Canticle

Ignatio spoke. “The Governors’ Council of the United-City States of the Entrolusian Delta is petitioned to convene now in judicial capacity for the arraignment of Petronus, former Holy See of the Androfrancine Order and King of Windwir. The charge before you is murder and conspiracy to commit murder for the unlawful execution of Lord Sethbert, former Overseer of the United Entrolusian City-States.”

One of Erlund’s handpicked governors made the motion to convene; one of Esarov’s newly elected governors seconded. All men said “aye” when the question was called, and when they had Ignatio smiled and looked at Petronus.

“It is the position of the accuser that on the fourth of Anbar, during a closed council of bishops convened in the Ninefold Forest, Petronus-acting in his capacity as Pope-did summarily execute Sethbert without benefit of a trial as provided by the First and Second Settlers Congress of the Entrolusian Delta. Further, the accuser posits that Petronus, in collusion with Lord Rudolfo of the Ninefold Forest Houses, did subject the former Overseer to tortures and coercions forbidden under Entrolusian law and conducted its matters of prosecution without regard to common law and reasonable civility.”

Erlund yawned at the flatness of the recital and looked around the room. Petronus followed his gaze. Finally, the Overseer moved the proceedings forward. “The council will now hear the plea of the accused before establishing a date of trial.”

Esarov stood and Petronus stood with him. “Advocate defers to his client and presents him to council.”

Erlund nodded. “Proceed.”

Petronus took in the eleven men before him and pulled himself up to full height. “I choose no plea,” he said in a loud clear voice, “and offer instead a Declaration of Circumstance.”

The Overseer frowned, but Ignatio’s face was unreadable. Behind them, the governors’ faces were a mixed lot, though disinterest appeared most prevalent. Certainly, in Petronus’s mind that made a certain sense. Their own Overseer had been disinterested in this action; they had a nation to rebuild-one with changes looming that formed far more pressing matters. A system that had served Erlund and his family for generations now threatened to topple beneath a wave of democracy that even gave Petronus pause. “Make your declaration,” the overseer said.

Petronus made eye contact with him again. Then, he scanned the room and made eye contact with each of the governors seated before him. “In the circumstance of Sethbert’s execution, we declare it to have been a matter of Androfrancine procedure carried out in accordance with the original Articles of Kin-Clave by ourselves as Holy See and Monarch of Windwir upon confirmation of the accused’s guilt by his own mouth and without coercion, offered, observed and documented as such. We do not recognize the predominance of Entrolusian law in this matter, and we petition-as is our right by monarchy-for the case to be heard and decided by Council of Kin-Clave.”

Petronus wasn’t sure what he’d expected. In one of the dramas Esarov had once acted out upon the stage, at this point there would be indrawn breaths and shocked faces. But instead, his declaration sounded out into the nearly empty room, echoing slightly as it did.

Erlund sighed. Surely, Petronus thought, he saw it as a small price to pay for bringing his civil war to an end and reuniting his city-states beneath him. Now, it was simply a matter of establishing venue and waiting for the council to convene. As such, Erlund would become one voice among many as the heads of state came together to hear Petronus’s case and rule.

Certainly, it could still go badly. The war had rubbed kin-clave thin between many of the Named Lands’ houses and nations. But now the odds were with Petronus. And what came next would further establish those odds.

“Very well,” Erlund said in a dry voice. “This court recognizes kin-clave and your right as monarch to a trial before your peers. A date shall be established and arrangements shall be made to convene the Council of Kin-Clave that they might hear this matter.”

Petronus waited until the gavel was midway between the air and the podium before speaking again. “If it pleases his Excellency,” he said, “we would continue.”

Now Erlund looked surprised and interested suddenly. You didn’t see this coming, young pup. His eyes narrowed and he put the gavel down. “We apologize. We had believed you had made your declaration.”

“The Articles of Kin-Clave specify clearly that choice of venue falls to the accused,” Petronus continued, “that their protection might be assured by the hosting nation.”

Already, Ignatio’s fingers flew through an old volume kept beneath their table. He found a passage, passed the book to Erlund and pointed. Erlund nodded. “It is within your purview.”

Petronus smiled, and it was grim there in the morning light. “It is indeed within our purview. The venue of our choice is our own nation, the free state of Windwir.”

Now there was noise in the room. Now came the indrawn breaths and the uncomfortable shifting upon those wooden chairs. A dark cloud passed over Erlund’s face. “Windwir is no more, Petronus. There is no nation there.”

“Regardless,” Petronus said, glancing to Esarov and taking in his broad smile, “it is the venue we choose. We petition for it as such and petition as well that the Ninefold Forest Houses be contacted for the arrangements of council as named protector of Windwir.”

The room became silent, and all eyes went to Erlund. Finally, he sighed. “Let the record state that Council of Kin-Clave will be held as petitioned,” he finally said, bringing the gavel down.

Petronus wasn’t sure what he’d expected next, but it happened quickly enough. The guards returned for him. He and Esarov stood, inclining their heads to the council and its Overseer, and prepared to go their separate ways. As Esarov shook his hand, he pressed a message into Petronus’s wrist. Well done. I will come soon to prepare for the council.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Esarov offered a grim smile. “Thank you, Petronus.”

As he crossed the room, Petronus glanced once more to Erlund and saw the anger on his face again. He’d not expected this turn, and he resented the loss of control, both over his Council of Governors and over his trial. His apparent frustration did not rankle Petronus in the least. Erlund might not have fully anticipated Petronus’s strategy, but Petronus had certainly expected the Overseer’s anger over it.

But when his eyes next found the face of Erlund’s spymaster and prosecutor, he saw something there that he did not expect. It was brief and it was meant for Petronus alone, of that he had no doubt.

There, in that moment as Petronus passed by the bench, Ignatio offered him a slight and secret smile.

And above that smile, something satisfied and smug danced behind the man’s eyes.

It was the satisfied gaze of a hunter happening upon a sprung snare. The smug look of a fisherman hauling in his overflowing net.

Petronus shuddered and forced himself forward, but even late into that night, that smile and those eyes stayed with him and promised something soon coming that he could not quite place.

Chapter 20

Vlad Li Tam

Vlad Li Tam hung limp in the cutting rack and stared down at the empty tables. The days and nights were a blur to him now, and more and more, he found there were vast patches of blank white in his sense of things.

But for now, they were finished with his children and his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren. They’d hauled the last of the bodies away at some point, and from that moment, Ria had simply continued her work without them. Even now, as he hung there, her hands moved lovingly over his naked flesh, her fingers tracing messages into his back that he could not cipher as her other hand worked the salted knife.

He’d screamed himself hoarse at first, but now he simply breathed and lay still, watching the drool puddle on the floor beneath him. He felt the hot bite of the blade moving over his left buttock, slow and in a widening spiral that then moved up and into the small of his back. Exhaling, he forced the pain into the cave he had dug for it deep inside of himself. He forced it there and then stood guard over it.

I will grow my pain into an army. He would feed it; he would water it; he would