Midwinter

"And sadly there is no cock to crow at your denial. But there is still work for you, Marar Envacoro." Mab knelt before him and took his face in her hands. "You see, We know who you are. And We know that the leaders of the Arcadian conspiracy make their home in Gefi. What We do not know are their names. We want you to tell Us their names, Marar Envacoro."

Marar fixed his jaw. "I cannot tell you that."

"Really?" said Mab. She stood, her skirts swirling about her like a storm in the dust. "Prefect Laese'am. Tell us the crime of Blasphemy."

Laese'am rose to his feet and cleared his throat. "Your Majesty is the law of the earth and its sole ruler. To raise another's words and deeds above Your Majesty is the highest treason. That is the crime of Blasphemy"

"Correct," said Mab. "Bring forward the wife and child."

A second pair of legionnaires led a petite woman onto the deck. The woman carried a small blond boy of two or three years.

"We rarely offer choices to traitors, Marar Envacoro," said Mab. "But We are a merciful ruler and We are not without lenience. There will be crucifixions in the main square tomorrow morning. Either We will have the Arcadians in Gefi, or We will have your wife and child. The choice is yours."

Marar's wife clutched the child to her chest. "Marar, what is happening?" she cried. "What have you done?"

Marar stood, his limbs shaky. He spoke, as if reciting, "The children of Aba will not dwell in fear nor will they suffer the lash of the tyrant, for Aba will protect them."

"Marar!" shouted the wife. "Stop it! Stop, please. What's going on?" Her words broke into deep, throaty sobs. The child, who had been sleeping, awoke and began to cry.

"Well, Marar Envacoro?" said Mab, sternly. "Which will it be?"

"Aba," he prayed, "protect me from my foes, give me the voice to speak against the oppressor, give me the will to thwart my enemies. Aba, I ask for your protection in the name of She Who Will Come."

"Answer me, Marar," snapped the Queen. "If you do not choose, I will choose for you."

Marar began to shout, his eyes shut. "Aba, protect me from my foes! Give me the voice to speak against the oppressor!"

"Marar!" his wife cried again and again.

"So be it," said Mab, and her voice was bitterly cold. "Take the woman and the child and prepare them for keelhauling."

Marar lifted his arms skyward. "Aba, do not forsake me!"

"You are a fool, Marar!" said Mab. "You place your faith in a god who does not answer, a power that cannot be shown. If your god is so great, then have him deliver you from me! I defy your Aba. I spit on him. Let him come and take me!"

She leaned in toward Marar and whispered in his ear. "They'll take your boy, truss him like a pig. Then they'll hang him upside down beneath the city and let him dangle. When the wind blows just right, the garbage and ordure from the aft neighborhoods will bathe your boy as it falls. He'll starve down there and no one will hear his screams and then the crows will eat out his eyes. Tell Us what We wish to know and he will be freed. You have Our word."

Marar looked skyward. "Not my son!" he shouted, his face flush with rage. "My son! My son! Aba!"

"Tell me their names!" The Queen shook Marar by the throat. The Prefects, the legionnaires, the servants, all sat perfectly still. "Tell me their names and your son will live!"

"My son!" Marar whispered through sobs.

"Enough!" the Queen shouted. Her voice took on a supernatural depth; it rang out across the hills.

"If We cannot know their names, then We must assure their destruction another way. Hy Pezho, I give you the floor." The Queen brushed a few stray hairs from about her face, returning to her seat, her face blank.

Hy Pezho rose. "Gentlemen, I have prepared something for this contingency," he said. "Have the catapults brought forward."

One of the guards at the edge of the deck signaled to another below, at a garrison post just outside the Royal Complex. A number of legionnaires there wheeled a great wooden catapult from a bay beneath the post.

"The missile within that catapult," said Hy Pezho, "is of my own devising. I trust you will be impressed."

Hy Pezho looked southward. Gefi was near firing range. Another minute and it would be his.

Marar lay prostrate on the ground, saying prayers into the dirt. The Queen spat. "By failing to decide, you have made your decision, Marar Envacoro. Now you will observe its consequence." She waved at the legionnaires who'd brought Marar in and they lifted him to his feet, facing him directly toward Gefi.

"When you are ready, Hy Pezho, give the word."

Hy Pezho fought a grin. He made a chopping motion with his right hand. The legionnaire at the balcony's edge repeated the motion. Far below, a soldier with an ax hove against the catapult's restraint and the engine's arm whipped forward, sending its package, a blackened globule, skyward.

The projectile fell far short of Gefi. It struck the ground near the city's edge and rolled beneath her sails and planks.

"Hy Pezho!" barked the Queen. "You missed!"