Bingelly
Badarby
mickilennial
Dyelli Beybi
Carlyle
Izurich
Qia
Master Crim
Lord Wraith
Act Two: Scattered to the Winds____ __ _ _
Chapter Three: Loyalties______ __ _ _
It was a sight to behold. Lorridton’s people were in an uproar over their dead matriarch. Confusion and disbelief sent a panic through the ever gathering crowd. Even the Tar’ithan woman had played her part to perfection, tears shining on her face when Dyric chanced a look her way. Talit had flown herself, crutches and all, across the field to meet at the accused’s side, vehemently defending the stranger from the encroaching mob, the matching brands of the Perrench lilly on their shoulders in clear view to all. In the midst of it all Merit’s body lay peacefully still, untouched in its seat.
“She did not draw, did you not notice?”
It was a surprising outburst,and true enough to quiet a frenzying group that looked to Dyric to justify his accusation. His face remained a penetrating glare, one that moved from the struggling Lyen and his sister to find the dissenter.
"Do you not recognize her for a Maledict, stranger?” He called out to Calitan. “Their magics are those of deceit and trickery." The mob hissed as one, enthralled by Dyric's distraught fury.
"Our brother is right to question." Came another voice, in an attempt to draw their attention. Chad the elder that had taken Merit's place when her decline became impossible to hide. He was standing at his seat, only a few places down from those of the guests of honour.
“Let us not make this night a tragedy twice over. Take the maledict away to be sentenced.”
“I will not-”
Talit cut Lyen off, pulling her back to face her brother. “She is innocent! I can vouch for her character.”
“Then she has you fooled. Her hands fell on Merit and she died. We all saw; where were you sister?”
Talit glared at her brother only to look past him to the chief elder. “Let the gods prove her if my word isn’t good enough. A trail by combat; with me as her champion.”
“You want me dead too now? You’ve fallen too deeply into her ploys Talit.”
“I want to prove the truth!” She cried in horror, “You would go against me?”
“No one else would!” He gestured to the people around them. The reasoning didn’t need to be said aloud to be stated; Talit’s own people feared her. “I want justice for our Nan if you don’t -”
“Enough!” Chad moved between the twins, using the Gift to amplify his voice enough to drown out the riled chattering. “Shame on both of you; so eager to spill more blood when Merit’s is not yet cold.” It was enough to quiet the entire city as the enormity of their figurehead’s death claimed them.
The Maledict was taken away, and only when the crowd had dispersed did Dyric dare look in the direction of the tall redheaded woman. Their look communicated all that needed to be said as they each turned to convene with their respective groups.
The tables and bleachers from the mete’stiroi were repurposed for the trial. The platform that had been used as a dais for Merit and the others the night before was still used in that capacity, but for a much changed reason. In the background continued the snail race, with perhaps only a handful of observers, and most of the other festivities had been tastefully set aside. Cleanup was well underway, but it was a physical thing only. There was no cleaning the wound that had been dealt to this community until it was determined, beyond reasonable doubt, who had dealt it, and hopefully why.
The baroness’ body had been prepared the night before and now lay in state before her people, surrounded by fragrant herbs and flowers. Perhaps the sun’s light fell naturally upon her through a small break in the branches or perhaps someone had used the Gift to make it so. It did not greatly matter. Lady Merit was present at her own murder trial. Her treasures had been arranged around the table where she lay, wrapped in a banner with her personal sigil. Her eyes were covered with gold coins, and it was a certainty that, in the five days before she rose to meet the Bringers, she would see and hear all.
It was into this scene that Talit and Lyen emerged. There were not hundreds present; there were thousands. They spread out across the forest clearing, some sitting on the bleachers from the mete’stiroi, others occupying nearby tree platforms, staircases, and hanging bridges. The two of them, feeling rather an island unto themselves, passed beneath a small girl idly kicking her feet back and forth from one of the bridges, and a couple of boys who had run eagerly up beside her hurled insults at Lyen, or perhaps both of them. “Taiv’op!” one sneered. “Cuul’op!” accused the other, horking up a wad of spit, but an older woman came and grabbed both by the ears and hustled them away. Her scolding could not be heard against the backdrop of such a great mass of people, each with their own words to speak. Their voices had risen when they noticed the pair’s entrance. Now, however, as Baron Chad’orast’ilan’chiis rose, he made a gesture and, after a handful of seconds, the noise gave way to a silence that was eerie and unnatural to yasoi: ovaya’zesh – the ritual act of complete quiet.
Dyric had already taken his place, strategically close to his three-times-great grandmother, facing the three elders. He twisted only briefly to look at his sister and she was forced to part with Lyen, leaving the maledict alone in the center, surrounded by guards, as she took her place opposite Dyric and flanking the body of ‘old nan’, who it was clear she struggled to look at.
She instead looked to her twin, trying to discern his always unreadable expression. He'd gone to great effort in avoiding her, spending most of the night with the time-walker. The one place Talit wouldn't go. It was a cowardly act, but it instilled fear within her in turn. What lies did he think he learned and how could she disprove them as such?
Eventually the silence of the bloodthirsty crowd teetered, and Chad put an end to it before disrespect could be done. Those that had seats took them, others leaned or pushed themselves to the outskirts, until only the elder and two blind women remained standing near the body. Recognition of the one standing by Merit's head sent a shiver down Talit's spine, all the way down to her stump of a right leg. The time-walker that had deceived her so long ago. That would make the other a powergazer. Two arbiters of truth, only summoned for the most extraordinary trials.
"I will not waste time with ceremony. We all know why we are here: This woman," Chad gestured to Lyen, still flanked by guards behind the elders, out of view of the corpse. It was enough to cause an uproar from the spectators. Talit watched her friend's face harden as hurled insults reached her ears.. It was some time until they were quiet enough for the trail to continue. "Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc stands accused of murdering our Merit’entasp’osmax, by her own descendant; Dyric’antiil’osmax."
The two women instilled one final prayer to Damy to watch over their proceedings before walking to either end of the elder's table.
It was to the accused to speak first. So it was Dyric that stood, whispering something unheard to his dead grandmother as he turned to face the crowd, bowing to them first, then the Elders.
"None want to be here less today than I. But as Merit's descendant it is my duty to bring justice for her murder. Half those here gave witness to the same events I did last night; the maledict's touch of death. I believe it is no stretch to maintain that an unambiguous observation shared by at least dozens of individuals - if not hundreds - need not be called into question.” He paused, clasping his hands behind his back, and turned on the spot so that he addressed everyone present. “I am grieving, as I know many of us are, as I trust my sister is as well.” He swallowed. “That does not mean, however, that I shall let my emotions rule me.” He began pacing again, commanding the stage as only a politician could. “I intend to deal in only known facts this day and it is a fact that that woman, Lyen’ivhere’zulc, a known maledict, laid hands upon Lady Merit mere moments before she expired.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, mostly of approval. “And what do we know of this alleged murderer who stands before us?” Dyric’s intonation made clear his thoughts on the use of the word ‘alleged’. He spread his arms as he continued. “The truth is: precious little.” He returned to pacing, building his case. “For, you see, she was not born among our people, nor has she much deigned to live among us either.” He shook his head sadly. “Her loyalties, you can see written plainly upon her skin.” He was referring to the fleur-de-lis tetsoi that she had gotten, but it was not currently visible. He paused and amended. “If you cannot see, I invite you to look at Lady Talit’s shoulder instead.” Dyric shook his head and continued. “And what, might you ask, would someone whose first loyalty is to Parrence want with the baroness?” He laughed bitterly, not even bothering to state what everybody knew: Lady Merit was renowned as no friend to the great human nation that surrounded them. “All of us who were alive then know very well what the Parrench crown’s approach is to the slightest hint of independence or, as they term it, ‘dissent’, from our people.” His eyes lingered, briefly, on those of the elder Yrii’antiil’enjuun. “And now, we find yet another huusoi bloodshed brought to our doorstep: one that we all know my great grandmother would want us to stay away from.”
He paused close to the body and both blind women nearby tilted their heads in an eerie synchronicity. “We have a means and a motive, moilar, suuneir, yaluur. Yet, there are those who refuse to believe it. While some may be our enemies, I do not believe that most are. The bounties offered by huusoi nations are tempting, and those of Parrece chief among them. One need look only as far as my sister: truly among the best of us. She is a loyal woman, with a good heart, and I would not question that. When the crown prince, Arcel, came to us as a boy and she was ever at his side, I did not question it. When she would make her regular trips to visit him in Solenne, I harboured no doubts as to where her loyalties lay.” He glanced Talit’s way, beatific. “Earlier this year, when she took some four hundred of our people to fight alongside her huusoi friend at Relouse, I knew that our people’s interests remained foremost in her heart. If the Eskandr could be stopped on the beaches, so much the better.” He left it unsaid that, of course, they hadn’t. An army of them was known to be on its way into the region, though all believed that it would bypass the yasoi town so long as it remained nominally neutral. “Yet, not all are so strong as Talit’yrash’osmax. It is a simple matter for one’s reason to become corrupted, for one not to be willing to see the facts laid out cleanly before them, to not be able to make a picture from the pieces.” Dyric stood, center stage, and clasped his hands in polite deference to the elders. “That is what I intend to help our people do this day, whatever their beliefs may be, so that my great grandmother and our people alike may walk in everlasting peace.”
It took Talit a moment to stand in time for her turn. To observers, she struggled with maneuvering her crutches around the body. In truth, her head was reeling, searching for any probable reason her brother would have to voice such vitriol against her. But there was no time to consider motives, he'd riled the people of Loriindton well, and if they'd hated Lyen before, they were only waiting to tear her limb from limb now.
"I agree with my brother on two matters at least. The first being that my great-great-great grandmother's assassination has been one of our greatest tragedies in recent memory." She paused for silence, as keen spectators hushed others to hear Talit speak. "Though I fear we carry different memories of the woman she was. Her bitterness and resentment towards Parrence is well documented - but did we not also come to witness her to temper and resolve that hatred?" She began walking parallel to the elder's table, pacing the length of the clearing with hobbled steps. "In her lifetime to have witnessed such cruelty and still accept her declared enemy's son into her home. To have taught and raised a human child alongside her own grandchildren; you think this a woman with indifference to her neighbors? Let us not forget this Parrence is not that of Rouis, but of Arcel - the boy who lived among us, as one of us." She stopped herself before too much emotion could bleed into her voice. Dyric had stressed that particular relationship enough already without her adding more speculation. "Would any here that knew him dare accuse him of sending assassins to those that cared for him? The Parrench have made their errors and are different, but we know what they are, we know their king. Meanwhile violent southern strangers pass through our land without sending a single word of notice or warning." She stopped her pacing to look directly at Dyric at the mention of the Eskand, searching for some reaction and finding none. "Is our resentment toward the Parrench so great we can no longer recognize a trusted friend?"
"The second matter we agree on is that Dyric knows precious little of Lyen; our friend and sister." A lone voice far off shouted a curse at her in disagreement, but was quickly silenced. "He does not know of her bravery shown towards defending her people - the Yasoi people even when it was not her burden to share. How many of those that had come with me might have been lost had she not stood tall against Eskandr's golden hand and hand of death in the Witch Wood? Ask them yourselves - they live to tell the story because of her actions."
Reaching the end of the Elder's table, Talit shifted her crutches and began her pacing in the other direction, stopping to make eye contact with the panel's eyes as she moved. "Her duty to the Yasoi can be found even in her name, Ivhere, for she spent so long with her teachers absorbing our ways they though she might never grown into her own!" Some feet away, Lyen's face was darkening an even motlier grey than usual. "We can see now she has, though she still seeks knowledge from new places - yes including those among human lands. But we are Yasoi, and our people have wandered for as long as we've had limbs." There was a slight chuckle at that as Talit flexed her hands on her crutches.
"But Lyen has always returned to her people. Who that spoke to her last evening could say she is anything but Yasoi? Even her magic, which Dyric seems intent on vilifying, is that of our own people, blending together different areas of the gift. Maledicts can be as much healers as curse-makers, which the name does little credit for. It is humans that fear and separate magic by types and morality, categorizing what is and isn't allowed." She sighed as she reached her original place "Most importantly, maledict magic is similar to any other in one respect at least; it requires energy. As many witnesses as my brother claims, I do too; any with the slightest bit of the gift could have seen that Lyen did not draw. What spell could have been commanded without trace? The answer is none, gentle people of Loriindton. Merit's death deserves justice, yes. Precise, direct, and harsh retribution towards the right parties is called for, once they can be found." She finally faced Lyen and gave a weak smile. "I ask we all heard the words Chad spoke last night again, let us not repay one needless and unjust death with another. Let it fuel our determination to find the truth and the guilty party."
Their opening pieces said, the twin descendants of Merit took their seats again while the Elders huddled and whispered for a moment, before motioning to the guards on either side of Lyen. The younger of the two blind women present laid her hands on Lyen before she took her place to be interrogated. The powergazer asked innocuous questions in a calm, low voice that easily traveled to Talit's ears, the clearing was so silenced with anticipation. With a nod, Talit was given leave to begin her questions. Shuffling her crutches to one side, she leaned on her seat casually.
"Have I been speaking the truth when it comes to your character and actions?"
Lyen's face twisted into a grimace of a smile. "You have."
"Please explain the events of last night."
Talit stood in silence as Lyen gave her story. Moving only to shuffle her weight on and off her foot as needed. She listened as her friend told her events; their arrival, the beginning of the Mette. She detailed the many people she'd tried to engage about the human war, and the few that humored her enough to hang around. About her snail's disappointing start in its race and the near fight that had broken out from it. The one part of the story left vague was her time spent with Talit. She mentioned only their drinking and acquisition of tetsoi, and nothing of the words they'd exchanged. Finally she told of the moment itself, her drunken excitement, a brush against Merit "... and then..." The hands Lyen had been anxiously wringing together towards the climax of her story fell away, finally still. "She was dead." She finished.
"I have only one question left." Talit finally said after she felt enough time had passed for Lyen's story to settle, "Did you, Lyen'Ivhere'Zulc, kill my kin, Merit’entasp’osmax, by magic, poison, deceit ,or trickery?"
Lyen let out a sigh, "No."
Talit could feel the crowd's eyes move as one to the power-gazer. The shrouded woman only reacted with a short nod, which sent whispers rippling throughout the clearing, enough so that it took some time before Dyric was able to approach with his own interrogation. Not that Talit cared for whatever else he had to say. She winked at her friend, and for a moment they shared hopeful smiles as Dyric made his way to her.
"You are a trained Maledict? Could you explain what that means?"
"I think we all heard you mention it enough times." Lyen rolled her eyes before giving an answer. "It isn't dissimilar to the witchcraft any priestess uses, we just train to have a more direct command and control over our manas, using them as triggers for more delicate uses of the Gift."
Dyric nodded, turning from Lyen to face his sister for a brief moment before continuing. "So would it be possible for a trained Maledict to use their magic to trigger reactions within their own body with little need to draw." Talit sucked in a breath sharply enough to catch the attention of the handful of people seated closest.
"Yes," Lyen responded with some hesitation "it could be done if-"
"A sort of spell that could be used to suppress any involuntary chemical reactions produced by lying?"
Lyen scowled and folded her arms, refusing to answer as the muttering picked up again. "Did you understand the question, Lyen?"
"Yes but-"
"Yes what?"
Lyen and Dyric were glaring at each-other so intensely, Talit felt herself forgotten with the rest of the witnesses.
”It could be possible. Yes."
Dyric spun, not bothering to dismiss himself as the spectators erupted into a hysterical combination of hissing insults, and calls for blood. Talit felt Lyen's eyes looking to her for assurance or comfort, but she found herself unable to meet them.
