“Wait!” Janel cried out.
Duke Kaen turned. “Yes?”
“I plead for mercy.”
Brother Qown bit down on his fingers to keep from shouting at her. He felt torn between concern and pride.
The hall fell silent once more.
Duke Kaen tilted his head. “What did you say?”
“I plead for mercy, Your Grace.” Janel pointed to the chest. “How are we to know who was involved with that? Your wives aren’t the only ones with permission to enter those quarters. Senera didn’t need permission to enter. Can Wyrga come and go as she wishes?”
That made Kaen pause. “Yes.”
Behind him, Wyrga made horrible faces but didn’t speak.
“So perhaps the reason your wives couldn’t answer your question is because they didn’t know the answer.”
“Are you forgetting Veixizhau tried to kill you? Sacrifice you to a dead goddess? She at least is quite guilty. And no one tried to stop her either. None of my ‘wives’ called for the guards. And let’s be clear: more than my wives conspired in this. Darzin D’Mon and Sir Oreth are implicated at minimum, and then they involved my son. They’d have seen you dead and smiled at themselves for a job well done.”
Janel’s face set into a stubborn cast. “I seek clemency for your wives,” she repeated. “Even if a few wives knew what Veixizhau planned, they couldn’t all have known. I ask Xivan to spare them.”
Xivan stepped forward. “Spare them? Why?”
Qown asked himself the same question. Not that he wanted to see them executed, but Janel seemed to have something specific in mind.
Janel turned to Xivan. “Because they’re prisoners. Because they’ve spent years living in a fine gold cage, and the only power they’ve ever had is what they hoped to gain by capturing one man’s attention. Is it any wonder these women thought their only recourse was to eliminate competition?”
The wives who were not weeping gave Janel odd looks. She might as well have spoken a foreign language for as much as they’d understood her meaning.
Xivan tilted her head. “What are you suggesting, child?”
Janel spread her arms as if to take in the whole court. “You’re already training Talea. Why not expand that? Train these women too. Give them a chance to be something beyond hostages and trade goods.”
Xivan frowned. “Now why would I do that?”
“How many women did Yor lose when Quur invaded? How many died who could’ve taken up arms to help defend this land? How is that different from what Khorvesh suffered when the morgage invaded? Didn’t the women of Khorvesh take up arms then? Isn’t that the reason you and every other woman of Khorvesh wear swords now?”
Xivan blinked. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it? Most of these women are likely innocent, but you and I both know innocence is no shield against a sword.”
The duke cleared his throat. “These women aren’t warriors.”
“Not yet,” Janel responded. “But we can change that. Why does Yor lock away the people it forces to be women, when what you should be doing is training them? They should be taking up sword and shield to defend their homes. Why deny yourselves the support of half your population?”2
The duke blinked at Janel in stunned surprise.
Then the whole room erupted in laughter. Mocking laughter, scornful laughter. Janel had made a fine joke. Of the men, only Exidhar looked unhappy. The rest thought she was adorable and hilarious. Woman warriors? Comical.
Every woman scowled.
Finally, the laughter quieted. Janel stood in the center, hands locked into fists.
Brother Qown felt for her. It had been a worthy attempt. What Yoran would ever listen to such a heretical notion? Most Quuros wouldn’t have either.
“I like it,” Xivan said.
Duke Kaen turned to her. “What?” Then he chuckled. “My darling, it’s a terrible idea.”
“Why? Don’t we need soldiers?” Then she added, “Besides, it’s not your decision.”
The whole hall seemed to hold its breath.
The undead duchess raised an eyebrow. “You gave these women to me. Just a few minutes ago.”
“Don’t twist my words, wife. I gave them to you for you to execute, the same as all the other condemned I send down to the caves to sate your hunger.” Duke Kaen held up a hand before Xivan could make any further protest. He turned to Janel. “I’ll give them to my wife in truth, but since you’re the one asking for mercy, you’re the one who will pay the price.”
Janel grew wary. “Price?”
“I asked for your assistance in a matter just before your adventure outside the palace walls. Now I want your word that you will give me that aid. I want your vow of loyalty.” His smile was dark. “What is it the Joratese call it? Your thudajé? I want your thudajé.”
Janel looked like she’d been struck. The court murmured among themselves. They were perplexed. Why did their duke care about a woman’s loyalty? Even the women seemed to be asking themselves the same question. They probably assumed Kaen was adding another Khorveshan woman to his collection, even though Janel was “married” to Relos Var.
“Well?” the duke said. “I won’t ask again.”
Janel fell to her knees and bent her head. She said something softly.
“What was that?”
Janel looked up. “I said I pledge myself to your service, Your Grace.”
Qown heard a gasp and then realized it had come from him.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it, Janel Danorak? But let’s do this properly.” He gestured to one of the attendants while saying something in a language Qown didn’t understand.
Immediately, a large man with a tightly curled beard and shaved head stepped forward. He wore so much jewelry in that beard it was a wonder he could even move his head. Whatever he said to the duke, it was clear the man wasn’t happy.
The duke responded in kind, his tone dismissive.
The courtier stormed out of the great hall, and several other men followed.
Meanwhile, the attendant came back with an open wooden box. Kaen reached inside and pulled out a piece of jewelry, very similar in style to the jewelry in his own beard, the jewelry in the beards of many of the men in the room. He separated a lock of Janel’s laevos and threaded the band around the base. “Repeat after me: as the winter is cold, I cleave to the protection of my king.”
“As the winter is cold, I cleave to the protection of my king,” Janel repeated.
Another jeweled band came out of the box, this one slightly different in design. “As the winter is long, I protect my people in his name.”
She repeated this. He laced the band around another lock of hair.
“As the winter is hard, I will overcome our enemies.” Again, he granted her another jeweled piece as she repeated his words.
“Until the winter ends, my life belongs to Yor.” The same ritual repeated.
The whole time, the crowd was silent and wide-eyed. Qown wondered if this was some sort of knighthood, the sort that wasn’t associated with tournament contests and commodity trading. That might explain why that courtier had been so furious. Duke Kaen finished lacing the last jeweled band into her hair and then stepped back. “Now I name you hand, extension of my will. Rise.”