A World of Rules

Morning crept into the small room as a thin gray wash. Avery had not slept. Every sound in the hall pulled at her nerves. When the key turned she was already sitting up with the blanket tight in her hands.

Kael stood in the doorway with a guard behind him. He set a folded dress of plain cloth and soft shoes on the table. He spoke in a quiet voice. He watched her face. He waited for her nod before he came closer.

He pointed to the dress. He pointed to her wet clothes. Duty made a mask of his features.

Avery nodded. He turned his back to give her a scrap of privacy. She dressed quick. The cloth was rough but dry. The shoes were too big but warm. She tucked her necklace under the collar where no one would see it.

They stepped into the hall. The guard followed at a careful distance. Kael set a slow pace. He spoke a few words and pointed ahead. He touched his fingers to his lips and shook his head. Do not speak. He lowered his hand. Keep your eyes down.

The passage opened into a courtyard washed clean by rain. Smoke from the kitchens drifted. Men moved with purpose. Wooden swords cracked. Buckets splashed. A well chain creaked as someone scrubbed mail.

Kael kept her close and led her through a gate into the city. Narrow streets twisted between high stone walls. Timber beams leaned across hanging space. Water dripped from eaves. Market stalls crowded a square. Women argued over bread. A boy ran with an armful of sticks and almost struck her. He stared at her shoes and then at her face.

Avery kept her eyes low like he had shown her. Her heartbeat thudded at her throat. She listened. Words rose and fell around her. The language cut and curled. One word returned whenever eyes slid her way. Outsider.

Kael spoke to her without looking at her. His voice stayed low. He touched his lips again. Do not speak. He held his fist near his ribs. Do not stand tall. He glanced at her once. His eyes were iron. Not unkind. Not soft.

They crossed a stone bridge over a narrow river that cut the city in two. The water moved slow and black. A bell tolled on the far bank. People bowed their heads. Kael did not bow.

A square opened ahead. Tall buildings watched with narrow windows. A wooden scaffold stood at the center. Guards held the crowd back with the hafts of their spears. A priest in white read from a book. His voice carried like a thrown net.

Avery looked at the ground. Her stomach went tight. She looked up anyway.

A woman stood on the platform with her hands tied. Bruises marred her face. Her split lip shone dark. She stared at the priest with eyes that did not look away. Her dress was simple and mended at the seams.

The priest lifted the book. The words fell heavy. The crowd shifted and murmured. A mother near Avery crossed herself and whispered.

Kael stopped. He stood like a wall. His jaw worked once. He said nothing.

The priest lowered the book and raised his hand. The crowd stilled. A guard stepped forward and spoke in a clear voice. The word Avery knew now cut the morning. Heresy.

Her breath came short. She wanted to step back. She wanted to turn away. Her feet did not move.

An executioner walked up the steps with a rope. He did not look angry. He looked tired.

Avery tried to lower her eyes. She could not. For a heartbeat the woman’s gaze found hers. Peace touched the woman’s face.

Kael shifted closer. His arm brushed Avery’s. The touch was a warning. The touch was a shield.

The rope went over the beam. The knot was set. The crowd held its breath.

The priest spoke the last word.

Avery flinched and closed her eyes. The wooden trap banged open.

The crowd exhaled. Some cheered. Some wept. Some turned away.

Avery stared at the dark wood under her shoes. Heat stung her eyes. She did not cry.

Kael’s voice came low at her ear. One short line. The meaning was plain.

Speak out of turn and you die.

He turned her from the square and set a fast pace down a narrow street. The guard followed. The bell tolled again. Each note fell heavy between her shoulder blades.

A figure stepped from a doorway as they passed. A thin faced man with pale eyes. He watched her from shadow and smiled without warmth.

Kael saw him. His hand dropped near his sword. The man slid back into the dark with that same thin smile.

They walked on. The world felt sharper. The rules were not written on signs. They were written on faces. They were written on stone.

They turned a corner and almost ran into a line of soldiers. The man at the front wore a cloak with silver thread at the hem. He carried a scroll. He looked down his nose at Kael and spoke in a carrying voice.

Avery could not catch every word. She caught a name. She caught the sense of rank. She caught the weight of command.

Kael bent his head a fraction. He listened. He answered with words that sounded like iron and snow.

The man with the scroll glanced at Avery and then back to Kael. His smile did not touch his eyes.

The soldiers moved on. Kael let out a slow breath.

Avery looked back toward the square. Smoke from torches curled into gray morning.

Kael spoke again in a voice only she would hear. He touched his lips. He lifted his chin toward the road.

Do not speak. Do not look back.

They walked.

At the next corner the thin faced man watched them again. He whispered to another man and nodded toward Avery.

The weight of eyes pressed at her. She lowered her head.

They reached the compound gate. The guard opened it at once. The yard smelled of smoke and horse. It felt almost safe.

A cry rose from the barracks. Two men ran toward them. Their faces were pale. Their eyes were wide.

“Commander,” one said. The word carried. Avery caught it now. She guessed better at the meaning of the rest.

A paper hit Kael’s palm. He read. His face went still. He looked at Avery with a new kind of fear.

The order was clear. Find the outsider.

Avery stepped back without meaning to.

Kael caught her wrist. His grip was steady and warm. Their eyes met for one hard beat.

He pulled her toward the door.

The yard filled with the sound of boots.