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  “Nulan, is it?” Tarani asked him. Nulan swallowed and nodded. “I thank you for speaking honestly, Nulan. I know the law of the Lords. When the identity of the High Lord is in question, no one fills that position. That means that once I have entered Lord City, Indomel has no authority until he is re-acclaimed by the Council at the midday meeting—if that happens.

  “He will not be re-acclaimed,” she said. “Do you believe me?”

  Nulan nodded again. Around him, I saw other guards nod their heads, and wondered briefly whether Tarani was using her own kind of compulsion. I rejected that idea; what I was seeing was an ordinary group of men totally fascinated by an extraordinary woman. She had a personal power that, at times, was even stronger than her mindpower.

  “Even if Indomel tries to violate the law, I and my friends can protect you from him. Do you believe me?” she asked again.

  More nods.

  “Then I ask you, in the name of your own law, to admit Tarani, daughter of Zefra and Pylomel, to the city of her family.”

  Nulan started to speak, then his eyes went glassy and his hands leaped for her throat.

  Damn! I thought.

  Tarani’s body blocked all the sha’um from her attacker, and she wasn’t moving.

  After a split second, neither was Nulan.

  He stopped with his hands on her throat, but not closing. He looked like a man for whom time had suddenly stopped. His face was tormented, and his arms trembled, and suddenly I understood.

  She’s counteracting Indomel’s compulsion! Telling Nulan, with equal force, not to do what Indomel is ordering.

  14

  Even as I finally figured it out, Nulan’s eyes cleared. He lowered his hands, and he stepped back from Tarani, looking embarrassed. Tarani, tension clear in every muscle of her body, turned toward the open gate.

  “Indomel,” she called. “You have failed. If you have a shred of dignity left, then come to the gate, and relieve these men of their orders.”

  We all waited, holding our breath—me, Tarani, the seven remaining guards, four sha’um, and nearly two hundred awestruck Eddartans.

  “If you make no claim on dignity, then I shall offer you none,” Tarani said at last.

  A whimpering sound came from the gateway. From behind the wall on the left, moving stiffly, appeared a tall, slim young man who bore a noticeable resemblance to Tarani—except for the look of fanatic hatred and dawning fear in his eyes.

  Tarani’s eyes were glowing.

  One of the prerequisites for being High Lord was possession of a strong degree of mindpower, and it was clear to everyone there that Tarani had imposed her power on the present High Lord. She brought him into the center of the gateway and asked again: “Do you believe I can protect you from Indomel’s reprisals, if you admit me to Lord City?”

  Lots of nods.

  “But they hold no true right of admittance or restriction,” came a voice from inside the walls.

  The gateway opened onto a cobbled walkway that led to the building called Lord Hall, which rested at the center of eight radiant walkways. The other seven led to areas belonging to each of the seven Lord families. I had been so preoccupied with what was happening outside the walls that I had not noticed a crowd gathering on the inside as well. It was a much smaller crowd, true. But six men who looked very official stepped out to stand beside Indomel. Each wore a white tunic embroidered with an emblem at the left shoulder. The two on either side of Indomel quietly took hold of his arms.

  The deep and cultured voice came again, from the man directly on Indomel’s right. He was middle-aged, tall, with slightly rounded shoulders.

  “Release Indomel,” the man said, without letting it sound like a command.

  The glow faded from Tarani’s eyes, and Indomel sagged as if he had been hovering four inches off the ground. He sagged, recovered, snarled like an animal, and would have jumped at Tarani—and discovered he was being held. He looked around in surprise, and made a poor effort to cover what had just happened.

  “Why, Hollin,” he said to the man who had spoken, “I was just …” His voice broke off as he saw the two men beside Hollin, then whipped his head around to look at the other three. “But it was not necessary for all of you to come out here,” he stammered in a trembling voice, and he uttered a chittering, obviously false, laugh. “You with your bad knee, Mosor, you walked so far?”

  “Enough, Indomel,” Hollin said. He seemed to be the senior member of the group. “It is clear enough what happened here. This lady claims kinship to you, and has demonstrated an impressive mindgift. She acted within the law in requesting the assembly of the Council, and a fair test. You—” The cultured voice broke, and resumed with its note of contempt not quite under control. “You have shown yourself to be a spiteful coward.”

  He turned Indomel’s arm over to the next man, who gripped it with both hands. Hollin stepped forward, outside the gate, and extended his palm, turned up, toward Tarani.

  “I, Hollin of Shegan, invite you to Lord Hall to present your claim before the Council. Your name, if you please.”

  “I am Tarani of Harthim,” she said, and then surprised him by adding: “and of the Sharith. Will the Council admit my companion, the Captain of the Sharith, to the Council proceedings?”

  I tried to keep my face expressionless.

  After a long pause, Hollin spoke up.

  “It is hardly usual, but the situation carries a substantial weight of oddness,” he said. “If you both understand that he may observe only, I think his attendance can be permitted.”

  “No!” Indomel shouted, and started jerking his body violently between the two men who held him, trying to free himself. “Do not be deceived by that slut,” he shouted, shocking everyone. “She is the daughter of a jeweler and not my true sister!”

  He continued ranting for a few seconds, while the crowd behind him parted to let a woman, of medium height with a very pronounced widow’s peak of dark fur, to come to the front of the group.

  “Members of the Council, you know me. I am Zefra, mother to Indomel and widow to Pylomel. I tell you now that I am also mother to Tarani, and that she is the daughter of Pylomel.” Indomel started to scream curses at her, but Zefra maintained her poise—though I noticed she blinked her eyes a little too rapidly, and the flesh of her neck quivered.

  “I say again, Tarani is Indomel’s true sister, and first-born of Pylomel. I ask only that the Council test her. The choice of High Lord is the Council’s alone.”

  Hollin was still standing with his hand out to Tarani. She accepted it, and held her other hand out to me. I slid down from Keeshah’s back, and greeted Hollin with a brief bow. We stepped through the gate, and Zefra greeted her daughter with a shining look and a kiss on the cheek.

  Me, she nodded to.

  Indomel, who had settled down to a morose sulk, was transferred to the care of Nulan and another guard, and everyone inside the city walls turned around and headed for Lord Hall.

  I had the feeling that the crowd outside the walls was growing, rather than dispersing, and they would settle in and wait for the decision to be announced.

  Keeshah and the two cubs, at my direction, headed for the wild country on the slopes above Lord City. Yayshah went along, either just to stay with the family or because Tarani had sent her.

  Lord Hall was a vast, octagonal building, hollow except for the rectangular Council chamber that stood at its center. The outer shell had eight doors; the Council chamber had only one. Hollin guided the group of Lords and others (including me) through the milling crowd to the narrow corridor that led to the only visible entry to the Council chamber.

  Hollin raised his hands, and the crowd fell silent. “Only the Lords, the candidates, and the witnesses may enter the Council Chamber,” he announced. “Our decision will be imparted to you as soon as it is reached.”

  Hollin looked sternly at Indomel.

  “Will you disgrace the Council by requiring the presence of guards, or will you giv
e your oath to behave with the dignity of a Lord?”

  Indomel glared at him. “You have my oath, Hollin.”

  Hollin nodded to the guards, who let go of Indomel’s arms. Hollin led the way through the normal door that opened into one end of a rectangular room, turning to nod agreement to the guards entering with Indomel. A table and six high-backed chairs stood on the floor. At the near end of the table was a featureless stool. At the far end of the room was a raised platform, a seventh chair that stood higher by the height of the platform, and an enormous sheet of bronze that covered a six-foot span from ceiling to floor.

  I wonder if the Lords know that the Bronze conceals the door to the treasure vault, which surrounds this room on three sides? I thought. Probably not. Probably that’s a secret passed from one High Lord to another—unnecessary, in this case, since Tarani already knows about it.

  Zefra and I stood in one rear corner of the room; Indomel in the other corner, with the distance of the entry door between us. Tarani stood at the foot of the table, very deliberately not sitting on the stool meant for the fifteen-year-olds who were possible candidates for High Lord.

  The other Lords took their places along both sides of the table, with Hollin on the right, nearest to the Bronze. He stood up, held his hand out toward the Bronze, and said: “This is the test, Tarani. Please read what you can of the markings on the Bronze.”

  The huge sheet of bronze, mounted on part of the wall, was imprinted with rows and rows of an identical eight-part character, some combination of which made up the alphabet characters of the Gandalaran language. Zanek, the First King, had asked a craftsman to stamp a message on the bronze, and then go back and fill in the missing parts of each character, to make all the figures look exactly alike.

  The theory seemed to be that, if you had a strong mindgift, you also had a strong subconscious link with the All-Mind, and could reach back to the moment of engraving to distinguish the first layer of lettering from the added marks. Zanek had made the reading of the Bronze—at least part of it—a portion of the ceremony by which he transferred the power of the Kingdom into the hands of a new King. That tradition, like many others, had been garbled in Eddarta into making the reading of the Bronze a test for mindpower.

  In point of fact, the Bronze was so old by now that the ability to read more than three words was counted as evidence of a strong mindpower. Therefore, when Tarani read out loud in a clear, if slightly shaky, voice …

  I greet thee in the name of the new Kingdom.

  From chaos have we created order.

  From strife have we enabled peace.

  From greed have we encouraged sharing.

  … well, it knocked their socks off.

  She hesitated briefly, and I knew she was skipping the part about the Sharith and the Ra’ira. She covered it well, and resumed the reading:

  THIS IS THE TASK I GIVE THEE AS FIRST DUTY

  As you read the scholars meaning

  Within the craftsman’s skill,

  So read within yourself

  Your commitment

  To guide

  To lead

  To learn

  To protect.

  If you lack a high need

  To improve life for all men,

  Then turn aside now,

  For you would fail the Kingdom.

  I greet thee in the name of the new Kingdom,

  And I charge thee: care for it well.

  I am Zanek,

  King of Gandalara.

  When she had finished reading, there was absolute silence in the room.

  I glanced at Indomel, who was staring at his sister with something like awe. He really thought the Ra’ira helped her to read that inscription, I realized. I think it is finally dawning on him how powerful she really is.

  But Indomel had not given up.

  “The mindgift of this woman is conceded,” he said. “And I give no opposition to accepting her as the daughter of Zefra. Yet you are all aware that Zefra’s regard for me bears little resemblance to the caring of a mother. I believe that, in claiming Tarani to be the daughter of my father, she seeks only to see me removed from my position.”

  Zefra sputtered, and I put a hand on her arm. She jerked her arm away, but kept silent.

  “We have heard Zefra’s testimony,” Hollin said, and looked around at the other Lords, “but Indomel’s doubt is, I believe, fair.” Indomel was nearly himself again, and he showed no reaction to that gesture of approval. “The candidate’s parentage seems to be an unattainable truth, yet she is clearly qualified and continues to have the right of consideration through her connection to Zefra.”

  Hollin sat down, and another Lord stood up. This one was older, not quite as tall as Hollin, and just a trifle paunchy. He, too, had a rich-sounding voice, but there was something less palatable about him.

  Perhaps it was the way he glanced at Indomel an instant before he began speaking. I read it as an “Okay, here’s the one I owe you” kind of a look.

  “It appears to me that what we have here is an equal contest,” he said. “The lady Tarani has demonstrated a superior mindpower, yet Indomel has the only uncontested claim to a legitimate heritage. With such a balance, it is our decision, my friends, and I say that we must keep the welfare of Eddarta clearly in view as we consider our choice.

  “Indomel has lived among us all his life, and has proven to be a capable and effective administrator. Have not the profits from the copper mines increased greatly since his installation as High Lord? Do we not get quick and fair decisions on any matter we take to him?

  “I will not say that Indomel has no weaknesses,” the eloquent Lord went on, gesturing toward Indomel with an air of having touched him companionably on the shoulder. “Yet High Lords are first Lords, and Lords are first and only people. Who among us would not admit to weakness in some area?

  “I say that Indomel is familiar, and experienced, and the one called Tarani,” he said, bowing toward the girl, “is a stranger to us, with an imperfect claim. Are we willing to turn over our loyalty—and our resources—to a stranger who has great strength, but who is untrained in our ways and unfamiliar with our needs?”

  It was an effective speech, calling up the fears of the greedy Lords. I knew of at least one case in which a candidate had been refused because he had too powerful a mindgift.

  If I had been capable of it physically, I would have started sweating. Tarani, however, seemed totally in control.

  “May I speak, Lords?” Tarani asked.

  Indomel’s friend had been in the act of sitting down. Hollin rose smoothly to field Tarani’s question.

  “The other candidate has spoken freely, Tarani. You may say whatever you wish.”

  “Sarel has offered sound advice,” she said, startling everyone by using the man’s name.

  She must have learned a lot about Lords and Eddartan law from Zefra while I was “involved” at the Lingis mine, I thought.

  “It is true,” Tarani continued, “that my knowledge of present-day Eddarta is limited. Yet I know a great deal about the source from which it sprang.” She drew her sword, causing a twitch or two around the table, and held it at arm’s length, horizontally, so that there could be no doubt of the sword’s material. It was made of rakor—the Gandalaran word for the iron and tin alloy Ricardo would have called steel—and it gleamed with a silver light that drew all eyes to it.

  “This sword is the King’s sword,” she said, “lost since Harthim abandoned Kä and came here. I have walked in the streets of Kä, and shared the lifememory of some who lived there. And I learned well the lesson Sarel teaches.” Her voice became softer, very gentle. “I believed Harthim to be evil, but I touched his memory and found that he was merely the creation of his time. I believed Zanek to be good, and strong, and found in him the weakness of a normal man. I knew that only two qualities are indispensable in a leader: a willingness to work harder than everyone else; and the ability to learn from, correct, and then forget mistakes. And I
began to think that I might have those qualities.

  “I shall not lie before the Council of Lords,” she said. “As a child, I was taught by a man who had bitter memories of Eddarta and a lingering hatred of the Lords. I believed as he did, because I—because I loved and trusted him, and I thought he was my father. When I learned that Pylomel had sired me I was first appalled, and then resolved to reach for the position of High Lord as a means to revenge.”

  Tarani put away the sword, and opened her empty hands toward the Lords.

  “I have no such motive now, my Lords. I shall not say that I have lost the prejudices taught me by Volitar, or that I wholly approve of all I have seen in Eddarta. Yet I will say that I believe Eddarta, Lords and landservants both, will profit from your acceptance of me as High Lord.

  “I have come here because I accept Eddarta as part of my heritage, and I want to free the city of the devious and selfish leadership of Indomel.”

  Indomel started, and his eyes narrowed. Hollin noticed, and flashed him a warning look. The boy’s lips pressed into a thin line as Tarani continued.

  “Sarel rightly cites my ignorance of Eddartan ways. Then who shall teach me? Who but the Council of Lords? Think what it will be like to have a High Lord who listens to each of you equally, and makes a judgment impartially, free of generations of favor trades and ‘special arrangements.’

  “Sarel cleverly implied that the Lords might do well to fear my mindgift. I tell you now that you need fear me much less than Indomel, for danger lies in use. I was taught, and I continue to believe, that using mindpower to lead another person into harm is a deed of incomparable evil that degrades both user and used. You witnessed the events of a few minutes ago. Who, in that exchange, used mindpower for aggression, and who only in defense? The Council has my word that I shall never imitate my brother. I shall not use my mindgift to humiliate or harm another person, or to gain agreement from an unwilling Lord.”