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All the men, even Ranon, looked startled by the words. Cassidy just nodded.
“Well,” the older Warlord said,“I guess it’s done. We’ll be on our way.”
“It isn’t done,” Cassidy said. “Everything has a price, and your little bit of sport is going to cost you.”
“Now, look here . . . ,” the Warlord began, taking a step toward Cassidy.
Blades were raised in warning. Cassidy and Vae bared their teeth and snarled.
“What is the Queen’s will?” Theran asked.
Cassidy walked over to the loom and stared for too long before she turned back to the men.
“The weaving is ruined,” she said. “From the smell of it, there’s horse manure along with some other muck. Since the streets are dry, the only way to make this kind of shit soup is by making it somewhere else and bringing it here.”
A quick glance at the youngsters’ faces confirmed it.
“So that ruined piece of weaving will cost you one hundred gold marks,” Cassidy said, her eyes filled with a wild fury as she stared at the older Warlord.
“What?” the Warlord yelled. “For that piece of—”
Vae snarled, and the sound rumbled through the whole street.
“One hundred gold marks as compensation for the lost work and as a penalty for not teaching your boys some manners. As for them . . .” Cassidy’s eyes focused on the two younger Warlords. “Ten days’ labor, without using Craft, or ten lashes.”
“I’ll handle the whip if it comes to that,” Ranon said. “And I’ll strip flesh from bone.”
“Shalador bastard,” the Warlord growled.
“Since you understand the Shalador temper so well,” Cassidy said, “your little bastards will work under Prince Ranon’s supervision.”
“Don’t you insult my boys.”
“Ten days or ten lashes,” Cassidy snapped. “Choose.”
“It’s not right, making my boys work like landens,” the Warlord protested.
“It will help them appreciate what someone without Craft has to do in order to accomplish a task. Choose.”
“You’ve got no right!” the Warlord shouted.
Something in the air. Something delicate being weighed down by words. Bending, bending. Almost breaking. If it broke . . .
Theran stepped closer to Cassidy. “She is the Queen of Dena Nehele. Her will is the law. You’ve been given a choice, Warlords, and the Queen’s First Circle stands witness.” And may the Darkness help me, I stand witness.
The feeling in the air was gone, as if a question had been answered.
“Ten days’ labor,” the Warlord said. “And I’ll bring the gold marks when—”
“No,” Cassidy said. “The three of you are forbidden to set foot in the landen section of this town. You come here again, you’ll be exiled from Dena Nehele.”
The guards gasped. Even the Warlord Princes who supported her looked stunned.
“You will report to the Steward of the court and give the payment to him,” Cassidy said.
“Can’t come up with that much all at once,” the Warlord said.
“Then you’ll work out a payment arrangement with the Steward—and if you don’t show up with the payment, the First Circle will be showing up on your doorstep to find out why. And they can take the payment however they see fit.”
*Mother Night, Cassidy,* Theran said. *You’ve just told him the Warlord Princes can rip him apart without penalty.*
She looked at him with eyes still filled with fury.
He didn’t know this woman. Didn’t know this Queen.
But he knew with cold certainty that he was seeing the Old Ways of the Blood, and that under the same circumstances, the Warlord Princes in Kaeleer wouldn’t hesitate to do the Queen’s will.
And he wondered for the first time if bringing the Old Ways back to Dena Nehele had been a mistake.
“One other thing.” Cassidy stared at the two younger Warlords, finally settling on the one who wore the Summer-sky Jewel. “If the girl loses her eye because of the stone you threw, you forfeit a hand. This is the Queen’s Justice.”
“Queen’s Justice.”
It was a shout, a battle cry. And Theran heard his own voice raised with the others.
No more fight in the Warlords. No more thinking they could somehow slide out from under what they had done. The predators had gathered and were held by the Queen’s leash. And by nightfall, the whole town would know for certain that these Warlord Princes belonged to Cassidy.
“Prince?” asked one of the guards who had escorted the pony cart.
“Prince Ranon is the Master of the Guard’s second-in-command,” Theran said, nodding to Ranon, acknowledging another truth.
“Escort those three back to their home,” Ranon told the guard. “Prince Archerr will assist you.”
The guard glanced at Cassidy. “I’ll inform the others of the Queen’s command. We’ll make sure these Warlords don’t come back to this part of town.”
The Warlords were led away.
“Lady?”
At the sound of Shira’s voice, they all turned.
Cassidy looked at Shira, then past her.
“The rock came damn close, but it didn’t take the girl’s eye,” Shira said. “I can’t say for sure yet that there isn’t any damage. There was lots of muck and grit in the eye, plus the cut just beside it from the rock. But I’ve got the eye cleaned out and have the first stage of healing salves on the injury. I gave her a sedative. I’ll give her mother another dose for the girl, since her face is going to hurt and sleep will help her heal. I’ll come back tomorrow morning for the next stage of the healing.”
The man stepped forward. “Lady, if we’d sold that piece in the market, we would have asked for fifty silver marks and been happy to have gotten thirty.”
“Today it was worth one hundred gold marks,” Cassidy said.
Theran felt her shudder. That was the only warning he had before her legs buckled.
He grabbed one arm. Ranon grabbed the other.
“Fetch a chair,” the man told his son.
The youth darted under the canopy and came back with a chair. They dumped Cassidy in it and pushed her head down.
“Are you hurt?” Shira asked. “Is she hurt?”
“I feel wobbly,” Cassidy said.
“Keep your head down,” Theran said, tugging the club out of her hand.
