'The last thing we want to do is place you and your family's lives in danger,' Trevanion said quietly.
'The fewer people who know, the better it will be,' Sir Topher advised.
'Augie?'
The five men swung around. Lady Abian stood at the door, clutching her night shawl, a look of terror on her face. When she saw Trevanion, she swallowed a scream, the next moment throwing herself into his arms.
'Abie,' her husband chided gently. 'Remember your place. You're going to make a cuckold out of me.'
When she saw Finnikin, she burst into tears, covering her mouth with her hand.
'Do I look that frightening?' he asked.
She shook her head, overwhelmed by her emotion, and then she took him into her arms. 'Apart from my own, I never held a prettier babe.'
'A flattering compliment for any man,' Trevanion said with a laugh.
'Where are you all bound for?' she asked. No one responded, and Lady Abian looked from Trevanion to her husband. 'We're going home,' she whispered. 'Oh sweet goddess, we're going home.'
'Lady Abian, there may be nothing to go back to,' Finnikin said gently.
A scream, high and piercing, echoed through the house, and Lord August sped to the door, followed closely by the others. They ran down the stairs and into what at first appeared to be a closet, but instead was a tiny bedroom. Finnikin saw Evanjalin instantly. At her side Lady Celie screamed again, the sight of Trevanion and Perri causing her fear this time. In the small confines of the room, she pushed Evanjalin behind her.
Lady Abian was last in the room, and she took her daughter in her arms, her body growing still when she saw Evanjalin. 'Augie,' she ordered quietly, 'go wake the rest of the children and our people, if they aren't already awake, and take everyone down to the parlor.'
She stepped forward and cupped Evanjalin's face in the palm of her hand, as if mesmerized by the filth and scruffiness that stood before her. 'Celie, go wake Sebastina and ask her to run a bath.'
'Abie,' Trevanion said, 'we cannot have your Belegonian servants knowing we're here.'
'Sebastina's one of ours. Everyone in this compound belongs to Lumatere.'
Finnikin's eyes were on Evanjalin, remembering Lady Celie's reaction to her when they had first visited the house. But Evanjalin's gaze was fixed on both mother and daughter. Outside of the exile camps, he had rarely seen her in the presence of women, and at this moment he knew she would not have cared if he and the other men disappeared forever.
Lord August was staring at the two who stood half-concealed in the corner. 'Blessed Barakah?' he asked, stunned, walking toward him, then kneeling on one knee.
Lady Abian seemed mortified and sent the men a scathing look. 'How could you leave the priest-king to climb the trellis outside our home?' She kissed the holy man. 'Blessings later,' she said gently. 'You look well worn and I want you all comfortable. Everyone down in the parlor, please. I will take care of the girls.'
As they walked down the stairs, Lord August hammered on every door he passed. They reached the parlor, and the duke motioned for them to sit down. A few moments later, Lord August's sister and family and at least fifty others entered, filling the room to capacity. Finnikin stared around in shock. Suddenly he understood why Lady Celie's bedroom was so tiny. It was indeed a closet, as he had first thought. Every room in the house, including the storerooms, cellars, and even the pantry, must have to be used as living quarters to accommodate so many people.
'Who are these people?' Finnikin asked.
'Why, it's my village of Sayles, Finnikin,' Lord August replied. 'A duke is afforded the wealth of a city, and his home the right of sanctuary.'
Finnikin's eyes met the duke's. It shamed him to think of all the times he had expressed his disdain for the luxuries enjoyed by the Lumateran nobility in exile, especially Lord August.
Fear and excitement lit the faces of those around him. There was a hushed celebration when the people of Sayles recognized the newcomers, the women sobbing, the men brushing quick tears from their eyes and muffling their emotions in handshakes that trembled.
When Lady Abian and the girls joined them, Evanjalin was scrubbed clean and dressed in a crisp white gown identical to Lady Celie's. Finnikin could smell sandalwood, and Evanjalin's olive complexion was as smooth and clear as honey. There was little room in the parlor, and Lady Abian sat on her husband's lap.
'Abian,' her sister-in-law chided, 'remember your place!'
'I am a fishmonger's daughter,' Lady Abian said. 'What do you expect?'
There was much joy that night. Finnikin loved watching them all. Here was a generation of men and women who had suffered greatly; the loss of their world had happened in the prime of their lives.
In the corner, Froi sat with the younger boys engaged in a competition of knuckle thumping. He who drew blood first was declared the winner. Finnikin noticed the viciousness of Froi's play and saw the younger boys wince even as they tried not to react. He reached over and boxed Froi's ears as a warning.
They spent the night arguing passionately about all things Lumateran, opinions flying, voices hushed and angry, others wavering with emotion.
'Could it have been avoided? Should the king have forbidden anyone entering Lumatere? Should he have cut off ties with the Charynites?'
'No one knew such a thing would happen, Matin,' Trevanion said firmly. 'No one could predict that the assassins would enter the palace. Every entrance was guarded.'
'Then it was one of the Guard. A traitor working for Charyn,' Lord August said.
Finnikin watched for the reaction. He had waited all week for one of Trevanion's men to make such a suggestion.
'Never,' Perri said flatly.
'Then how?' Lord August pressed.
'The men guarding the palace drawbridge were attacked from behind. We could tell by the location of the wounds on their bodies. There had to be another entrance that not even the king knew about,' Trevanion said.
'How could there be an entrance the assassins knew about when the king did not?' Lord August's brother-in- law asked.
'Perhaps because the impostor king was the former captain of the Guard and cousin to the king. He may have found it,' Finnikin suggested.
His father shook his head. 'I knew every inch of that palace. Unless a tunnel was built from inside, I would have known.'
The most bitter arguments centered around the circumstances leading up to the slaughter of the Forest Dwellers.
'The king should have provided more protection for the worshippers of Sagrami. They were a minority,' Lady Abian said firmly.
'Abie!' a chorus of voices reprimanded her. 'It is wrong to speak ill of the dead.'
'I loved our king as much as the rest of you, but he used poor judgment when it came to the Forest Dwellers. If the king had been more open in his approval of the ways and practices of those who worshipped Sagrami, our part in the days of the unspeakable would never have occurred.'
'The king was not to know his people would turn on the Forest Dwellers the moment he died. As far as he was concerned, Lumaterans were living in peace,' one of the women said.
'It's what the king wanted to believe. What we all wanted to believe,' Lady Abian maintained. They were silent for a moment.
'There is no proof it was the Charynites,' Lord August's brother-in-law said, speaking to an earlier argument.
'Of course it was the Charynites,' Finnikin argued. 'And the king should have treated Charyn as a threat. Instead he signed treaties with their king and cocooned himself in domestic life.' He looked at Sir Topher. He knew his mentor agreed with him but would never voice his opinions aloud.
'I should have protected the worshippers of Sagrami,' the priest-king said sadly. 'Instead I allowed myself to be flattered by the importance of my title. I blame my hubris for not seeing what was unfolding in front of me.'
'They should not have been so secretive about their ways,' one of the women said.
'And that gave us the permission to turn them out of their homes and persecute them?' Lady Abian protested.
