Siegfried cuts her off, turning to Adain. ‘Take me there. Aderyn –’ he leads me a little way from the guard and the housekeeper, lowering his voice – ‘perhaps you should wait here while I see the alderman. I might get more information from him alone.’
‘But –’
‘I know how important this is to you. But really, I think it’s for the best. You trust me, don’t you?’
It’s hard for me to argue. He knows his dominion, and I don’t. ‘You know I do. I’ll explore the town a little.’
‘I won’t be long. You –’ he points at the housekeeper – ‘show Her Grace whatever she wishes to see.’ Siegfried takes my hand, as he has done before, but to my surprise he turns it over and kisses my palm before he and the guard stride off.
Why did he do that?
‘Your Grace?’
I realise the woman has asked me a question. ‘What did you say?’
‘May I fetch my gloves, Your Grace?’
‘Oh, of course.’
The woman is back again within a couple of minutes, breathing hard. I guess she’s run up and down at least one set of stairs.
‘What would you like to see, my lady?’
‘I’d like to know the names of some local things. There was some curious blue glass on a stall, and a sort of pinkish fruit …’
She nods and leads me down into the square. At first, I enjoy my tour. I owe my knowledge of the world outside Merl almost entirely to books, and I’ve a long list of places I want to visit for myself. Sights like the Pyre Flames north of Fenian, and the ruins of the city of Palia, on the island of Marris. Seeing a new place with my own eyes is fascinating. We find a glassblower, who tells me that the blue colour of the glass comes from the addition of a type of metal called goblin. My guide takes me to a lacemaker, a silversmith, and a grocer, where I discover that the pink fruit is a citrine. All the people I meet seem prosperous and healthy.
And yet, they are also, clearly, terrified of me. They answer my questions because they must. But they won’t look at me. They offer me their goods and seem confused when I decline because I have no means of paying for them. I’m confused too, until my guide explains local custom: the nobles in Olorys are not required to pay for that which they take from the flightless.
My lack of knowledge about the rest of the kingdom shames me. Perhaps Turik is right. Perhaps Lucien would make a better Protector than me. I decide to return to the house and wait for Siegfried there, and begin telling my guide as much, when I’m distracted by shouts and cries coming from the courtyard of a large building nearby.
‘What’s that?’
The housekeeper twists her apron between her hands. ‘It’s only the justice house, Your Grace, nothing you would wish to see.’
‘But what’s going on?’
‘The court’s been summoned today, Your Grace, so perhaps we should –’ She stops, pressing her hand to her chest as a child’s voice rings out above the noise.
‘Mother! Mother, please don’t let them –’
The cry catches at my heart. I run towards the doorway. The guards there call out for me to stop, but I ignore them: they recognise what I’m wearing and don’t dare to detain me. The people thronging the courtyard don’t notice me at first, but I order them to let me through, throwing as much authority into my voice as I can. They look around and realise I’m a noble and scramble out of my way, and I’m soon at the front of the crowd.
There is a family there, ringed by guards. I can tell they’re a family – the two children are an obvious blend of their parents – but each of them is bound to a stake, with logs and kindling piled at their feet. Bound and gagged. Even the youngest child, who can be no more than three or four. Two of the guards carry flaming torches.
‘What is going on here?’
‘I think the question, Your Grace,’ someone calls out, ‘is what you are doing here?’
I recognise the voice. But surely, surely it can’t be …
Patrus of Brithys, my would-be husband, is sitting in the gallery overlooking the courtyard. Next to him is a glum-faced man with bright orange hair, yellowish skin and blue eyelids – a member of a gannet family. He looks from me to Patrus, bewildered.
I ignore him and address Patrus. ‘Will you please tell me, my lord, why these people are bound like this?’ My limbs have begun to tremble as the cold of the antidote worms its way into my core; I clutch my robe tighter around me and hope that no one will notice.
Patrus rises and makes his way down from the gallery to stand in front of me. ‘There is no need for you to be concerned, my dear lady. These flightless were accused of breaking a Decree, they confessed to breaking a Decree and they are to be punished accordingly. Since the offence took place on Brithyan territory, I am here to see the sentence carried out.’
I glance at the young woman tied to the second stake. She can’t be much older than me, and she’s staring at me, weeping silently. ‘What Decree did they break?’
‘The man was found to be in possession of a bow, complete with arrows. A capital offence, as you will be aware. Fortunately Brithyan guards are highly trained. I hope to have the chance to introduce similar standards to Atratys one day.’ He bows and simpers at me.
I bite my lip, wondering what I can do. Patrus is correct: possession of a bow is punishable by death. It always has been. But I also know, from what Lord Lancelin has told me, that the flightless who live in the countryside will often take the risk; a bow enables them to catch game that otherwise would escape. And if the choice is to hunt with a bow or starve …
‘But why are his wife and children condemned?’
‘The punishment allotted is that the transgressor should witness the execution of his entire family before being put to death himself. The Decree is quite clear on the matter.’
‘But no one enforces the Decree that way, not any more! And to execute them in such a manner … In Atratys –’
‘Ah.’ Patrus holds up a stubby finger. ‘But we are not in Atratys, Your Grace.’ His smile fades. ‘You have no authority here.’
‘Neither do you – we’re not in Brithys either.’
Patrus merely nods at the nearest torch-bearer. ‘Set them on fire.’
The anticipation in his voice sickens me. I run between the encircling guards to block the path of the young man with the torch. ‘No further! I am a Protector – do you understand? I am niece to the king himself. And if you burn them –’ I hold up my bare hands, threatening – ‘I’ll burn you.’
He stops. There’s fear in his eyes – doubt – reluctance.
Patrus has gone red in the face. ‘Carry out your orders, or you will all be punished!’ He lifts the thick wooden rod he is carrying and brings it down across the back of the nearest guard. The man staggers and grunts in pain. ‘Hurry up.’
One guard takes half a step towards me. ‘My lady, please –’
‘Aderyn?’ Siegfried is walking through the silent crowd. ‘Is everything well here?’ For a long moment he stares at Patrus. ‘Perhaps His Grace of Brithys would care to explain what he is doing in a town in my dominion?’