The Gathering of the Lost by Helen Lowe Page B

Since then, we have always been far less bitter toward those with old powers. But there are still some whose antagonism is as virulent as anything you would expect from either Night or Blood. Particularly Blood,” he added, half under his breath. “Orth is one such, but our Earl is not. He holds to Sword’s longtime treaty with the House of Peace, which is the smallest of the priestly Houses and our near neighbor. Peace is an order of healers, followers of the god Meraun, and has no place for warriors, so they get all those born to our House with priestly powers and we get all theirs who have none. Their healers serve us as required, and in return we patrol their boundaries as well as our own and provide armed escorts for their people whenever they travel.” He shrugged. “The arrangement preserves the Blood Oath that binds the Derai, and keeps our dealings with each other at arm’s length.”
    Tarathan paused as they reached the ground floor, his eyes checking the shadows. “But that does not sit well with Orth?”
    “No,” said Tirorn. “He sees this approach to the Oath as lax.” His voice turned grim. “Unfortunately, I misread the depth of his hatred and gave him command of a company that was to escort a contingent of healers from Peace’s Keep of Bells to the Towers of Morning. I knew his brutality, but had no reason to believe that he could hold the honor of our Earl and House so cheap.”
    “What happened?” asked Jehane Mor softly. They had reached the door and Tarathan had his hand on the bolt, but despite their own danger, or perhaps because of it, they were both caught in the spell of Tirorn’s story.
    Tirorn rested one gauntleted hand on the doorjamb, speaking with his face half turned aside. “The priests had a small escort from Bells to the rendezvous with Orth, but were ambushed by darkspawn not far from that point. One of the escort managed to reach Orth, but he refused to move until it was certain he would arrive too late. Everyone in the Keep of Bells’ company died. Naturally, Orth hunted down and slew every one of the ambushers, slowly and painfully in most cases, I’m told. A highly satisfactory outcome for Orth in all respects.” Tirorn’s fingers moved restlessly against the jamb. “But not for our Earl. He held all our lives forfeit for the stain on his own honor and the integrity of our House.”
    “But—I thought you weren’t even there,” Jehane Mor protested.
    “No” said Tirorn, “but I gave the command to Orth, a grievous error of judgment. And we are blood and sword kin, as I said, each bound in honor to the actions and deeds of the other. The Earl would have had all our lives, except that the House of Peace intervened. It seems that the Law of Meraun forbids the taking of life, which I suppose explains their arrangement with us. Anyway, their High Priest, who is also their Earl, sent a message saying that enough Derai blood had already been spilt and we should be required to atone for Orth’s misdeed instead, cleansing our stained honor by that means. So here we are, on this quest to hunt down the lurkers and flush out whoever is using them.” He grinned, with a flash of genuine humor. “Of course, our own Earl made it clear that he would be perfectly happy if none of us ever returned.”
    “I take it you don’t share that view,” Tarathan said.
    “Not entirely,” admitted Tirorn. “I do accept that we have to set right the blight on our honor, but I have always questioned the merit of death, whether by execution or ritual suicide, as a means of setting such misdeeds right. What does it mean in the end but one less Derai to keep the watch? And there are not so many of us now that we can afford to throw lives away.”
    “So you would like to bring everyone home safely?” Jehane Mor asked. “Even Orth?”
    “Even Orth,” agreed Tirorn, “although that, in the end, may prove the greatest stain on my own honor.”
    “I’m surprised you dare let him out