“I deny the act.” Kaeska’s reply was little more than a whisper, catching on a half-stifled sob that elicited a ripple of sympathy from the closest spectators. Shek Kul looked unmoved.
“I will hear the accusation.” He looked at me and I thought I saw some hint of encouragement in a softening of his expression.
“Stand next to Kaeska,” Laio murmured through barely parted lips and I marched briskly down the steps, pleased to see faint distress in Kaeska’s eyes as I towered over her, armored in all the regalia of the domain. Wreathed around with the coils of the inlaid design, I have to confess that I felt uncomfortably exposed to the probing gazes all around.
“Speak only the truth or suffer the consequences.” Shek Kul looked even more forbidding from here.
I took a soldier’s stance and began my tale, drawing on all my knowledge of the Aldabreshin tongue, forcing myself to speak slowly and clearly, repressing any hint of emotion, trusting that the facts alone would condemn the woman. Murmurs among the crowd rose, died back and swelled again as I continued my recital, but I kept my eyes fixed on Shek Kul, speaking to him as if we were alone in the windswept center of the Dalasorian plains. When I fell silent, the tension in the air would have blunted steel.
“What say you?” Shek Kul demanded of Kaeska.
“I confess—” She collapsed to her knees, face hidden in her hands, her sobs ripping through the shocked silence of the great hall.
“You—” Shek Kul was startled to his feet for an instant before he regained his poise. I looked at Laio and saw she had gone so pale beneath her complexion and her face paints that I thought she would faint.
“Not to the sorcery!” Kaeska’s head snapped up and, for all her tears, her eyes were clear and calculating. “Never to the magic but, oh, my lord, I—” she choked on a shuddering breath. “I confess to fatal weakness, mortal foolishness, to succumbing to the lure of the mainlander smoke. I have sought for so long for a cure for the pain that twists in my heart, that I have been unable to bear children, that my blood falls barren, not to nourish the domain—”
Her eyes closed in anguish, she clasped her hands to her breast, mouth working but no words emerging. She could certainly weave a pretty sentence for a woman in such dire distress, I thought sourly.
“In my travels and trade, as I sought to serve the domain in the only way I could, I heard mention of these mainlander smokes, of the way they can lighten the heaviest burdens. I was tempted but I resisted, you must believe me, I resisted until I heard that Mahli was to bring the blessing on the domain where I had failed. The anguish, the envy, the mean and petty jealousy that clawed at me, oh my lord, I hated myself for the foulness of my thoughts when I should have been rejoicing—I could live with the pain of my empty womb but I could not face the repellent creature I had become. I took to the smoke to escape myself, the rending of my conscience, the corruption that festered within me!” Her voice, rising through this increasingly frantic speech, fell and shattered into hysterical crying, Kaeska prostrate on the shining floor, hands clinging to the unyielding stone.
I kept my stance, expressionless but I could assess all too well from the faces I could see the impact of the tableau the pair of us were presenting; Kaeska, tiny, undefended, baring the shameful secrets of her heart as I loomed over her, armored, ostentatious in my finery, eyes hooded by the helm, my sword hanging over her naked neck.
Rapid chatter scurried around the assembled islanders, the volume increasing until it was abruptly silenced as Shek Kul rose and descended the steps with a measured tread.
“Calm yourself.” His soft words reached to the furthest corners of the hall as he knelt beside the weeping woman and she fell silent. Taking one of Kaeska’s hands, he raised her to her knees and used a soft silk square to gently wipe the tears from her face.
“So why does this slave accuse you of sorcery?” I breathed a shallow sigh of relief at the firmness of Shek Kill’s question.
Kaeska spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “I do not know. I cannot say—my lord, forgive my foolishness, my failing! I have spent long days of anguish repenting my weakness, I will be a good wife to you—raise Laio and Gar above me and I will take my place as the least of your women. My transgressions have been grievous but I have seen the error of my ways—let me make a new start just as the birth of our son marks a fresh opening for the domain. Crown this joyous time with the shining jewel of mercy.”
“If this slave did not see sorcery, what did he see?” Shek Kul stood and looked down at Kaeska, arms folded, face stern, his manner subtly directing the mood in the hall.
“May I speak?”
The Ice Islander’s halting words shocked a hiss from the assembly but I saw Shek Kul’s eyes were unsurprised. “I will hear you.”
The Elietimm moved from the shadow of a pillar where he had been waiting and stepped into the light at the edge of the great marble insignia. “I must apologize most humbly for my part in this affair.” He paused, a nicely calculated shake of his head as he looked at the kneeling Kaeska. “It is I who supplied your wife with the smoke. I had obtained the leaves to take home; our holy men use it to open their minds to a higher realm of being. I did not understand the powerful reasons the Aldabreshi have for keeping such things from your islands and sought only to relieve the lady’s dire distress by lifting her perceptions beyond her immediate sorrows. I did not know that I transgressed against your customs and for that I am heartily sorry.”
So his was the pattern of words I had been hearing in Kaeska’s impassioned laments.
“The slave was listening at the door, was he not?” The snake wasn’t even looking at me. “The shutters were open to catch the breeze and the door was uncurtained, as I recall. I suggest the air carried the smoke to the slave and worked on his mind to weave a hallucination. It is not an uncommon effect of the drug on an unprepared mind; I blame myself for not ensuring the smoke did not drift.”
Shek Kul looked at me. “How say you?”
I bit down my instinctive rebuttal and took a slow count of three before replying. “No, it was no hallucination.” The approval in Shek Kul’s eyes at my considered response heartened me further.
“Forgive me,” the Ice Islander’s words were courteous, but I hoped Shek Kul could see the hostility in the man’s eyes as he turned his gaze toward me, “but how can you be so sure? The very nature of an hallucination is to mimic reality in every particular.”
“I had experience of taking smoke in my youth.” I kept my voice level and unemotional. “This was completely unlike that feeling.”
“Of course,” the Elietimm nodded, “you are a mainlander, are you not?”
I could tell this reminder was not lost on the watching islanders and saw that Shek Kul was looking thoughtful.
“I am body slave to the Warlord’s lady, Laio Shek,” I stated firmly. That much was simple fact, and no forswearing.
“The question of the effect of the drug aside,” the Ice Islander moved on smoothly, “your accusation of sorcery, of magic, stems from what exactly? From the rites you say you saw and heard? From the words I spoke in what you yourself said was a tongue unknown to you?”
I nodded, not about to risk a snare in his tangled argument. He inclined his head with a satisfied air and turned to Shek Kul.
“As I explained, the holy men of my people use the smoke to open their minds to the higher states of awareness. I have some grounding in what is a complex procedure, not without risk, and we use chants to focus ourselves. This is what the slave heard and did not understand; it is not magic in any sense.”
“What I saw being practiced was sorcery.” I raised my voice above his tone of level reasonableness and was gratified by the whisper that ran around the hall.
“Again, I ask, how can this man be sure?” The Elietimm kept his eyes on Shek Kul.