“Indeed, indeed.” Ylith frowned deeply and rose from her place, smoothing the panels of her chatem. Then she shot a hard look at the guards. “Lhe, take these prisoners both to the upper prisons and provide what is needful to their comfort. But confine them separately and allow them no communication with each other. None, Lhe.”
“Methi.” He acknowledged the order with a bow.
Her eyes lingered distastefully on Kurt. “This,” she said, “is nemetlike. It is proper that he be decently clothed. Insofar as he thinks he is nemet, treat him as such.”
Light flared.
Kurt blinked and rubbed his eyes as the opening of his door and the intrusion of men with torches brought him out. of a sound sleep into panic. Faceless shadows moved in on him.
He threw off the blanket and scrambled up from the cot his new quarters provided him-not to fight, not to fight- that was the worst thing for him and for Kta.
“You must come,” said Lhe’s voice out of the glare.
Kurt schooled himself to bow in courtesy, instincts otherwise. “Yes, sir,” he said, and began to put on his clothing.
When he was done, one guard laid hands on him.
“My lord,” he appealed to Lhe, a look of reproach on his face. And Lhe, dignified, elegant Lhe, was the gentleman Kurt suspected; he was too much nemet and too Indras to ignore the rituals of courtesy when they were offered.
“I think he will come of his own accord,” said Lhe to his companions, and they reluctantly let him free.
“Thank you,” said Kurt, bowing slightly. “Can you tell me where or why… ?”
“No, human,” said Lhe. “We do not know, except that you are summoned to the justice hall.”
“Do you hold trials at night?” Kurt asked, honestly shocked. Even in liberal Nephane, no legal business could be done after Phan’s light had left the land.
“You cannot be tried,” said Lhe. “You are human.”
In some part it did not surprise him, but he had not clearly considered the legalities of his status. Perhaps, he thought, his dismay showed on his face, for Lhe looked uncomfortable, shrugged and made a helpless gesture.
“You must come,” Lhe repeated.
Kurt went with them unrestrained, through plain halls and down several turns of stairs, until they came to an enormous pair of bivalve doors and passed through them into a hall of ancient stonework.
The beamed ceiling here was scarcely visible in the light of the solitary torch, which burned in a wall socket. The only furniture was a long tribunal and its chairs.
A ringbolt was in the floor, already provided with chain. Lhe courteously-with immense courtesy-asked him to stand there, and one of the men locked the chain through the ring on his ankle.
He stared up at Lhe, rude, angry, and Lhe avoided his eyes.
“Come,” said Lhe to his men. “We are not bidden to remain.” And to Kurt: “Human, you will win far more by humble words than by pride.”
He might have meant it in kindness; he might have been laughing. Kurt stared at their retreating backs, shaking all over with rage and fright.
Of a sudden he cried out, kicked at the restraint in a fit of fury, jerked at it again and again, willing even to break his ankle if it would make them see him, that he was not to be treated like this.
All that he succeeded in doing was hi losing his balance, for there was not enough chain to do more than rip the skin around his ankle. He sprawled on the bruising stone and picked himself up, on hands and knees, head hanging.
“Are you satisfied?” asked the Methi.
He spun on one knee toward the voice beyond the torch-
light Softly a door closed unseen, and she came into the circle of light. She wore a robe that was almost a mere pelan, gauzy blue, and her dark hair was like a cloud of night, held by a silver circlet around her temples. She stopped at the edge of the tribunal, her short tilted brows lifted in an expression of amusement.
“This is not,” she said, “the behavior of an intelligent