"Not enough," Freth called, though it lacked her usual sharp conviction. "Even among our own, only those who've taken their full place as one of us can speak before the elders when in council."
"Another true point," Brot'an answered, and Freth looked wary, as if she'd stepped into a trap. "Blood is not enough. A name is needed to be an'Croan... to be recognized as one of us."
"Leshil does not have..." Freth began, but the last of her words had no voice and were only marked by the movement of her lips.
"He does," Brot'an answered, and turned upon Leesil. "Speak your true name for all to hear and recognize your rights."
Magiere looked at Leesil.
"It doesn't mean anything," he whispered to her. "Whatever it takes to get you out of here... I don't care what they believe."
"The witness will refrain from speaking," Sgaile called loudly. "Except as directed by the council, an advocate, or the adjudicator."
Magiere wanted to grab Leesil and make him tell her what had happened.
Leesil took a long breath. "Leshi... Le... shi-air..." He sighed in frustration. "I can't pronounce it."
Sgaile frowned, the tan lines of his face creasing, and he shouted out, "Leshiarelaohk! And it was not chosen by him... it was given by the ancestors themselves."
All sound in the clearing faded instantly. Then a low thrum of voices grew and erupted into a deafening chaos.
Magiere spotted Gleann leaning forward upon his small stool. He was silent, staring down to the field at Leesil. But unlike the shocked disbelief or outrage of others, his expression was eager-and even excited.
Leanalham stood behind him with confusion on her young face. She touched Gleann on the shoulder, whispering in his ear. He reached up and patted her hand with a satisfied smile but said nothing in return.
Whatever the name meant either it wasn't clear or the meaning had raised disturbing questions among the council. Or maybe it was that Leesil had acquired any name at all. Magiere looked to Wynn for help.
The little sage wrinkled her nose and then whispered, "Something about 'grief and... maybe 'tear'? I cannot fully decipher. Its construction seems older than even the dialect spoken here."
Brot'an stood erect with the branch gripped at his side, ardent and determined pride in his eyes as he looked upon Leesil. Clearly he knew what the name meant and it pleased him. This worried Magiere most of all.
He raised the branch, turning before the crowd, until the gathering's noise settled enough for him to be heard.
"Tell us of what happened on hallowed ground," Brot'an said to Leesil.
Freth offered no further objection.
Leesil recounted briefly, and Brot'an translated for the gathering.
Not all of it made sense to Magiere. Leesil was reluctant and spoke simply, like the times she caught him in some foolishness and forced him to confess. By her guess, he wasn't telling everything. But he offered enough to bring all voices to full silence as the elders and others listened in rapt attention.
"And what is the use of your weapons?" Brot'an asked. "How does this use relate to the accused?"
Leesil spoke more forcefully this time, expanding upon Osha's earlier answers. He even told of their first encounter with Sgaile in Bela, and of Chap's own part in their efforts to hunt undead. The crowd listened with interest.
"Now the people may question the truth of these words," Brot'an said. "Do the elders question the naming of... Leshiarelaohk?"
His gaze slipped to Freth and Most Aged Father. Neither said a word, though Freth seethed visibly in frustration.
"The ancestors granted Leshiarelaohk's request." Brot'an lifted the branch once more. "Magiere, come forward. You may bring your translator."
She tried not to hesitate as she stepped out, and Wynn came with her, a little more cautious.
"If the accused is truly undead," Brot'an called out, "no tricks or arcane practice will serve her. This branch, gifted by the ancestors from Roise Char-mune, is their bond to our land by which no enemy of the life here could walk our forest."
He held the branch out to Magiere.
She stood frozen. Inside, she trembled-not just from the affliction the forest had pressed upon her. What if the branch did something to mark her as an undead after all? Or worse, what if it drained of all remaining life at her touch?
Magiere couldn't breathe. She reached out and grasped the branch in her bare hand.
It felt smooth but not slick or wet, as it appeared to be. At first it was cool, even cold, then it warmed gently in her grip. It felt alive, and her panic sharpened.
For some reason, her eyes met and held Sgaile's. She waited for the wooden symbol to wither or to burn her... or something.
Nothing happened.
"If she were undead," Brot'an called out, "this could not happen. Not one sign of rejection. No strike against her flesh by the ancestors through the very emblem of our land and bloodline of old."
Magiere began to breathe again. Brot'an walked an arc around her and around the clearing as he spoke.
"She is unusual, yes, perhaps as suited to her calling. In battle, she appears fierce... even predatory, as some have said, and I have seen this myself more than once. But the ancestors have not marked her as a threat to us. Whatever issues some might take with her, the current claim is false."
Brot'an waved Magiere and Wynn back to the oak table.
"I rest for now," he said, "and yield to the address of the accuser's advocate."
Magiere approached the table, watching Leesil. He reached out and grasped her pale hand. She quickly dropped the branch on the table and turned to look across the field.
Freth remained by her table, locked in uncertainty, but Most Aged Father didn't look shaken a bit by Brot'an's presentation. Magiere quivered inside, wondering what the old man would try next.
Wynn leaned in close between Magiere and Leesil, translating quietly for them.
Freth strode to the clearing's center, wasting no time as she addressed the gathering in a clear, light voice.
"The accused's advocate has not addressed all possibilities. This human does not merely 'appear' fierce in battle. Her body takes on more literal attributes... by which she turned upon the living around her. We accept the testimonies presented so far without challenge, but even her companions do not fully understand her nature."
Wynn detected the slight falterings in Frethfare's voice.
Not uncertainty, but more like a speech too quickly memorized, repetitious and glib. Wynn studied Most Aged Father, wondering if Freth served as his advocate or just his mouthpiece.
Freth strode back to her table and flicked a summoning hand at the crowd behind her. en'nish pushed into view through a cluster of Anmaglahk and came downslope with something cupped in her hands. Freth took it and proceeded across the clearing. As she approached Brot'an's table, Wynn saw a sacred white flower in Freth's hand. The same as the one that Sgaile had warned her not to touch.
White velvet petals shaped like leaves gathered the sunlight that struck them and returned it in a soft glow. The base and stem of the flower were a dark green, close to black.
"We saw some of those on our way here," Leesil whispered.
Freth held it up for the clan elders to see.
"Anasgiah-the Life Shield. Prepared by a healer in tea or food, it sustains the dying, so they might yet be saved from death. It is vibrant with life itself, and feeds the life of those who need it most."
Anxiety grew in Wynn's stomach. By all she had heard, the ancestors were thought to weigh and render judgment according to an'Croan needs. This flower was an inert thing, void of such intelligent consideration-whatever its use might be in these proceedings.
"The accused will come out," Freth ordered.
Magiere approached in an echo of Freth's own self-confidence. Wynn trotted after, uncertain if protocol allowed it, but no one stopped her.
Without warning, Freth slapped the white petals across Magiere's face.
Wynn gasped as Leesil tried to rush out. Brot'an pulled him back and then walked up behind Magiere.
"What is the meaning of this?" Brot'an demanded, as Sgaile moved quickly to join them.
Wynn grabbed hold of Magiere's arm, fearful of what she might do in return.
Magiere barely flinched, but her dark eyes locked on Freth's amber ones. Then she began to shake uncontrollably. Freth watched her with a startled satisfaction.
Wynn wrapped her arm around Magiere's waist. Freth raised the flower for all to see.
The white petals darkened. First to dull yellow, and then ashen tan as they withered. The flower died in Freth's hand, and crumpled petals fell away to float to the ground.
Rumbling grew among the gathering. The shrill voices of the aruin'nas shouted above all.
"Only an undead could cause this!" Freth cried. "Anasgiah's potency is such that an undead does not have to consume the petals to consume what it offers. For that is what an undead truly feeds upon-life!" potency is such that an undead does not have to consume the petals to consume what it offers. For that is what an undead truly feeds upon-life!"
In horror, Wynn craned her head around up at Brot'an.
His face was tight and hard, but he was caught as unaware as anyone else by this trick Freth played. At the field's far end, Most Aged Father watched with ardent eyes, and the barest smile stretched his shriveled mouth.
Wynn tried to force calm as she held on to Magiere, but she found none. Freth could know little more of the undead than anyone present. She could not have known how the flower would react to Magiere. This was Most Aged Father's doing.
The old one's test challenged Brot'an's-perhaps even canceled it out.
Brot'an motioned Magiere and Wynn to return to his table. Wynn walked Magiere back, steadying her until she grabbed the table's edge. Sgaile had to shout for silence again, but one of the aruin'nas elders rose to his feet, screaming back at Sgaile in his strange tongue.
"Do not throw another demand upon these proceedings!" Sgaile replied. "No vote has been called. You will hold for deliberation."
The short old one spit one more vicious utterance. Sgaile did not answer, and stood waiting until the Aruin'nas elder settled cross-legged upon the depression's edge.
Freth stalked back to her table as the crowd's rumble settled. She removed three stilettos and a shining garrote wire from her sleeves and belt and dropped them all upon the table.
Most Aged Father did not look at her. His ardent satisfaction remained focused across the clearing upon Magiere.
"Brot'an'duive sought the ancestors' judgment," Freth cried out. "I do so as well. But words and tests will not settle this. I disarm and call for trial by combat. Let the ancestors guide my limbs in the old ways. Let them decide who speaks the truth."
The gathering's murmurs rose into a cacophony. Most Aged Father sat back in his chair, milky eyes glittering.
"Confer!" Brot'an shouted.
Sgaile nodded in discomfort and barely contained his distaste as he looked at Freth.
Brot'an turned to Magiere as Wynn hurried to catch up in translating. She faltered and staggered as Chap shoved in beside her.
"What's happening?" Leesil asked.
"Old ways," Brot'an sighed. "All but forgotten. When a dispute cannot be settled through deliberation, trial by combat may be called, though it has never been sought in my lifetime. And it must be sanctioned by the elders. The victor must put the opponent down, or the opponent must verbally yield. It is believed that the ancestors support the victor's truth."
"That is not all she wants," Wynn said. "She goads Magiere into revealing her nature. Freth wants them all to see Magiere transform, and if she cannot defeat Freth without calling upon her inner nature..."
Either way, Magiere could lose, and she was still shaking.
Magiere's eyes shifted back and forth. "I might... might control it long enough... still win..."
"No," Leesil snapped. "You're not going out there!"
Magiere was barely able to speak between shudders, and Wynn knew she could not hold her dhampir half inside if a fight ensued. In Nein'a's clearing, Magiere had lost herself in this same shaken state.
"Most Aged Father told Freth to do this," Wynn said. "She reported everything she saw in Nein'a's clearing, but only he would know how the flower would affect Magiere."
Brot'an turned hard eyes on Wynn, likely wondering how she knew this, but she gave him no chance to question her as she rushed on.
"He knows Magiere may not be able to hold back. The instant she succumbs, she will be finished. This has nothing to do with Freth putting the outcome in the hands of her ancestors."
Magiere leaned back, half-sitting on the table's edge, and closed her arms tightly about herself. All Leesil could do was stand before her, holding her steady by the shoulders.
"A vote must still be taken," Brot'an said.
He pushed off the table and headed toward Sgaile. Freth joined them. An unknown anmaglahk came out as well and handed Sgaile two small baskets.
"Let us hope the vote fails," Wynn whispered as Leesil turned to watch.
"A vote on challenge is called!" Sgaile shouted.
It started slowly at first. Wynn saw stones being tossed by the elders. Black or white, they tumbled downslope or arched directly to the clearings floor. Gleann's black one cleared the slope completely and thumped upon the turf. He gave her a smile, and Wynn understood.
Black to decline, and white in favor of combat.
Wynn did not need to look to know what color the Aruin'nas elder threw.
Brot'an and Freth followed as Sgaile gathered and separated the stones into the two baskets. They returned to the clearing's side, where he poured them into two piles. Both appeared equal. He began counting.
Before he shouted the results, Brot'an already headed back toward Wynn. Chap growled beside her.
"Trial by combat has been granted," Sgaile called.
Brot'an began pulling stilettos and blades from his wrist sheaths and boots, slapping them on the oak table.