Reave the Just and Other Tales by Stephen R. Donaldson Page B

Reave—self-righteous meddlers whose notions of virtue cost themselves nothing and their foes everything. In part, this perception of himself arose from his own native and organic malice; in part, it sprang from his awareness that most of his victories over lesser men—men such as Jillet—were too easy, that for his own well-being he required greater challenges.
    Nevertheless, this conversation with his natural antagonist was not what he would have wished it to be. His plans did not include any defense of himself: he meant to attack. Seeking to capture the initiative, he countered, “However, my ownership of this house—like my ownership of Rudolph’s relict—is not your concern. If you have any legitimate concern here, it involves Jillet, not me. By what honest right do you sneak into my house and my study at this hour of the night in order to insult me with questions and innuendos?”
    Reave permitted himself a rather ominous smile. As though he were ignoring what Kelven had just asked, he replied, “My epithet, ‘the Just,’ derives from coinage. It concerns both the measure and the refinement of gold. When a coin contains the exact weight and purity of gold which it should contain, it is said to be ‘just.’ You may not be aware, Kelven Divestulata, that the honesty of any man is revealed by the coin with which he pays his debts.”
    “Debts?”
Involuntarily, Kelven sprang to his feet. He could not contain his anger sitting. “Are you here to annoy me with
debts
?”
    “Did you not kill Jillet?” Reave countered.
    “I did
not
! I have done many things to many men, but I did not kill that insufferable clod!
You,
” he shouted so that Reave would not stop him, “have insulted me enough. Now you will tell me why you are here—how you
justify
your actions—or I will hurl you to the ground outside my window and let my dogs feed on you, and
no one
will dare criticize me for doing so to an intruder in my study in the dead of night!”
    “You do not need to attack me with threats.” Reave’s self-assurance was maddening. “Honest men have nothing to fear from me, and you are threat enough just as you stand. I will tell you why I am here.
    “I am Reave the Just. I have come as I have always come, for blood—the blood of kinship and retribution. Blood is the coin in which I pay my debts, and it is the coin in which I exact restitution.
    “I have come for your blood, Kelven Divestulata.”
    The certainty of Reave’s manner inspired in Kelven an emotion he did not recognize—and because he did not recognize it, it made him wild.
“For what?”
he raged at his visitor. “What have I done? Why do you want my blood? I tell you,
I did not kill your damnable Jillet
!”
    “Can you prove that?”
    “Yes!”
    “How?”
    Shaken by the fear he did not recognize, Kelven shouted, “He is still alive!”
    Reave’s eyes no longer reflected the lamplight. They were dark now, as deep as wells. Quietly, he asked, “What
have
you done to him?”
    Kelven was confused. One part of him felt that he had gained a victory. Another knew that he was being defeated. “He amuses me,” the Divestulata answered harshly. “I have made him a toy. As long as he continues to amuse me, I will continue to play with him.”
    When he heard those words, Reave stepped back from the desk. In a voice as implacable as a sentence of death, he said, “You have confessed to the unlawful imprisonment and torture of an innocent man. I will go now and summon a magistrate. You will repeat your confession to him. Perhaps that act of honesty will inspire you to confess as well the crimes you have committed upon the person of the widow Huchette.
    “Do not attempt to escape, Kelven Divestulata. I will hunt you from the vault of Heaven to the pit of Hell, if I must. You have spent blood, and you will pay for it with blood.”
    For a moment longer, Reave the Just searched Kelven with his bottomless gaze. Then he turned and strode toward the