Shirin walked in with a tray of food. When Ailith opened her eyes, the Commander smiled down at her. “Well, it’s about time. Everyone’s asking about you, wanting to know when you’ll be back to work.” She raised her brows, “Oh, and Geller wants to know what you were doing with one of her swords from the armory.”

  Sábria chuckled, “Shirin. You’ll worry her.”

  Shirin balanced one end of the tray on the small table and set the two plates full of food on the tabletop.

  Back to work? That puzzled Ailith. “How long?”

  Sábria pulled Ailith closer and shifted to get into a more comfortable position. “Thanks to Master Haria’s herbs, three days.”

  Concentrating on the comforting sound of Sábria’s heartbeat, Ailith said quietly, “Nox saved me life.”

  “I know.” Sábria ran her hand through Ailith’s hair a second time and tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

  “Can she be a shiv again?”

  Sábria was quiet for such a long time that Ailith thought that maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

  Shirin came and sat on the edge of the bed, and after a while, Sábria spoke. “Nox never wanted to be a shiv, Ailith. She told me that she’d always dreamed of being an artist, and she showed me some of the drawings she’d done while in detention. It was obvious art was what truly gave her joy.”

  Sábria sighed and shook her head. “Her mother used to tear up her drawings so she’d concentrate more on her weapons work. Senior Guardian Arane and Nox are accompanying her mother’s body back to their barony. After they send Lady Elondra on her final journey, Arane will take Nox to my Temple in Durinna.”

  With a sleepy voice, Ailith asked, “What’s in Durinna?”

  “Artists, Ailith. A lot of artists.”

  Ailith nodded and then once more fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

  CHAPTER 27

  The Temple of the Daughters of Elyon was actually made up of two complexes. There was the Temple, where the Blades and Sábria lived. Six furlongs distant, nearer the middle of Sarlogne, a second complex thrived. Within its walls, the Hall of Justice, the larger prison complex, and many of the functions that supported the Blades and their work were housed.

  The main Temple grounds were massive and ornate, with many buildings, an excess of open land within its walls, an embarrassment of artwork, and gardens most nobles envied. The Annex, on the other hand, was of a more moderate size and functional. It was here the Temple Magistrates passed judgment on those the Blades charged with crimes against women, and quite often, the punishment was a stay in the prison complex or execution in the courtyard, should the crime call for more severe consequences.

  This was also where Blades, who’d grown too old to patrol the streets, came to live and work. They became the ones who guarded the courts, handled administrative duties, or, if they were so inclined, worked at the small shops scattered within the walls that encircled the complex. No Blades remained idle, no matter their age or infirmity. Sábria believed everyone could pull their weight in one way or another, and everyone did.

  During the rule of Emperor Pendrin some three hundred turns earlier, famine, debauchery, and lawlessness reigned. Because so many Blades were killed during Pendrin’s reign, the Arch Priestess of the time had turned her attention away from protecting the city’s women and concentrated on protecting her Blades. She set them to work on the construction of an underground tunnel connecting the two complexes, and for nearly twenty turns, her Blades labored to do just that. Because of her forethought and willingness to pivot during a time of upheaval and crisis, the Temple had survived when so many other institutions had not.

  Sábria and Shirin strode across the courtyard on their way to the small gatehouse in the outer bailey, which housed the entrance to the tunnel. After Lady Elondra had tried to take her daughter from the Temple with Khaldo’s help, Sábria had sent the thirteen spies to be held in the larger prison complex within the Annex. She’d intended to try them the next day, but with two Blades injured, one critically, and one shiv unconscious, she’d asked the Magistrate to hold the trials but to postpone the sentencing until she was able to attend.

  The trials had concluded earlier that morning, and since the Temple Magistrate had declared a verdict of guilty in twelve of the thirteen cases, Sábria was on her way to sentence the prisoners. Normally, the Magistrate handed down the sentences, but as her superior, Sábria always had the option to step in should she feel the case, or in this instance, cases warranted it.

  Her regal bearing, combined with her black and gold dress uniform, was a sight to behold. She normally only wore her coronet to official functions at the Emperor’s palace, but she felt this occasion warranted the extra reminder of exactly who she was within the Empire. Blue, red, and yellow gemstones were set at regular intervals around the single band, proclaiming that the three colors of Elyon’s providence ruled within the Cibían Empire.

  Blades and civilians bowed as she crossed the courtyard, but her mind was on other things, and she barely registered their presence, let alone their obeisance.

  Shirin nodded at each person, acknowledging their respect to make up for the Arch Priestess’s preoccupation with the upcoming sentencing.

  Ten members of Sábria’s bodyguard waited in formation by the tunnel. Fifty Blades had gone on ahead since Sábria intended to make this sentencing one the city of Sarlogne would remember for a very long time.

  Four members of the honor guard were already holding lit torches, and they broke out of formation and entered the tunnel. Their lights weren’t strictly necessary since the tunnel was lit by nearly forty lanterns set in sconces along the walls, but tradition dictated they carry torches, and that’s what they did.

  Sábria and Shirin descended the ten steps after them, followed by the remaining six of the honor guard, led by Senior Guardian Sela, a black woman in her forties who’d refused promotion to Prime so many times it had become a joke between her and Shirin.

  Subcommander Calit was already at the Annex arranging for thirty blades to set up a cordon outside the wall and for the prisoners to be brought within the cordon for sentencing. To be doubly sure of security, the remaining twenty Blades were scattered among the crowd, addressing any paid agitators the Emperor might have placed there.

  The walk took well over a quarter candlemark, and by the time they ascended the steps into the Annex, everything was ready for Sábria’s arrival. The Head Magistrate, Master Fiyori, waited at the tunnel’s entrance. When Sábria stepped onto the cobbled bailey, the tall, grey-haired woman, who was dressed in her full-length, purple and black ceremonial robes, bowed low.

  Sábria lowered her chin and held out her hand. Master Fiyori kissed the Ring of Elyon and stepped aside.

  Seneschal Dunham waited next to Fiyori, and when the Magistrate stepped aside, he surprised Sábria by going down on one knee, accepting her hand in his, and kissing the Ring. Looking up into her eyes, he quietly said, “I beg the forgiveness of the Goddess and of you, Lady Sábria. I should have refused, and I allowed my loyalty to Emperor Aloric to blind me to what was right. Will you please forgive an old man his folly?”

  Sábria reversed their hands, and with hers on the bottom, she raised him to his feet. “I understand the difficult position you’re in, old friend. Yes, I forgive you, and I believe Elyon sees the truth of your words and will forgive you as well.”

  With his eyes brimming with tears, he bowed his head. “I can’t promise he won’t do something similar in the future, but I pray I’ll be able to influence him in a more rational direction, My Lady.”

  “I’d ask you to join Lady Fiyori and me on the alure, but I’m afraid that would put you into an even more untenable position as far as the Emperor is concerned.”

  He raised his brows to acknowledge the point. “Thank you.” With that, he stepped through the portcullis to wait with the rest of the crowd outside of the Annex Wall.

  Sábria, Shirin, and Lady Fiyori climbed the steps to the top of the wall. They walked along the alure until she stood directly above the front gate. Looking out over the crowd, she recognized people from every stratum of society. Even though she’d expected a large gathering, the overwhelming mass of humanity waiting to hear the sentence surprised her. A wave rippled through the crowd as people either bowed or curtseyed at her appearance.

  The nobility stood in an area to her left specifically cordoned off for them. Sábria hadn’t arranged for that, and she guessed one of the wealthier observers had provided the line of muscular brutes that separated them from the working classes, the chandlers, cobblers, and butchers. This second group of craftspeople, artisans, and tradesmen made up the majority of the closest onlookers, possibly five-hundred people, maybe more.

  As though this was some great show, the sidewalks were lined with vending carts, and the vendors and their children were selling pasties and baked goods as fast as their bakers could supply them with fresh loaves.

  Further back, she could see the poorest of the poor. These were easily recognizable by their tattered rag clothing and their dirty, unkempt appearance. Their numbers stretched away from the Annex for several blocks, and Sábria hoped her Blades would be able to escort the prisoners to the ship that she’d arranged to transport them away from the Cibían shores.

  Directly below her stood the twelve convicted spies. Eight men and four women anxiously stared up at her, wondering what their fate would be. She looked into every face and wondered how many families she’d be destroying that day.

  Well, she’d made arrangements for that as well. The ship was large enough to carry wives, husbands, and children should the families wish to accompany their loved ones out of the Empire. Some, she knew, would be relieved the man or woman who bullied them and made their lives miserable would be gone. Either way, that wasn’t her concern.

  Holding up her hands, she looked out over the crowd, asking for silence.

  At her direction, Shirin had arranged to have heralds at the start of every block, perched high on platforms temporarily erected for this event. When the heralds passed along the message that she was ready to begin, everyone, including the vendors, stopped what they were doing and stared up at her.

  Over the turns, she’d perfected the art of projecting her voice so large crowds could hear her, but with a crowd this size, she was glad she’d had the forethought to provide the heralds to pass her words along to those farthest away from where she stood.

  She had a general idea of what she wanted to say, but felt, in this instance, Elyon would put the right words into her mouth. “This is a shameful day for the Cibían Empire, a day when I must sentence twelve people for their part in spying on one of the monarchs of this great land.”

  A soft breeze blew across her face, and she felt the Goddess’s hand in the absolute silence that prevailed among what looked to be a thousand onlookers hanging on her every word. “Through my Blades, I rule you with a benevolent hand. If your women are endangered, we protect them. If your children are taken from you, we attempt to return them. If you are brought before the Temple Magistrate,” she laid a hand on Fiyori’s shoulder, “she dispenses judgment with wisdom and compassion.”

  Many, many of the onlookers, both men, and women, nodded at her words. “You are Elyon’s people. I am her voice among you, and yet, twelve men and women chose to accept silver coins to spy on my Blades and me. They chose to bring insult to the Goddess by selling tales of the movement of her representatives who walk among you.”

  She glared down at the spies who stared up at the woman who held their fate in her hands. Elyon’s indignation filled her, and Sábria opened herself to her words. “The Goddess reviles those who would move against Elyon’s Blades, the women who are the instruments of her revenge. Her wrath falls upon any who endanger those whose lives are dedicated to protecting women’s blood. And the storm clouds of her fury will destroy any who would bring harm to those who provide justice for the women of this land.”

  To everyone’s shock, including Sábria’s, two bolts of lightning flashed out of a clear blue sky. One struck the highest tower in the Emperor’s palace. The second flashed above the assembled crowd, striking the bell tower in the middle of the city and exploding with a deafening blast that sent bricks flying down onto the people below. The bells in the tower rang from the concussion, and those who were able fell to their knees and covered their heads with their arms.

  Even the haughtiest among the nobility knelt or bowed their heads in fear. Lady Fiyori even bowed her head and would have lowered herself to her knees if Sábria hadn’t placed a hand on her elbow, silently telling her to remain standing. She was gratified to see all her Blades standing tall with their heads held high and their eyes glowing fiercely with well-earned pride.

  When she looked down at the prisoners, every one of them was lying prostrate on the cobblestones. Normally, the sentence for spying was death. Seeing them truly frightened and humbled reinforced her decision to allow them to live.

  She quietly thanked her Goddess for her support and continued. “As you know, the sentence for spying within our borders is death.”

  People hesitantly rose and looked up at her when she resumed her speech.

  “But Elyon is known to be fair and just among the Gods. The yellow within the Temple’s crest speaks of her justice. Therefore, I sentence these spies not to an untimely death but to a lifetime away from the Cibían Empire. A ship is waiting to take them to one of the deserted Trenchian Islands where they will live out the rest of their days toiling to survive.”

  A shocked murmur rose from the crowd, and several family members of the convicted spies shouted, “No.”

  “If, for some reason, they are able to leave the island, they may never return to our shores. As the prisoners are aware, in the last several days, artists have moved among them, rendering their likeness onto sheets of parchment. Even as I speak, artisans are creating thirty copies of each rendering. These will go out to my thirty Temples throughout the Empire. All of my eight thousand Blades will study their likeness. If the spies are caught on our shores, they will be put to death immediately, without trial.”

  She turned to Shirin, and although she regretted the late notice, after seeing the extent of the crowd, she felt she didn’t have a choice. “I’ve decided to lead the prisoners to the docks myself.” She’d never seen her second go quite so white in so short a time. She suppressed a smile as she watched her race down the stairs and into the tunnel, presumably to muster as many Blades as possible to accompany them.

  The prisoners, who were shackled together on a single, long chain, looked relieved that they weren’t going to die and terrified of being stranded on an island. She again looked out over the crowd. “If any family members wish to accompany their loved ones, they are welcome to do so. If you’re so inclined, I suggest you hurry home immediately and pack for a long sea voyage. Then make your way to the western dock.” Several women and one man pushed through the crowd and either hurried to the palace or to the lower residential district, the only place many of Aloric’s people could afford to live.

  “If you choose to remain, my Blades will assist you in finding employment if the condemned member was the sole source of income for your family. I don’t intend this to be a hardship for those left behind.”

  Some in the crowd began to get restless. This was when the paid agitators would show themselves, and what started as a quiet murmuring quickly turned to shouts and curses.

  “Unfair!”

  “Ya can’t do that!”

  “Let’s get th’ poor bastards out of here. Who’s with me?”

  “They’ll fowkin’ die out there!”

  Out came the truncheons carried by the Blades assigned to crowd control, and several of the loudest protestors were quickly brought to heel.

  Sábria wasn’t surprised to see many among the town’s citizenry helping to silence the loudmouths. One woman she recognized, an older cook from one of the alehouses, brought her walking stick down on the head of an obnoxiously loud red-haired man dressed in the distinctive canvas tunic and trews worn by trib runners and sailors. When he went to slap the woman, her husband, a burly snub-nosed man who’d remained imposing even in his later years, stepped between them and crossed his arms. The trib backed up and disappeared into the crowd.

  Sábria watched for a while, giving Shirin the time needed to return to the Temple and gather however many Blades she planned to bring with them to the docks.

  Two blocks away, a small riot broke out, and Sábria was relieved to see members of the City Watch move in to stop the violence and arrest those trying to make the sentencing into a full-scale riot. What better way for Aloric to get his petty revenge than by paying agitators to cause riotous destruction throughout the city? There was no doubt a crowd this size had somehow been engineered by his followers.

  With that thought in mind, she glanced around, searching for Lord Dunham. She found him standing on top of a covered barrel, surrounded by his personal guards, gesturing and yelling into an alley. When lines of the City Watch fully kitted in riot gear and holding truncheons like they meant to break some heads poured from the alley, Dunham turned and looked directly at her. His fierce visage reminded her of an eagle with his aristocratic, canted nose and deep-set, determined eyes. He held her gaze and nodded once.

  She inclined her head, thanking him for his support, and wondered how much longer he’d survive as Aloric’s right-hand man. She hoped his decency wouldn’t cost him his life, but in the world of politics, one never knew from one day to the next where the whims of the Emperor might take them.

  The distinctive and frightening sound of two military war drums accompanied by the thump, thump, thump of black leather boots hitting the cobblestones in military lockstep caught everyone’s attention. Even the troublemakers paused to see Shirin leading a hundred or more Blades in formation down the avenue from the Temple. They weren’t in dress uniforms since they’d been pulled from their off-duty activities. Some had no doubt been rousted out of bed by the ringing of the assembly bells around the courtyard, but they were still an impressive sight in their all-black tunics and trews.