might say more, but then his eyes flicked to Taslin, and he seemed to lock up from within, adam's apple bobbing. A line of ice shot down Chag's spine, and he found himself turning very slowly to look up at the Gift-Giver, eyes narrowed.
"Very well." There was no anger in Taslin's face or voice at all. Somehow, that was even more frightening than the rage she'd greeted them with. "The Separatists have clearly trained you well. Come with me."
She spun on her heel, the long, gauzy skirt of her dress billowing out and then floating in her wake. Pevan looked at Chag, face white. He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to guide her with him, before Taslin changed her mind. Pevan resisted at first - he could feel her trembling - but then turned and picked up her step, leaving him behind.
All three humans were a little unsteady as they made their way across the yard. Pevan hung well back from Taslin's trailing hem, her fists clenching and unclenching as she walked. Chag let Atla go next, in case he needed to catch the boy. He was weaving as if drunk.
Walking straight towards the looming central keep didn't help. Maybe Taslin had chosen this route, across the lush grass, for that reason. Chag had never felt so small, and yet in some ways, he still felt too large, too noticeable, in the open courtyard. A shiver coursed through him every time something moved out of the corner of his eye, but no matter how he looked round, he saw no watching, stalking Wildren.
Etiquette said that the Gift-Givers would never use their natural ability to blend with the terrain in the Court. They were supposed to meet humans half-way here, to always maintain roughly human form as a gesture of goodwill. But how much of their goodwill did he still have any claim on? Perhaps they would hold back out of mercy for Atla.
He wished himself back in Tendullor, back at home with nothing more to deal with than the Sherriff's tedious requests. Rissad was supposed to be the keen one, and it wasn't supposed to be Chag's job to clean up after him when he overreached himself. He gritted his teeth. If Rissad ever did get back, they were going to have words, though knowing his brother, he'd probably come back with some revelation that would justify everything.
Taslin brought them to a portico-framed door. Its pillars had a twist that distorted the otherwise careful and fascinatingly-detailed engraving. It was as if they'd been built and carved straight and time had warped them. The door opened silently and smoothly, though.
Inside, they found themselves in a dim hallway, inadequate and dying candles spread thinly along the walls. There were more doors on each side than he could quickly count, spaced unevenly, and none of them directly paired with one opposite. The floor had a chessboard pattern, but his eyes rebelled against following the lines of it. None of them seemed to be straight, even though every tile was square.
Again, the thought occurred that Taslin might have chosen this route deliberately. Most of the Court, or at least the bits of it that Chag was familiar with, was much easier to deal with than this. The only things he could look at comfortably were Pevan's, Atla's and Taslin's backs, and the imposing door at the end of the hall.
In the gloom, Taslin's skin seemed to glow, a nimbus rising and falling as she passed each candle. The fabric of her dress fluttered far more extravagantly than any real material could. It seemed to weigh no more than dandelion seeds, floating even in still air. Another attack on their logic? Or a gesture of some other subtle significance? By way of contrast, the Gift-Giver's bodice was stitched tight against her skin, picking up every feline shift of her back and shoulders.
She was beautiful, no question about it, but it was a beauty of contrivance. A good six feet behind her, Pevan walked steadily, evenly, energy conserved and no attention wasted for irrelevant details. Probably Pevan wasn't even bothered by the uneasy reality of the corridor. There was no sign of the fear that had gripped her after the confrontation in the courtyard. Taslin might be beautiful, but Pevan needed no beauty at all.
Of course, she didn't need him, either. He hadn't even considered how the Gift-Givers might react to his arrival. The Court was supposed to be a friendly and welcoming environment for humans, but maybe he didn't count anymore. Pevan must have foreseen that his arrival would have caused problems, and she'd made clear that she felt no great attachment to him.
Yes, Rel was entitled to a Witness present, if he was to stand trial before the Wildren, but Pevan clearly wanted more than that from this trip. Did she expect Chag to help her rescue Rel? He couldn't see how they'd get an opportunity. Last time he'd tried to escape the Court against the wishes of the Gift-Givers, he hadn't been much use to anyone at all.
Taslin flung open the door at the end of the corridor, and Chag's train of thought ground to a halt. The room beyond was bright enough, after the dim hallway, to leave him blinking, and Atla too by the look of it. Pevan didn't even flinch.
They followed Taslin into the light, which turned out to come from a mountainous chandelier high among the vaults of a peaked roof. The room was larger, though not by much, than any house or Warding Hall in the First Realm, but it extended upward so far that the only thing his mind could compare it to was Vessit's Abyss. The chandelier didn't seem to have candles, it was just a tangled, elegantly symmetrical webwork of crystals, glowing from within.
Chag brought his gaze back down and surveyed the room at his own level. A row of benches sat along the wall to their left, a Court Guard standing to attention at either end. The Guards - there were a pair on the opposite side of the room, too, by the sole other doorway - stood what had to be eight feet tall, though some of that was in the almost comical heels on their jewelled boots, their vaguely-human forms stretched out to an unsettling thinness. They wore no clothes, but their skin itself blurred the more intimate contours from their bodies, shifting about them like fine mist.
It was hard not to stare at them, but there were three other figures in the room who demanded more attention. Rel stood in the centre of the floor, looking back over his shoulder to watch Pevan enter. The Clearseer's face was... very difficult to characterise. He no longer gave off the air of total conviction that had persuaded Chag and Pevan to stay in Vessit to wait for the quake. His expression of horror and shock couldn't hide new lines around his eyes that spoke of some deeper tension.
Beyond Rel, a pair of Gift-Givers were watching the new arrivals. Both wore robes of a style that echoed Taslin's flowing, formal dress, one in green and the other turquoise. Green-robes was bald, his face lined with the appearance of age, but his eyes un-hooded and bright. The other looked younger, more alien, the high protrusions of his cheek bones just a little too wide. He had hair almost the colour of Taslin's, but pulled tight behind his head.
Rel's eyes went to Taslin, who walked over to stand behind his shoulder. Her voice, stiff but not loud, actually echoed slightly, the ambience striking after the Second Realm's usual deafness. "Pevan Atcar, Chag Van Raighan and Atla Colber have come to witness the trial of Relvin Atcar, in accord with the treaty."
The older Gift-Giver gave them a slow, shallow bow. "Welcome, Pevan Atcar, Chag Van Raighan, Atla Colber. I am Quilo, standing as arbitrator."
Face unmoving, the other Gift-Giver said, "I am Loget of the Gift-Givers, standing as inquisitor. Please be seated." He raised an arm to indicate the benches.
Pevan bowed, much lower than Quilo had. Chag started to mimic her, but stopped when he noticed Atla hadn't. The kid seemed to know what he was doing, or at least he had so far. It would only be a minor mistake, surely, if he was wrong. Chag followed him over to the benches, surprised when he made space for Chag to sit between him and Pevan. What did that indicate?
Quilo turned to face them. "Your timing is fortuitous. We had only just initiated the proceedings when your approach was detected. Will it trouble you if we do not repeat the formal invocation, and instead proceed to the charges?" He spoke with the precision and clarity of a Wilder, but the tone of his voice was very human, the rich baritone of a professional singer. Chag had known only two other Gift-Givers capable of such accurate mimicr
y - Keshnu and Taslin.
The Gift-Giver waited for Atla and Chag to nod, even after Pevan had spoken for them. Then he turned to Rel. "You stand under the authority of Taslin of the Gift-Givers, by right of Talerssi after your exemption from human justice by the Separatists. On this authority, you are required to explain your attack on Keshnu of the Gift-Givers at the Abyss under Vessit yesterday. I understand you also wish to account for a number of actions you took while under the authority of the Treaty of Peace?"
Chag exchanged a worried look with Pevan, a stone settling in his stomach. Rel simply nodded and said, "Yes, arbitrator." His voice was calm, even weary.
"I must ask you to confirm that you understand that the case by which you might defend these actions in a First Realm court cannot succeed here."
"I understand, arbitrator." It almost looked as if Rel were under Coercion from Taslin, except that no true case of Coercion had ever been so subtle. Had Taslin developed some new power?
"Very well. What are these additional actions?"
Rel glanced to Taslin, who nodded, ever so slightly. She said, "Relvin Atcar twice allowed or enabled wanted fugitives to escape First Realm justice. He attacked and seriously injured Ismur of the Abyss