Chapter Forty-Nine
It took some time to gather the families of the dead, but not as long as I expected.
It took longer to explain to them what the silk was and how the Spider had created it.
But they listened—the Raltven and Eljaffna who had lost so much.
They listened because I was Hallaxgral, and I was delivering them justice instead of taking it for myself. The gold I distributed may have helped.
Through the explanations, screams, shouts, and tears, my mate kept his hand locked on the chain between the Spider's manacled wrists.
She was gagged still—a necessary precaution with a spellcaster—but her stare said it all.
In her eyes was the despair I had once seen in Eliel's.
She knew nothing could save her now. Behind her were her loom, crates of thread, and trunks of silk that had been divided into those that glowed and those that didn't.
We were in the Hole—the perfect place for retribution.
There, in the one Weisha neighborhood the Talons feared to go, the Spider would pay for her crimes.
I expected there to be a debate between the Eljaffna and Raltven on how to punish her, but I was wrong.
Their shared grief bonded them, and they decided rapidly on what would be done.
Vas handed our prisoner over to two men—one Eljaffna and one Raltven who'd been chosen to represent their people.
They walked the Spider out of the tavern we'd gathered in and into the center of the street.
More Raltven and Eljaffna waited outside—the two communities coming together to support their grieving members.
Vas, my crew, and I stood aside as the loom, thread, and silk were carried outside as well.
This was not my vengeance, but I would bear witness to it.
In the center of the Hole, surrounded by hundreds of solemn people, the Spider was tied to her loom.
She paled as the families of the dead gathered around her.
They went to the crates and trunks. They removed the thread and silk—the Raltven claiming those that glowed.
Holding them reverently, the families circled the Spider.
The two representatives stood on either side of the Spider and faced their people.
“Today, we honor our dead,” the Raltven man declared. “We send them to Ranya.”
“And Ranu,” the Eljaffna man added. “We will send their souls to him upon the ashes of magic and with wings of our love.”
The Raltven man lifted his fist and shouted, “And our fury!”
The crowd roared.
When the roar died down, the Eljaffna man said, “We grant our dead justice.”
The Raltven added, “And we pray that it gives their souls peace.”
“We shall remember them and this day forever.” The Eljaffna pounded his chest.
“And we will remember those who helped us when no one else would.” The Raltven man bowed to me and my crew.
We bowed in unison back to him.
Then the Raltven man held out an arm, and a woman went to him. It was Sana, the woman who had come to us about her missing son. She carried a glowing cloak reverently, but her stare hardened as she approached the Spider.
“Rui!” Sana shouted. “I avenge you!”
The crowd roared as the cloak fell over the Spider. She went invisible, although a faint outline remained. I nodded in approval. Now, if any talon happened to venture into the Hole, perhaps drawn by the cacophony, all they would see is a loom.
As Sana stepped back, logs were brought forward and laid around the loom.
The representatives went to their people and received burning torches.
The men held those torches aloft as they strode toward the pile of wood.
Muffled shrieks came from the loom, and the outline of the cloaked Spider shook as the torches were tossed beneath her, onto the logs.
The wood caught fire, the flames licked upward, and the silk on both the loom and the Spider ignited, bursting into sparkling embers. The shrieks grew louder.
“Ooooh pretty,” Baelxa whispered.
One by one, people stepped up to the fire and called out the name of their loved one while casting silk into the flames. Each contribution sent glittering sparks up into the night. A tear trickled down my cheek as the recital went on and on. So many names. So much silk to burn.
Vasren took my hand. I looked over at him.
His eyes were full of sorrow, but also pride and satisfaction.
He fully understood me now. He was right when he told the Spider we were one.
There was no question of accepting each other anymore.
We were united. Vas knew me, and I knew him.
So when he squeezed my hand, I felt his strength flow into me, and I knew it was his way of comforting me without tarnishing the image of Hallaxgral.
Not for me, but for them. These people needed an enforcer, someone who would deliver the guilty and then stand firm to bear witness to their punishment.
In short, I couldn't be seen weeping in the arms of my lover.
For them, I would lift my chin and watch as every piece of silk burned and every soul granted peace.
“Hallaxgral!” the Raltven man called.
I glanced at Vas, who nodded at me, and then I stepped forward, alone. The crowd parted to let me through. I saw the empty hands of the mourners. All the silk had been cast into the fire, and the Spider had gone silent. I hoped she had suffered immensely.
Wait. Not all the silk had been burned. There was still one glowing spool of thread and one set of ribbons left. The Raltven and the Eljaffna representatives met me before the fire.
“Hallaxgral, you have the gratitude of the Eljaffna of Weisha!” The Eljaffna man held out the ribbons.
Inclining my head, I took them.
All the Eljaffna shouted my name, “Hallaxgral!”
“And you have the gratitude of the Raltven of Weisha!” The Raltven man handed me the glowing spool of thread. “You are now the Ghost Who Avenges Ghosts!”
I took the thread as the Raltven shouted my new alias.
“The Ghost Who Avenges Ghosts!”
And then, with the solemn stares of two races carrying me forward, I went to the pyre and tossed in the silk.
“You are avenged!” I roared.
The crowd roared with me as sparkling embers rose, lifting the pain from our hearts. I turned, bowed to the families of the dead, and returned to my family. My crew and Vas met me halfway, and we were enveloped by a united community of two races who had never come together before.
We stood vigil around the fire throughout the night.
Raltven passed out steaming mugs of cider to all there, warming us as stories of the dead were exchanged.
People called out to their Gods and loved ones while they lifted their mugs.
Some wept, some stared at the flames, and others gave their support. It was a fitting tribute.
With the arrival of dawn, the flames died and the wood crumbled into cinders.
The sky went lavender and then pink. As golden rays shone upon us, the ashes rose in spirals, drawn into the sky by a strange breeze.
Everyone went silent to watch the delicate flakes fly among the orange, sparking embers, going higher and higher until they vanished.
Peace fell upon the gathering as the street was swept clean, only a dark smudge remaining.
I closed my eyes to feel the hands of the Gods upon us.
Voices of grief became murmurs of awe. Tears dried and backs straightened. They had suffered a great evil, but they had vanquished it together. As the mourners broke into groups and dispersed, I left with my crew and mate. Our part was done. We strode away in somber silence. Mostly.
“Fuck!” Yesmic grumbled.
We all looked at him in shock.
“I should have roasted some sausages.” He sighed as if he'd missed a great opportunity. “I'm starving.”
We gaped at him. Then a snort escaped me. It broke the solemnity, and the others chuckled.
“Next time,” I said.
“You mean the next time we catch an evil murderer, deliver them to their victims, and watch them burn?” Netrax snickered.
“Yes,” I said and smirked back at him. “Next time.”