Oath of Fealty

20

On the way downstairs, the boy asked question after question: what had happened, where were the others, where were his parents, where had Dorrin come from and why, what had been wrong with him and why was he better … on and on. Dorrin answered as well as she could, with what she thought would be good for him to know. That was always less than the full truth, but she tried not to lie.

In the kitchen, Farin recommended broth and dry bread. Mikeli drank a mug of broth and inhaled the bread so fast Dorrin was afraid he’d choke. A little color had come into his pale cheeks.

“Had the crisis this morning, I heard,” Farin said. “Fever gone so fast—is that real, or will he relapse?” She said that quietly, to Dorrin, across the kitchen from Mikeli.

“I believe it to be real,” Dorrin said. “Falk’s grace, I call it.”

“Falk! I’ve never heard my lords and my ladies talk of Falk’s grace.”

“You will hear me do so,” Dorrin said, touching her ruby. “I’m a Knight of Falk, remember.”

The cook gave her a long look. “Does that mean no more of those … with the …” She made a gesture, circle and horns.

“No more priests of Liart, no more blood magery,” Dorrin said. Everyone in the kitchen but Mikeli stopped short and almost cowered. “No more,” Dorrin said, louder. “I am your Duke, and my word is your law, but my word is founded on Falk and the High Lord, not those scum.”

“But—but I—” That was a kitchen maid by the bread oven, a girl perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Dorrin remembered her as one of those who had carried water for her bath. “I—they made me swear to—”

“Be quiet, Efla!” Farin said.

Dorrin walked over to the girl. “Efla, what did they make you swear?”

Tears ran down the girl’s face. “They—they made me swear to him—to Liart—they hurt me and hurt me and I was so scared—”

Dorrin reached out; the girl flinched but Dorrin pulled her closer, into a hug. “Child, the gods forgive such oaths … you are not bound to Liart. You can renounce that oath and take a better one.” The girl sobbed in Dorrin’s arms; Dorrin patted her back. “Efla, listen … listen to me. I’m your Duke now. I’m your protector.”

Efla pulled back a little, gasping out her story through her sobs. “They—they made me—he—he took me—he put his—and a child—they said it—was really—Liart’s—”

Dorrin hugged the girl close again. “It’s all right, Efla. They lied. The Bloodlord’s servants lie to scare people, and lie to trick them, and lie to harm them. If you have a child inside you, it is the human child of whoever raped you, not a god’s child. The Bloodlord cannot engender life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. When did this happen?”

“Ten-days and ten-days afore you came. Right before a lot of them left to go somewhere. It was Hagin, son of Jurin, son of Haron who did it. And—and I don’t know, and—”

“Come, sit down here.” Dorrin led the girl to the stool she herself had sat on that morning. “Bring me a wet cloth,” she said to the others. Motion resumed; the others moved around and Farin brought the cloth.

“Wipe your face,” Farin said to Efla. “What a silly girl, to bother the Duke with all this. And I still think you wanted it, only you got caught and made up all that about being forced—”

“I did not!” Efla said, with another burst of tears. “I was in the pantry there, I told you—”

“I want to hear all her story,” Dorrin said to Farin. “She may have something to tell that will help me clear the last evil from this place. Can you watch Mikeli for me? Will eating too much now make him sicker?”

“Oh!” The cook looked over at the table, where Mikeli was reaching for a pot of honey. “I’ll watch him, never fear.”

“Now, Efla,” Dorrin said. “Can you tell me what happened?”

It was much as she expected. One of the young men had found her in the pantry, late in the evening, when she was finishing the evening audit as assigned. She had been unable to move; he had laughed, fondled her, kissed her, and then forced her to come with him to the old keep, into the dungeon itself. Horrible monsters had been there, dressed in red and black. They’d tortured a kitten in front of her and rubbed her face in its blood. They’d hurt her under her clothes, and laughed at her, and the man—Hagin—had hurt her most between her legs. They’d threatened worse, showing her the tools, the fire, and made her swear eternal loyalty to Liart of the Horned Chain.

“I didn’t want to … but it hurt so much …”

“And now you think you’re with child?”

Efla hung her head; Dorrin could barely hear her voice. “I didn’t bleed.”

“If you are with child, I promise you again it is a human child, not a demon’s. Those monsters were human men, in robes and masks … not anything but that.”

“And the Bloodlord won’t come to take me away if I … if I unsay it?”

“No. But you can’t undo what’s done, or unsay what’s said … you can say differently this time.”

“They said we all had to,” Farin said. Now she looked worried; the other kitchen help edged nearer. “And once we swore, the Bloodlord would know and we could never get away.”

“That’s not true,” Dorrin said. “Anyone can turn from evil if they want to; the gods act through people—through us.” Almost always; Paks had that circle on her forehead through a direct act, but she was a paladin.

Thinking of Paks, she thought of the Duke—the king, she reminded herself yet again. She counted the days … was it two or three until the Spring Evener? She looked around the great rooms, dimming as the winds brought a layer of cloud across the sun … nothing like the palace in Chaya, full of color and life. So easy to imagine the bustle of servants, guests, the talk and the laughter, the music—no. That was self-pity, and she would not indulge.

She found Selfer still supervising the removal of salvageable items from the tower. “Shall we burn it now, or hope that’s rain enough to keep any flames from the other buildings?” he asked.

“I’m thinking perhaps we should do it on the Spring Evener,” Dorrin said. “A day of renewal and also balance, restoration.”

“I think you’re right,” he said. “But if it rains—”

“Barrels of oilberries,” Dorrin said. “We’ve enough oil to burn even the old dry wood. In fact, we can start pouring that on it now. And light it on the Eve.”

“We can call it an honor to the king at his coronation,” Selfer said, grinning.

“And it will be,” Dorrin said. “If I could, I’d light fires for him all the way to Aarenis.”