Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [202]
His guide had spoken only in gnomish to the wardens at the entrance and those along the way, one of whom had run ahead. And now they stood before a raised dais on which the gnome prince sat in his stone chair. He wore gray as plain as the others but for a silver chain and a great clear jewel like a drop of water, big as a hen’s egg.
His guide spoke in gnomish for some minutes; Andressat wasn’t sure what was being said or what he should do—staring at the prince seemed impolite. He let his gaze wander a little, to the other gnomes standing behind the prince, only two of them armed. He could read nothing in their faces; he could scarcely tell one from the other. All wore gray; all stood silent and motionless. Behind them was a pierced screen of stone through which he could not see; it had been carved into curves and twists that led his eye hither and thither.
A touch on his arm got his attention. “Do not look there,” his guide said. “It will enchant you.”
He did not know how long he had stood there; his guide was now making the introduction in Common.
“—the Count of Andressat, who rules in Andressat, a domain over the mountains. He gave warning of danger; I deemed it wise for him to speak in person to you. The other is known to us, a captain of Duke Phelan, who is now king in Lyonya.”
Andressat bowed low. “Most noble prince and law-warden, it is a great honor to greet you.”
“Rise up and show your eyes,” the prince said. His Common was heavily accented but understandable. He stared Andressat in the face and then looked at Selfer, who also bowed and repeated Andressat’s words.
“What warning?” the prince then asked.
Andressat repeated what he had told the bound-wardens.
“Is this man Girdish?” the prince asked; Andressat did not at once know whom he meant and hesitated. “Alured,” the prince said.
“No, noble prince,” Andressat said. “I do not know what gods, if any, he follows.”
“Has he ever broken human law?” The emphasis on “human” was contemptuous.
“Yes, noble prince,” Andressat said. “He was a pirate on the seas—attacked ships and killed and stole for profit.”
“So also do war companies,” the prince said, looking again at Selfer. “Is it not true of you, Captain, that you make war for money and not to uphold the Law?”
“Sometimes,” Selfer said. “Not always. We may be hired to uphold the Law.”
“Did you ever see this Alured?”
“Yes,” Selfer said. “When I was a squire to Duke Phelan, I saw Alured the Black many times during the last year of Siniava’s War.”
“Was he a lawbreaker?”
“He had been,” Selfer said. “And after Siniava was killed, he did things that were … if not against human law, against Girdish law.”
“You are Girdish?”
“Yes.”
“Do you not consider Girdish law human law?”
“Not entirely,” Selfer said. “Gird learned about the giver of Law from gnomes, and what he learned he used in writing the Code of Gird—”
“Little enough,” the prince said. “But the Code of Gird is not as corrupt as much human law.” He turned and spoke in gnomish to one of the gnomes at his shoulder; that one hurried away. The prince looked back at Andressat.
“So: do you think this Alured most dangerous because he is a lawbreaker, or violent, or a strong leader?”
“I do not know,” Andressat said. “He is all of those and cruel besides. Some things I know only by hearsay, but this captain may have seen.”
“Captain?” the prince said.
“I saw him at Aliuna and other cities of the southern coast after Siniava’s death,” Selfer said. “He took pleasure in the fear and suffering of others. We had not seen that until then—it was a war, we were not always fighting on the same field, or nearby. It sickened me, and others, and even the Duke.”
“Even the Duke? Was he, then, prone to cruelty?”
“No,” Selfer said. “Not at all. But when angry, when Siniava had tortured his own troops, he swore vengeance.”
“Vengeance is not justice; vengeance is not wise. So the Lawgiver said, and so the Law demands that justice