Figurehead

thirty-eight

One of the guards flings the doors open, and our footsteps echo in the space of the meeting hall. Most of the guards keep watch outside or return to their previous positions.

If other attackers had come, or if we had been ambushed or if Kir had had reinforcements, the guards would have been far too late. How many of them can we really trust? For now, I push the thought of my mind, realising suddenly just how tired I am.

Dein sits on the throne, seemingly unharmed, although his jaw is clenched. It could be from anger, or pain, or both. But at least I can see a slight loosening of his shoulders when he sees me walk in. It doesn't last. I must look like I want to kill someone. Strangely enough, I was quite close to doing just that.

The guards set Kir down on the end of the table, ignoring her quiet groan as she stirs. There are others similarly restrained already on the table, seething in hatred. Healers attend to some and they attend to Tui when they see her. I wave Miek away.

The doors close with a great and rumbling thud.

"Treason," Dein announces, voice low and full of fury. "Committed by you, you who were appointed as trusted messengers or as members of the Sirdiu in order to loyally serve this empire. You have failed to uphold your responsibilities. You have failed me. More importantly, you have failed the people."

"Lies!" someone spits. "The people want you dead! We're just making it happen!"

"And yet I'm still alive," he counters mildly. He rises to his feet, voice darkening. "For treason, I sentence each one of you to the mines. Never will you set foot beyond the border of Derinstu. You will each be inked forever as criminals and your titles, your honours, will be stripped away."

Lus, seated at his left, hands him a bowl of ink and a marking-brush.

One by one, Dein moves along the table, placing on each of their wrists ink that marks them as traitors of the Escatin and of the people. Each man and woman struggles against him, some spitting, some trying to scratch him or grab at him, but he remains unfazed.

Once finished, he returns to the other end of the table, setting the bowl of ink and the marking-brush in front of his kin, the first heir. "Take them to Derinstu immediately," he orders. "I never want to see them again."

The guards dip their heads and obey in silence, carrying the criminals out of the room as the doors are pushed open again.

The healers begin streaming out of the room. Dein calls one of them. "Tell the people I will address them at half-day." He dips his head and leaves. The guards pull the doors closed again behind them.

The room feels suddenly so much colder, so much emptier, with the four of us alone remaining. I can't look at Lus as he sits there, watching us. Tui crosses the space, placing Kir's long knives on the table where they glint in the firelight.

"We were attacked by a trusted messenger named Kir," she says. "These were hers."

Lus straightens. "Her name was mentioned in Riu's message, wasn't it?" His words are slowly spoken, his voice low. Cautious. Dangerous. Tui and I share a glance but I can only shrug limply, avoiding Lus' gaze. I can't tell him. Knowing the truth weighs my heart down enough. His heart is broken. Knowing what we know now will shatter the remaining pieces underfoot.

I can feel Dein's gaze on me, flicking between me and Tui, who I can no longer meet the gaze of either. I can't meet Dein's. I can't meet any of theirs.

Lus rises unsteadily to his feet, slamming his fists down on the table. "What did she do?" he snarls. His voice is almost a roar. The staff, which had been leaning against the table, drops with a clatter to the ground in the silence that follows. Silence broken only by his strained breaths.