Page 23

CHAPTER

Twenty-Three

F OXES LIKE THINGS BLURRY . Foxes like things vague. Ending something, properly ending it, makes them itchy, and a touch melancholic. As for timekeeping, this is considered an unnatural practice, not to be trusted.

On the veranda, the Fox contingent was playing a maddeningly complex drinking game involving cards and checkers, and forfeits. Abbot Fort was half asleep in the hammock, swaying gently. Shal was trying to reassure Katsan that no, she had not been drugged, he would be able to tell. Havoc was rinsing streaks of tunnel dirt from his white-gold hair, his tunic washed and draped over a chair to dry.

Which left Tala, half mad with boredom. For all Fenn Fedala’s complaints about being used , Oxes were famously bad at doing nothing. “Why don’t I fetch Ruko?” she said. He was still training under the yew tree—a form of standing meditation, dropped down in a low squat.

“Bad idea,” Havoc said, towelling his hair. A gold pendant glinted against his sun-tanned chest—another Monkey sigil, the three interwoven branches forming a circle. “He killed a servant once, just for breaking his concentration. Snapped his neck with one hand.”

“That’s true,” Neema said. The Tiger abbess had mentioned the incident in one of her letters to the emperor. Bersun had insisted on receiving regular reports, and Rivenna Glorren had been happy to oblige. In fact, she had sounded proud of her protégé. What should a mouse expect? she’d written of the incident. If it bites a tiger’s tail?

Tala bounced on the balls of her feet, tried a few more stretches, then gave in. She called over to the Foxes. “Is the Trial over?”

One of the players glanced up from their game. “Did it ever begin?”

“Are we even here?” someone else added, and the entire contingent went, “Oooooh,” as if they’d made a seismic philosophical breakthrough.

Neema poured herself some mint tea. She was frustrated too, they were wasting precious time—but she hid it better. A vital skill at court. If you couldn’t mask your irritation from the emperor after he’d kept you waiting half the day, then you were in serious trouble. It helped, she found, to focus on tiny moments of pleasure. This tea, for instance, poured over ice—a classic Fox drink, celebrating the mix of opposites. Warm and cool. Sweet and fresh. Each mouthful different from the last, reminding the drinker to savour every shifting, fleeting moment. The leaves had turned the water a pale, summer green, and the ice sparkled and clinked against the glass. Neema was so absorbed in her study, she didn’t notice Katsan approach until the Bear contender ripped the drink from her hand and smashed it to the ground.

“This is how you hunt a killer?” she snarled. The warrior in her was looking for a fight—somewhere to channel her grief. She pressed closer, jamming Neema up against the table. “You’re not even pretending to try.”

“Let her be, Katsan,” Shal said mildly, from his bench.

Exactly what she was looking for. An audience. She grabbed Neema under the arm and dragged her over. “Look.” She pulled at the purple band wrapped around Neema’s arm. “Look! These are Gaida’s colours. Ripped from her body. Stained in her blood.” She dug her nails in deeper. “Worn by her killer.”

Neema froze.

There. It was said.

The entire veranda fell silent. In the hammock, Abbot Fort opened his eyes a crack.

Neema saw Tala and Havoc share a knowing look, as if Katsan had voiced something they too had wondered about but kept to themselves.

“That’s quite an accusation, Katsan,” Tala said, carefully.

Neema’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She swallowed. Everyone was waiting for her to defend herself, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth was, she didn’t know. She didn’t know if she was innocent or guilty.

This was her nightmare.

Katsan shoved her away in disgust. “Look at her, in her borrowed uniform. She thinks she’s a real contender.”

“I don’t—” Neema managed.

“Is that why you killed her? To take her place?” Katsan’s eyes were blazing with righteous fury. “Or were you just jealous? Because you were nothing next to her, and you hated her for it. You want our alibis, Neema Kraa? Where’s yours? Where were you when my Sister was murdered?”

“Is the Trial ended?” Ruko stood at the edge of the veranda, his broad frame blocking the light.

“Contender Valit.” Katsan stifled her irritation. “We are waiting for Neema Kraa’s alibi. You must be keen to hear it.” She dropped her voice. “We all know here, of your stolen blade.”

“That is no business of yours.” Ruko’s lip curled in disdain. “Whoever stole Hurun-tooth will answer to me. Abbot Fort. The day grows long.”

“So it does.” The abbot’s voice wafted up from the hammock. “So it does. Contender Brundt—would you help an old man to his feet?”

There followed a minute of immaculate physical comedy as Katsan attempted to extract the abbot from the hammock and he expertly hindered her. The more flustered she became, the funnier it was. The Foxes laughed first, then everyone else joined in. Even Ruko looked faintly amused. Tala was laughing so hard she had to walk away to recover.

Neema took the opportunity to withdraw to a quiet corner and compose herself. Her arm was throbbing where Katsan had dug in her nails—the Bear warrior had drawn blood. But it was the look Tala and Havoc had exchanged that really worried her. Ruko’s interruption had won her some time—but she needed to prove her innocence, fast.

At last the abbot relented, and allowed Katsan to pull him free. “I hope you enjoyed your visit to the tombs, contenders,” he said. A silver hip flask materialised from his robes, as they lined up for the results.

“Life,” he declaimed, taking a swig, “is a puzzle with no answer; a game with no rules; a maze with no exit, except death. And still we stumble on through the dark, creating form where there is none, seeing patterns that are not there.”

A short pause, while they figured this out.

“There was no path to the temple,” Tala groaned. “So what the Eight were we doing down there?”

“Facing our fears,” Havoc said, with a shrug. Wasn’t it obvious?

“No, no,” Abbot Fort corrected him. “That was just a bit of fun.”

“What?” Havoc’s face fell. “You buried me in a coffin! I could hardly breathe. I thought I was going to die—”

“Fun for us,” the abbot said, and without further preamble launched into the results. Ruko had come last with no points. Katsan followed with one point. Havoc was next, then Neema in third place with three points. Tala was second. “Congratulations Contender Worthy—you have won the Fox Trial. Five points to the Hounds.”

The Fox contingent clapped politely. Shal put a fist to his heart and bowed his thanks.

“Your grace,” Havoc said, aggrieved. “Contender Worthy abandoned the Trial. You told him to withdraw.”

The abbot held up a correcting finger. “I asked if he was willing to forfeit his points, in his uncle’s name.”

Katsan joined the protest. “No, Havoc’s right—you very clearly told him to withdraw—”

“To the shade. Where he spent the next three hours taking care of his fellow contenders. Including you, Bear contender.” A smile towards the card table. “We were listening.”

Tala had finally worked it out. “So what happened in the tombs… didn’t count? Only how we treated each other.” She looked over to where Cain had just joined them, leaning against a wooden post. “Oh, clever. I like that.”

He smiled back at her.

Katsan’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “And how do you explain her ?” she demanded, glowering at Neema.

The abbot tweaked an eyebrow. “ She offered you water at the tomb steps. In the tunnels, when she thought you were in danger, she ran to help. Remind me, Contender Brundt. What did you do when you heard her screams?”

Silence from the Bear contender. But she lowered her gaze.

“Honour, self-sacrifice. Courage.” Fort tucked his flask away. “I’m no expert on the matter, but… isn’t that the Way of the Bear?”

“It is,” Katsan muttered, to the ground.

“Well, then.” A deadly grin from the abbot. “Instead of arguing with me, you should thank Contender Valit. If he had shown a speck of interest or concern for anyone but himself, you would have no points at all.”

It was exactly as Neema had suspected. Cain had designed the Trial to play against Ruko’s greatest weakness: his lack of compassion. When Shal had made the painful decision to step away from the Trial, Ruko had called him a fool. Perhaps he could have clawed things back, if he’d come into the veranda and supported his fellow contenders as they returned from the tombs. But he hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. Tigers walk alone.

The only thing that surprised Neema was Ruko’s indifference. The Foxes had set him up to lose and he didn’t appear to care. He poured himself a glass of water, while the other contenders gathered around to congratulate Shal.

“Abbot Fort,” he said, when things had settled. “I note that the Raven contender has sustained an injury to her arm.”

“Too late for the fake pity, Ruko,” Cain said, still leaning on his post. “Trial’s over.”

Ruko settled his glass. “Contender Brundt attacked a fellow contender outside of the fighting platform.”

“I didn’t attack her,” Katsan said, in a tight voice.

Ruko lifted his chin towards Neema. “Her arm is bleeding.”

Neema cupped her hand over the wounds in her arm. “It’s nothing serious.” Katsan hated her enough already.

“Your grace.” Ruko appealed to the abbot. “It is your responsibility to administer the penalty.”

“Is it?” The abbot frowned, and patted his robes. “Does anyone have a copy of The Laws of the Festival on them?”

The Fox contingent looked at each other. One of them raised a tentative hand. “I have a copy of Advanced Positions for Intrepid Lovers ?”

“Not right now, thank you Nedwin.”

“I expect Contender Kraa knows the Laws by heart,” Ruko said.

He was right, she did. That’s why she was banned from the Raven palace tavern quiz, after winning ten weeks in a row, in a team of one. Neema knew everything .

“Contender?” Fort asked Neema. And then, hastily, “Just the relevant line, please.” Cain must have warned him.

And Neema, of course, couldn’t help but answer. “For a minor assault—”

“I barely touched her,” Katsan snapped.

“—the aggressor forfeits their most recent Trial points to the injured party,” Neema finished.

Katsan clenched her fists. “I will not give my points to her.”

“You only have one,” Neema said, before she could stop herself, and the entire Fox contingent burst out laughing.

“A change to the results,” Fort said. “I sense our Guardian at play.” The Fox delighted in shifting fortunes. “The Raven contender now has four points. Bear contender… you have none.”

And all thanks to Ruko, Neema thought. She didn’t flatter herself he’d done it for her sake. Much more likely he’d seen an opportunity to take a point from a true rival. These subtle power games were all part of his training.

Nothing left for Katsan now but to shore up what was left of her dignity. She shifted into her signature stance, hands clasped behind her back. “Thank you, Fox abbot, for this instruction in humility. I shall reflect upon my actions, and strive to do better.”

“Marvellous,” Fort replied. “Good luck with that. Nedwin, I’ll have that book now.”

And with that, apparently, the Fox Trial was over.