by D. T. Kane
Shades, Ferrin cursed to himself. No waytower left unexplored there.
“Ferrin, Orphaned of Ral Mok,” the bailiff droned on with hardly a pause. “Charged as follows: One count, felony evasion of justice; two counts, felony shadow channeling; one count; aiding and abetting concealment of known shadow attuned; seven counts, pre-meditated murder.”
Ferrin flinched. He had no regrets over what he’d done to those Parents at the Crossing, nor the one in the library. But hearing the accusations put so bluntly still sent chills down his spine. He tried to mop at his forehead, but only succeeded in jangling his chains and drawing a glare from Valdin.
“Solicitor Priest Shinzar,” Valdin said after he’d spent what felt like a decade staring at Ferrin. “Proceed with the land’s evidence.”
“Thank you, Grand Father. As the bench knows, the land has already submitted multiple affidavits regarding the charges against Defendant Bladesorrow stemming from the unfortunate events that took place at Riverdale fifteen years ago. The land moves to—”
“Objection.” Devan sprang to his feet. Where had he found a chair? “As I understand it, there was but one survivor of the Riverdale catastrophe. Who are these affiants you claim to have found?”
Ferrin thought the Grand Father’s eyes might begin to melt from their sockets with all the heat generated by his stare.
Shinzar stammered wordlessly for a time. Clearly he hadn’t been prepared to actually present his case against an adversary who could voice objections.
“Well, they’re, ehh, they’re quite reliable witnesses who heard of the events through others and—”
“Oh please,” Devan waved a hand, the motion sending his wig even further askew. “Objection. Hearsay. This is absurd, even for your, Val.”
“Sir, you will address the Grand Father in the appropriate manner,” cut in the third judge, a rail of a Parent with waist-length blonde hair that was nearly white. “However,” he drawled on, dragging out the word, “I must agree with your objection.”
“Aye, sustained,” assented the judge from the Commons before Valdin could open his mouth. It was fortunate the other judges were on separate pillars from him. He looked as if he wanted to strangle them both.
“Very well,” Valdin seethed. But then his face took on a grim smugness. “Solicitor, I believe you have an eyewitness to call?”
“Ah, yes, Grand Father.” Shinzar fumbled around with several pieces of parchment before selecting one. Ferrin braced himself with more than a little eagerness for Devan’s next resounding objection.
“The land calls Lady Jenzara of Ral Mok, Daughter of the late Raldon Everbright.”
Murmurs went up through the audience. Ferrin’s mind suddenly felt like a wagon stuck in thick mud. The Parents were calling Jenzara? To testify against him and Taul? Impossible. She wouldn’t agree to help them. He stumbled into the Angel.
“Steady there, lad,” Devan murmured. He made no move to object. How could he? Unlike the dubious affidavits Shinzar had tried to offer, Jenzara did have some firsthand experience with both of them. More than some in Ferrin’s case.
The doors to the Senate swung open once again. And there she was, crepuscular rays shining about her as if she were a spirit from the heavens. Ferrin had never seen Jenzara in a dress, and his breath caught as he watched her descend the stairs. It was a green satin gown with a dip at the neckline, revealing a sun-shaped amulet hanging just above her breasts. The verdant coloring of the dress played brilliantly off her purple eyes. Her face was still, but Ferrin could see the tight set of her shoulders, chin held a little too high. She didn’t look at him as she walked past. The bailiff admitted her through the bar and a pair of guards led her to a podium off to Ferrin’s right that stood near the clerk’s table. She gripped at its sides as the guards left her.
What in Trimale’s name was Valdin playing at parading Jenzara up to the witness stand? He knew she’d been spooked when first learning of his attunement. But she’d gotten over it. They’d been back to old friends by the time they’d left Erem’s—Bladesorrow’s—clearing. Maybe even more, if the energy that’d passed between them lately was any indication. Ferrin smiled in spite of the current situation. There was no way she’d give evidence against him.
A terrible thought occurred to him then. What if Valdin was enchanting her? The man was certainly eyeing Jenzara with interest, so much so that a ludicrous wave of jealousy swept over Ferrin. Surely the man wasn’t interested in Jenzara like that. But his eyes did appear almost hungry as he eyed her from his perch.
Ferrin shook off the thought. He felt no channeling from Valdin; certainly nothing like he’d felt when the Grand Father had enchanted Jenzara in Raldon’s study, touching four of the elements at once. No, she was not here under compulsion. At least, not the elemental kind. He looked to Devan for some indication of what was going on, but the Angel was absently polishing his rings and didn’t catch his gaze. So Ferrin shifted to the Grand Master Keeper.
At first glance, Bladesorrow’s visage was stony as ever. A granite monument with onyx for eyes. But as Ferrin studied him, he noted an uncharacteristic crease at the man’s temples, and his mouth was set in a grim line. Bladesorrow, it seemed, had some idea of what was about to transpire. But what bad could Jenzara say about the man she knew as Erem? He’d done nothing but—
Ferrin’s stomach dropped, remembering his own initial reaction to Erem’s true identity. Offended and more than a little frightened. If those had been his initial feelings, he couldn’t even begin to imagine Jenzara’s. His mind jumped to that sobbing girl in the Angelic Chapel all those years ago.
“Lady Jenzara, thank you for appearing here today,” Shinzar stated in a self-important tone that made Ferrin grind his teeth.
She gave a curt nod. A muscle pulsed in her jaw.
“This isn’t right,” Ferrin muttered to Devan. “Jenzara would never agree to something like this willingly. I sense no enchantment, but Valdin’s one of yours. Maybe he’s doing something to mask his channeling?”
Devan shook his head, frowning at his characterization of Valdin as one of his. He looked up at the ceiling once more.
“There’s no channeling at work here. You’d know in an instant with the elemental mirroring hung all about here. It’d be emitting blinding reflections if someone was channeling.”
Ferrin eyed the furnishings that hung from the ceiling. He’d assumed they were mere decoration.
“My lady, verbal responses if you please,” Shinzar stated, not looking up from a parchment he was considering. “It’s difficult for the clerk to record head nods.”
Jenzara nodded again, then blushed, glancing at the clerk, who gave her an impatient glare. “I understand,” she said.
Shinzar looked up and gave Jenzara a smile that looked painted on by an angry blind man.
“You know the accused?”
“Yes.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
Ferrin’s legs grew stiff as Shinzar went through a series of agonizingly obvious questions to establish just exactly how Jenzara knew him. Jenzara’s voice quavered at each response, but she kept her head high, eyes decidedly away from him and Bladesorrow.
“She’s some of Raldon’s confidence, I see,” Devan mused, still picking at one of his rings.
“And Taul Bladesorrow?” Shinzar asked, when he’d completed gathering background about her relation to Ferrin.
Jenzara’s face darkened. “I met him a few weeks ago. But I didn’t know he was the Betrayer.”
“Blazing battlements,” Ferrin blurted, drawing an angry stare from Shinzar. He looked over at Bladesorrow. His face was still set like a statue’s, but his eyes seemed bleak.
“What?” Devan asked, pointedly ignoring the look the Priest was casting over the empty space between the counsel tables.
“Jenzara’s mother,” Ferrin said, much softer now. “She died at Riverdale.”
“Ah. Lovely,” Devan responded.
“You mean you didn’t know?”
Devan looked offended. “The Path’s broken, lad. I know the true timeline, but none of these events are on it.”
“Quiet,” the justice from the Commons commanded.
That Angel’s reply did nothing to raise his spirts. Ferrin looked to Bladesorrow, but his eyes remained stubbornly forward.
“So the man lied to you?” Shinzar asked.
“Objection,” Devan said, not bothering to stand up. “Leading question.”
“Overruled,” Valdin snapped before either of the other justices could react. Devan met Valdin’s cold stare for a moment, then shrugged and waved at Jenzara to continue. She gave the Angel a quizzical stare and it struck Ferrin for the first time that she had absolutely no idea who Devan was. For that matter, she had no idea of Valdin’s true nature either. His heart went out to her, but she evaded his gaze.
“Yes,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at Bladesorrow. “Apparently he lied to me about a great many things.” Her body seemed to relax as words began tumbling from her mouth like a rehearsed speech.
“The man captured me and tried to kill me, only relenting after he discovered that my companion was a shadow attuned.” She looked up, as if trying to remember a passage from a book. “Then he coerced us—Ferrin and I that is—to travel North. He wanted to sell Ferrin off to work in the ebon mines of the Darkerland.”
Angry murmurs rose from the gallery behind them. Devan shook his head, but said nothing. Bladesorrow was now looking off into the distance away from the witness podium, the edges of his eyes creasing like cracks in a stone wall.
“When we emerged from the woods,” Jenzara barreled on, “he struck down a patrol of Parents and one of their sniffers with a dread hex.” She paused, then added, “It was awful.”
Ferrin stared at her in disbelief. She was pinning his misdeeds on Bladesorrow. He looked to Devan and saw in the Angel’s face that he understood exactly what was going on.
“You said Bladesorrow is the one who killed the patrol?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
Ferrin could see her gulp from where he sat.
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Then, when the Grand Father attempted to rescue me, Bladesorrow attacked several other Parents with his blade. He killed at least two, maybe more.”
The gathered audience erupted into furious yells. Someone threw a rock that just narrowly missed hitting the Grand Master in the back of the head. The judge from the Commons rapped a wooden mallet for order. Valdin looked on with an unreadable expression, doing nothing to quell the crowd’s outburst.
“Thank you, my lady,” Shinzar said. “I’ve no further questions for you. Your honors, the land would recommend dropping all murder charges against the orphan based on his actions at Corim’s Crossing.”
Valdin scratched at his chin. “We’ll take it under advisement, Solicitor, though even with those charges notwithstanding, the boy faces several severe accusations.”
“Advisement?” Jenzara cut in. “Other accusations? You promised me—”
Valdin held up his hand, eyes devoid of all emotion. Like a dead man’s. “My lady, you are dismissed.”
“Pardon me,” Devan said, springing out from behind their table. “I’ve a few questions for the witness on cross.”
Devan approached the bar without waiting for Valdin’s reply, though Ferrin could see the Grand Father squeezing his staff as if he meant to strangle it. The Angel rested his hands easily on the smooth wood of the railing, peering into Jenzara’s face.
“Lady Jenzara. You are the daughter of the Late Raldon Everbright?”
“Yes,” she responded, grimacing.
“The disgraced, former Master Keeper?”
Jenzara’s grimace turned to outrage in a flash.
“Objection,” asserted Shinzar.
“I withdraw the question,” Devan said before any of the judges could reply. “But you do admit that your father was harboring an alleged shadow attuned?”
Jenzara gaped, “Well, I wouldn’t say he was harboring—”
Devan cut her off. “A simple yes or no answer will do, my lady. Was he or wasn’t he knowingly hiding a shadow attuned in Falume?”
“Well yes, but—”
“Thank you. You are friends with Defendant Ferrin, yes?” Devan pushed on without giving Jenzara a chance for breath.
Jenzara briefly locked pleading eyes with Ferrin. He frowned and raised an eyebrow. While he didn’t care for the Angel’s harsh treatment of her, part of him also knew she had this coming.
“Yes, Ferrin is my friend,” she responded, eyes still locked on him, color filling her cheeks.
“So you admit to associating with a shadow attuned?”
“Well. I...”
“To violating the Edicts yourself?”
“Objection,” Shinzar cried.
Jenzara looked like she might be ill.
“Withdrawn,” Devan said. “How long have you known Defendant Ferrin?”
“Nearly all my life, sir.”
“And you only knew Defendant Grand Master Keeper Taul Bladesorrow for how long?”
“Um, about a week.”
“Ahhh.” Devan turned to the gallery, raising his eyebrows. With his back still to Jenzara, he asked, “So you’ve plenty of reason to skew your testimony against Defendant Bladesorrow?”
“Objection,” Shinzar offered meekly.
“Sustained,” growled Valdin.
Ferrin couldn’t help but shake his head at the ineffectiveness of Shinzar’s objections. Objection or no, Devan was making his points even if Jenzara didn’t answer.
Devan turned back to Jenzara. “And isn’t it true that the Grand Master Keeper saved you from a murder of shades?”
“Well, yes, but—”
Devan interrupted her with a raised hand. “And isn’t it also true that he used his shadow channeling to prevent Defendant Ferrin from being corrupted by the shadow?”
Jenzara furrowed her brow. “Yes.”
“He healed Ferrin with the shadow?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You need to speak up for the clerk, my lady.”
“Yes,” she repeated, this time practically shouting. Surprised grumbles emanated from the crowd at this.
“Thank you. Wouldn’t you agree that’s a strange course of action for a man who wanted to corrupt the South with shadow?”
Jenzara rung her hands, staring from Valdin, to Bladesorrow, then back to the Grand Father.
“Objection. Objection.” Shinzar shrilled.
“Withdrawn. I have just one more question. Isn’t it true that you tried to kill the Grand Father? More than once?”
The gallery erupted.
“Objection! Objection!” Shinzar wailed like an injured animal over the din.
Devan didn’t wait for a response from the judges.
“Those are all my questions for the witness.” The Angel sat down and resumed polishing his rings, leaning back in his chair. Valdin’s face nearly matched the color of Shinzar’s scarlet sash. In contrast, Shinzar’s own face was as pale as the clouds floating over the balcony at the far end of the Senate chamber.
Jenzara’s eyes were wide and the color had likewise drained from her face. Ferrin wished he could go to her. Her actions left a sour taste in his mouth, but he felt for her all the same. And he couldn’t blame her for not caring about Bladesorrow. A Parent led her away to sit with the Senators from the Temple.
Ferrin turned to glare to Devan. “Was all that really necessary?”
For once, Devan looked up from his rings, face serious. “Had to do something to attack her credibility. I’m sorry Valdin threw her into this, but you two are my priority, not her.”
“Well Jenzara is my priority, Angel,” Ferrin murmured. “Don’t you forget that.”
Devan shook his head but said nothing.
“Solicitor Shinzar, call your next witness,” spoke the balding judge
from the Commons.
Shinzar fiddled with the parchment on his table, then rose. “I don’t believe I have any other witnesses, your honor.”
The balding man looked surprised, and Valdin looked like he’d swallowed another mace. Devan popped out of his seat once more.
“I guess that means it’s my turn.” He gave Valdin a gracious smile, dripping with mockery. For the first time Ferrin noticed Devan’s eyes as he looked at the Grand Father. The grin on his face didn’t touch his eyes, which burned with some ancient anger. The scar at the edge of Devan’s eye twitched as he looked up at the Grand Father. Valdin’s eyes flared with an equally intense disdain. Ferrin was overcome by the quite uncomfortable feeling that he was now involved in something far larger than just a trial for his individual life.
Devan finally disengaged from the silent battle of wills to speak.
“The defense calls Grand Master Keeper Taul Bladesorrow.”
48
Jenzara
Before my son died, I taught him many things. Once, when his tutor reported that he’d been teasing another student over his attunement, I told him, “We’re all born screaming and we all end in the dirt. What happens in between may differ, but these undeniable realities bind together all of mankind. We are all brothers and sisters. And you treat family with respect.”
—From Tragnè’s Oral Histories: Excerpt from the Speech Commemorating Completion of the Unity Bridge at Riverdale
THE BAILIFF ESCORTED Jenzara from the witness stand to a seat amongst a group of men she assumed were senators. She hid her face in her hands. It took all the will she could muster to stop from visibly shaking.
She’d barely been able to stand the shock in Ferrin’s eyes as she had entered Senate. Part of her had wanted to shout, right there in front of the whole assembly, that she was doing this for him. That this was the only way to stop the Parents from killing him. But she also knew Ferrin’s judgment was warranted, that what she’d done was awful. Illegal. Even the Betrayer’s face had been hard to look at as the words had crept from her mouth. There had been a sadness in the man’s black eyes that brought a burning to her own. She looked about desperately for any kind of distraction from the implications of such feelings.