Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(50)

"Hennea - she's another Traveler Raven like Mother," said Lehr. "You met her, but there were a lot of other people you met at the same time. You might not remember her. My sister Rinnie is there, too. She's ten."

He remembered Hennea, and any daughter of Tier's could be trusted. The murmuring had died down from the loft, and Tier climbed down. His limp was better than it had been when he'd left Taela.

Seraph followed him. When she turned, and the lantern caught her face, Phoran could see that Lehr hadn't been exaggerating. She looked as though she hadn't had any sleep in weeks.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Phoran told her.

"Nonsense," she said - and somewhat to his discomfort she patted him on the cheek before shuffling over to the bench. She sat down upon it and braced her elbows so her arms could hold her head up.

Everyone was there. It was time to begin his story, but he couldn't for the life of him decide where to start.

"I imagine cleaning up the Path was not an easy business," said Tier, after he'd seated himself next to Seraph. "Why don't you begin there."

Phoran found that he couldn't sit, and he couldn't watch them while he talked.

Chapter 8

Two Weeks Earlier in the Emperor's Palace in Taela

"My Septs, We thank you for your patience in hearing out this trial over the past weeks." The Emperor's voice rang in the huge chamber where most of the Septs of the Empire gathered.

Phoran had practiced this moment in the privacy of his own rooms. He had gone over the reasons for doing it this way with his closest advisors. Phoran had played out all the scenarios, and this one worked the best.

"We have acted upon Our Own powers to grant pardon to all the young men known formerly as the Passerines of the Path. First because of their defense of Our Own Person, and second, so We could use their eyewitness accounts to bring to an end the era of the Secret Path, a clandestine group that has been plotting the destruction of the Empire from within."

He paused, giving the Septs a chance to whisper with their advisors and colleagues. Some of the Passerines were sons of the Septs, mostly third or fourth sons who had caused their families no end of misery. Surely some of the Septs were glad Phoran had taken on the task of making useful men of their miscreants.

He'd offered each of the young men a place in the newly created Emperor's Own, his own personal guard. Most of them had accepted. He wasn't certain if that was a good thing or not - they had been chosen by the Path, after all, as the most amoral and corruptible young nobles of their generation.

"You have heard the testimony of these men, now Our Own, and also that of Avar, who is Sept of Leheigh and Our Own trusted counselor. We have also told you those things We observed Ourselves."

Phoran secretly loved speaking of himself in the first-person royal. It struck him as an absurd but utterly effective way to remind them all that he - however unsuited for the job they thought him - was emperor. He glanced casually at the Septs, who had been sitting in their seats off and on for the better part of a week and were doubtless looking forward to getting the whole business over with. Of course, they only thought they knew what was going to happen.

"These testimonies," Phoran continued, "were given to you to bring secret things out into the light where they might fade away and die, a threat no more. They were, moreover, given over for your judgment." They waited now, he knew, for him to call for a verdict, a vote of guilt or innocence.

He had practice in showmanship, Phoran thought, though most of the men sitting in their exalted seats would not have noticed the way he'd orchestrated his drunken revels, manipulating the attendees for his own jaded amusement.

"But these, Our enemy, will find their justice from Us." He gave the Septs no chance to murmur, but glanced down at the parchment that lay on his podium and began to read the long list of names aloud - merchants, guardsmen, generals, and minor nobles for the most part, but some few were royal servants. "These men all We find guilty of murder, conspiracy to commit murder - " and a dozen lesser charges that he recited with slow precision.

"These men We sentence to hanging. This shall be forthwith accomplished in the main market square, five each day until all be dead."

He could have left this judgment to the Septs. Then all those deaths would be on their shoulders, not his. He had no doubt that the Septs would have found each of those men guilty.

"But these are not the only men who stand accused." And this next group, no doubt, would have escaped justice if it had depended upon the Council of Septs. "Bring forth the Septs who stand accused."

During this trial, he had succeeded in proving at least one emperor - Phoran's own father - had been murdered. If he allowed the Council to set those murderers free, it would set a precedent he preferred to avoid.

He set the parchment down upon his podium and waited as his guardsmen brought in the thirteen Septs he'd been able to bring to trial. There were others who should have stood trial, guilty men who were too powerful for the evidence he could have brought against them. He was careful to keep his eyes off those men - among them Gorrish, the Council head.

The Septs came in, each man gagged and his hands bound behind his back. Each was escorted by two young men in green and grey, the colors of Phoran's personal Sept, hastily resurrected for a uniform for the Emperor's Own, a gold songbird in flight embroidered on the left shoulder.