Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [44]
"But he has broken the clan oath."
"To keep his blood oath!" The belkagen raised his staff but seemed to think better of striking and lowered it again. He looked down on Haerul and said, "Do you know the meaning of tragedy?"
Haerul opened his mouth, but the belkagen cut him off.
"Hold your tongue, Omah Nin. I am about to tell you." He walked around Haerul and addressed the gathered warriors. "To punish the guilty is not tragedy. That is justice. Tragedy is when two parties are both right but must choose different, even opposing, paths." He looked down at Haerul and Lendri. "Here we have tragedy. The omah nin and his son are both warriors of honor who bring honor to their clan, but in keeping justice each must betray the other's oath. The omah nin speaks of the oaths and laws of the clan-as well he should, for such is the omah nin's duty. But law is not justice. Law is the guide to justice, but in the face of tragedy, law can be an imperfect guide."
"Are you saying we should forsake our law for one warrior?" said Haerul, and a sharp edge had entered his voice. "Even the firstborn of the omah nin?"
Lendri looked at his father. It was the first time in more than sixteen years that Haerul had called him his firstborn and not hrayek.
The belkagen turned his back on the pack and looked at Haerul. "Law is the path to justice, not its end, as the path to the water is not the water itself. Once you have arrived at the river, you do not forsake the path. You have fulfilled it."
Haerul glared and said, "Lendri betrayed the covenant of clan."
"To keep his covenant of blood," said the belkagen.
"We all know this," said Haerul. His voice was firm, but much of the heat had gone out of it. "It changes nothing, holy one. To keep his honor, a warrior may have to reach into the fire, but honor or no, still he will burn."
"The omah nin is wise." The belkagen offered a small bow. "But that is not why Lendri has come." He looked down at Lendri and raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"
Lendri struggled to his feet and looked to his father. "I am not asking the clan to help me. I am telling you that your grandson may be alive. Hlessa's only child. All we have left of her."
Haerul looked at his son a long time. He still held the naked blade in his hand. He turned to the belkagen. "This is true, holy one?"
The belkagen frowned. "Whether Erun is alive or not… I do not know. There is hope, but I will not lie. It is a slim one. A small flame in the rain. But another boy-about the same age as Erun when he was taken-has been captured, and the trail is still fresh."
Haerul turned back to Lendri, stepped forward, and placed the edge of the blade against his son's throat. "So, Hlessa's son may be dead."
Lendri looked into his father's eyes, putting every bit of challenge he could into his gaze. "Yes. If he is dead, I can take you to his killers. But time is running out."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Endless Wastes
Early morning on the open steppe. The sun still ran low on the horizon, and shadows cast by grass and shrub lay long on the land. A hare, the beginnings of its white winter coat just coming in, nibbled at the leaves of a tiny shrub. The owls had gone back to their nests, and the hawks were not yet awake. Best time for breakfast.
The hare sat up, its ears standing straight up, its eyes wide. For ten beats of its heart it sat that way, unmoving, then leaped away, leaving only a tiny cloud of dust in its wake. The last of the dust was just beginning to settle when the air where the hare had sat parted in a great whoosh that sent a ring of dirt billowing outward.
Amira looked around, coughing and waving away dirt.
"Ugh," she said. "I hate the Wastes."
Behind her stood Gyaidun, one hand clasping a rope that bound three ponies. With the other hand he cradled Durja to his chest. The raven's eyes were only slightly less wide and frightened than those of the ponies. Amira smiled. Durja let out a harsh cry and took to the air.
They stood in