Binding Spell (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms) by Christine Pope Page B
Authors: Christine Pope
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blue of truth enveloping the man from Seldd, while Haddimer’s outline bristled with the spiky yellowish hues of falsehood.
“No, he is not,” I said, after I reopened my eyes. “But Haddimer most definitely is.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
A considering expression on his face, Kadar turned away from me, back to the two men who awaited his verdict. For a long, uncomfortable moment he said nothing, and I swallowed against my unease. He had asked for my opinion, but that did not mean he intended to act on it. Besides, this was a case of the word of his subject against that of an outlander, a man from a country widely despised because it still practiced slavery, even in this enlightened age. How could I trust Kadar to believe me and rule against one of his own people?
Finally he spoke. “Haddimer.”
The merchant’s pale blue eyes gleamed. “Yes, your Highness?”
“You have taken advantage of a man who attempted to trade with you fairly, someone who has already suffered through more hardship than you can possibly comprehend. You will pay him every silver crown you owe him, as well as a penalty of twenty percent above and beyond the original price. And you will pay him by the end of the day tomorrow. You’ve already wasted enough of his time; I do not want him delayed so that he cannot get home before the mountain passes close for the winter.”
Haddimer’s mouth opened, as if he very much wanted to protest. He shut it without speaking as I began relating to Dhirne in rapid-fire Selddish what the Mark had just decreed. A look of terrible relief passed over the man’s face, and he dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground directly in front of the dais, even as he began to praise Kadar’s wisdom and my cleverness.
“Erm, he says thank you,” I told the Mark, whose lip twisted.
“I rather gathered that.”
Althan somehow managed to pry Dhirne off the floor, and usher both him and his erstwhile adversary down the aisle and out of the room. That seemed to be the conclusion of the afternoon’s grievances, for immediately afterward the spectators left their seats on the benches and exited the chamber as well. Kadar and I were left alone, save for the two men still standing guard at the entrance.
“What were you saying to yourself back there?”
A tremor of unease passed through me. I thought I had barely moved my lips while invoking the truth spell, but Kadar must have seen something. I hoped he did not notice my slight hesitation before I replied, “I was praying.”
That seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted, and what might have been the beginnings of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I had no idea you were so devout.”
“Even those who do not think of themselves as devout may ask for assistance at certain times. God is always listening, even if you and I might not always hear what He has to say in return.”
“Ah, I had forgotten you most likely would be a follower of the Southern heresy.”
I didn’t bother to correct him. True, ages ago both North and South Eredor had shared a pantheon along with a name, and worship of the One was regarded as heresy. But the Great Cataclysm had sundered the beliefs of the two lands just as irrevocably as it had broken them north and south, forever separate. South Eredor had suffered the least from the effects of the mage wars and the Black Time that immediately followed. Acolytes of the One had prayed incessantly to be delivered from the darkness, and their prayers had been answered. Ever since, we in the South had turned away from the old gods and followed the One. Whether or not divine intervention was responsible for our salvation, I truly did not know. It seemed as good an explanation as any.
At any rate, better to confess to praying to a god Kadar despised than admit to casting a truth spell. “Whether it was God working through me or not, I did see the truth of the situation.”
He nodded, his
“No, he is not,” I said, after I reopened my eyes. “But Haddimer most definitely is.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
A considering expression on his face, Kadar turned away from me, back to the two men who awaited his verdict. For a long, uncomfortable moment he said nothing, and I swallowed against my unease. He had asked for my opinion, but that did not mean he intended to act on it. Besides, this was a case of the word of his subject against that of an outlander, a man from a country widely despised because it still practiced slavery, even in this enlightened age. How could I trust Kadar to believe me and rule against one of his own people?
Finally he spoke. “Haddimer.”
The merchant’s pale blue eyes gleamed. “Yes, your Highness?”
“You have taken advantage of a man who attempted to trade with you fairly, someone who has already suffered through more hardship than you can possibly comprehend. You will pay him every silver crown you owe him, as well as a penalty of twenty percent above and beyond the original price. And you will pay him by the end of the day tomorrow. You’ve already wasted enough of his time; I do not want him delayed so that he cannot get home before the mountain passes close for the winter.”
Haddimer’s mouth opened, as if he very much wanted to protest. He shut it without speaking as I began relating to Dhirne in rapid-fire Selddish what the Mark had just decreed. A look of terrible relief passed over the man’s face, and he dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground directly in front of the dais, even as he began to praise Kadar’s wisdom and my cleverness.
“Erm, he says thank you,” I told the Mark, whose lip twisted.
“I rather gathered that.”
Althan somehow managed to pry Dhirne off the floor, and usher both him and his erstwhile adversary down the aisle and out of the room. That seemed to be the conclusion of the afternoon’s grievances, for immediately afterward the spectators left their seats on the benches and exited the chamber as well. Kadar and I were left alone, save for the two men still standing guard at the entrance.
“What were you saying to yourself back there?”
A tremor of unease passed through me. I thought I had barely moved my lips while invoking the truth spell, but Kadar must have seen something. I hoped he did not notice my slight hesitation before I replied, “I was praying.”
That seemed to surprise him. His eyebrows lifted, and what might have been the beginnings of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I had no idea you were so devout.”
“Even those who do not think of themselves as devout may ask for assistance at certain times. God is always listening, even if you and I might not always hear what He has to say in return.”
“Ah, I had forgotten you most likely would be a follower of the Southern heresy.”
I didn’t bother to correct him. True, ages ago both North and South Eredor had shared a pantheon along with a name, and worship of the One was regarded as heresy. But the Great Cataclysm had sundered the beliefs of the two lands just as irrevocably as it had broken them north and south, forever separate. South Eredor had suffered the least from the effects of the mage wars and the Black Time that immediately followed. Acolytes of the One had prayed incessantly to be delivered from the darkness, and their prayers had been answered. Ever since, we in the South had turned away from the old gods and followed the One. Whether or not divine intervention was responsible for our salvation, I truly did not know. It seemed as good an explanation as any.
At any rate, better to confess to praying to a god Kadar despised than admit to casting a truth spell. “Whether it was God working through me or not, I did see the truth of the situation.”
He nodded, his
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