Chapter 7

“Evidence has been presented against you for the crimes of violating orders, falsifying orders, fraternizing with mages, causing the death of a member of our Order, and conduct unbecoming your station by fraternizing with a disgraced former member. Do you defend yourself from these charges?”

“I do,” Kevik told the assembled tribunal.

Priest Tibon’s lip twitched, as if he hadn’t expected Kevik to speak in his own defense. Sir Jesson had coached him on how to respond.

“Then say what you want to say,” the priest replied.

Kevik stood. “I admit to the charge of falsifying orders. I reject the charge of violating orders—I never received any messages ordering our return to Larso, and the tribunal hasn’t presented any evidence showing that I did. On the charge of fraternizing with mages, it was those mages who spearheaded the assault against the dragon. We had no army, so we had to make do with whoever was willing to help. I’ll remind you, the expedition was assembled by the town of Four Roads. I had no say in its composition.”

“You shouldn’t have been involved at all,” Tibon said. “Field Marshal Tregood himself turned down Four Roads’ request for aid, under the king’s seal and with Knight Commander Sir Noris’s agreement.”

Kevik shrugged. “I never received any orders to that effect. On the charge of fraternizing with Corec Tarwen—” he emphasized the family name to remind the tribunal that Corec was the son of a member of the peerage, “—he commanded the expedition and paid for it. I was hardly in a position to do so myself.”

“Corec Tarwen is a mage and a failed knight. You know very well it goes against our precepts to associate with him.”

Every knight was aware of the strictures against fraternizing with mages, but the lesser charge of unbecoming conduct had been a surprise. Though each knight spoke the oaths, those oaths represented only a tiny fraction of the rules they were expected to obey. The more esoteric were located in musty tomes no one had bothered to read in years, except when the priests wanted to punish someone.

But the conduct charge carried a lesser penalty than the others, and Sir Jesson had warned Kevik that pleading ignorance wouldn’t help his case.

“I did what I did to save lives,” he said. “Without Corec’s help, a lot more innocent people would have died. As for Sir Willem’s death, I will always regret that, but it was the dragon that killed him. I reject the charge.”

“We will take your defense under advisement,” Tibon said, then huddled together with the other three priests, excluding the only knight on the tribunal, Sir Loris. Loris sat back with his arms crossed, glaring at the group.

After a whispered conversation, the priests returned to their seats.

“Well, Sir Loris?” Tibon asked. “Your judgement?”

“I find Sir Kevik responsible in the charge of falsifying orders. He’s admitted that himself. For all other charges, I find him without fault. Circumstances dictated his actions.”

“Of course you would say that,” the priest replied.

Sir Loris pushed his chair back and climbed to his feet, looming over the others at the table. “What are you insinuating, Tibon?”

“Sit down, Loris, unless you want us to hold a second tribunal today.”

Loris returned to his seat, his fingers flexing near where his sword hilt would be if he’d been wearing the blade. But regardless of the circumstances, a Knight of Pallisur couldn’t challenge a Priest of Pallisur to a duel of honor.

Tibon didn’t bother to hold back his smirk as the knight obeyed the command. Turning back to Kevik, the priest said, “In the absence of evidence, the tribunal is willing to drop the charge of violating orders. As for the rest, it seems Sir Loris has been outvoted. In the charge of causing Sir Willem’s death, we find you at fault. In the charges of unbecoming conduct, fraternizing with mages, and falsifying orders, we find you responsible. You are hereby stripped of your knighthood and ordered to depart Fort Hightower immediately.”

Sir Jesson, sitting in the small audience, gave a quick twitch of his head to remind Kevik of the next step.

“I’ll appeal to Telfort,” Kevik said.

“Your appeal will be denied, Mister Kevik. Sir Noris has already approved your expulsion. You have two hours to leave the fortress, and you have until tomorrow at sundown to leave town.”

If Noris was already aware of the outcome, then the tribunal’s vote had been a sham. It would have taken several days to get a pigeon message to Telfort and back. The decision had been made before Kevik had presented his defense—what little defense he could muster.

He held still, standing tall as the others filed out of the room. The Order had been his life since he’d become a page at the age of seven, working his way up to become a squire two years later. He didn’t come from the peerage like Corec, or have a shopkeeper father like Trentin’s who could afford to buy his son a knighthood. This was the only life he could remember. What was he supposed to do with himself now?

Only Sir Jesson remained behind. With Kevik expelled from the Order, nobody wanted to be seen talking to him. Even Sir Loris had disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” Jesson said. “Tibon and his cronies are free to do whatever they want now that the unblessed have taken over the Order. It wouldn’t have happened this way twenty years ago.”

“Noris backed them,” Kevik said.

“He only heard their side of the story. You could try going to Telfort yourself.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

Jesson hesitated. “Honestly, no. Even if Noris agreed to a new tribunal, it would still be made up of the unblessed. I’ve never understood why the true priests left the city. I suppose they figured they could do more good in the smaller towns, and could leave the administrative work to the unblessed, but something’s got to be done about it.”

“Would the blessed priests have reacted any differently to a knight fighting alongside a mage?” Kevik asked. The earliest texts in the scripture decried only dark magic, but the priests of Pallisur had always interpreted that to mean any magic used by someone other than a priest of Pallisur. In the later texts, magic and dark magic had come to mean the same thing.

“I don’t know. We worked with priests of other orders during the North Border War, but wizards? I just don’t know. Do you have family to go to?”

“None worth speaking of.”

Jesson nodded. “I feel like I had this same conversation with Corec. He went off and became a caravan guard. He must have done well for himself, given what you’ve told me. Your skills would certainly be in demand, whether you stay in Larso or not.”

Kevik hadn’t thought that far ahead. Yes, he could find work even in Larso, but the rumors would follow him. His knighthood had been stripped away, and people would learn of it eventually.

Perhaps he should follow Corec’s example and leave the kingdom entirely. Without the Order, what else was holding him here?

“I should get going,” he said, not wanting to prolong the painful conversation. “They only gave me two hours.”

Jesson clasped his forearm. “Thank you for bringing the news about Corec. He doesn’t write much. Is he still at his old boarding house?”

“I don’t know about that, but he said he was planning to stay at the keep and fix up the roads. You could send a courier to him there. Or a pigeon message to Sister Treya at the Three Orders chapter house in Four Roads.”

“Sister Treya? He’s taken a concubine?”

“I didn’t ask.” If Treya was a concubine, she wasn’t like any concubine Kevik had ever met before.

Jesson nodded. “Good luck, then.”

They made their farewells and Kevik hurried to the small room he’d lived in since taking his oaths. No one was there to see him off.

He belted on his sword, then took the armor and shield Corec had given him out to the stable and bundled them onto his mule’s pack saddle. His other weapons all belonged to the Order, so he’d have to leave them behind. When he returned to the stable again with the rest of his belongings, Georg was there waiting for him.

“Going somewhere?” the older knight asked.

Kevik tensed—Georg was armored, and wearing his sword belt. Was he looking for revenge?

“They kicked me out.”

“So I heard. The rumors started before the tribunal was even over. The only question was whether you’d be exiled from the kingdom as well.”

Georg had testified against Kevik at the tribunal, though in fairness, he’d only spoken the truth. Kevik couldn’t fault him for that.

“No, not exiled, but...”

“The free lands?” Georg asked.

“How did you know?”

“It seems to be the place to go for disgraced former knights. You think we can get fortresses too? I wouldn’t mind being landed gentry.”

Kevik blinked in surprise. “Why are you coming? You weren’t expelled.”

“Because it’s bollocks,” Georg said. “We killed a dragon. We should be heroes. Instead, they’re all treating us like we have the plague. It’s about time I retired anyway—I don’t need this nonsense anymore. I was thinking about going for Armsmaster, but Javin gave the job to someone else while we were away.”

Kevik stared at him for a moment. “Well, if you’re going with me, you’d better get your things.”

Georg clicked his tongue and his horse and mule stepped out of their stalls, already saddled and packed.

“Like I told you,” the man said, “everyone knew before the tribunal was over. You got a girl?”

That was private, but what did it matter now? “Her father works for the priests. She hasn’t spoken to me since the tribunal started. You?”

The knight snorted. “What woman would have me?”

“Sir Kevik?” said a high-pitched voice. A page had snuck up on them. He held out a small, folded slip of paper—a pigeon message.

“Not anymore,” Kevik said.

The boy furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Just give him the damned message,” Georg said.

The page handed it over.

Warn Corec he’s in danger. —Barat

Kevik flipped it over but that’s all there was.

In danger? From what? Corec was no longer part of the Order, and no longer subject to its rules. The priests had no say over what happened in the free lands. Even in Larso, there were areas where magic was no longer strictly illegal.

Barat was stationed in Telfort these days, which was probably how he’d heard Kevik had come into contact with their old friend, but why was the message so short? Even for pigeon post, Barat could have added more information than that.

Kevik’s first destination in the free lands had been obvious, given its proximity, but at least now there was a reason for it other than just begging for advice from the last person who’d been expelled from the Order.

“Let’s go,” he told Georg.

The smell of the ocean and the sound of seagulls flying overhead brought back memories as Katrin followed the dirty urchin through the back alleys of the docks district in Circle Bay.

“He’s right through there,” the boy said when they arrived at a seedy gaming den. “They play in the second card room along the far wall. I’m not allowed in.”

“Thank you, Jun,” Katrin said. “Here you go.” She handed him two coppers, twice his normal fee.

He grinned at her. “You’re a good one, Kat,” he said before scampering away.

Katrin took a deep breath and blew it out, then pushed through the swinging door and entered the smoke-filled room. As she made her way around the maze of gaming tables, the more dangerous-looking men in the place glanced up and stared before dismissing her as a threat. Some eyes lingered, but nobody seemed to recognize her.

That changed when she reached the room Jun had indicated. Besides Barz, there were three members of his old crew and two other men she’d never seen before. They were playing a six-hand game that was much trickier than the four-person game Katrin played with her friends. Judging by the way they were seated, they were each playing on their own rather than in teams of two.

“Katrin’s back!” one of the crew said with a grin. “Barz, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Heya, Kat, sing us a song!” another added.

“Leave,” she said, allowing power to flood her voice. “The game is over.”

The five men jumped up and scrambled out of the room without another word. Perhaps she’d overdone it. Barz stared at her, flummoxed, his eyes darting to the door as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Katrin, what...? Why’d you tell them to go? We were in the middle of a game.”

“I didn’t want to wait for you to finish.”

“But I was winning!” Barz said. He’d played the emperor of crowns, and had added both a general and a soldier to his house.

Katrin flipped over two of the cards she’d seen on her way in. “No, you weren’t,” she said. “Melosh had the death of crowns. You’d have had to sacrifice both your other cards to save the emperor, and then the fellow sitting next to him could have played the bard of cups. You’d have been out before the round was over.”

Barz cursed under his breath and tossed his remaining cards on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s how you greet me after all this time?”

He stood and gave her an awkward hug. Barz had never been good at showing emotion. “You’re finally home? Are you staying this time?”

“No, I just came to see you. I’ve got a job for you, if you want it.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re doing a job?”

“Not that kind of job. We took over a fortress in the free lands, and I own a tavern there. I need someone to run it for me. I won’t have time to take care of the place myself.”

“The free lands?” he said. “Why would I want to go to the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s not so bad. We’ve got a whole little village there, and there’s an apartment for you and Ana above the tavern. We don’t have much business yet, but there’ll be trading caravans in the future.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “I don’t know anything about running a tavern.”

“It’s a tavern—it’s not hard. You’d serve drinks and manage the inventory. We don’t have a brewer, so you’ll need to order ale and whiskey from Four Roads. And apple brandy, apparently. It’s a good deal, a silver a day plus half the profit.”

“I make more than a silver now at the docks.”

“What, eleven coppers a day? Twelve? You think you can’t make up the difference in profit? And don’t forget having a free place to live.”

“I don’t want to work for that fellow with the sword.”

“You mean Corec, the man who paid forty gold to get you out of prison?” She let the silence extend for an uncomfortable length of time. “Well, you wouldn’t be working for him; you’d be working for me. If you steal, you’re stealing from me.”

Barz scowled. “I wouldn’t steal from you!”

“Or anyone else. I mean it, Barz. You’re my brother and I care about you, but if you cause problems, I won’t protect you from Corec.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

Katrin sat down across from him. “You always looked out for me, Barz. You protected me for years. I want to look out for you, too, but I can’t deal with all this anymore.” She gestured to the door his friends had used. “Dallo’s dead, you know. Hanged in Tyrsall for muscling in on the docks. Torse is dead, too—someone left him draped over the Unity Fountain with his guts at his feet, right in front of his father’s house.” Razai probably hadn’t known that last bit when she did it. Or maybe she had. “The rest are either dead or working in the quarries. If you were still in Tyrsall, you’d have been with them.”

“Well, I’m not in Tyrsall, am I?”

“And what about here? You’re hanging with the old crew. How long until they bring you in on a job?”

He looked down, not answering.

“They already have,” she said flatly. “Does Ana know?”

“No,” he said. “It was just the one time. We needed the money. Ana’s pregnant, and she had to stop serving tables. When the harbormaster learned I could do figures, he promised to make me an overseer, but then he found out I’d been in prison. I’d already told Ana we could move somewhere nicer, and...” He shrugged.

Katrin took a pouch out of a hidden pocket in her skirts and dropped it on the table. It was the coin she’d been saving for her brother until she could figure out a way to get it to him. It landed with a heavy thunk.