“What?” roared Lord Krayliss. “You think to bring this charge against me now, and call it justice!”
He rose to his feet, a hand to the hilt of his sword. About the circle of lords others also rose, officers and soldiers interposing, sword hands at the ready. At Damon's side, Myklas also made to rise, but Damon restrained him with a hand, and gave him a warning look. Koenyg stood before the king's throne imposing in his cloak of royal black. Behind, and up the length of the great hall, nobles and soldiers from each of Lenayin's eleven provinces also rose, smelling a fight.
“Lord Krayliss,” Koenyg announced coldly, his voice loud enough that all could hear. “You were brought to Baen-Tar by Prince Damon on the understanding that you were placing yourself within the protection of the king's law! Your violations of the king's law are profound for all to see. You do not deny that you slew Great Lord Rashyd Telgar of Hadryn. The king deems it fit for you to be judged before a council of lords this Rathynal, as the king wishes the people of Lenayin to observe the justice of all Lenayin, and not merely the justice of its king. Do you wish to object to the king's law, and would you also reject its protections from the rightful revenge of the new Great Lord Usyn?”
“Object?” Lord Krayliss bellowed. “I agreed to be judged by your Verenthane law on the condition of the presence of Sashandra Lenayin! And now you wish to conduct this justice without her presence?”
At Koenyg's back, King Torvaal sat upon his throne and watched, his eyes impassive.
“The Lady Sashandra has acted against the express wishes of the king,” Koenyg replied, “and has consorted with troublemakers. She forfeits her right to be present at the first day of Rathynal as the Nasi-Keth's representative.”
“Oh aye, how convenient!” Krayliss turned to confront the crowd, with an expansive, theatrical gesture. “This is what we get to replace the good Prince Krystoff! Never was there a law or an honourable agreement that this man could not find a way to sneak around like a filthy, cheating coward!”
A roar of outrage followed and swords about the circle of lords were half drawn. Men yelled for the Lord of Taneryn's head on the spot. Behind the Taneryn flag that hung above Krayliss's chair, ten of Krayliss's senior men placed hands near their swords, a wild-haired, disreputable corner of an otherwise impeccably groomed gathering. Koenyg raised both hands, unmoved. The circle's fury, and that of the seated gathering behind, subsided.
Krayliss's eyes gleamed with triumph. He thought he'd won, Damon reckoned. Submit Sashandra to the trial, and risk revealing the truth of her Goeren-yai sympathies…or withhold her, thus breaking her agreement. That was the dilemma he had presented to the king and Koenyg. Now, he was the aggrieved lord, having suffered a great injustice at the hands of the Verenthane king. His stage was set.
“Look at you all!” Krayliss snarled at the furious men standing about the circle. “Verenthane pets! Do any of you know the wishes of the Goeren-yai of your provinces, the ones as whose lords you pompously style yourselves? Do any of you care to guess what shall happen to you when they hear of this outrage?” He strutted forward, bristling with self-righteous rage. “So brave you look, surrounded by your Verenthane cronies, and your inbred, sister-buggering uncles and cousins…”
Lord Kumaryn of Valhanan gave a roar of rage and drew his sword clear with a ring that echoed the clear length of the hall.
“HOLD!” Koenyg yelled, pulling his own sword clear.
Red-faced, Lord Kumaryn glared at his prince, gulping air like a stranded fish. “Highness!” he protested. “A man can only take so much!”
“A man can take all of this and more if his prince commands it!” Koenyg retorted. “And he shall!”
“How long will your bravery last, Lord Kumaryn?” Lord Krayliss roared at him. “You think your honour in tatters now? What of the honour you have stolen from your people? Will you be so defiant when all those neglected thousands arrive on the doorstep of your great Cryliss mansion, weapons raised in anger, and demand restitution for all the honour of which you have deprived them?”
“The Goeren-yai do not follow you!” Kumaryn yelled, trembling with rage. “All through the villages of Valhanan, they call you a fool, and a troublemaker!”
“And you think they will follow you?” Krayliss retorted. “All the way to Larosa to murder serrin children while they sleep? And what's this?” With feigned disbelief, staring about the circle of lords. “I count only ten flags! Even a pagan Goeren-yai has enough education to know that there are eleven provinces in Lenayin!”
He put a hand to his chest, in mock disbelief. “Where are the Hadryn? Where indeed, I wonder! I'll tell you where! They're off murdering the Udalyn in their valley! Just last night I received two small Udalyn children into my refuge! They had come from Ymoth, where the Hadryn had pillaged and burned! And how is it that the Hadryn feel so emboldened, we all wonder, when the Verenthane kings of Lenayin have always forbidden them in the past?
“They struck a deal with the king, didn't they?” He levelled a hard finger at Torvaal's throne. “I see you hiding back there, little king! You cannot hide behind your heir forever! You needed the north's support for your lowlands war and so now they have free rein to slaughter whomever they want, don't they? Lady Sashandra brought a child to you this morning to beg for the lives of the Udalyn, didn't she? And you were so offended that anyone should dare to care enough for the lives of a bunch of shaggy-headed pagans that you barred her in her room, and thought to spring this trial upon the last remaining pagan lord in her absence!”
“If you wish to make complaint against the king's rule,” Torvaal said heavily from his throne, “then there are formal ways and means of doing so.”
“No longer!” Krayliss thundered, with a thrust of his finger. “The time of rule by Verenthane kings is over! No more do we play by your corrupted and honourless rules! I declare Taneryn is no longer within the Kingdom of Lenayin! The last, free corner of Lenayin is free from the Verenthane yoke once and for all! I reject this Rathynal, I reject this city, and I reject you, Master Torvaal! Men of Taneryn, arise, we are leaving! And let it be known that any Goeren-yai from any province who wishes to ride in haste and save our brother Udalyn from annihilation, we shall welcome you with open arms!”
And with that, Lord Krayliss of Taneryn and his contingent of nobles and warriors strode for the hall's central aisle, and made for the great doors at the end.
“Let them leave!” Koenyg called, standing still upon the centre of the vast eight-pointed star splayed in tile across the hall's floor. Above soared the great palace dome, its ceiling alive with a mural—King Soros upon a white steed, leading his army of holy warriors to victory over the Cherrovan. Pagan Cherrovan fleeing his holy light, while pagan Lenays fall to one knee, in awe and gratitude. “They are but a crazed few from a dying breed. Let them leave.”
Damon stared at his brother's cloaked back in disbelief. “I don't believe you just said that,” he muttered, so that none but Myklas could overhear.
Myklas frowned. “It's true, isn't it?”
“A lot of men are about to die needlessly,” Damon said quietly. He unclenched his fist from the armrest of the chair with difficulty, watching the last of the Taneryn contingent file out, with contemptuous glares at the watching Verenthanes on all sides. “Sasha was right, brother. Damn her for a pain in the neck, but she was right all along.”