Brightly Burning

caught in the act, their guilt was beyond question. But the wife of the Head of the Silversmith's Guild, Jisette Jelnack, was definitely going to speak her piece. She practically shook with rage and outrage, and her face was as pale as Lan's, looking bloodless against the black of her gown. She twisted a handkerchief in her hands, the action suggesting that even now she longed to twine it around Lan's throat and strangle him with it.

Of all her family, only her husband was here, and he stood apart as if in a vain attempt to dissociate himself from her. He stood within the half-circle of Guards, but not himself under arrest. There was not one single member of the Silversmiths' Guild here in attendance, in fact, they were notable in their absence; Pol did not doubt for a moment that by the end of the day there would be a new Guildmaster in that House.

He was warned. If he couldn't keep Jisette from doing something foolish, he should have turned her in to the Guard, and this would never have become a public matter. And he had to know. Hired assassins don't come cheaply, especially ones who are thorough enough to track the target's movements and friends, forge notes, and arrange to block streets with wagons and fighting gangs. Where did that money come from, if not the household coffers? Surely he didn't think she was spending that much money on household expenses!

Hoarfrost rimed every surface of the buildings around the Square, muting the colors; the sky above, a flat gray, promised nothing and added nothing. It seemed that all the elements had agreed to contribute to the atmosphere of rejection that Theran had concocted.

Theran stood, and slowly scanned the entire gathering, the force of his personality ensuring that every single individual in the Square would be willing to swear later that the King had locked eyes with him, personally. Theran took a deep breath, and his voice rolled over the silent crowd.

'We are here to pass judgment,' he said, each word weighted carefully. 'You are here to bear witness that justice has been done. These seven men—' he gestured slightly at the hired thugs, '— were captured in the act of attempted murder of one of Valdemar's Heraldic Trainees; this boy, Lavan Chitward, called Firestarter.'

Pol's swift intake of breath was echoed by many others; this was the first time that Lan's Gift had been acknowledged publicly, and those who knew that he had been one of the boys involved in the Guild School fire would now be putting two and two together. This was no accident on Theran's part, but what was he going to accomplish with this information?

'These seven men stand convicted of that crime, and of the crime of attempted murder and injury of one of Valdemar's Companions, the Companion Kalira, bound to Lavan Firestarter.'

Another and more general gasp; for most people, the very notion that someone would deliberately harm a Companion was shocking. To actually see the men who had done such a thing was an outrage to their sensibilities.

'Have you men anything to say for yourself before we pass judgment upon you?' Theran stared down at them; his look one of utter disgust. Pol didn't really expect them to say anything at all, but to his surprise, one of them stepped forward.

'We wasn't to hurt the horse—I mean, Companion,' the grizzled, mustached man said defiantly. 'And we was just doin' the job we'd been hired to. By her—' and he pointed at Jisette Jelnack.

The crowd murmured; there had been rumors flying all through Haven since the attack two days ago, but until now none of that had been confirmed. Pol noticed with satisfaction that if anything, the general sense of outrage had increased.

Theran's expression did not change by a hair. 'We are aware of that,' he said, distantly. 'Nevertheless, regardless of who hired you, or why, you intended to murder, you attempted to murder. The fact that this attempt was on one of our Trainees and resulted in the injury of one of our Companions only compounds the felony. You stand condemned out of your own mouths, under Truth Spell, and duly witnessed. Is that all you have to say?'

The man wilted a little, and shook his head, stepping back a pace.

Theran hardened his expression. 'Very well. Your crime is punishable by death.' Here he paused, while the condemned looked sick and the crowd radiated approval. 'But we have—another fate in mind for you, one that will serve Valdemar. You will proceed under guard to the Karsite Border. You will remain under guard, in heavy chains when you are not performing your duty, in light chains when you are. You will be outfitted in a special red uniform, patterned with a broad black cross on front and back, to make you visible and prevent you from being mistaken for Bards. You will serve the Healers in whatever capacity they deem fit—including and especially the extraction of the wounded from the battlefield during battles.' He raised an eyebrow at them, for the first time changing his expression, from one of condemnation to irony. 'This will be your duty for the rest of your lives—however long or short that may be. And I do not recommend an attempt at escape. You would not evade my Guards and Heralds for long, and should you think to find mercy at the hands of the Karsites, think again. They burn our people in Karse, and you would never be able to pass yourselves off as Believers in their One God.'

He gestured to the Guards surrounding the miscreants, who took the seven away to their fates, to the subdued approval of the crowd. Now his attention turned to Jisette.

The Guards brought her forward at his gesture. Pol knew what was going through the minds of many who could not see her face. How could this wealthy, pampered, delicate woman have done what she was accused of? She stared up at the King in defiance, then her gaze went to Lan, and her expression turned to one of pure hate. Lan trembled, and would have shrunk back, if the King had not put a hand on his elbow. Of all of those present, only Pol and King's Own Jedin could know how much it cost the boy just to stand there impassively. It was damnably unfair to put him through this, but worse was to come.

'You, Jisette Jelnack, stand accused and convicted of hiring men to murder Heraldic Trainee Lavan Firestarter. Out of your own mouth you were condemned, under Truth Spell. Have you anything to say for yourself?'

Jisette shook off the restraining hand of one of her Guards and stepped forward, entirely unrepentant. 'That—creature—next to you is a murderer!' she shrilled, and Pol was not the only person to wince at her tone. 'He killed my son! Put him under Truth Spell if you dare! I only sought justice for my poor boy when your justice was denied me!'

More murmurs from the crowd, uncertainty this time. There had been rumors of this also—and Theran had decided to deal with them in public, once and for all. He couldn't deny that Lan had, in the sight of witnesses, brought up fire to protect himself and Kalira. People were already thinking back to the Merchants' School Fire. He couldn't have confidence in the Heralds undermined.

So Lan would have to take the blows, and bear them, for his sake, and the sake of every Herald in the Kingdom.