Traitor's Moon

persuasive voice behind Seregil said, and he nearly toppled over twisting to look at Ulan í Sathil.
    â€œWhether it was his intention or not, Seregil has proven that my clan does not bear the shame of guest slaying, and did the same for the Haman, whom he has no cause to love. A man lacking atui might just as easily have kept this knowledge to himself.”
    There would be time later to discover what price this support might carry; for now, Seregil was grateful.
    Ulan was the last to speak in his behalf. Now Alec and Beka were called forward and questioned.
    Alec wore Skalan blue and Seregil noted with an inward smile that he’d pushed the long hair behind his left ear back so that the dragon mark on his earlobe showed. All the same, he looked drawnand worried. Beka, on the other hand, faced the Iia’sidra with squared shoulders, head held high.
    Their interrogation was brief. Having reiterated the story that they’d acted in the interest of both countries, they were sent back among the Skalans.
    Finally Nyal was called out. Striding out beside Seregil, he dropped to his knees and spread his arms. He was not wearing his sen’gai.
    â€œAre we to understand from your statement yesterday that you did willfully aid the Exile in leaving Sarikali?” asked Brythir.
    â€œYes, Honored One.” Nyal replied. “When I caught up with him and Alec and saw that they were being attacked, I thought it better to let them go on, in the hope that they would reach safety. I have accepted the consequences of my actions and been declared teth’brimash by my clan.”
    It was a serious matter to be cut off from one’s clan, worse in some ways than outright exile, yet Nyal seemed oddly complacent about the matter.
    â€œYou served the Skalans at the behest of the Iia’sidra, Nyal í Nhekai. We may have more to say of this matter,” Brythir informed him sternly. “Let the prisoners remain where they are.”
    The Iia’sidra withdrew to debate and Alec sat watching Seregil. His friend had scarcely stirred a muscle since they’d finished with him, just knelt there, head bowed, face half hidden by his hair. He’d spoken with such confidence in his own defense, prevaricating about nothing except the true nature of Korathan’s orders, excusing himself nothing, either, yet making it sound like a challenge.
    Alec’s gaze shifted to the small side door, willing the Iia’sidra to hurry.
    The shadows on the floor had moved less than an hour’s span when they filed back into their places. Seregil raised his head a little but otherwise remained still. Beka reached for Alec’s hand and held on tight.
    Brythir remained standing as he extended a hand toward Nyal. “Nyal í Nhekai, your punishment is deemed sufficient. You shall be teth’brimash for no less than twenty years, cut off from your clan and your name. You will enter no temples, and Sarikali is closed to you. Leave this place.”
    Nyal bowed deeply and strode from the room in silence. Beka let out a sigh of relief and relaxed her grip on Alec’s aching fingers.
    Nazien í Hari was the next to speak. Rising, he pointed at Seregil. “For the atui this man has shown toward our kinsman, Emiel í Moranthi, Haman revokes our demand for his life. Let the ban of exile be reinstated against him.”
    â€œThank the Light!” Alec groaned softly. Thero gripped his arm and gave it a victorious shake. There was more to come, however.
    Brythir took Nazien’s place. “Seregil of Rhíminee, you were granted entrance to Aurënen to serve as an adviser to Klia ä Idrilain. This honor was given to you as one who knows the ways of our people and our codes of honor. Since your arrival, you have acted ably, with great atui, even in the face of insult. In time, you might have won back your name. Instead, you chose to break faith with this body by the breaking of teth’sag. You have become a stranger to us, choosing the ways of the Tír over those of the people who were your own. You have made your choice and must now abide by it. Seregil of Rhíminee, you are declared teth’brimash for life, not by your clan, but by the Iia’sidra itself.”
    Alec was dimly aware of a muffled sob from somewhere nearby—Adzriel perhaps, or Mydri. Seregil remained very still. Too still.
    â€œYou are no Aurënfaie, but a ya’shel khi,” Brythir continued. “You