Tooth and Claw (37 page)

It had begun as something for her advantage. She thought of Avan that morning, not asking her the questions that must have burned in his mouth. “I have come to care for him a great deal,” she said, precisely, knowing it true only as she said it.

“And is he a strong dragon?”

“He is employed at the Planning Office,” she said. “He is rising there. He is thirty feet long, but he will grow.”

“Then if he will change his name to yours and become a Telstie, marry him and bring him the demesne as your dowry.”

“Do you mean it? You hardly know either of us.” Sebeth could hardly believe it. “And the scandal on the name . . .”

“There will be no scandal. You will be
Eminence Telstie
. That is enough to enable you to outstare anyone. There are few enough advantages to rank, but that is one.”

“My cousins?”

“I will have my attorneys settle everything so there can be no dispute. Avan Agornin. Dignified, you say?”

“Respectable,” Sebeth corrected. “And if he will not marry me?”

“Then he’s a fool,” her father said. “If he will not, you should marry your cousin, or whoever you choose. But marry. You cannot hope to hold the demesne without. Telstie is too big to leave to a—” he hesitated. She was not maiden, wife, or widow, there were no words for what she was.

“I will find a husband if Avan will not agree,” she said. Then she stopped, her mouth open, remembering as she agreed to her father’s wishes, what Calien had said about her father’s soul being the most important thing. She hesitated. He had not known what her father would offer her. Safety, marriage, rank—dared she risk it now? It was not real enough to her to seem a risk. She swallowed. “Father, one more thing. I survived, I rose in the world as I could, with the help of the True Church. Will you see a priest to confess, Father? For me?”

“You were too young to know the True Church,” Eminent Telstie said.

“Too young? How could I be too young? The priests were there in the streets where the most degraded work, teaching me their way. The parsons were not there, they were safe inside their churches, living on their dues, while the priests were helping us. I know what I learned, and I learned that confession and absolution free the soul, when all else is dross, and that Camran was a Yarge who died to bring the word of the gods to dragons.” Sebeth briefly felt like one of the great martyrs of old, like Sainted Gerin, who bore witness to the truth of religion despite the risk of losing all earthly things.

“You misunderstand me. I meant you were too young for me to teach you all of that before you were captured,” Eminent Telstie said, drily. “I have confessed to my own priest, and will confess again if I am given time. The True Church has been a long belief in our family, held very close, very secretly. Your priest might have known, but names of other believers are not spoken, not even whispered.”

“It is not illegal, now,” she said. “You could embrace it in public. For everyone to know that an Eminent Lord was a True Believer would be a great comfort.”

“It is not illegal now because those of us who kept quietly to the true ways have worked to bring that situation about,” he said. “Besides, legal or not, dare you flaunt it openly as a clerk?” His eyes seemed brighter. “You are my daughter and my true heir,” he said. “If you wish to live openly in the True Faith, do so, but consult the priests first, they have counselled me to silence for many years. Now, tell them to call my attorney. And you should speak to your—partner. To Avan.”

“I will,” Sebeth said.

“But stay here,” he said. “Don’t go. I don’t know how long I have. I will see the attorney, and the priest. But stay with me for this little time I have. My daughter. A true Telstie, rising on your own merit
and finding the Church on your own. You will grace the rank of Eminence.”

She embraced him then, without hesitation. She still did not know whether or not he had betrayed her, but it no longer mattered. “I will stay with you until the end,” she said.

After three days shut in her room, desperate for food and water, Haner would have admitted to anything and agreed to anything. Her vision was beginning to fade. She was no longer strong enough to shout. She had her gold, and it gave her comfort lying down on it or turning each piece in the dark. Berend died on this gold, and so will I, she thought, and Daverak killed both of us. She prayed, in her heart, for all the gods to help her. She thought of Londaver, and of Selendra. She prayed for Lamith’s soul. She wondered if Daverak would let her out for the court case, or whether she would be dead by then. She had no way to tell how long it had been.

As Penn and Sher had been told that her illness was minor, they were surprised not to see her at dinner. “Her maid is looking after her in her room,” Daverak said. To Penn’s relief, Frelt was not present either. “He has gone to the evening service in the Cupola with Blessed Telstie,” Daverak explained. He led them in at once to the dining room, where they were served with indifferently fresh swine.

“Will Haner be well enough to testify?” Sher asked, trying not to gag on the sweetish smell of meat that has been dead for days. Penn, beside him, was too nervous to either eat or speak.

“I’m sure she will,” Daverak said. “I’m planning to talk to her later tonight about that.”

“The Court would accept a doctor’s certificate,” Sher said. He thought Daverak looked almost ill himself, full of nervous excitement.

“I haven’t called a doctor,” he said. “It isn’t bad enough for that.”

“To be ill for four days together isn’t like Haner,” Penn said, rousing himself. “I’ll look in on her myself later.”

“There’s no need, you’ll just disturb her,” Daverak said.

“We’ll see her tomorrow in any case,” Sher said, deciding it was better not to annoy Daverak on this issue now. “We must speak to you about that.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Daverak spread his claws. “I told you yesterday. Avan is attacking me, attacking my perfectly justified behavior. If he didn’t think it justified, as you argued with me at the time, Penn, then he should have said then, or said something to me later.”

“He seems to have managed to distress you considerably,” Sher said, trying to sound sympathetic.

“He has destroyed all my peace, and probably driven my wife to her death with worry,” Daverak said. “Before all this started I was a calm and contented dragon, taking care of my demesne, enjoying Irieth in season, watching my family grow. Now I am a mass of nerves.”

“Over such a little thing, really,” Sher said, consolingly.

“It’s not little,” Daverak snapped, blood from the swine dripping down his jaws. “It questions my integrity. I will not have things like that said about me.”

“Well, we don’t condone saying them,” Sher said. “We just want you to agree not to call Penn.”

“But Penn’s evidence is central,” Daverak said, looking at Penn, who had not touched his meat. “Penn was at his father’s deathbed. Penn can tell us what his father said then.”

“If Penn does that, his career and prospects will be ruined and he will be disgraced,” Sher said.

Daverak didn’t seem to hear for a moment, there was silence and all three waited. “I’m sorry to hear it,” Daverak said after a moment.

“You surely don’t want your brother-in-law, the uncle of your dragonets, disgraced and thrown out of the Church?” Sher asked.

Penn cast his eyes down and ground his teeth audibly.

Daverak frowned. “But why would he be?”

“Because I heard my father’s confession on his deathbed, and gave him absolution,” Penn said, very quietly. “They will call me an Old Believer and cast me out.”

“Do you have to tell them that?” Daverak asked.

Sher and Penn looked at each other, eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?” Sher asked.

“Why mention it? Why not just tell them that Avan is wrong, it wasn’t what your father meant.”

“I cannot lie, Daverak,” Penn said. “Even if I could lie outright like that, I will be under oath. They will ask me exactly what my father said. It would be perjury.”

“Nobody will know,” Daverak said.

The piece of meat that had been in Sher’s mouth fell to the ground.

“I think we will see Haner and then go,” Penn said, in a very controlled voice.

“You cannot think it better to be disgraced than to lie,” Daverak said, cajolingly.

“Any right-thinking dragon would,” Sher said. “Now we will leave. But first, take us to Haner,” Sher said.

“I can’t,” Daverak said, his eyes whirling uncomfortably.

“Why not?” Penn asked, frowning.

“You can’t come here and insult me and then demand to do what you want in my establishment.”

“I wish to see my sister, who is unwell,” Penn said.

Sher pushed the dining room door open and caught hold of a passing servant, who trembled in his grasp. “Take me to Respected Haner Agornin,” he demanded. The servant looked past him to Daverak, clearly terrified.

“No!” Daverak roared, flame shooting from his mouth.

The servant twisted free and fled down the corridor. Sher and Penn followed him, Daverak on their heels.

Haner’s room, with the great pile of stones outside it, was easy to see.

“I can explain,” Daverak said, sounding almost apologetic.

Sher looked down his snout at him. “I doubt it. You can, however, help in removing these stones.”

It took some time to clear the way to the door. They did not speak as they worked. Sher wondered if Daverak was quite mad, and how long piling the stones must have taken. They were clearly the stones from a number of guest beds. He must have brought them out of spare sleeping caves and piled them here. He feared for how long ago it might have been. He needed Haner to approve of him, what would Selendra do if her sister had starved to death?

At length it was possible to open the door. Penn opened it and went in, calling Haner’s name. Sher heard her croak an answer. Penn came out carrying a limp form, so pale a gold as to be almost green.

“Daverak—” he said angrily, breaking a long silence.

Sher interrupted him. “Daverak, I think you are a disgrace to the order of the Illustrious.” He strove to keep each word distinct and clear.

Daverak swung around to face him. “That is an insult,” he observed, conversationally.

Sher almost laughed, though it was the correct response to his challenge. He had learned the code long ago, but never used it, never even thought of using it. “It would be an insult if you were a dragon,” he said, his next line, if he did not want to back away. He had no intention of it. He would have fought at that moment, had it been possible.

“I will send a friend to you.”

“You will find me in my House,” Sher said.

Penn struggled forward with Haner. Her eyes were half closed. “We need to take her home right away,” he said. His voice was choked with tears.

“She’ll recover,” Sher said, more confidently than he felt.

They left Daverak speechless.

Avan was barely intimidated by the Court this time. He was too worried that Sebeth had not come home all night. He wondered if he would ever see her again, if she had found some stronger protector, if she thought he would lose everything in this case. He had come to care for her more than he should, he knew, but he had not thought she would go off without a word like that and not return. He missed her. He hoped she had not come to some misfortune on a solitary adventure, and knew he might never know if she had.

Hathor looked confident, his three wigs on the slab before him. “The jury are half on your side already,” he assured Avan as he
sat down. The jury, all seven of them, crouched on the steps below the judges’ seats. They were all staring at Avan, or at Daverak, who was glowering at him from behind his three attorneys.

Behind them, around the walls, the witnesses stood. “Don’t look ’round, but your sisters just came in,” Hathor said, looking round. “One of them looks awfully pale.”

“Which one?”

“How would I know? They’re with a priest and a lord.”

“The priest must be Penn, but I don’t know who the lord is. Can I look?” Avan was worried.

“It doesn’t make a good impression on the jury if you twist about. Don’t worry, the lord’s coming over to us.”

Avan looked up to see a bronze dragon, sixty feet long. He recognized him, from Penn’s wedding, and from the holidays he had taken at Agornin as a dragonet, just as he was introducing himself. “Good day. I am the Exalted Sher Benandi,” he said, pleasantly. “I am betrothed to your sister Selendra.”

“Nobody told me,” Avan said. “Congratulations.” The first thing he thought of, naturally, was Selendra’s premature coloring at Agornin. Had everything gone smoothly? He could not possibly ask.

“Congratulations,” Hathor put in. “But the judges will be coming out any moment, you should go back to the wall.”

“It’s quite recent,” Sher said, gently ignoring this. “The thing is that yesterday I had reason to challenge Daverak’s fitness to belong to the Illustrious Order. He’s had time to send to me, but he hasn’t seen fit to do so. I’ll be making the demand, today, in Court, that he fight me. I’d like to do that at a time that doesn’t interfere too much with the prosecution of your case.”

“You’re planning to kill him?” Hathor asked. Avan could only gape.

“Oh yes,” Sher said, casually.

“Will they say it’s fair?” Hathor jerked a claw towards the steps for the judge and jury.

“Oh, I should think so. He’s ten feet shorter than me, but he has fire and I don’t. Undoubtedly they’ll let us fight if we do it properly here. Judges are supposed to like to see blood spilled, after all. Now, I’d also like to have this case settled against Daverak.”

“Wait until afterwards then,” Hathor said. “We’ll win. Look at the jury.”

“No, I need to do it before he calls Blessed Agornin to give evidence,” Sher said.

“Ah,” Hathor said. “Wait until I’ve established what the will means and what a bully he is then.”

“He has shut up Respected Haner Agornin and starved her in an attempt to bully her into complying with his wishes that she give false evidence,” Sher said. At this point Avan just had to risk a rapid glance behind. Selendra looked beautiful, and wore jewels in her hat, but was a clear and shining gold. Gold? Still? How did Sher feel about that? Haner looked pale, as Hathor had said, but resolute.