them.
The Haresfield renegade Macorm was the first to see Irontown’s magistrates. In his case the Crown asked for clemency, since Macorm’s information had led to the band’s capture. His friend Gavan, who faced the noose, testified that Macorm was a reluctant thief who had killed no one. The magistrates gave Macorm a choice, ten years in the army or the granite quarries of the north. He chose the army.
Kel attended the trials as Raoul’s squire, watching as the bandits’ victims and the soldiers, including her knight-master, gave testimony. She heard the griffin’s history for herself. The centaur she killed, Windteeth, had murdered a human peddler who offered griffin feathers for sale when he saw the man had a real griffin in his cart. Windteeth knew the risk he took, keeping a young griffin, but the prospect of future wealth had meant more to him.
“Nobody went near him after that,” Windteeth’s brother told the court. “Nobody wants to tangle with griffins, and that little monster has sharp claws, to boot.”
Not to mention a beak, Kel thought, looking at her hands. Her right little finger was in a splint, awaiting a healer’s attention. The griffin had broken it that morning. Why couldn’t she have left that cursed pouch alone?
The court reached its verdicts with no surprises, ruling on hanging for the human robbers, beheading for the centaurs. Kel put on her most emotionless Yamani Lump face and attended the executions with Raoul, Captain Flyndan, and Commander Buri. She had seen worse - the Yamani emperor had once ordered the beheading of forty guards - but not much worse.
Looking at the crowds as they gathered for the hangings, she wondered if something was wrong with her. Many people acted as if this were a party. They brought lunches or purchased food and drink from vendors, hoisted children onto their shoulders for a better look, bought printed ballads about the bandits and sang them. Did they not care that lives were ending?
Kel’s jaws ached at the end of the day, she had clenched them so hard. For the first time in years she felt like an alien in her homeland. Then she realized that the three human commanders were not at all merry. They ate together both nights after the executions, with Kel to wait on them. Their evenings were spent in review of the hunt and in plans for better ways to do things in future, not in having fun at the expense of the dead.
The second night Buri followed Kel as she took away the dirty plates and stopped her in the hall outside the supper room. “We do what we must,” she told Kel, her voice gentle. “We don’t enjoy it. Remember the victims, if it gets too sickening.”
“Do you get used to it, Commander?” Kel asked.
“Call me Buri. Get used to it? Never. There’d be something wrong with you if you did,” Buri replied. “Death, even for someone just plain bad, solves nothing. The law says it’s a lesser wrong than letting them go to kill again, but it sows bitterness in the surviving family and friends. Bitterness we’ll reap down the road.”
“Do the K’mir execute criminals?” Kel wanted to know.
Buri’s smile was crooked. “In a way,” she replied. “We give them to the families of those they’ve wronged, and the families kill them. After all these years in the civilized west, I’m still trying to decide if that’s good or not.”
Kel thought of Maresgift, fighting his bonds wildly and screaming curses as they brought him to the headsman. She couldn’t decide, either. The only good thing about that execution was that it had been the last.
The next morning Veralidaine Sarrasri, also known as Daine the Wildmage, came to Irontown in search of Kel and the griffin. She found them with Third Company and the Rider Groups, in the barracks at Fort Irontown.
“Let’s have a look outside,” Daine said, looking queasily at the walls around them. “I’ve been spying in falcon shape, and this feels a bit too much like the mews.”
Kel
The Haresfield renegade Macorm was the first to see Irontown’s magistrates. In his case the Crown asked for clemency, since Macorm’s information had led to the band’s capture. His friend Gavan, who faced the noose, testified that Macorm was a reluctant thief who had killed no one. The magistrates gave Macorm a choice, ten years in the army or the granite quarries of the north. He chose the army.
Kel attended the trials as Raoul’s squire, watching as the bandits’ victims and the soldiers, including her knight-master, gave testimony. She heard the griffin’s history for herself. The centaur she killed, Windteeth, had murdered a human peddler who offered griffin feathers for sale when he saw the man had a real griffin in his cart. Windteeth knew the risk he took, keeping a young griffin, but the prospect of future wealth had meant more to him.
“Nobody went near him after that,” Windteeth’s brother told the court. “Nobody wants to tangle with griffins, and that little monster has sharp claws, to boot.”
Not to mention a beak, Kel thought, looking at her hands. Her right little finger was in a splint, awaiting a healer’s attention. The griffin had broken it that morning. Why couldn’t she have left that cursed pouch alone?
The court reached its verdicts with no surprises, ruling on hanging for the human robbers, beheading for the centaurs. Kel put on her most emotionless Yamani Lump face and attended the executions with Raoul, Captain Flyndan, and Commander Buri. She had seen worse - the Yamani emperor had once ordered the beheading of forty guards - but not much worse.
Looking at the crowds as they gathered for the hangings, she wondered if something was wrong with her. Many people acted as if this were a party. They brought lunches or purchased food and drink from vendors, hoisted children onto their shoulders for a better look, bought printed ballads about the bandits and sang them. Did they not care that lives were ending?
Kel’s jaws ached at the end of the day, she had clenched them so hard. For the first time in years she felt like an alien in her homeland. Then she realized that the three human commanders were not at all merry. They ate together both nights after the executions, with Kel to wait on them. Their evenings were spent in review of the hunt and in plans for better ways to do things in future, not in having fun at the expense of the dead.
The second night Buri followed Kel as she took away the dirty plates and stopped her in the hall outside the supper room. “We do what we must,” she told Kel, her voice gentle. “We don’t enjoy it. Remember the victims, if it gets too sickening.”
“Do you get used to it, Commander?” Kel asked.
“Call me Buri. Get used to it? Never. There’d be something wrong with you if you did,” Buri replied. “Death, even for someone just plain bad, solves nothing. The law says it’s a lesser wrong than letting them go to kill again, but it sows bitterness in the surviving family and friends. Bitterness we’ll reap down the road.”
“Do the K’mir execute criminals?” Kel wanted to know.
Buri’s smile was crooked. “In a way,” she replied. “We give them to the families of those they’ve wronged, and the families kill them. After all these years in the civilized west, I’m still trying to decide if that’s good or not.”
Kel thought of Maresgift, fighting his bonds wildly and screaming curses as they brought him to the headsman. She couldn’t decide, either. The only good thing about that execution was that it had been the last.
The next morning Veralidaine Sarrasri, also known as Daine the Wildmage, came to Irontown in search of Kel and the griffin. She found them with Third Company and the Rider Groups, in the barracks at Fort Irontown.
“Let’s have a look outside,” Daine said, looking queasily at the walls around them. “I’ve been spying in falcon shape, and this feels a bit too much like the mews.”
Kel
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