14. Thrown To The Mob

Kavio (The Rainbow Labyrinth Tribehold)

Kavio stood on the balcony of his father’s house, hiding in the shadows. The mob in the street had not seen him yet. That would not last.

The mob filled the dusty street between the blocks of adobe houses. Torches waved like glowing war banners. The crowd had come every night for days before the trial, shouting for blood. Wild fae danced around them—mean little Red and Orange imps, unseen by most people.

“Death to Kavio! Death to Kavio!” the people shouted.

Kavio breathed in the dry summer night. The Society of Societies had changed his punishment to exile, but that didn’t matter if he couldn’t get out of the tribehold alive. Now, with a mob ready to tear him apart, exile sounded better than death.

Father, still wearing his face paint and dance clothes, stepped to the edge of the balcony. Like the kiva, the adobe house was painted white. The mud walls of the balcony rose up from the lower part of the house. For safety, no house in the tribehold had doors on the first floor. People used ladders to move between the balcony and the street.

Father raised his arms to quiet the crowd. It took a while for the shouting to stop.

“Your cries have been heard. Justice is served!” he shouted. “Kavio has been judged guilty. He will be exiled!”

Only a few in the mob seemed satisfied.

“In the Bone Whistler’s day, he would have been stoned!” someone shouted.

Father’s face twisted with anger, but he kept control. “The Bone Whistler is dead, and so are his ways. The judgment is exile.”

“Of course the mighty Imorvae War Chief saves his own son!” another voice shouted.

Father gripped the edge of the balcony until his knuckles turned white. But he was too proud to answer.

“Let Kavio begin his exile here and now!” someone yelled. “We’ll see how long it lasts!”

Ugly laughter rippled through the crowd.

“Lower the ladder,” Father said to the Tavaedi warriors guarding Kavio.

Even the guards looked unsure. “The crowd will tear him apart as soon as he touches the ground.”

“Lower the ladder,” Father said again.

Kavio thought Mother might object, but she had not come back with them from the kiva. As usual, she had left without saying goodbye.

I guess she hasn’t forgiven me for turning down her offer.

The warriors lowered the ladder to the street. The crowd cheered. Someone began to chant again:

“Death to Kavio! Death to Kavio!”

He knew what that meant.

Here’s my cue, Kavio thought with dark humor. He stepped out of the shadows into the torchlight. The mob roared. So many people rushed forward that the ladder almost fell.

One man pushed back the others, shouting, “Let him come down first, if he dares!”

“That’s my invitation, I believe,” Kavio said to Father, grabbing the ladder.

“If new evidence or new witnesses come forward to clear your name,” Father said, “you can return to your duties as a Zavaedi in the Labyrinth. Is there anything you want to tell me, Kavio, that you didn’t say at the trial?”

Kavio thought of Zumo. But his cousin shared Auntie Ugly’s blind hate for everything Kavio was. The chance that Zumo would change his story was small. Very small.

“Goodbye, Father.”

He turned and began to climb down the ladder.

They didn’t let him finish. The crowd shook the ladder and knocked it over. Kavio flipped in the air and landed on his feet. But right away, angry men and women attacked him. Some hit him with hands and feet, others with rocks and sticks.

There were too many blows. Too many hits. They kicked and beat him down into the dirt. He curled into a heap, covered in bruises.

And he had thought he was ready to die.

He fought for every breath. He made them pay for every hit with two of his own. But still, they were winning. They were going to beat him to death—right under his own balcony—as Father watched from above, not moving.