Reave the Just and Other Tales Read Online Free PDF Page B

however, that I cannot understand why you would stoop to a false claim of marriage. Without the sanction of the priests, no marriage can be valid—and no sanction is possible until the banns have been published. This you have not done.”
    There Jillet paused to congratulate himself. The alchemist’s magick was indisputably efficacious. It had already made him
bolder
than he had ever been in his life.
    In fact, it made him so
bold
that he took no notice of the narrowing of Kelven’s eyes, the tightening of his hands. Jillet was inured to peril. He smiled blandly as the Divestulata stood to make his reply.
    “She is my wife,” Kelven announced distinctly, “
because
I have claimed her. I need no other sanction.”
    Jillet blinked a time or two. “Do I understand you, sir? Do you call her your wife—and still admit that you have not been wed?”
    Kelven studied his visitor and said nothing.
    “Then this is a matter for the magistrates.” In a sense, Jillet did not hear his own words. Certainly, he did not pause to consider whether they would be pleasing to the Divestulata. His attention was focused, rather, on alchemy and incantations. Enjoying his new boldness, he wondered how far he could carry it before he felt the need to make reference to his kinsman. “The sacrament of marriage exists to protect women from those who are stronger, so that they will not be bound to any man against their will.” This fine assertion was not one which he had conceived for himself. It was quoted almost directly from the school lessons of the priests. “If you have not wed the widow Huchette, I can only conclude that she does not choose to wed you. In that case”—Jillet was becoming positively giddy—“you are not her husband, sir. You are her enslaver.
    “You would be well advised to let me speak to her.”
    Having said this, Jillet bowed to Kelven, not out of courtesy, but in secret delight. The Divestulata was his only audience for his performance: like an actor who knew he had done well, he bowed to his audience. All things considered, he may still have been under the influence of the previous evening’s ale.
    Naturally, Kelven saw the matter in another light. Expressionless except for his habitual glower, he regarded Jillet. After a moment, he said, “You mentioned the magistrates.” He did not sound like a man who had been threatened. He sounded like a man who disavowed responsibility for what came next. Having made his decision, he rang a small bell which stood on his desk. Then he continued, “You will speak to my wife.”
    The servant who had conducted Jillet to the Divestulata’s study appeared. To the servant, Kelven said, “Inform my wife that she will receive us.”
    The servant bowed and departed.
    Jillet had begun to glow inwardly. This was a triumph! Even such a man as Kelven Divestulata could not resist his alchemy—and he had not yet made any reference to Reave the Just. Surely his success with the widow was assured. She would succumb to his magick; Kelven would withdraw under threat of the magistrates; and all would be just as Jillet had dreamed it. Smiling happily at his host, he made no effort to resist as Kelven took him by his arm.
    However, allowing Kelven to take hold of him may have been a mistake. The Divestulata’s grip was hard—brutally hard—and the crush of his fingers upon Jillet’s arm quickly dispelled the smile from Jillet’s lips. Jillet was strong himself, having been born to a life of labor, but Kelven’s strength turned him pale. Only pride and surprise enabled him to swallow his protest.
    Without speaking—and without haste—Kelven steered Jillet to the chamber where he had instructed his wife to receive visitors.
    Unlike Kelven’s study, the widow’s sitting room was brightly lit, not by lamps and candles, but by sunshine. Perhaps simply because she loved the sun, or perhaps because she wished herself to be seen plainly, she immersed herself in light. This made