The physic nodded, turning back to his patient. Before we left, I looked back down at the injured boy. I could smell his blood and sweat—or perhaps it was the smell of the hospital in general. What is going on in our city? I knew Tain well enough to leave him to his own thoughts, but watched him as we walked, storm brewing.
* * *
That storm erupted in the Council meeting in the morning.
“Do you know what the physic treating him told me?” Tain asked the assembled room of Councilors—some more disheveled than usual. He had relayed the story with a deceptively calm tone, but the faces of the Councilors below me suggested most detected the emotion simmering under that facade. Tain had always wanted to be liked more than he wanted to be respected. Perhaps only Jov and I truly knew what he was like when he stopped caring about making people happy. “He said this was the fourth victim of a beating he’d treated, and there had been at least a dozen similar incidents this week.”
I scanned the room, stiffening. Too many signs flashed before me. Lazar, to Jov’s right, squirmed in his seat. A weak man, buckling under the pressure, unable to even look up from the table. Pedrag’s fingers paled around his rings as he clenched his hands together, and Bradomir smoothed his moustache with more vigor than usual. Marjeta and Budua looked neither nervous nor surprised; both regarded Tain with calm scrutiny. Javesto leaned forward, mouth tight as though straining to hold his desired words in. Varina scowled, though of course that wasn’t unusual, her eyes bloodshot and nose red. I wondered if she was ill. Eliska, though she had acted quickly enough to help the boy yesterday, was pressed back in her seat and hunched as small as possible, as if hoping to be overlooked.
“And the most interesting part was that the physics reported these incidents,” Tain continued. One of his hands made a fist. “They reported it to the Order Guards. Now, what I’d like to know is, are the Order Guards for some reason not reporting properly to each of you in your sectors? Or”—and here he paused, his gaze sweeping the table like two hot coals burning a path around the room—“did someone receive this report but not see fit to bring it to the Council?”
I could have told him, then and there, from the body language around the table—it wasn’t someone. It was most of the Council.
“Well?” Tain demanded. His tone was no longer level, and the tic in his neck had returned. “Who’s going to say what’s going on? I haven’t had time to talk to the Order Guards yet, but presumably they’re going to tell me who they passed it on to, so you might as well talk right now.”
The room stayed silent and brittle. Javesto, never one to control his tongue, was the first to break. “I didn’t get the report,” he said, “but I’ve heard rumors that Darfri in the city were being terrorized. Threatened, beaten, scared half to death. Why do you think they all scarpered?” Javesto pointed a finger around the room. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed, am I though?”
“What are you accusing us of, Credo Javesto?” Bradomir asked. “No one made any report of beatings to me.”
“Nor me,” Pedrag agreed, wringing his hands.
“But you knew something was going on, didn’t you?”
The room descended into bickering and accusations, the volume rising all the while.
“And why didn’t any of you say something?” Tain shouted. He pushed back from the table and stood. “We’ve sat in this room every few days, sometimes even more regularly, for almost two weeks. You’ve got information about our citizens being targeted and attacked and you say nothing? Why?”
“Well, I tried,” Javesto said, his face dark. “But I wasn’t exactly popular when I dared say something about Darfri that wasn’t a call to arms, so do you blame me for not bringing it to the Council?”
“What about the rest of you?” Jov asked, diverting that confrontation. “Who got the report?”
Credola Nara sat back and folded her arms. “I did.” The old spider curled her lip, chin thrust out, as she surveyed the room. “So what? These earthers are outside trying to kill us all, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Darfri,” Tain corrected. “Don’t use that word again, please.”
“You can understand, Honored Chancellor, that tempers and fears are running high within the city,” Bradomir said. He spread his hands. “We are under siege by an army chanting curses at us. People are terrified. Of course it’s silliness, but not a day goes past without someone reporting some supernatural nonsense or another. Faces in the side of the mountain, or plants reaching for them as they walk home at night. Ghostly figures in the canals and invisible hands on their backs. You can see why the sight of some boy praying to the spirits they think are trying to destroy us would enflame that. It’s not to be encouraged, of course—violence is always unsavory. But surely you can see how our citizens might feel—”
“It was ‘our citizens’ being brutalized,” Tain snapped. “Inside our walls. By all the fortunes, what is wrong with you all? We’re fighting a war here, trying to defend our city, and our own people are turning on one another?”
He thumped both fists on the table, causing a few people to jump. “Well, I have at least one of these thugs locked up by now, and I’ve a mind to send a message to the rest of them out there. You know what I call it when people are attacking our own citizens instead of our enemy? I call it without honor, and I call it treason.”
The room hushed. Even I suppressed a gasp at Tain’s choice of word. While I understood his frustrations, if he wasn’t careful he’d make enemies out of everyone around this table.
“Honored Chancellor, you cannot—” Bradomir began, but Tain ignored him, turning instead to Marco.
“Warrior-Guilder, how do we treat treason in a time of war?” he asked, his tone dropping back to normal speaking volume.
Marco cleared his throat. “Treason is generally punishable by death, Honored Chancellor.”
No one spoke. The entire Council stared at Tain, mouths open, eyes wide. Even the ever-composed Bradomir seemed at a complete loss. Only Marco, though clearly uncomfortable, didn’t look shocked—in Perest-Avana, I supposed it was quite normal to talk of executing people. But in Silasta, that sort of barbarity didn’t happen. Tain, what are you doing? The Chancellor leaned over the table, his face hard as he surveyed the room. The Councilors stared back as though looking at a stranger.
Lazar was the first to break the silence. His fat lips quivered. “But … Honored Chancellor, surely we wouldn’t consider … I mean, we’re not savages!”
Marco raised his eyebrows, and I admired again his ability to ignore insults. “There is no greater discouragement for such violence than a punishment so severe none dare risk it,” he said. “The Honored Chancellor makes sense.”
“Well, the Honored Chancellor isn’t a dictator, or an emperor,” Nara said. “This is a Council of equals. And I will not be party to executing Silastians for succumbing to frustration and desperation in a time like this!”
“Nor will I,” Varina said, sniffing angrily. “This is absurd.”
“Absurd would be letting our people destroy themselves before the army out there can do it!” Tain pointed across the table. “Well? What do the rest of you say? As my colleague has pointed out, this is a Council. So let’s hear it. Budua, your Guild is responsible for justice. What say you?”