"Three will try, three will die,
four will fail, one will prevail"
Dakkoul
The fury of Lord Rustavan was not directed at him, nor even Keilah or Silsa but Jalen.
He was blamed for not preventing the girls from leaving the grounds. Of course Jalen had not known they were virtual prisoners, so he only looked bewildered him when Lord Rustavan pronounced his punishment.
"Half a cup."
"He's injured," Dakkoul protested. Jalen was now holding his head up with one hand and his eyes kept shutting. "He needs a physician."
"Best hurry and collect it then," Lord Rustavan said with a sneer.
Dakkoul forced calmness into his voice, "He was hurt protecting your daughter and your niece."
Lord Rustavan's eyebrows raised. "If he'd done his job properly, he wouldn't have had to. Take him away."
Dakkoul fumed as he led Jalen aided by Malek to the Bel-Aviim.
"He's not good Hattavah," said an ashen-faced Malek. "He needs help, not this."
"I know," Dakkoul agreed in a low voice with a glance at the open doorway. Everything within him revolted at what he'd been asked to do. The ladies had disobeyed the rules but Jalen would suffer for it. Jalen's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
"There's only one thing to do." Dakkoul picked up the cutting stick and pulled up the sleeve of his tunic.
Malek took hold of the middle of the stick and hissed, "Stop. You heard Lord Rustavan. It has to be me."
Dakkoul shook the cutting stick free with a spike of anger. His flesh ached for the feel of the blade.
"Please Hattavah," Malek pleaded, softly.
The cutting stick trembled in his hands, dipping towards his skin but the strange desire to protect Malek triumphed and he reluctantly passed it over. "Press in here there, deep, then pull it out again. It's easy once you know how."
Malek slashed his skin, so that his blood flowed from the gash he made. At least there was only a half of the cup to fill.
They were silent, listening to the sound of the blood falling, his brother's blood Dakkoul thought in momentary wonder, a link forged between them, a sacrifice. Then it was finished. Dakkoul grasped Malek's wrist stemming the flow and tightly bound it.
Malek stood up then reached out his hand to the Apistola to steady himself.
"Dizzy?" You hardly scratched yourself."
"I'm not as practiced at it as you," Malek said, managing a shaky half-smirk.
"You'll feel awful for a while. Now we best get this blood to the house-priestess and Jalen to the physican."
"I'm fine now, Hattavah," said Malek and he took one step and sunk to his knees.
Dakkoul's lips twitched, "I can see that."
"Quit mocking me and give me a hand up."
"When you are finally on your knees before me? Never."
Jalen moaned and Dakkoul rushed to get the physican who refused interrupt his meal for a mere soldier. When Dakkoul insisted on something, he handed over a foul smelling potion. Dakkoul helped Jalen sit up and made him drink it. Jalen's face contorted.
"Swallow," Dakkoul barked.
Jalen glared at him and took a second sip, then a third. Then he giggled.
"What's in that Hattavah? My head is dancing. Jalen giggled again and collapsed back down on the Apistola. "Hello, my Lady."
Keilah stood behind them with a shocked expression on her face above her embroidered dress with the white fur collar and cuffs. Alyssia hovered by the doorway, her eyes fixed on Jalen. She took a hesitant step towards him, then stopped and Alyssia hurried by her side so that Keilah could rest her weight on her.
"What's going on?" Keilah asked.
"I've finished administering the punishment, my Lady," Dakkoul stated, wanting her to understand what her disobedience had cost.
Keilah shuddered. "Is that where the blood comes from?"
"It is provided by slaves or prisoners. It is the blood of punishment." He tried to keep his voice neutral, indifferent.
"I thought it was from animals. That's what I drank?"
"Oh yes. Priestesses wave their hands over it first and pray for the qualities of the Fox-God to be devolved on to whoever drinks it - the cunning, the quickness to kill, the sharpness of hearing." He studied her face as he spoke and was pleased to see her horrified expression. If Keilah wished to embrace Wayvolkan life, she should at least know what it entailed.
She grimaced. "But it tastes so good. And if you follow the Fox, you must drink it too."
He glowered. As if he had a choice like she did. "As little as I can. They put something in it, Keilah. It makes you crave it more and more and muddles your head. Lord Rustavan stopped me taking it, because it effected my performance and because I'm not Wayvolkan. Be wary of it. Don't drink unless you have to."
Keilah drew him to her side and looked at him, those familiar eyes of hers stirring something within him, something fundamental that made him want to lean closer towards her.
"What was that all about today? Why did they call us traitors."
There was no point in hiding it from her. She had to know the danger she faced.
"Several years ago, after the last Fox-dance, the Queen-Priestess became gravely ill. The King had just died in a hunting accident and your uncle saw a chance for our House to become the greatest. He ordered me to kill the young Prince."
Keilah sucked in her breath. "My Prince?"
"Your Prince," he said, although the words hurt him. "I slipped into his room easily enough. Those guard should be shot for all they protected him. He was sleeping, a little mound in a huge bed and it looked like an easy enough task. Then he sat up, all wild haired and big eyed, and said, "Daddy? Is that you?"
And I saw that he was just a boy like me, missing his dead Daddy and I froze. I had just become a father myself and the words threw me. He looked again and said, "Hattavah?" I expected him to shriek or scream and I threw myself towards him to stop him calling out, but he said, "You came! I've been asking and asking to see you." He chatted away asking about what it was like to kill people and how his father had been frightened of me and all such things and then by the end of it all, I couldn't do it, so I left. But he told them, in the morning that I'd been there and our House has been suffering for it ever since. They blame his father's hunting accident on me too, although they can not prove it."
"I see," Keilah said gravely. "I'm glad you didn't kill him."
"I replay that night over and over". Dakkoul crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I suffered a lot for my failure. If I'd succeeded, perhaps we would all be living in the palace now."
"Not worth killing someone for."
He suppressed a derisive look. "But you've agreed to enter The Vixen Trials."
"Isn't just a fancy meal and the Prince picks the girl he likes best?"
He laughed out loud at this. "You've been reading too many fairy stories. That's not the way of the Fox."
"Wise is the way of the Fox," she rejoined.
He stared at her. Was she saying that because she really believed it? Did she still not understand what the way of the Fox was?
Keilah clutched his arm. "I remember Lady Tynie said the Vixen Trials were brutal but I thought she was joking. Baba makes it sound like all that matters is my table manners."
"That's because they only want you to take part, not to win," he muttered.
"What do you mean?" she asked, raking at her white hair so that a strand dangled loose. Despite his commonsense screaming at him to stop, he reached his fingers out and retucked it in, the touch of her hair causing the blood to rush through his body.
Her eyes widened and sparkled. She did not push him away. Her lips opened as if inviting him to kiss her again. He stepped towards her.
A dry cough from Malek behind him recalled him to his senses and he tensed, leaned back and babbled on, "If you win, your uncle will be forced to give you your rightful inheritance. He wants you only to participate, signaling an end to the ostracism of his House, a sacrificial offering to pave the way for peace. I do not know exactly what the Trials involve, I only know the other hopefuls train for years."
"I've seen them, once, as a boy," Jalen said with a hiccup. "Only the first stage, of course. The Prince duels with the protectors for the right of the Vixens. That's only a formality usually. Then the Vixens fight inside the palace and only the Wayvolkan get to see."
"They fight?" Keilah said in bewilderment. "With swords? I can handle a sword okay."
Jalen shook his head. "More than swords I think and it is serious. The rhyme goes like this: three will try, three will die, four will fail, one will prevail."
"Three will die?" Keilah asked in a sharpened tone. "What do you mean three will die?"
"Eight enter," Jalen said looking away. "Three die, four walk away safe and sound and one becomes Queen."
Keilah's lip quivered. "I didn't know I might die. The other girls have been training all their lives. I'll die. I can't win against them."
"You have no choice now," Dakkoul said in a strangled voice. "But I'll do everything I can to assist you. After to the meeting tonight, I'll drag Malek to the library. There must be something there, somewhere, some wisdom
to guide you."
A small sad smile crossed Keilah's face. "I'm glad you're still coming to the meeting. Unfortunately all the special cakes were lost in the riot. It will be just plain old kitchen snacks for us."
"It matters not." All that mattered is that he'd see her again while he still could.