Lorn smiled tentatively, as if unsure whether he was mocking her. “I've explained your vital role in keeping me alive, Toc the Younger, how you loosed four arrows on the fly, and brought down four Barghast.”
He looked at her sharply. “I didn't know I had the last two shots in me,” he said. He sipped wine, resisting the urge to scratch his wound.
Dujek grunted. “Your father was also in the habit of surprising people. There's a man I miss.”
“I, too,” Toc replied, looking down.
The awkward silence that followed this exchange was mercifully broken by the arrival of the last guest. Toc turned with the others as the door swung open. He gazed at the woman standing in the entrance, then started. Was that Tattersail? He'd never seen her wearing anything but battle garb, and was now stunned. My, he thought wonderingly, she's not bad, if you like them big, that is. He half grinned.
Lorn's response to Tattersail's appearance had sounded much like a gasp, then she spoke. “We have met before, though I doubt you'd remember.”
Tattersail blinked. “I think I would have recalled that,” she said cautiously.
“I think not. I was but eleven years old at the time.”
“Then you must be mistaken. I'm rarely in the company of children.”
“They burned the Mouse Quarter a week after you swept through it, Tattersail.” Lorn's voice made everyone stiffen with its barely controlled rage. “Those survivors, the ones you left behind, were resettled in Mock's Hole. And in those plague-ridden caverns my mother, my father and my brother died.”
The blood drained from Tattersail's round face.
Bewildered, Toc glanced at the others. Dujek's expression was masked, but there was a storm behind his eyes as he studied Lorn. On Tayschrenn's face, as he looked upon the sorceress, there dawned a sudden light.
“It was our first command,” Tattersail said quietly.
Toc saw Lorn trembling and held his breath. But when she spoke it was controlled, the words precise. “An explanation is required.” She turned to High Fist Dujek. “They were recruits, a cadre of mages. They were in Malaz City, awaiting their new commander, when the Master of the Claw issued an edict against sorcery. They were sent into the Old City-the Mouse-to cleanse it. They were-” her voice caught “-indiscriminate.” She swung her attention back to Tattersail. “This woman was one of those mages. Sorceress, that night was my last with my family. I was given to the Claw the very next day. The news of my family's death was kept from me for years. Yet,” her words fell to a whisper, “I well remember that night-the blood, the screams.”
Tattersail seemed unable to speak. The air in the room had grown thick, stifling. Finally the sorceress prised her gaze from the Adjunct and said to Dujek, “High Fist, it was our first command. We lost control. I resigned from the officer corps the very next day and was posted with another Army.” She gathered herself. “If it is the Adjunct's wish to convene a court, I offer no defence and will accept my execution as a just penalty.”
Lorn replied, “That is acceptable.” She laid her left hand upon her sword and prepared to withdraw it.
“No,” High Fist Dujek said. “It is not acceptable.”
Lorn froze. She glared at the old man. “You seem to forget my rank.”
“No, I haven't. Adjunct, if it is your will that those within the Empire who have committed crimes in the Emperor's name must be executed, he stepped forward, “then you must include me. Indeed, I believe High Mage Tayschrenn also has his share of horror committed on the Emperor's behalf. And, finally, there is the Empress herself to consider.
Laseen, after all, commanded the Emperor's Claw-she created it, in fact. More, the Edict was hers, thankfully short-lived as it was.” He turned to Tattersail. “I was there, Tattersail. Under Whiskeyjack's command I was sent down to rein you in, which I did.”
She shook her head. “Whiskeyjack commanded?” Her eyes narrowed “This has the taste of a god's game.”
Dujek swung back to the Adjunct. “The Empire has its history, and we each are in it.”
“In this,” Tayschrenn rasped, “I must agree with the High Fist, Adjunct.
“There's no need to have all this official,” Tattersail said, her eyes on Lorn. “I hereby challenge you to a duel. On my behalf I shall employ all my magical skills in an effort to destroy you. You may defend with your sword, Adjunct.”
Toc took a step forward. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He'd been about to tell Tattersail that Lorn carried an Otataral sword that the duel would be grossly unfair, that she'd die within seconds, as the sword devoured her every spell. Then he saw that the sorceress knew all that.
