consolidated storage of food appeals to you, my lord, what better centralizing agency can we find than the Church, which has a far larger and better-trained clerical staff than your own, as well as its own body of troops?

'Out of the question!' Alwir snapped furiously.

'Then it isn't really consolidation you seek, is it?

'We have been through this before,' the Chancellor said, his voice suddenly tight.

'With proper regulation...'

'By whom? the Bishop rapped harshly. 'People like Bendle Stooft, your good old friend from Gae?

'In times past we have been friends,' Alwir said stiffly. 'But in no way will I allow his friendship to affect my judgement of this case.'

'Then follow Keep Law,' she said, 'and leave him in chains at sunset.'

'My lord!' Stooft croaked leaping from his chair with, Gil thought detachedly, remarkable agility for so pudgy a man.

'Be still!' Alwir snapped at him.

The merchant flung himself to his knees in front of the ebony table. 'My lord please I'll neverdo it again. I swear it. The others made me. I swear, it was all Webbling's idea, it really was, Webbling's and - and Pral's - they forced me to go along...' His sparkling hands groped over the polished surface, the gold of his rings rattling on the gleaming wood. His voice babbled on, rising in pitch like an old woman's. 'Please, my lord, I'll never do it again. You said you wouldn't let anything happen to me. I promise I'll do whatever you ask...'

'SILENCE!' Alwir roared.

The two Guards, coldblooded automatons, stepped forward in unison to take the man by the arms and set him bodily on his feet. Gil could see that he was trembling in the soft lamplight, sweat running off his face as if he were melting in the heat. Hestood hanging on to the Guards, weeping.

Alwir went on, more calmly. 'Now, there has been no talk of an execution, though of course some form of severe punishment is in order.'

Govannin looked at her hands. There is only one punishment.'

'Really, my lady Bishop,' Alwir said, 'we do not wish to set a precedent...'

She glanced up. 'I think it an admirable precedent to set.' In the jumping light, her ageless face resembled that of some archaic vulture-god. 'It will certainly cause like-minded thieves to reconsider their actions very carefully.' The long, cold fingers smoothed a wrinkle from her scarlet sleeve.

'If the food supplies were consolidated...'

'Confiscated, you mean? Her black eyes glittered maliciously. There are hundreds of little entrepreneurs throughout the Keep who managed to haul grain and stock and dried goods down from Gae. There are others planning to execute forage missions of their own. How many would show that kind of initiative if it were all going to people like Stooft here? If, after their trouble, they found they would be robbed of what they already have, they might even fight.'

'Fighting would be madness!'

She shrugged her angular shoulders. 'So, in my opinion, would be confiscation.'

'It is not confiscation!'

'A play upon words, my lord,' she said disinterestedly.

With visible effort, Alwir got a grip on himself. The Bishop looked down at her hands with that little ophidian smile and said no more.

'I suppose it is a coincidence that the largest of those -entrepreneurs, as you call them - is the Church itself? That for all your pious talk about the care of souls, your real concern is with the wealth of the Church?'

'Souls inhabit bodies, my lord Chancellor. We have always cared for both. Like you, we seek only the greatest good for those whose charge God has given us.'

'And is that why you, the representative of the God of mercy, demand this man's life?"

She raised her head, flat black eyes under heavy lids meeting his with self-evident calm. 'Of course.' Stooft made a desperate little crying noise in his throat. 'And that is my final vote, as member of the Council.'

'And my final vote,' Alwir grated, 'is that the merchant Bendle Stooft be publicly flogged with thirty lashes and imprisoned upon bread and water for thirty days. Minalde!' He glanced sideways at his sister, who had sat all this while in perfect silence, watching everything that had passed between the merchant, the prelate, and her brother.

She raised her head, dark, jewelled braids swinging against cheeks that had gone as white as paper in the reddish shadows. 'I vote death.'

'WHAT?' Alwir half-rose, speechless between shock and rage.

Stooft made an inarticulate whimpering cry and would have thrown himself to his knees again, had not Janus and Caldern prevented him. He began to sob. 'My lord! My lady!' Tears streamed down his trembling cheeks. Aide raised her eyes and regarded him with desperately held calm, her full lips taut and grey, as if with nausea.

Gil wondered how she could ever have given herself airs about killing one man and maiming another in self-defence. There had been no question about the Tightness of her action then, no storm of protest over it. The man had not hung there wailing between his two guards, pleading for his life, for pity, for time. She had been upheld by the double supports of desperation and rage. Minalde had to do her justice cold.

Alwir started to speak to his sister in a hushed, angry voice, but she spoke over him, sounding strained and thin. 'In doing what you did, Bendle Stooft, you endangered my life and the life of my son, as well as the life of my brother, who has shown, I think, great mercy in even asking for your reprieve. You have endangered the lives of your own wife, your daughters, your young son, and everyone in the Keep, from highest to lowest.' Her voice gained strength and volume, but Bendle Stooft wasn't listening. He just sobbed, 'Please, no! Please, no!' over and over again.

Aide went on. 'As Queen of Darwath and Regent for Prince Altir Endorion, I decree that at sunset tonight you will be chained between two pillars on the hill that faces the doors of this Keep and left there for the Dark Ones to take you. May God have mercy on your soul.'

The merchant screamed, 'You're a mother, my lady! Don't leave my children fatherless!'

Her chin went up; her face was as calm and chill as a frozen pond, but Gil saw the small upright line that appeared between her brows. Janus and Caldern were obliged to lift the prisoner bodily from his chair and half-drag, half-carry him, shrieking like a damned thing, from the room. Dizzy and ill, Gil followed on their heels. As she passed through the doorway of the hall into the darkness beyond, she looked back and caught a last glimpse of Minalde, sitting in the soft glow of the ranks of candles, her face buried in her hands, weeping.