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runicloreThe Blink of an Eye
Author: Amber Michelle
Day/Theme: April 14 - you were born to be betrayed
Series: Fire Emblem 10
Character/Pairing: Sanaki, Lekain, Rafiel, others
Rating: T
Words: 8713
Warnings: n/a
Notes: AU, part sixteen of the Summer Chronicle. This is a first and ongoing draft; a list of known issues is being compiled here.
.............................................
Sanaki dreaded the sight of the audience chamber, the plain white walls and silvery marble floor, the crimson carpet connecting her dais with the straw pillow Lekain was allowed to kneel on - he didn't deserve the courtesy of a chair, but his fragile knees were bruised from his ordeal the day before - while the evidence of his treason was read aloud in Leveque's dry voice. It cracked on hard syllables occasionally, but he never asked for water. She considered ordering him to drink; the snap in his voice startled her every time it happened, and her stomach turned because she held herself rigidly still and allowed no other sign of her unease, though her hands ached at the end of the last session from gripping the arms of her throne - or sitting still, who knew? Her body had learned to hurt at the mere thought of this routine. Leveque looked stiff too; he stared at Lekain over the hump of his dark nose, challenged him to open his mouth and respond, and the papers shook ever so slightly when he moved to a new topic.
On the second day, Lekain answered his challenge. Sanaki wished his voice reflected his pathetic appearance, but it carried across the chamber as it always had, as if magnified by magic.
"Your agents are mistaken," he said when the echo of Leveque's first accusation fell silent.
Leveque's finger curled like a talon behind the folder, hidden from the former senator. "Your signature is on several documents in our custody, as is your seal. The ink has been dated. You have demonstrated time and again - on record - that your hand has never been copied--"
"I am as shocked as you must be."
Sanaki wished she could roll her eyes.
"Indentured laguz servants were found under your wife's care--"
"And she has disappeared." Lekain's upper lip curled slightly. "You would call the word of a missing witness 'fact'?"
"And the ink quarry twenty leagues below the desert of death, under deed to your family," Leveque said, the folder on which he kept his notes tilting inward to rest on his chest. "They simply formed a colony at a convenient location, under beorc overseers?"
The Tanas stand-in - Helen, she reminded herself - leaned to speak to Lekain's former aide in Sanaki's peripheral vision. He was tall and blond, formed as if hewn from a block of marble in classical style, and he shook his head at whatever she said. Or, perhaps he turned slightly to speak with her and add to the murmur whispering against the chamber walls, too soft to be called an echo. Sanaki took a deep breath and sighed.
What was his name? She'd known it a moment ago. It wasn't important because he was not being considered for any of the vacant council seats, but-- Fredric. That's right. A Damiell man.
They'd agreed not to mention the mine above Begnion, hadn't they - she and Leveque? They didn't have enough information. It could be a free mining camp, or a prison camp with a legitimate purpose, which existed throughout Begnion to hold malcontents now that the law forbade outright killing of laguz citizens when they committed crimes. It was an unfortunate truth that most laguz sent to such places were innocent, or guilty of only minor misdemeanors, but their confinement was on record as legal, and they worked fields instead of mines, or repaved roads, and they couldn't be detained for more than ten months.
Lekain's eyes were narrow, glittering points. She couldn't see his hands, but would bet gold they were moving; he always picked at his nails when he was agitated, nervous, angry. It didn't matter.
He knew where his wife was now, she supposed.
"It is common practice in the north to contract workers from Daein for our quarries during the summer months," Lekain said. Sanaki was glad he chose to direct his stare to her prosecutor, and yet pitied him for it even as the former senator's expression smoothed again into calmness. "Borrowed labor has run the limestone quarries in Seliora for decades with full support of the government."
"Use of laguz slaves is illegal, Duke Lekain. Their origin does not matter." The folder straightened, Leveque's fingers relaxed. He wasn't as poised as Sephiran, nor as calm; he spoke sharply, his consonants snapping back to the dais and his accent making the tone harsher. "Our laws for migratory workers do not allow trades of personnel across the border."
"The letter of the law provides no guidelines for the institutions of other countries, and I cannot very well allow the property of others--"
"You would dare to define them as property?"
"My dealings with Daein," Lekain said loudly, drowning the rasp of his opponent's voice, "have the blessing of the last Apostle, and her word is law. I cannot be held responsible for the terms Daein's overseers choose to employ."
She thought Leveque frowned. It sounded like it; his response was slower. "No such document has been found among your papers or in the Archive."
"Your investigation is flawed!" Lekain snapped, and Sanaki forgot herself enough to let her eyebrow hike up at the heat in his tone. There was color in his cheeks, across his forehead. "Your agents are biased, your paperwork is mysteriously incomplete--"
Sanaki waved her hand, and Sigrun lifted her spear, slammed it to the tile twice, then a third time, until the ringing sound, the silver base against the hard and polished marble, was the only noise in the chamber. She thought of Seliora's trial, and the man's fruitless attempt to misdirect the presentation of his crimes, and the way Numida made a fool of himself before the people he called peers. Lekain sounded genuinely displeased, and Sanaki wondered if he was channeling his shock at their discovery - because she saw him blanch when the quarry was mentioned, she saw his face pale, saw his lips draw in - or if he was simply that good.
Letters asking for her statement on the fabled document expressing Misaha's approval of Daein migrants would surely join the missives calling for a conviction in Sephiran's case to balance those of his colleagues.
Sanaki looked at Lekain when the chamber calmed, when everything was silent but her own breathing. "You are not here to defend yourself," she said, and her face felt stiff. She hated meeting his eyes; the air stung when she looked at him. Perhaps his very presence was poison. "Remain silent until you are asked to answer a question." His head inclined a hair, and she gestured for Leveque to continue.
The session ended without further incident, but the damage was done. Her household guard lined the path from the antechamber back to her office, blocking the openings to other corridors where senators gathered to call for her attention. Sanaki refused to turn her head and acknowledge them, and her pegasus knights crowded around her in a tighter circle, Marcia once again carrying her train to allow their proximity. Shirin and the other aides, however, were allowed past the blockade to attend her, and as soon as the clamor of their subordinates faded, they made their own brand of noise.
"In all fairness," Fredric said, bending his neck as far as he dared while they walked, "we must investigate the duke's claim regarding the previous empress." She'd liked his voice once. It was soft, a baritone, and when they were younger she'd thought it reassuring. She even considered his proposal a second longer than the others because, in her memory, he was not yet tainted by five years in close quarters with her enemy. "If it's true these laguz are on loan from Daein, he cannot be punished for a crime not committed."
If. And if they were loaned from Daein - how convenient! - and the law did not define such a situation, how long would Lekain's sentence be delayed? "No." Sanaki didn't bother to turn her head.
"Your majesty, by your own words we are here to unveil the truth." Helen, now, to her left, slightly out of breath. "To show favor to Duke Persis and deny Duke Gaddos a proper investigation--"
"While we are conducting the investigation for this mythical document," Sanaki said, slowing her step and stopping in the middle of the corridor, where the walls were blank and unbroken by windows or arches to the garden, "which I assume should be prominent in our records to avoid just the situation you think we are in - while we search for this red herring, the senators will rot in their cells, their provinces will be neglected, and the slaves in question will remain unjustly imprisoned."
"Yet," Pellatiere said softly, "you do not protest when a senator is unjustly imprisoned?"
Sanaki closed her eyes, breathed in sharply through her nose. "Are we not past this? The evidence speaks for itself. You all acknowledged this when we brought it to your attention. I will not change my judgment."
"If you truly want justice, your majesty--"
"We have the right to call for a second investigation--"
Shirin and Leveque were silent. Sanaki wished they would speak up, though it would accomplish nothing but to make their informal meeting a little louder.
Justice. How could they dare speak of justice, while begging for Lekain's reprieve?
She blinked moisture back when Sigrun let her enter her rooms, and Sanaki shed her clothes without a care for where they fell, wrapped herself in a robe, and used Sephiran's staff to meet him in his rooms and soak his shoulder with her tears. She tried to swallow them, but her fists clenched with the repressed energy and she had the overwhelming urge to hit something - a pillow, or the mattress, something. He rubbed her back and let her cry on him, and she wanted to see that mask of indifference slapped from Lekain's face - with the flat of a blade, above the chopping block.
If he would only die and cease his interference in her government-- if he would only go quietly, maintain his dignity or at least pretend to, as Culbert did, instead of drawing this out and letting the stain of his treason set, like blood, never to be gotten out again. Begnion would recover without him here to twist her proclamations and slow the passing of reforms. Her children would be safer without Lekain there to weigh their worth against the gold he might pay an assassin. Sanaki would be safer. She knew who Sephiran feared when he told her to be careful.
Sanaki told him she intended to go to the vault that night, though she forgot to elaborate on her plan. He told her to forget about the trial and the prince while she visited him; he tried to distract her, talked to her, made her sit down to study from the book in which he'd written his personal spells, but her mind drifted back to the fools standing in for the senior council as soon as she was unoccupied. She only remembered when she left to meet Rafiel what she'd promised to say, and it was too late.
The heron prince found her in the office and merely sighed when she answered that no, Sephiran had nothing to say on the matter. His wings were hidden and he wore plain robes in green, dark enough not to reflect light, with his hair hidden beneath a cap - the sort senators wore, or priests, and university students. She tried not to laugh, and he sighed again.
"I suppose there's no hiding our hands or faces," she said, spreading her arms to display black crepe sleeves hanging from her wrists. A rewarp staff was tied to her belt, knocking her leg when she turned. Her silver knife was strapped to her arm, a pocket watch hidden in her sleeve. "Are you well, Prince Rafiel? You look pale."
"I'm fine." He inclined his head. "The goddess urges you to be careful, your majesty. There is a weakness in your defense, a chink in your armor."
She narrowed her eyes at the crown of his blond hair. There were better times to warn her. "Where?"
Rafiel straightened, squared his shoulders, and his brows knit. "That is the image I was given. I knew what it meant when the dream came to me, but such intuition is not specific..."
Sanaki watched his downcast eyes, his clasped hands. He did not return her gaze.
Were the Apostles not unique in their talents after all? Was it perhaps every descendant of Lehran who heard her - that is, every descendant whose blood ran laguz? She should be grateful the connection between them wasn't that strong. But if she'd had a mark, if Sephiran had still come to her, wouldn't their situation be better?
She'd never seen these fabled dreams. What concern had the goddess ever displayed for Sanaki?
They left the safety of her office and took the servants' stairs down to the first floor, then followed a corridor Sigrun promised was secure to the chamber guarding the stairs to the vaults. One of her knights waited there, and Marcia was at the bottom of the stairs. She held two torches lit by light spells and handed one to the commander. Tanith met them with another torch at the archway that led to the treasuries. They were under the audience chamber, someone said, a full story beneath, and the space between was solid stone.
It's true, Sigrun told her; I've seen the maps, and my commander knew a spell to sound the area. Once, we stopped an attempt to burn through the stone to reach the room with the twin swords, and the strongest fire the thieves could summon was too weak to burrow more than three inches into the stone. Tanith said she'd heard about that incident - a duke, wasn't it? The one who held Persis before Lord Sephiran? - and Eirene murmured that she wished more magic adepts would apply to the knighthood; without at least one, they were at a slight disadvantage. An archer would be nice too, she said when Sanaki asked her what was lacking in their company. Shooting from a pegasus is extremely difficult, but if it can be done, the power of those attacks would fell a Daein general. Mark her words, she said, and Sanaki glanced at the shadows in the corners of their path, and the edge of the light behind them, and in front. She believed the power of arrows, when the circumstances were right. Rafiel said nothing. He followed her closely, his hair brushing her fingers.
There were lights at intervals, and knights, and not a sound aside from their shifting, and the clanking armor of her escort, and the whispering echoes of their voices when they spoke. They descended two staircases and took five turns on each level. Sanaki thought their path must spiral like the corridor to the saferoom in which she met Rafiel for the first time. She remembered the way the dim light gleamed on his curls, how she couldn't stop herself from making the obvious comparison to precious metals, how his wings reflected the light like mist, or snow. What did Sephiran's wings look like? Would she ever see them?
A stone door guarded the vault, blue in the torchlight like the doors in the Tower of Guidance, carved with leaves and vines, a rood at the center. She pressed her hand to the line down the center and whispered the phrase Sephiran taught her before she left. The line turned into a seam, turned into a parting between the stone slabs and a breath of stale air from within, and Sanaki wasn't sure if her words opened the vault, or simply her hand, her blood. The spells should divine both, but was her blood strong enough?
Sigrun accompanied her inside, Rafiel beside her, and the doors closed again of their own accord, cutting off the whispers of the knights who accompanied them. They waited in a semi-circle around the door. If something happened to them while she rifled through the treasury, they wouldn't know until it was too late.
Sanaki walked a few steps further while her knight set the torch in a hook and lit another to make the blue walls glow - the extent of her ability with magic, she said, reached far enough to activate an enchanted object, and torches were her specialty. Lines and verses in the old tongue were scratched into the walls: wards. Rows of crates were illuminated, stacked five high and taller than she was, in rows. Their placement was so precise, each an arm's width apart, that Sanaki could see diagonals when she walked and was reminded of the ceremonial guard parading past her balcony in perfectly straight rows, and of orchards in Persis arranged the same way. The old ones were marked with tarnished silver plates, and the newer ones with bronze. House Kirch's registry was in the back. The enchantment sealing the tops and maintaining the condition of the boxes and their labels stung her fingertips when she opened the first one. The lid clattered onto the flagstone floor.
The first folder was labeled 235, and she knew the name: Adina, daughter of Meshua. Born 120, died 267. The ink on the first page was faded, the edges of the letters more distinct than the centers, and the paper was yellow and brown like the box. It didn't crackle when she turned it, but Sanaki rested each sheet on its face carefully. Adina was normal - if one could call birthing one's first child at seventy-two normal - and her daughter Gilana was similar. Malkah did not have a child until she was one hundred, but the records were missing. Shulamit, twenty-sixth empress of Begnion, showed similar troubles, and the note said she went to Serenes for a ceremony at the blessed altar. The rest of the record was missing.
They were all missing; all of the records whose notes indicated they involved such troubles and ceremonies. She supposed it was a stain on the record of their perfect humanity to admit seeking help from the laguz clans. She'd heard the altar at the center of Serenes forest was built upon the birthplace of the goddess and left in their keeping with her blessing just before she went to sleep. It was the most powerful place on Tellius, charged with her essence, untouchable to all outside of Lehran's line - even within the heron clan. Seeking Ashera's council from such a powerful place made perfect sense. Perhaps it amplified the ability to hear her, maybe even allowed Apostles to speak with her to a limited extent. The information had been removed; there was no way to know.
But if they were willing to record when the brands appeared - Adina at twelve, Tamara at eleven, Yesmina at six, the youngest - why would they not record this?
Sanaki bit her lip and shuffled to the next record. "Rafiel--"
"You will have to speak to my father," he said. His eyes were closed when she looked up; he sat on the tiles, leaned against the doors, legs crossed. His hands rested on his knees. It reminded her of Sephiran's posture when he meditated. "I was not involved. I will not speak of it."
Everything reminded her of him - and Sanaki insisted she wasn't lovesick. What a fool she was. "Are there galdrar that can cure infertility?"
He blinked his eyes open. She watched them focus on her, watched his head turn, as if to shake, only to still halfway. "Not that I am aware of."
She looked down at the paper in her hands. Shulamit Kirsch Altina, born 377, died 469. Poison administered by absorption through the skin--
"Lehran knew how to empower his words and compose galdrar out of nothing," Rafiel said softly. She could barely hear him. His eyes closed again. "Of course, he cannot do so now, and no one has been able to follow him so far."
Jordah Kirsch Altina, born 333, died 410, no brand.
Adah Kirsch Altina, born 445, died 491. Puncture wound at the throat; silver arrow lodged between vertebrae.
Endora Kirsch Altina, born 490, died 550. Suffocation; no marks on the skin.
Of her thirty-six predecessors, only five of the branded had died of natural causes. Sanaki kept looking and felt her stomach twist. She removed the rewarp staff and set it on the floor with her watch, shifted to sit with her legs to the side and balanced the folders on her lap. The room felt small, and the light dimmer with each record she opened. The flagstones were cold, and goosebumps prickled her arms and legs, raising the hair at the back of her neck. She should have brought a cloak. She should have worn another layer.
She saw fate in these papers, as clear as a dream from the goddess. Her throat hurt where the arrow might have pierced, the skin on her hands ached. It was hard to breathe.
I am not my grandmother. The paper trembled when Sanaki put it down, and she dropped the folder when she tried to slide it into its place inside the box. It clattered on the side, fell onto the floor, and she jumped at the loud slap and the roll of her staff into the next stack of boxes. She heard Sigrun take a deep breath, saw her press a hand to her chest in her peripheral vision.
The recording of the brands was enough for her purposes, but if she could find one record the registry's editor had missed, just one--
I am not my grandmother! She tried to hear her own voice say it, firm, the way she told Sephiran when she made him reveal his secret. Sanaki replaced the folder and closed her eyes, heard her breath shake when she drew it in and let it out, trying to calm herself.
There is a chink in your armor.
Did the others have similar dreams before they died?
*
Sanaki opened every record and skimmed every page, though she flipped through the latter papers more quickly when she realized the night was half over. She'd promised to return to assure Sephiran of her safety by two, and it was already one thirty when she closed the last folio and gathered what she intended to keep in another one. She tied it closed with string - best to be safe - and used the stack of boxes at her side to pull herself up from the floor. Her joints cracked loudly - knees, ankles, her hip was sore from being pressed on the cold floor - and the sound drew Sigrun's eyes. Rafiel's snapped open. He'd removed the cap, loosened his hair, and it streaked over the floor like tangled thread.
Long ago, a nature journal on Sephiran's shelf told Sanaki herons - those not in the laguz tribes - were hunters. His sharp focus, the fluid way he rose and how still he was when waiting reminded her of the entry. She retrieved the warp staff and her watch, arranged them behind her sash. Sigrun's heels tapped on the stone tile as she moved to stand by the door.
"I heard three guards leave while you were reading," he said, extending his hand. "Two have returned. I did not hear what they said, but some kind of explanation was offered."
Sanaki gave the folder to him. "They would have left to check with the outlying guard."
"They were uneasy." He folded the records to his chest, tucked it partly beneath the outer layer of his robes. "I cannot tell what has caused their agitation."
Fair enough, she thought, though her mouth turned down. He'd warned her of the unreliability of empathic talents with so many individuals present; her knights, though hardened to battle and proven in combat, were not perfect, nor could their confidence be complete when a long history of assassinations stretched behind Sanaki and the imperial guard like a shadow. Until now she hadn't known. Until now she'd thought their fears silly. Her grandmother and sister were lost, yes, and her mother was caught unawares, but now-- now they knew to be careful. Now they knew the entirety of House Kirsch rested on Sanaki's shoulders, and would die with her if they failed. No risks were taken--
-- until now.
"We'll ask them before moving out," she said, gesturing for Sigrun to open the door. The knight hesitated, but it moved when she pushed the right side, opened a crack, and she was able to peer around the edge and speak to the others. Pale lamplight glowed through the opening, but it looked dim and gray from the brightly lit, warded chamber she waited in with the heron prince. "Once we reach the first floor we can warp back to the office with one of the knights."
Rafiel rubbed the side of his face, tilting his head to look at Sigrun. "There are two floors between our position and the next unwarded chamber..."
Sigrun pulled back in and leaned back against the door to widen the opening. "Catalena went upstairs to investigate something with two of the girls we left in the corridor. They say the way up is secure all the way to the foyer."
Sanaki nodded and stepped forward. "Sigrun, you'll come with us to--"
"Empress." Prince Rafiel stopped her, a hand to her shoulder, urged her back. A shallow line creased the skin between his eyebrows, the shadow blue. The etchings on the wall glowed faintly green, so dim she hadn't noticed when they came in, and they made his hair shine in different colors, blue in the shadows, green and yellow on each curl, and around the crown of his head. "Perhaps you should remain here and send a decoy out first."
She opened her mouth to say, I appreciate your concern, Prince, but and closed it after a breath, pulled her lip in with her teeth, and flicked her eyes to Sigrun. Sanaki hadn't asked him to come along just to ignore his advice. "Why?"
Rafiel removed his hand, curling a finger over the clasp of his cleric's robe. His skin looked pasty in the enchanted glow. "A precaution."
She looked away from him, fixing on the writing on the wall. Wasn't it more dangerous to stay, knowing they couldn't escape if someone were to attack the chamber? The office was safer; there were passages down to the hall leading to the safe rooms, and to the servants' corridors, to facilitate escape. Her rooms were enhanced by similar security measures. No one had ever attacked her in those areas of the palace, perhaps because they knew she had the advantage, if not the specifics of her resources; they always struck outside in the gardens, in the corridors between palace and cathedral, in the Archives. She could count seven attempts on her life, all of which were deflected by her pegasus knights and Sephiran - even Lekain, once.
"We are at a territorial disadvantage, it's true," Sigrun said, her voice making Sanaki jump. "However, remaining here will not ensure her safety, your highness. The risk in moving out is less than the advantage we gain if she can transport herself to a place of safety." Her pale green hair was bled of color, gleaming white like the heron's wings in the sun. Fine lines were highlighted at the corners of her eyes, across her forehead. "We should not wait any longer. Your majesty?"
No one spoke on the way back up. Both stairways were wide enough to accommodate Sanaki and the heron prince side by side; his wings could have been out, partly unfurled, and still there would have been breathing space between the ends of his flight feathers and the blank stone walls. He looked small and thin without them, his hair too thick and full for his frame. She wondered if he ate enough. Perhaps he fasted while in seclusion. He didn't want to die, he'd told her, but she couldn't believe this was normal. Sephiran was thin, yet he was still solid, his arms still corded with muscle from handling books and papers, and his hands were strong. His grip would hurt, if he squeezed hard enough. It looked like Rafiel's fingers would break in her hands.
Sanaki looked down at her own hands. She held the hem of her skirt above the steps with one, steadied the staff at her belt with the other. When she was younger Tanith insisted she learn the basics of sword play and spear. Her skin had softened since then; she practiced with a rapier now and then, when magic frustrated her and she wanted exercise, but would she have the strength to deflect a blow from a seasoned warrior? The knights did not bring their full strength to bear when she sparred with them. What if Ike broke free, attacked her? What if one of her own guards betrayed her? They knew her weaknesses.
They emerged in a hall at the back of the cathedral where the floor was polished stone, rather than marble, and the walls paneled in aging wood. The lamps were turned low, every other lit and casting circles of gold light along the hexagonal walls, warm and beautiful and slightly rancid - the oils used in back chambers like this one weren't as refined as what she was given in her room, weren't infused with herbs or essences - and the echoes of armor and boot tread and the swish of her robe and Rafiel's scattered, became faint and mixed up. Everything was so loud in the stairwell, the air so hot and sluggish.
She tilted her head to look at Rafiel and smiled. He inclined his head, but the answering curve of his lips was slight, pressed together, and he blinked his long blond lashes slowly.
Tanith stayed with her while Sigrun took Marcia to the corridor - the lights were on, but they didn't see the sentries left at that position. If there was trouble, best to find out before taking her over there. Perhaps you should warp to your rooms, or-- she paused. Somewhere safe, she said, until this is done with. Both chambers are secured, and Rafiel immediately agreed with her. Sanaki pulled the staff from her sash and sighed sharply. "You're overreacting. As soon as Sigrun gets back--"
Something stung the shell of her ear and thunked against the wall. Sanaki clapped her hand over it, felt wetness - blood? - saw Tanith's blade scream from its scabbard. Another streak of light, a silver arrow, and Rafiel grabbed her arm.
Should they go back down? Run? Should she cast a spell at that alcove-- could she, without hitting Tanith? She heard boots clamp up the stairs, and the two guarding their exit from the vaults pushed past her, blocked the shadow and the glint of the archer's quiver from sight. A dagger grazed Eirene's arm and hit the wall, rebounding and bouncing over the floor. Red sprayed the gray floor.
Too many weapons. Rafiel pulled her from the path of another arrow and she tripped on the hem of his robe. Too many to be just one assailant. Too many--
Another hit the wall two inches from her shoulder. Sanaki threw herself in the other direction, into Rafiel, whose shoulder cracked against the wall and cushioned the impact. The folder slipped out of his hands, the paper scattered, and her staff clanged onto the floor and rolled over the folio. Use it, he shouted in her ear over the noise of metal clashing and wood splitting. Use it!
Tanith struck an arrow from the air, and another two in succession, and they clattered onto the floor. Each strike rang like a bell. "Shula! Christine!"
There was yelling from the opposite doorway where the others had exited. Sigrun, Marcia, Catalena - where were they? Was it their voices she heard shouting? Sanaki bent and snatched up her staff. It slipped in her sweaty palms. She wasn't meant for battle after all; the globe atop the rewarp staff flickered, died, and then came to life again when Sanaki squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate, glaring against her eyelids. Rafiel pushed her onto her knees to avoid another weapon, she didn't know what kind, only that it hit the wall above her head and a chip of stone scratched her hand - and finally she muttered the spell when she couldn't make it activate at will.
Blood stained Tanith's surcoat in ruby streaks that gleamed like they were on fire. It was the last thing Sanaki saw before the spell swept them away.
*
Time had no meaning in the antechamber Sanaki fled to with the heron prince. When they arrived she lit the lamps with a burst of magic thrown at the wall, leaving only the wicks on the left alight; with his help she pulled the bars down across the doors, and the and the hollow ringing lingered in her ears when she dropped onto the bench and remembered the last time she sat there, and with whom, discussing Amelia's party as if the petty rumors concerning her love life were the most important problem in the world. One of her sleeves was torn, and the hem of her skirt was wet. Dried blood caked her ear and made hearing difficult on the right side where it clotted inside.
It wasn't bad, Rafiel told her. He held her hand away when she tried to jam her finger inside to loosen the blood. It would crumble inside and make the blockage worse, but she felt it, she kept wanting to swallow and pop her ears, and it wouldn't go away. Calm down, sit still--
How could she? Where were the others? Hadn't they waited long enough in this chamber already? She avoided the safe room because others knew of it - the location could be compromised, if not the chamber itself, and it was warded; she would have to teleport to the hallway outside, and nothing stopped an assassin from waiting there. But what if they didn't figure it out? What if they spend the night searching the palace when she was right here? An hour must have passed, maybe even two.
"Twenty minutes," Rafiel said, "as your watch measures it. Perhaps a bit less."
Sanaki shoved it into a pocket and wove her fingers together. Her knuckles turned white. "A lot can happen in twenty minutes."
"And yet it is merely the blink of an eye."
She kicked the staff under the bench, heard it hit the wall, and grit her teeth at the noise. Someone in the throne room might be able to hear that. "We are not all blessed with such an extensive perception of time."
Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. The stinging in her ear pulsed in time with it. Two years had passed since the last serious attempt to kill her, but it wasn't easier this time - it was never easy. Her muscles were limp, her arms and legs shaking, even though she'd escaped with only a shallow cut and some irritation. The arrowheads weren't poisoned; she would have noticed by now, been in even more trouble. If they really wanted to kill her, she couldn't help thinking, why hadn't they taken such a precaution? Whoever planned the attack obtained enough information to follow her to the vault though her knights had not advertised her plans, nor were there any involved outside of the pegasus knights and her most trusted household guards.
Perhaps they didn't want to kill her. But in that case, why attack? Rafiel was untouched; it wasn't for him. The papers--
Sanaki's spine stiffened. "Rafiel--"
He sighed. "Still on the floor by the staircase."
She tried to take a deep breath and lowered her head into her hands. Just wonderful. They would be stained to illegibility by blood, or worse.
"I suppose there isn't much to be done with that information," he said after a moment, his thin fingers on her shoulder. "Unless they can access the other records."
"No." Sanaki rubbed her forehead, pushed her fingers into her bangs. "Sephiran said we're the only ones who can get in."
The antechamber was not usually so quiet; aside from the prince's breathing and her own, which was finally slowing, there was nothing else to hear. Her dress was silk, the slither when it moved almost soundless. Rafiel rustled when he shifted, but he hardly twitched aside from deliberate movements - a sweep of his hand to push his hair back, his attempt to fix hers and pick the blood out. He stopped when she shrugged her shoulders and hunched away. It wasn't him, it wasn't his fault-- but he shouldn't do that when the task belonged to someone else.
Sephiran must be worried right now. She could imagine the flutter of his heartbeat when he was agitated, knew she would hear it if they were in the same room, waiting.
"You didn't tell him," Rafiel said.
Sanaki listened to the nothingness beyond the door. No whispers, no chairs scraping. She'd never seen the audience chamber in the dark. The moonlight would be spilling in, cool and silver on the walls in the shape of the windows around the dome. "I didn't think of it." She lifted her head. The shadows between the marble tiles trembled with the lamp flames. "I would have."
The door to the corridor was thicker; she didn't know if they would hear the knights coming to retrieve them. If they had to pound on the door, she would--
"This was an unnecessary risk. I would dare to say selfish."
Sanaki looked at him, leaning back a centimeter. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth turned down. "You have no right to say that." Her face was stiff in an effort not to emulate his expression. "I don't need to hear about roads paved with intentions. The records are the key."
"To your desires," Rafiel said, staring down at her. He was of a height with Sephiran, a hand taller than she, and when he sat up straight and refused to face her fully, looking at her instead from the corners of her eyes, she wished she were more substantial. "This is not for the good of the empire. I went along with it because there was potential in your plan to help others, but now that it has backfired matters are worse than before."
"My knights will retrieve the papers," she said, shifting away. She remembered blood glittering on the floor like rubies, like rain. "There's no need to be so pessimistic. If you disagreed with me when I proposed this trip, you should have--"
"You would have gone anyway. Did you think I would let you walk into danger when I knew something would happen?" He turned his face away completely and raised a hand when she opened her mouth to object to being interrupted. "Given our situation, I question your definition of pessimism."
Sanaki huffed a sigh and twisted away to face the other side of the alcove. "If you knew..."
"I told you. There is a chink in your armor."
She frowned, hunched, rested her chin in her hands. "You speak in cliches."
"Where are your knights?"
Sanaki stared at the floor. Tanith's surcoat dripped with blood, Eirine held her injured arm stiffly to her side-- they were frozen that way in her memory, amid circles of light that suddenly blazed, when moments ago they seemed so dim.
She knew what he wanted to say - what he refrained from saying. If anyone died tonight, the assassin would not be the only guilty party, and striking his head from his shoulders, if the others had not done so already, wouldn't fill the ranks back to capacity. A stipend, no matter how generous, would not be an adequate substitute for a person, for their role in a family, or to replace a friend. If Tanith were to die...
If Tanith died, if Sigrun died, if--
Rafiel stood up and walked toward the hall door. The hem of his robes swayed just above the floor. His left arm hung still at his side, stiff; he reached up to pinch the shoulder between his fingers, and she recalled stumbling into him, hitting the wall.
He could have died. If he were slower, if the hadn't been aiming for her...
"Do you hear something?" She rubbed the silk over her knees with her thumbs.
"Footsteps," he said, hand dropping. "Maybe."
But it was nothing - whatever he heard was not connected to them, did not stop at their door, and he joined her on the bench again after a long count to thirty. He kept his arm bent and cradled against his chest when he sat, and Sanaki wished she'd carried a healing staff as well. At the time she thought it impractical; two staves were heavier than one, and made more noise. What did she expect to be healing with the extra baggage?
She spread her hands over her thighs. "I'm sorry, Prince Rafiel." Her fingers were bare without her rings. A red line slashed across the back of her right hand, the skin around it pink and swelling. "You were injured in my defense."
"A small price for our lives," he said.
Sanaki swallowed hard. Her eyes felt dry and itchy, hot. "You have no reason to be concerned with that."
"I like you."
The knife chafed against the side of her arm. She pulled it out of her sleeve, untied the cords meant to hold it, and tried to think of a way to respond to that. She liked him too, of course, but they didn't know each other very well. Kilvas was more familiar than Rafiel, though he wasn't what she would call a friend. He was too slippery for that.
She tried to smile at him, and laid the knife aside. "And you accuse me of being selfish."
His answering laugh was soft. "Naturally, another selfish person is required to recognize the flaw."
The silver blade cast a faint reflection onto the alcove wall in Sanaki's peripheral vision. "So you helped me because of my charm after all. Not for Lehran, not for the greater good of Begnion's laguz?"
"Revealing your heritage will be messy." His mirth faded, face smoothed. She didn't know how he sat so still, so the only movement she spotted was the shift of light and shadow with the lamp flames. It seemed he wasn't even breathing. "Even if the outcome is bad for you, the revelation will shake the foundation of what your people believe. When your situation is considered in conjunction with that of Prince Soren, and if Lehran can safely reveal himself, I believe progress will be made. The event of your coming together may symbolize a greater change for your people. And I think you hold the same hope in your heart, your majesty, but your motivations were not pure."
If she were given a senate vote for every time she'd sighed during the last two days-- "Fine, I won't argue."
"Later, then?"
"Hmm."
"I hear footsteps."
A moment passed, and then Sanaki heard them too - the unmistakable pound of hard leather and metal on the marble floors, and a spear butt coming down outside. She jumped up at the first pounding knock, ran to the door, Rafiel just behind her to help lift the bar. Tanith he told her, though the voice on the other side was too muffled for her to tell. They let the bar clang onto the floor. She pulled the door open with both hands, and her eyes felt hot again when her knight's voice broke into the room with your majesty--
Eirene was behind her, face splattered with red and her arm tied tightly near the shoulder with a strip of blue cloth, also soaked through with red. Melodie's uniform was pristine; she was one of the seven left to guard the hallways. Tanith's surcoat was stained from the waist down on one side, but she moved unhindered, grasping Sanaki's shoulders, looking her over, turning her around.
"Tanith," she said, prodding the stain. Nothing, just a murmured I am not hurt, and she grabbed her hand. "The others--"
"Later," she said curtly. "You'll be safer in your rooms. You too, Prince Rafiel." Tanith kept hold of her arm and pulled her out the door, head whipping around to look in both directions. "Come along."
All of the lamps were lit, and the shadows gone, all the curtains drawn. They avoided the windows and wide open corridors of the public areas, used the servant's passages and staircases, even avoided the corridors she usually used to walk between the cathedral and the palace by taking a dusty path through the basement, where the doors were locked by sigils only her thumbprint would open. She didn't remember learning about it, but Tanith assured her it was safe - it was known to a few on the command level, and no more. Sigrun and Marcia knew, Shula knew, and two from the imperial guard.
They emerged behind a staircase she recognized, in the wing holding her rooms. Another pegasus knight met them, whispered something to Tanith, and took Eirene's place with a command the girl find a healer. Two more joined them on the second floor. Every window and doorway was guarded. Tanith guided her upstairs, pushing her onward when she paused to look down the hall on the third floor, toward Sephiran's room. It was past three, almost four. He would be worried--
But Tanith said he already knew what happened, and did not allow her to stop until they were in her parlor and Rafiel collapsed onto a chair. His head dropped forward, drooping like a flower. Sanaki pulled her arm free and faced her knight. "Well?"
Tanith pushed her hand through her hair. Blood flaked onto her shoulder. "Two dead - Shula took a hit for Eirene, and Adrian was found under a bush in the garden with a knife in her throat."
Sanaki choked on air. It felt like her heart jumped into her throat, then dropped to her stomach. "Sigrun--"
"Fine, but she took an arrow to the shoulder. Marcia has a few scratches, maybe a bruise, but she's still in fighting shape."
She scraped her nails against her throat, clenching her fingers so tightly pain pierced her knuckles. Tanith was breathing heavily and avoiding her gaze; the scabbard on her arm was empty, and so was the one belted to her leg. Her lips were dry and cracked. "Get some water," Sanaki said, trying to loosen her fist. "You can rest a moment."
Tanith shook her head sharply. "There is business to be taken care of."
"Marcia can handle--"
"It was Catalena's blade that put an end to Adrian," Tanith said, still breathing hard. "She and Amelie - they said they were acting on orders. They've been arrested, but the matter of their employers is more complicated."
Sanaki wished she would look up, meet her eyes. The way her knight refused to confront her directly left a sick feeling coiling in her stomach. She pulled her hands down to her sides and took a deep breath. "Who?" She'd expected to be betrayed some time. It had happened before, just as close, just under her nose.
Tanith squared her shoulders. "She claimed Sephiran--"
"No!"
She flinched but held her ground. "We don't believe it either, but--"
Sanaki grabbed her sleeve. "Where is he? What did you do?"
Tanith pried her hand away with cold fingers. "He and the Daein representatives have been imprisoned," she said, and when Sanaki opened her mouth to yell she raised her voice. "They're our only suspects!" She backed away a step and glanced at Rafiel. "The council wanted to take you as well, but they can't now they know you were with us."
Rafiel lifted his head. "They're all right?" He noted Tanith's hesitation, and said, "Lord Sephiran. The prince."
She waited a moment too long. "Of course, but--"
"Tanith--"
The knight rounded on her, squeezing Sanaki's hand tightly enough to hurt. "Your majesty, I must ask you not to interfere. Any attempt to influence this matter will make the situation worse." Tanith's nails bit into the skin, stinging until Sanaki pressed her lips closed and let her arm go limp, and then she let go, looked away. "I will do my best to resolve this mess," she said, turning her back on them and walking to the door. "Please do not leave these rooms until we declare the palace safe."
She watched Tanith's back disappear behind the door, and stared at the panels until she felt Rafiel's sleeve brush her knuckles. His shadow, cast by the lamp on the table, tried to swallow her. His hand on her shoulder felt heavy.
"He wouldn't," Sanaki said, looking down at the red scrolls on her rug. "I know he wouldn't." She blinked wetness from her eyes, opening them wide to suck the tears back in. "Rafiel?"
He slid his arm across her shoulders and steered her toward the divan. A blanket was thrown over the back, folded unevenly, the weave soft and red, the hem stitched in flowers and the borders scalloped. He pressed her down and unfolded it to wrap around her shoulders. "We'll take care of your ear," he said, brushing his fingers over her hair before he walked away. "And then you should rest."
Rest? Sephiran was in prison! Her hands shook, and she couldn't tell if the tremor was fatigue or an excess of energy. Sanaki wanted to throw something. She wanted to run down to his cell and break the lock open. Her eyes filled with tears; she wiped them away with her sleeve, and listened to Rafiel go into her room to search for something to clean her ear.
There must be something she could do. Soren's involvement she could believe, but Sephiran didn't deserve this. He'd already proven himself loyal to his own detriment. It wasn't him - it couldn't have been him. She just had to find a way to prove it.
...........................................................
Posted against my better judgment, as there are serious pacing issues, especially with the battle scene - or I think there are, anyway. It'll take some time to find one I think is good enough for studying.
.
Author: Amber Michelle
Day/Theme: April 14 - you were born to be betrayed
Series: Fire Emblem 10
Character/Pairing: Sanaki, Lekain, Rafiel, others
Rating: T
Words: 8713
Warnings: n/a
Notes: AU, part sixteen of the Summer Chronicle. This is a first and ongoing draft; a list of known issues is being compiled here.
.............................................
Sanaki dreaded the sight of the audience chamber, the plain white walls and silvery marble floor, the crimson carpet connecting her dais with the straw pillow Lekain was allowed to kneel on - he didn't deserve the courtesy of a chair, but his fragile knees were bruised from his ordeal the day before - while the evidence of his treason was read aloud in Leveque's dry voice. It cracked on hard syllables occasionally, but he never asked for water. She considered ordering him to drink; the snap in his voice startled her every time it happened, and her stomach turned because she held herself rigidly still and allowed no other sign of her unease, though her hands ached at the end of the last session from gripping the arms of her throne - or sitting still, who knew? Her body had learned to hurt at the mere thought of this routine. Leveque looked stiff too; he stared at Lekain over the hump of his dark nose, challenged him to open his mouth and respond, and the papers shook ever so slightly when he moved to a new topic.
On the second day, Lekain answered his challenge. Sanaki wished his voice reflected his pathetic appearance, but it carried across the chamber as it always had, as if magnified by magic.
"Your agents are mistaken," he said when the echo of Leveque's first accusation fell silent.
Leveque's finger curled like a talon behind the folder, hidden from the former senator. "Your signature is on several documents in our custody, as is your seal. The ink has been dated. You have demonstrated time and again - on record - that your hand has never been copied--"
"I am as shocked as you must be."
Sanaki wished she could roll her eyes.
"Indentured laguz servants were found under your wife's care--"
"And she has disappeared." Lekain's upper lip curled slightly. "You would call the word of a missing witness 'fact'?"
"And the ink quarry twenty leagues below the desert of death, under deed to your family," Leveque said, the folder on which he kept his notes tilting inward to rest on his chest. "They simply formed a colony at a convenient location, under beorc overseers?"
The Tanas stand-in - Helen, she reminded herself - leaned to speak to Lekain's former aide in Sanaki's peripheral vision. He was tall and blond, formed as if hewn from a block of marble in classical style, and he shook his head at whatever she said. Or, perhaps he turned slightly to speak with her and add to the murmur whispering against the chamber walls, too soft to be called an echo. Sanaki took a deep breath and sighed.
What was his name? She'd known it a moment ago. It wasn't important because he was not being considered for any of the vacant council seats, but-- Fredric. That's right. A Damiell man.
They'd agreed not to mention the mine above Begnion, hadn't they - she and Leveque? They didn't have enough information. It could be a free mining camp, or a prison camp with a legitimate purpose, which existed throughout Begnion to hold malcontents now that the law forbade outright killing of laguz citizens when they committed crimes. It was an unfortunate truth that most laguz sent to such places were innocent, or guilty of only minor misdemeanors, but their confinement was on record as legal, and they worked fields instead of mines, or repaved roads, and they couldn't be detained for more than ten months.
Lekain's eyes were narrow, glittering points. She couldn't see his hands, but would bet gold they were moving; he always picked at his nails when he was agitated, nervous, angry. It didn't matter.
He knew where his wife was now, she supposed.
"It is common practice in the north to contract workers from Daein for our quarries during the summer months," Lekain said. Sanaki was glad he chose to direct his stare to her prosecutor, and yet pitied him for it even as the former senator's expression smoothed again into calmness. "Borrowed labor has run the limestone quarries in Seliora for decades with full support of the government."
"Use of laguz slaves is illegal, Duke Lekain. Their origin does not matter." The folder straightened, Leveque's fingers relaxed. He wasn't as poised as Sephiran, nor as calm; he spoke sharply, his consonants snapping back to the dais and his accent making the tone harsher. "Our laws for migratory workers do not allow trades of personnel across the border."
"The letter of the law provides no guidelines for the institutions of other countries, and I cannot very well allow the property of others--"
"You would dare to define them as property?"
"My dealings with Daein," Lekain said loudly, drowning the rasp of his opponent's voice, "have the blessing of the last Apostle, and her word is law. I cannot be held responsible for the terms Daein's overseers choose to employ."
She thought Leveque frowned. It sounded like it; his response was slower. "No such document has been found among your papers or in the Archive."
"Your investigation is flawed!" Lekain snapped, and Sanaki forgot herself enough to let her eyebrow hike up at the heat in his tone. There was color in his cheeks, across his forehead. "Your agents are biased, your paperwork is mysteriously incomplete--"
Sanaki waved her hand, and Sigrun lifted her spear, slammed it to the tile twice, then a third time, until the ringing sound, the silver base against the hard and polished marble, was the only noise in the chamber. She thought of Seliora's trial, and the man's fruitless attempt to misdirect the presentation of his crimes, and the way Numida made a fool of himself before the people he called peers. Lekain sounded genuinely displeased, and Sanaki wondered if he was channeling his shock at their discovery - because she saw him blanch when the quarry was mentioned, she saw his face pale, saw his lips draw in - or if he was simply that good.
Letters asking for her statement on the fabled document expressing Misaha's approval of Daein migrants would surely join the missives calling for a conviction in Sephiran's case to balance those of his colleagues.
Sanaki looked at Lekain when the chamber calmed, when everything was silent but her own breathing. "You are not here to defend yourself," she said, and her face felt stiff. She hated meeting his eyes; the air stung when she looked at him. Perhaps his very presence was poison. "Remain silent until you are asked to answer a question." His head inclined a hair, and she gestured for Leveque to continue.
The session ended without further incident, but the damage was done. Her household guard lined the path from the antechamber back to her office, blocking the openings to other corridors where senators gathered to call for her attention. Sanaki refused to turn her head and acknowledge them, and her pegasus knights crowded around her in a tighter circle, Marcia once again carrying her train to allow their proximity. Shirin and the other aides, however, were allowed past the blockade to attend her, and as soon as the clamor of their subordinates faded, they made their own brand of noise.
"In all fairness," Fredric said, bending his neck as far as he dared while they walked, "we must investigate the duke's claim regarding the previous empress." She'd liked his voice once. It was soft, a baritone, and when they were younger she'd thought it reassuring. She even considered his proposal a second longer than the others because, in her memory, he was not yet tainted by five years in close quarters with her enemy. "If it's true these laguz are on loan from Daein, he cannot be punished for a crime not committed."
If. And if they were loaned from Daein - how convenient! - and the law did not define such a situation, how long would Lekain's sentence be delayed? "No." Sanaki didn't bother to turn her head.
"Your majesty, by your own words we are here to unveil the truth." Helen, now, to her left, slightly out of breath. "To show favor to Duke Persis and deny Duke Gaddos a proper investigation--"
"While we are conducting the investigation for this mythical document," Sanaki said, slowing her step and stopping in the middle of the corridor, where the walls were blank and unbroken by windows or arches to the garden, "which I assume should be prominent in our records to avoid just the situation you think we are in - while we search for this red herring, the senators will rot in their cells, their provinces will be neglected, and the slaves in question will remain unjustly imprisoned."
"Yet," Pellatiere said softly, "you do not protest when a senator is unjustly imprisoned?"
Sanaki closed her eyes, breathed in sharply through her nose. "Are we not past this? The evidence speaks for itself. You all acknowledged this when we brought it to your attention. I will not change my judgment."
"If you truly want justice, your majesty--"
"We have the right to call for a second investigation--"
Shirin and Leveque were silent. Sanaki wished they would speak up, though it would accomplish nothing but to make their informal meeting a little louder.
Justice. How could they dare speak of justice, while begging for Lekain's reprieve?
She blinked moisture back when Sigrun let her enter her rooms, and Sanaki shed her clothes without a care for where they fell, wrapped herself in a robe, and used Sephiran's staff to meet him in his rooms and soak his shoulder with her tears. She tried to swallow them, but her fists clenched with the repressed energy and she had the overwhelming urge to hit something - a pillow, or the mattress, something. He rubbed her back and let her cry on him, and she wanted to see that mask of indifference slapped from Lekain's face - with the flat of a blade, above the chopping block.
If he would only die and cease his interference in her government-- if he would only go quietly, maintain his dignity or at least pretend to, as Culbert did, instead of drawing this out and letting the stain of his treason set, like blood, never to be gotten out again. Begnion would recover without him here to twist her proclamations and slow the passing of reforms. Her children would be safer without Lekain there to weigh their worth against the gold he might pay an assassin. Sanaki would be safer. She knew who Sephiran feared when he told her to be careful.
Sanaki told him she intended to go to the vault that night, though she forgot to elaborate on her plan. He told her to forget about the trial and the prince while she visited him; he tried to distract her, talked to her, made her sit down to study from the book in which he'd written his personal spells, but her mind drifted back to the fools standing in for the senior council as soon as she was unoccupied. She only remembered when she left to meet Rafiel what she'd promised to say, and it was too late.
The heron prince found her in the office and merely sighed when she answered that no, Sephiran had nothing to say on the matter. His wings were hidden and he wore plain robes in green, dark enough not to reflect light, with his hair hidden beneath a cap - the sort senators wore, or priests, and university students. She tried not to laugh, and he sighed again.
"I suppose there's no hiding our hands or faces," she said, spreading her arms to display black crepe sleeves hanging from her wrists. A rewarp staff was tied to her belt, knocking her leg when she turned. Her silver knife was strapped to her arm, a pocket watch hidden in her sleeve. "Are you well, Prince Rafiel? You look pale."
"I'm fine." He inclined his head. "The goddess urges you to be careful, your majesty. There is a weakness in your defense, a chink in your armor."
She narrowed her eyes at the crown of his blond hair. There were better times to warn her. "Where?"
Rafiel straightened, squared his shoulders, and his brows knit. "That is the image I was given. I knew what it meant when the dream came to me, but such intuition is not specific..."
Sanaki watched his downcast eyes, his clasped hands. He did not return her gaze.
Were the Apostles not unique in their talents after all? Was it perhaps every descendant of Lehran who heard her - that is, every descendant whose blood ran laguz? She should be grateful the connection between them wasn't that strong. But if she'd had a mark, if Sephiran had still come to her, wouldn't their situation be better?
She'd never seen these fabled dreams. What concern had the goddess ever displayed for Sanaki?
They left the safety of her office and took the servants' stairs down to the first floor, then followed a corridor Sigrun promised was secure to the chamber guarding the stairs to the vaults. One of her knights waited there, and Marcia was at the bottom of the stairs. She held two torches lit by light spells and handed one to the commander. Tanith met them with another torch at the archway that led to the treasuries. They were under the audience chamber, someone said, a full story beneath, and the space between was solid stone.
It's true, Sigrun told her; I've seen the maps, and my commander knew a spell to sound the area. Once, we stopped an attempt to burn through the stone to reach the room with the twin swords, and the strongest fire the thieves could summon was too weak to burrow more than three inches into the stone. Tanith said she'd heard about that incident - a duke, wasn't it? The one who held Persis before Lord Sephiran? - and Eirene murmured that she wished more magic adepts would apply to the knighthood; without at least one, they were at a slight disadvantage. An archer would be nice too, she said when Sanaki asked her what was lacking in their company. Shooting from a pegasus is extremely difficult, but if it can be done, the power of those attacks would fell a Daein general. Mark her words, she said, and Sanaki glanced at the shadows in the corners of their path, and the edge of the light behind them, and in front. She believed the power of arrows, when the circumstances were right. Rafiel said nothing. He followed her closely, his hair brushing her fingers.
There were lights at intervals, and knights, and not a sound aside from their shifting, and the clanking armor of her escort, and the whispering echoes of their voices when they spoke. They descended two staircases and took five turns on each level. Sanaki thought their path must spiral like the corridor to the saferoom in which she met Rafiel for the first time. She remembered the way the dim light gleamed on his curls, how she couldn't stop herself from making the obvious comparison to precious metals, how his wings reflected the light like mist, or snow. What did Sephiran's wings look like? Would she ever see them?
A stone door guarded the vault, blue in the torchlight like the doors in the Tower of Guidance, carved with leaves and vines, a rood at the center. She pressed her hand to the line down the center and whispered the phrase Sephiran taught her before she left. The line turned into a seam, turned into a parting between the stone slabs and a breath of stale air from within, and Sanaki wasn't sure if her words opened the vault, or simply her hand, her blood. The spells should divine both, but was her blood strong enough?
Sigrun accompanied her inside, Rafiel beside her, and the doors closed again of their own accord, cutting off the whispers of the knights who accompanied them. They waited in a semi-circle around the door. If something happened to them while she rifled through the treasury, they wouldn't know until it was too late.
Sanaki walked a few steps further while her knight set the torch in a hook and lit another to make the blue walls glow - the extent of her ability with magic, she said, reached far enough to activate an enchanted object, and torches were her specialty. Lines and verses in the old tongue were scratched into the walls: wards. Rows of crates were illuminated, stacked five high and taller than she was, in rows. Their placement was so precise, each an arm's width apart, that Sanaki could see diagonals when she walked and was reminded of the ceremonial guard parading past her balcony in perfectly straight rows, and of orchards in Persis arranged the same way. The old ones were marked with tarnished silver plates, and the newer ones with bronze. House Kirch's registry was in the back. The enchantment sealing the tops and maintaining the condition of the boxes and their labels stung her fingertips when she opened the first one. The lid clattered onto the flagstone floor.
The first folder was labeled 235, and she knew the name: Adina, daughter of Meshua. Born 120, died 267. The ink on the first page was faded, the edges of the letters more distinct than the centers, and the paper was yellow and brown like the box. It didn't crackle when she turned it, but Sanaki rested each sheet on its face carefully. Adina was normal - if one could call birthing one's first child at seventy-two normal - and her daughter Gilana was similar. Malkah did not have a child until she was one hundred, but the records were missing. Shulamit, twenty-sixth empress of Begnion, showed similar troubles, and the note said she went to Serenes for a ceremony at the blessed altar. The rest of the record was missing.
They were all missing; all of the records whose notes indicated they involved such troubles and ceremonies. She supposed it was a stain on the record of their perfect humanity to admit seeking help from the laguz clans. She'd heard the altar at the center of Serenes forest was built upon the birthplace of the goddess and left in their keeping with her blessing just before she went to sleep. It was the most powerful place on Tellius, charged with her essence, untouchable to all outside of Lehran's line - even within the heron clan. Seeking Ashera's council from such a powerful place made perfect sense. Perhaps it amplified the ability to hear her, maybe even allowed Apostles to speak with her to a limited extent. The information had been removed; there was no way to know.
But if they were willing to record when the brands appeared - Adina at twelve, Tamara at eleven, Yesmina at six, the youngest - why would they not record this?
Sanaki bit her lip and shuffled to the next record. "Rafiel--"
"You will have to speak to my father," he said. His eyes were closed when she looked up; he sat on the tiles, leaned against the doors, legs crossed. His hands rested on his knees. It reminded her of Sephiran's posture when he meditated. "I was not involved. I will not speak of it."
Everything reminded her of him - and Sanaki insisted she wasn't lovesick. What a fool she was. "Are there galdrar that can cure infertility?"
He blinked his eyes open. She watched them focus on her, watched his head turn, as if to shake, only to still halfway. "Not that I am aware of."
She looked down at the paper in her hands. Shulamit Kirsch Altina, born 377, died 469. Poison administered by absorption through the skin--
"Lehran knew how to empower his words and compose galdrar out of nothing," Rafiel said softly. She could barely hear him. His eyes closed again. "Of course, he cannot do so now, and no one has been able to follow him so far."
Jordah Kirsch Altina, born 333, died 410, no brand.
Adah Kirsch Altina, born 445, died 491. Puncture wound at the throat; silver arrow lodged between vertebrae.
Endora Kirsch Altina, born 490, died 550. Suffocation; no marks on the skin.
Of her thirty-six predecessors, only five of the branded had died of natural causes. Sanaki kept looking and felt her stomach twist. She removed the rewarp staff and set it on the floor with her watch, shifted to sit with her legs to the side and balanced the folders on her lap. The room felt small, and the light dimmer with each record she opened. The flagstones were cold, and goosebumps prickled her arms and legs, raising the hair at the back of her neck. She should have brought a cloak. She should have worn another layer.
She saw fate in these papers, as clear as a dream from the goddess. Her throat hurt where the arrow might have pierced, the skin on her hands ached. It was hard to breathe.
I am not my grandmother. The paper trembled when Sanaki put it down, and she dropped the folder when she tried to slide it into its place inside the box. It clattered on the side, fell onto the floor, and she jumped at the loud slap and the roll of her staff into the next stack of boxes. She heard Sigrun take a deep breath, saw her press a hand to her chest in her peripheral vision.
The recording of the brands was enough for her purposes, but if she could find one record the registry's editor had missed, just one--
I am not my grandmother! She tried to hear her own voice say it, firm, the way she told Sephiran when she made him reveal his secret. Sanaki replaced the folder and closed her eyes, heard her breath shake when she drew it in and let it out, trying to calm herself.
There is a chink in your armor.
Did the others have similar dreams before they died?
*
Sanaki opened every record and skimmed every page, though she flipped through the latter papers more quickly when she realized the night was half over. She'd promised to return to assure Sephiran of her safety by two, and it was already one thirty when she closed the last folio and gathered what she intended to keep in another one. She tied it closed with string - best to be safe - and used the stack of boxes at her side to pull herself up from the floor. Her joints cracked loudly - knees, ankles, her hip was sore from being pressed on the cold floor - and the sound drew Sigrun's eyes. Rafiel's snapped open. He'd removed the cap, loosened his hair, and it streaked over the floor like tangled thread.
Long ago, a nature journal on Sephiran's shelf told Sanaki herons - those not in the laguz tribes - were hunters. His sharp focus, the fluid way he rose and how still he was when waiting reminded her of the entry. She retrieved the warp staff and her watch, arranged them behind her sash. Sigrun's heels tapped on the stone tile as she moved to stand by the door.
"I heard three guards leave while you were reading," he said, extending his hand. "Two have returned. I did not hear what they said, but some kind of explanation was offered."
Sanaki gave the folder to him. "They would have left to check with the outlying guard."
"They were uneasy." He folded the records to his chest, tucked it partly beneath the outer layer of his robes. "I cannot tell what has caused their agitation."
Fair enough, she thought, though her mouth turned down. He'd warned her of the unreliability of empathic talents with so many individuals present; her knights, though hardened to battle and proven in combat, were not perfect, nor could their confidence be complete when a long history of assassinations stretched behind Sanaki and the imperial guard like a shadow. Until now she hadn't known. Until now she'd thought their fears silly. Her grandmother and sister were lost, yes, and her mother was caught unawares, but now-- now they knew to be careful. Now they knew the entirety of House Kirsch rested on Sanaki's shoulders, and would die with her if they failed. No risks were taken--
-- until now.
"We'll ask them before moving out," she said, gesturing for Sigrun to open the door. The knight hesitated, but it moved when she pushed the right side, opened a crack, and she was able to peer around the edge and speak to the others. Pale lamplight glowed through the opening, but it looked dim and gray from the brightly lit, warded chamber she waited in with the heron prince. "Once we reach the first floor we can warp back to the office with one of the knights."
Rafiel rubbed the side of his face, tilting his head to look at Sigrun. "There are two floors between our position and the next unwarded chamber..."
Sigrun pulled back in and leaned back against the door to widen the opening. "Catalena went upstairs to investigate something with two of the girls we left in the corridor. They say the way up is secure all the way to the foyer."
Sanaki nodded and stepped forward. "Sigrun, you'll come with us to--"
"Empress." Prince Rafiel stopped her, a hand to her shoulder, urged her back. A shallow line creased the skin between his eyebrows, the shadow blue. The etchings on the wall glowed faintly green, so dim she hadn't noticed when they came in, and they made his hair shine in different colors, blue in the shadows, green and yellow on each curl, and around the crown of his head. "Perhaps you should remain here and send a decoy out first."
She opened her mouth to say, I appreciate your concern, Prince, but and closed it after a breath, pulled her lip in with her teeth, and flicked her eyes to Sigrun. Sanaki hadn't asked him to come along just to ignore his advice. "Why?"
Rafiel removed his hand, curling a finger over the clasp of his cleric's robe. His skin looked pasty in the enchanted glow. "A precaution."
She looked away from him, fixing on the writing on the wall. Wasn't it more dangerous to stay, knowing they couldn't escape if someone were to attack the chamber? The office was safer; there were passages down to the hall leading to the safe rooms, and to the servants' corridors, to facilitate escape. Her rooms were enhanced by similar security measures. No one had ever attacked her in those areas of the palace, perhaps because they knew she had the advantage, if not the specifics of her resources; they always struck outside in the gardens, in the corridors between palace and cathedral, in the Archives. She could count seven attempts on her life, all of which were deflected by her pegasus knights and Sephiran - even Lekain, once.
"We are at a territorial disadvantage, it's true," Sigrun said, her voice making Sanaki jump. "However, remaining here will not ensure her safety, your highness. The risk in moving out is less than the advantage we gain if she can transport herself to a place of safety." Her pale green hair was bled of color, gleaming white like the heron's wings in the sun. Fine lines were highlighted at the corners of her eyes, across her forehead. "We should not wait any longer. Your majesty?"
No one spoke on the way back up. Both stairways were wide enough to accommodate Sanaki and the heron prince side by side; his wings could have been out, partly unfurled, and still there would have been breathing space between the ends of his flight feathers and the blank stone walls. He looked small and thin without them, his hair too thick and full for his frame. She wondered if he ate enough. Perhaps he fasted while in seclusion. He didn't want to die, he'd told her, but she couldn't believe this was normal. Sephiran was thin, yet he was still solid, his arms still corded with muscle from handling books and papers, and his hands were strong. His grip would hurt, if he squeezed hard enough. It looked like Rafiel's fingers would break in her hands.
Sanaki looked down at her own hands. She held the hem of her skirt above the steps with one, steadied the staff at her belt with the other. When she was younger Tanith insisted she learn the basics of sword play and spear. Her skin had softened since then; she practiced with a rapier now and then, when magic frustrated her and she wanted exercise, but would she have the strength to deflect a blow from a seasoned warrior? The knights did not bring their full strength to bear when she sparred with them. What if Ike broke free, attacked her? What if one of her own guards betrayed her? They knew her weaknesses.
They emerged in a hall at the back of the cathedral where the floor was polished stone, rather than marble, and the walls paneled in aging wood. The lamps were turned low, every other lit and casting circles of gold light along the hexagonal walls, warm and beautiful and slightly rancid - the oils used in back chambers like this one weren't as refined as what she was given in her room, weren't infused with herbs or essences - and the echoes of armor and boot tread and the swish of her robe and Rafiel's scattered, became faint and mixed up. Everything was so loud in the stairwell, the air so hot and sluggish.
She tilted her head to look at Rafiel and smiled. He inclined his head, but the answering curve of his lips was slight, pressed together, and he blinked his long blond lashes slowly.
Tanith stayed with her while Sigrun took Marcia to the corridor - the lights were on, but they didn't see the sentries left at that position. If there was trouble, best to find out before taking her over there. Perhaps you should warp to your rooms, or-- she paused. Somewhere safe, she said, until this is done with. Both chambers are secured, and Rafiel immediately agreed with her. Sanaki pulled the staff from her sash and sighed sharply. "You're overreacting. As soon as Sigrun gets back--"
Something stung the shell of her ear and thunked against the wall. Sanaki clapped her hand over it, felt wetness - blood? - saw Tanith's blade scream from its scabbard. Another streak of light, a silver arrow, and Rafiel grabbed her arm.
Should they go back down? Run? Should she cast a spell at that alcove-- could she, without hitting Tanith? She heard boots clamp up the stairs, and the two guarding their exit from the vaults pushed past her, blocked the shadow and the glint of the archer's quiver from sight. A dagger grazed Eirene's arm and hit the wall, rebounding and bouncing over the floor. Red sprayed the gray floor.
Too many weapons. Rafiel pulled her from the path of another arrow and she tripped on the hem of his robe. Too many to be just one assailant. Too many--
Another hit the wall two inches from her shoulder. Sanaki threw herself in the other direction, into Rafiel, whose shoulder cracked against the wall and cushioned the impact. The folder slipped out of his hands, the paper scattered, and her staff clanged onto the floor and rolled over the folio. Use it, he shouted in her ear over the noise of metal clashing and wood splitting. Use it!
Tanith struck an arrow from the air, and another two in succession, and they clattered onto the floor. Each strike rang like a bell. "Shula! Christine!"
There was yelling from the opposite doorway where the others had exited. Sigrun, Marcia, Catalena - where were they? Was it their voices she heard shouting? Sanaki bent and snatched up her staff. It slipped in her sweaty palms. She wasn't meant for battle after all; the globe atop the rewarp staff flickered, died, and then came to life again when Sanaki squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate, glaring against her eyelids. Rafiel pushed her onto her knees to avoid another weapon, she didn't know what kind, only that it hit the wall above her head and a chip of stone scratched her hand - and finally she muttered the spell when she couldn't make it activate at will.
Blood stained Tanith's surcoat in ruby streaks that gleamed like they were on fire. It was the last thing Sanaki saw before the spell swept them away.
*
Time had no meaning in the antechamber Sanaki fled to with the heron prince. When they arrived she lit the lamps with a burst of magic thrown at the wall, leaving only the wicks on the left alight; with his help she pulled the bars down across the doors, and the and the hollow ringing lingered in her ears when she dropped onto the bench and remembered the last time she sat there, and with whom, discussing Amelia's party as if the petty rumors concerning her love life were the most important problem in the world. One of her sleeves was torn, and the hem of her skirt was wet. Dried blood caked her ear and made hearing difficult on the right side where it clotted inside.
It wasn't bad, Rafiel told her. He held her hand away when she tried to jam her finger inside to loosen the blood. It would crumble inside and make the blockage worse, but she felt it, she kept wanting to swallow and pop her ears, and it wouldn't go away. Calm down, sit still--
How could she? Where were the others? Hadn't they waited long enough in this chamber already? She avoided the safe room because others knew of it - the location could be compromised, if not the chamber itself, and it was warded; she would have to teleport to the hallway outside, and nothing stopped an assassin from waiting there. But what if they didn't figure it out? What if they spend the night searching the palace when she was right here? An hour must have passed, maybe even two.
"Twenty minutes," Rafiel said, "as your watch measures it. Perhaps a bit less."
Sanaki shoved it into a pocket and wove her fingers together. Her knuckles turned white. "A lot can happen in twenty minutes."
"And yet it is merely the blink of an eye."
She kicked the staff under the bench, heard it hit the wall, and grit her teeth at the noise. Someone in the throne room might be able to hear that. "We are not all blessed with such an extensive perception of time."
Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. The stinging in her ear pulsed in time with it. Two years had passed since the last serious attempt to kill her, but it wasn't easier this time - it was never easy. Her muscles were limp, her arms and legs shaking, even though she'd escaped with only a shallow cut and some irritation. The arrowheads weren't poisoned; she would have noticed by now, been in even more trouble. If they really wanted to kill her, she couldn't help thinking, why hadn't they taken such a precaution? Whoever planned the attack obtained enough information to follow her to the vault though her knights had not advertised her plans, nor were there any involved outside of the pegasus knights and her most trusted household guards.
Perhaps they didn't want to kill her. But in that case, why attack? Rafiel was untouched; it wasn't for him. The papers--
Sanaki's spine stiffened. "Rafiel--"
He sighed. "Still on the floor by the staircase."
She tried to take a deep breath and lowered her head into her hands. Just wonderful. They would be stained to illegibility by blood, or worse.
"I suppose there isn't much to be done with that information," he said after a moment, his thin fingers on her shoulder. "Unless they can access the other records."
"No." Sanaki rubbed her forehead, pushed her fingers into her bangs. "Sephiran said we're the only ones who can get in."
The antechamber was not usually so quiet; aside from the prince's breathing and her own, which was finally slowing, there was nothing else to hear. Her dress was silk, the slither when it moved almost soundless. Rafiel rustled when he shifted, but he hardly twitched aside from deliberate movements - a sweep of his hand to push his hair back, his attempt to fix hers and pick the blood out. He stopped when she shrugged her shoulders and hunched away. It wasn't him, it wasn't his fault-- but he shouldn't do that when the task belonged to someone else.
Sephiran must be worried right now. She could imagine the flutter of his heartbeat when he was agitated, knew she would hear it if they were in the same room, waiting.
"You didn't tell him," Rafiel said.
Sanaki listened to the nothingness beyond the door. No whispers, no chairs scraping. She'd never seen the audience chamber in the dark. The moonlight would be spilling in, cool and silver on the walls in the shape of the windows around the dome. "I didn't think of it." She lifted her head. The shadows between the marble tiles trembled with the lamp flames. "I would have."
The door to the corridor was thicker; she didn't know if they would hear the knights coming to retrieve them. If they had to pound on the door, she would--
"This was an unnecessary risk. I would dare to say selfish."
Sanaki looked at him, leaning back a centimeter. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth turned down. "You have no right to say that." Her face was stiff in an effort not to emulate his expression. "I don't need to hear about roads paved with intentions. The records are the key."
"To your desires," Rafiel said, staring down at her. He was of a height with Sephiran, a hand taller than she, and when he sat up straight and refused to face her fully, looking at her instead from the corners of her eyes, she wished she were more substantial. "This is not for the good of the empire. I went along with it because there was potential in your plan to help others, but now that it has backfired matters are worse than before."
"My knights will retrieve the papers," she said, shifting away. She remembered blood glittering on the floor like rubies, like rain. "There's no need to be so pessimistic. If you disagreed with me when I proposed this trip, you should have--"
"You would have gone anyway. Did you think I would let you walk into danger when I knew something would happen?" He turned his face away completely and raised a hand when she opened her mouth to object to being interrupted. "Given our situation, I question your definition of pessimism."
Sanaki huffed a sigh and twisted away to face the other side of the alcove. "If you knew..."
"I told you. There is a chink in your armor."
She frowned, hunched, rested her chin in her hands. "You speak in cliches."
"Where are your knights?"
Sanaki stared at the floor. Tanith's surcoat dripped with blood, Eirine held her injured arm stiffly to her side-- they were frozen that way in her memory, amid circles of light that suddenly blazed, when moments ago they seemed so dim.
She knew what he wanted to say - what he refrained from saying. If anyone died tonight, the assassin would not be the only guilty party, and striking his head from his shoulders, if the others had not done so already, wouldn't fill the ranks back to capacity. A stipend, no matter how generous, would not be an adequate substitute for a person, for their role in a family, or to replace a friend. If Tanith were to die...
If Tanith died, if Sigrun died, if--
Rafiel stood up and walked toward the hall door. The hem of his robes swayed just above the floor. His left arm hung still at his side, stiff; he reached up to pinch the shoulder between his fingers, and she recalled stumbling into him, hitting the wall.
He could have died. If he were slower, if the hadn't been aiming for her...
"Do you hear something?" She rubbed the silk over her knees with her thumbs.
"Footsteps," he said, hand dropping. "Maybe."
But it was nothing - whatever he heard was not connected to them, did not stop at their door, and he joined her on the bench again after a long count to thirty. He kept his arm bent and cradled against his chest when he sat, and Sanaki wished she'd carried a healing staff as well. At the time she thought it impractical; two staves were heavier than one, and made more noise. What did she expect to be healing with the extra baggage?
She spread her hands over her thighs. "I'm sorry, Prince Rafiel." Her fingers were bare without her rings. A red line slashed across the back of her right hand, the skin around it pink and swelling. "You were injured in my defense."
"A small price for our lives," he said.
Sanaki swallowed hard. Her eyes felt dry and itchy, hot. "You have no reason to be concerned with that."
"I like you."
The knife chafed against the side of her arm. She pulled it out of her sleeve, untied the cords meant to hold it, and tried to think of a way to respond to that. She liked him too, of course, but they didn't know each other very well. Kilvas was more familiar than Rafiel, though he wasn't what she would call a friend. He was too slippery for that.
She tried to smile at him, and laid the knife aside. "And you accuse me of being selfish."
His answering laugh was soft. "Naturally, another selfish person is required to recognize the flaw."
The silver blade cast a faint reflection onto the alcove wall in Sanaki's peripheral vision. "So you helped me because of my charm after all. Not for Lehran, not for the greater good of Begnion's laguz?"
"Revealing your heritage will be messy." His mirth faded, face smoothed. She didn't know how he sat so still, so the only movement she spotted was the shift of light and shadow with the lamp flames. It seemed he wasn't even breathing. "Even if the outcome is bad for you, the revelation will shake the foundation of what your people believe. When your situation is considered in conjunction with that of Prince Soren, and if Lehran can safely reveal himself, I believe progress will be made. The event of your coming together may symbolize a greater change for your people. And I think you hold the same hope in your heart, your majesty, but your motivations were not pure."
If she were given a senate vote for every time she'd sighed during the last two days-- "Fine, I won't argue."
"Later, then?"
"Hmm."
"I hear footsteps."
A moment passed, and then Sanaki heard them too - the unmistakable pound of hard leather and metal on the marble floors, and a spear butt coming down outside. She jumped up at the first pounding knock, ran to the door, Rafiel just behind her to help lift the bar. Tanith he told her, though the voice on the other side was too muffled for her to tell. They let the bar clang onto the floor. She pulled the door open with both hands, and her eyes felt hot again when her knight's voice broke into the room with your majesty--
Eirene was behind her, face splattered with red and her arm tied tightly near the shoulder with a strip of blue cloth, also soaked through with red. Melodie's uniform was pristine; she was one of the seven left to guard the hallways. Tanith's surcoat was stained from the waist down on one side, but she moved unhindered, grasping Sanaki's shoulders, looking her over, turning her around.
"Tanith," she said, prodding the stain. Nothing, just a murmured I am not hurt, and she grabbed her hand. "The others--"
"Later," she said curtly. "You'll be safer in your rooms. You too, Prince Rafiel." Tanith kept hold of her arm and pulled her out the door, head whipping around to look in both directions. "Come along."
All of the lamps were lit, and the shadows gone, all the curtains drawn. They avoided the windows and wide open corridors of the public areas, used the servant's passages and staircases, even avoided the corridors she usually used to walk between the cathedral and the palace by taking a dusty path through the basement, where the doors were locked by sigils only her thumbprint would open. She didn't remember learning about it, but Tanith assured her it was safe - it was known to a few on the command level, and no more. Sigrun and Marcia knew, Shula knew, and two from the imperial guard.
They emerged behind a staircase she recognized, in the wing holding her rooms. Another pegasus knight met them, whispered something to Tanith, and took Eirene's place with a command the girl find a healer. Two more joined them on the second floor. Every window and doorway was guarded. Tanith guided her upstairs, pushing her onward when she paused to look down the hall on the third floor, toward Sephiran's room. It was past three, almost four. He would be worried--
But Tanith said he already knew what happened, and did not allow her to stop until they were in her parlor and Rafiel collapsed onto a chair. His head dropped forward, drooping like a flower. Sanaki pulled her arm free and faced her knight. "Well?"
Tanith pushed her hand through her hair. Blood flaked onto her shoulder. "Two dead - Shula took a hit for Eirene, and Adrian was found under a bush in the garden with a knife in her throat."
Sanaki choked on air. It felt like her heart jumped into her throat, then dropped to her stomach. "Sigrun--"
"Fine, but she took an arrow to the shoulder. Marcia has a few scratches, maybe a bruise, but she's still in fighting shape."
She scraped her nails against her throat, clenching her fingers so tightly pain pierced her knuckles. Tanith was breathing heavily and avoiding her gaze; the scabbard on her arm was empty, and so was the one belted to her leg. Her lips were dry and cracked. "Get some water," Sanaki said, trying to loosen her fist. "You can rest a moment."
Tanith shook her head sharply. "There is business to be taken care of."
"Marcia can handle--"
"It was Catalena's blade that put an end to Adrian," Tanith said, still breathing hard. "She and Amelie - they said they were acting on orders. They've been arrested, but the matter of their employers is more complicated."
Sanaki wished she would look up, meet her eyes. The way her knight refused to confront her directly left a sick feeling coiling in her stomach. She pulled her hands down to her sides and took a deep breath. "Who?" She'd expected to be betrayed some time. It had happened before, just as close, just under her nose.
Tanith squared her shoulders. "She claimed Sephiran--"
"No!"
She flinched but held her ground. "We don't believe it either, but--"
Sanaki grabbed her sleeve. "Where is he? What did you do?"
Tanith pried her hand away with cold fingers. "He and the Daein representatives have been imprisoned," she said, and when Sanaki opened her mouth to yell she raised her voice. "They're our only suspects!" She backed away a step and glanced at Rafiel. "The council wanted to take you as well, but they can't now they know you were with us."
Rafiel lifted his head. "They're all right?" He noted Tanith's hesitation, and said, "Lord Sephiran. The prince."
She waited a moment too long. "Of course, but--"
"Tanith--"
The knight rounded on her, squeezing Sanaki's hand tightly enough to hurt. "Your majesty, I must ask you not to interfere. Any attempt to influence this matter will make the situation worse." Tanith's nails bit into the skin, stinging until Sanaki pressed her lips closed and let her arm go limp, and then she let go, looked away. "I will do my best to resolve this mess," she said, turning her back on them and walking to the door. "Please do not leave these rooms until we declare the palace safe."
She watched Tanith's back disappear behind the door, and stared at the panels until she felt Rafiel's sleeve brush her knuckles. His shadow, cast by the lamp on the table, tried to swallow her. His hand on her shoulder felt heavy.
"He wouldn't," Sanaki said, looking down at the red scrolls on her rug. "I know he wouldn't." She blinked wetness from her eyes, opening them wide to suck the tears back in. "Rafiel?"
He slid his arm across her shoulders and steered her toward the divan. A blanket was thrown over the back, folded unevenly, the weave soft and red, the hem stitched in flowers and the borders scalloped. He pressed her down and unfolded it to wrap around her shoulders. "We'll take care of your ear," he said, brushing his fingers over her hair before he walked away. "And then you should rest."
Rest? Sephiran was in prison! Her hands shook, and she couldn't tell if the tremor was fatigue or an excess of energy. Sanaki wanted to throw something. She wanted to run down to his cell and break the lock open. Her eyes filled with tears; she wiped them away with her sleeve, and listened to Rafiel go into her room to search for something to clean her ear.
There must be something she could do. Soren's involvement she could believe, but Sephiran didn't deserve this. He'd already proven himself loyal to his own detriment. It wasn't him - it couldn't have been him. She just had to find a way to prove it.
...........................................................
Posted against my better judgment, as there are serious pacing issues, especially with the battle scene - or I think there are, anyway. It'll take some time to find one I think is good enough for studying.
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Date: 2009-04-16 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-16 06:53 am (UTC)