25

Dinn was killed on my twentieth birthday.

I made you jump, no?

But it's true.

It was earliest morning, probably not even an hour into my birthday, the time when the day is just as dark as night. I was wrapped in thick folds of sleep when I heard a pealing shriek. Bad dreams, I thought before I rolled over.

Looking back, I can say it was the first real bad dream of my life. Not the worst.

Another scream. I sat up in bed, breathing hard. The room was reddish dark, a wild display of firelight launched across my bedroom wall. I saw more firelight from my open window.

The house is on fire!

I lunged out of bed. I don't know how I avoided getting caught up in the blankets and falling to a broken neck, but I made it to the window. I tried to sort out what I was seeing. I saw the small blaze of fire. Its brightness left vivid patches on my vision before I realized what was burning: a human body, strung by the neck to Sable's front flagpole. Its heavy boots thunked dully against the iron pole, stirred by the wind. A large crowd had already gathered at the pole's base.

I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling -feeling not horrified. Feeling absolutely unreal. The horror and nausea were slow in coming, and by then, my heart was beating too rapidly for me to stand still. I rushed out of my room. I shouldn't leave the house -is there a revolt -where is-

I dashed out onto the balcony, gripping the railing. The crowd was growing larger. I recognized many faces in the contrasting light and shadows, but none of them seemed familiar.

I whirled off the balcony and down the stairs. It was stupid to go rushing into potential danger, but I didn't care. I had to know what was happening. I had to know now.

There was a small crowd at the front door, also moving out. I ran right into Dinn, who grabbed me by the shoulders and wordlessly slung me behind him. I was hardly rational. I followed him out. I saw Grand, who flashed me a concerned look, his eyes grim. As I passed, he latched his one arm around my shoulders, forcing me to a halt.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"A murder," Grand said coldly. "Of a sort. Damned cowards." His voice was disdainful, yet he kept his arm tightly around me, protectively.

"Who?" I demanded, hysteria closing in around me. "Who?"

"Quiet, Salisha!"

"Who-"

"It's no one. It's just an effigy. Look."

I stared up. The burning figure swung in the air above us.

"Are you sure?"

"It's shedding straw."

Small puffs of smoke were spiraling away from the figure, charred straw on the breeze.

My heart rate had calmed somewhat, but that let my thoughts back in. "Who are they supposed to be burning?" Not Father. Not Father.

"Dinn, actually."

I sighed with relief. No one crucial then. "Why?"

Grand probably would've answered, but now several of the soldiers had cast their water runes, drenching the dummy in the several short blasts. Most of the firelight faded, but I could clearly see that the victim was nothing more than cloth, straw and clothes.

Sir Ruel's voice rose above the crowd, thoroughly lambasting all of us for dignifying this farce with our presence. Nodding his agreement, Grand turned and steered me back towards the house. We sat in the dining room.

I grasped at the loose thoughts swirling around in my head. "Ruel's going to appoint Dinn as his replacement?"

"He certainly is," Grand replied, carefully lighting a lamp with one hand. "And he's making the right choice, in my opinion. I judged that boy's worth seven years ago, and I wasn't wrong."

"Someone's angry because he's not from Sable, right?"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that out." Grand eased himself into the chair across from me. "We were expecting some opposition, but nothing so vainglorious as this." He snorted. "Burning in effigy. What's next? If you want to kill a man, you go out and do it, not sit in your cellar stuffing dummies."

Some of the household staff had begun to trickle in by then, wide eyed and yapping amongst themselves. Grand glared, but when they didn't stop, he brought his fist down on the table and ordered them all to bed. By then, Mother had come in. She directed some maids to make coffee and joined us at the table, rubbing her forehead. She glanced around, trying to make light on the situation. "All that bother for nothing. I suppose it's better than the opposite."

Father clumped wearily in, followed by a blank-faced Dinn. I studied him, wondering what he was thinking. Probably combinations of words I'd never even heard of.

"Did you find out who's behind it?" Mother asked.

Father dropped tiredly into a chair (Dinn remained standing, I noticed.) "Certainly not."

Grand glowered. "They go to all the trouble to set this up, and no one's willing to take the credit. Hmph. Who would?" A maid came in with coffee and left as fast as she could. Grand took a gulp of his. "This is your fault, Solis. This is what happens when there's no discipline among the ranks!"

"It wasn't necessarily soldiers that did this," Mother said, leveling a "shut up" look at Grand.

Father rubbed the skin between his eyes. "We will certainly make every attempt to find these miscreants. Of course," he turned to Dinn, "tonight's episode doesn't change anything."

Dinn nodded grimly. I suddenly felt guilty about my cavalier attitude towards his "death", guilty, cruel and stupid. This was my future garrison general we were discussing here, the future head of my military.

"You two should go to bed," Father said to Mother and me. "We'll wait here to see what Ruel hears."

"No," I said, quite automatically.

Father's face went stern. "Go to bed, Salisha."

I was getting into a mood. "Why?"

"Because tonight's threat might not be over," Grand snapped, "and you're more use to us cowering under your blankets than yipping down here."

I bit my lower lip, incensed. "Don't order me around," I said slowly.

"Salisha," Mother said, "they're right. Let's go."

Simple, calm words were my defeat just then. I sat up and stalked back up to my room. The sounds of searching and activity continued on through the darkness, and I eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep. That didn't stop the bad dream, however.

Happy Birthday, Salisha.