The Darkest of Dreams

by Emigh Cannaday

  “Three hundred years with an appeal for early release following good behavior, eligible after one-hundred and fifty years served,” he said, pulling no punches. “I’m not making up this figure from thin air, Talvi. That’s what’s typically agreed upon in similar cases when the defendant has a history of bad behavior. The self-defense argument goes right out the window if your reputation bears any stains upon it. There’s no benefit in building your hopes up only to have them dashed when the judges deliver your sentence.” Talvi sat in silence, stewing in self-loathing while Greyson took a seat at the table across from him and opened up a large folder. “I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of time to catch up with your family,” he said as he thumbed through his papers. “The court didn’t see the point since you’re not taking the stand. Now then…your parents and Nikola have explained everything to me as best as they can. I just have a few more questions for you so that I can explain things in proper context.”

  Talvi waited until Greyson found the page he was looking for.

  “Your parents said there was a stack of plates thrown onto the kitchen floor. Which one of you did that?”

  “Finn,” Talvi muttered through his clenched teeth. “He did it once he saw that I was barefoot.”

  “Ah, yes…the medical report says you did have a number of lacerations on your feet,” said Greyson. “Were the plates thrown to the floor before or after your brother hit you in the face with the bottle of champansko?”

  “After,” Talvi muttered through his teeth.

  “Your dental records indicate that he knocked half of your teeth loose when he broke your jaw in four different locations. That’s helpful to know.”

  “Is it?” Talvi snarled.

  “Yes. His violent and unpredictable behavior can certainly be explained by the sudden withdrawal from morphine. We need to paint him to be as mentally unhinged as possible.” Greyson shut his folder of notes and turned to Asbjorn. “Since you spent the most time with him before he died, your testimony will be the most valuable.”

  “I don’t understand how the judges are letting the trial move forward without having Annika present,” said Asbjorn. “Or Merriweather, for that matter. The timing of her departure from the house is incredibly suspicious.”

  “I agree,” Nikola said. “Why hasn’t this been fully addressed?”

  “It has been fully addressed. It’s not suspicious because Finn’s body remained unchanged from the time of his death to the time of his burial,” Greyson explained. “If he were the victim of a doppelgänger, the undertakers would’ve noticed right away when the body began to shift back to its true form. That didn’t happen. As for Ms. Narayanaswamy, she was advised long ago to take a personal holiday. We have an official copy of her memo printed on Embassy letterhead stating her intentions. Everything checks out from her end. There’s really no reason to believe the timing of her departure is anything more than a strange coincidence. As for Annika’s testimony, she’ll most likely do more harm than good, being a modern girl.”

  “Don’t forget that the prosecution is at an advantage because of Talvi’s confession,” said Ambrose.

  “Do either of you have any other advice for when I’m cross-examined by them?” Asbjorn asked. “I have no doubt of the extent of Finn’s madness. He said he was ready to have it out with Talvi for the last time.”

  “Just be certain to point that out when you take the stand,” Greyson said and rose to his feet. The courtroom doors swung open, and they were ushered inside.

  “What about the white knife, Talvi?” Nikola cut in. “Do you know anything about how Finn acquired it? Because I don’t believe that it belonged to him.”

  “The only white knife I’ve ever seen like that is yours,” Talvi grumbled. “Finn collected a lot of things, and weapons were never one of them. He only cared for books and horses. Or books about horses. Speaking of…what are you going to do with Galileo and Ghassan?”

  “Actually—” Runa began.

  “Don’t worry; they’re staying in the family,” Asbjorn said before she could finish giving her answer.

  “Good. I need a bit of happy news today,” Talvi sighed, and pushed back his chair to stand up. He’d heard the bailiffs approaching from outside the hall. Now it was time to decide his fate.

  When Talvi was led into the courtroom, Runa smiled her best smile and gave a hopeful little wave of encouragement. The flash of movement caught his eye, but he didn't smile back at her. Instead, Runa’s gaze was met with an expression she didn’t recognize right away in Talvi…it was one of hopelessness and defeat. He looked as though he wanted to cry and had forgotten how to do so.

  He took his place at the desk facing the judges' chambers, turning his back on his family and friends. There was a prominent slouch in his shoulders, and it wasn't from leaning back nonchalantly in his chair.

  “I feel sick,” Runa whispered from her place on the hard, narrow bench between Ambrose and Nikola. She glanced over her shoulder and across the wooden partition that separated her from her best friend. “Why didn’t they let him wear the suit we brought for him? Why is he still wearing his prison uniform?”

  “Probably because he’s already confessed to the crime,” Nikola replied in an equally dry whisper. “I suppose they didn't see the point in portraying him in a positive light. Or perhaps Greyson wishes for him to appear as miserable as possible. If that was the plan, it’s certainly working. My guess is that it’ll help him earn a lighter sentence. The longest I can hope to live is eighty or ninety years. I can’t imagine spending three hundred years in prison.”

  “All the more reason for Talvi to be dressed properly in case he testifies,” Runa said.

  “He’s not going to testify,” Ambrose told her with a subtle shake of his head.

  “How could he not defend himself?” she whispered. “Surely he would want to explain his side of things!”

  “Remaining silent is a legal strategy,” Ambrose explained, stroking his beard to keep his trembling hand occupied. “It’s rare to call a defendant to the stand in this type of trial because it will open the door to all manner of interrogation by the prosecution. Believe me when I say that Talvi’s better off remaining silent. He’s already given sworn statements to the authorities. It’ll be plenty of information for each of the counselors to work with. Greyson knows what he’s doing…he’s the very best at what he does.”

  A hush fell over the courtroom as a door to the side of the judges' chambers creaked open and three elves in long black robes filed in. They sat down at a tall wooden podium facing the room; each with a solemn expression on their intelligent and mature faces. There was a distinct moment where the female judge in the center motioned to her colleagues to look towards Talvi’s wrists. They’d caught a glimpse of his gleaming platinum ring, which kept shining happily as if to taunt them. Once the formalities of calling the court to session had been completed, the prosecuting attorney made his opening statement on behalf of the empire.

  Mr. Hancott was a middle-aged elven man with a sharp, tidy suit that matched his shrewd expression. His demeanor reflected centuries of legal experience, along with a certain level of narrow-mindedness that was most often seen in the anti-modern members of society. To call him crotchety was far too harmless and kind. As he painted a picture of the vicious and bloodthirsty degenerate sitting in the defendant's chair, Runa could feel her heart sinking right along with Nikola’s. She wanted to yell out in protest at the way her friend was being spoken about, but the little samodiva was too frightened to utter more than a gasp of horror. The argument pointed out how neat and tidy the case was. There was a body, a weapon, and a motive.

  There were also witnesses, the most important one being Nikola, since he’d been the first person to encounter the scene of the crime. He was called to the stand and asked to describe the scene he found when he ran into the kitchen that night.

  “Pandemonium,” he replied. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull Talvi off his brother, so I us
ed a freezing spell to subdue him.”

  “Were you afraid that he would turn on you if you physically tried to come between them?”

  “Objection—leading the witness,” Greyson called out. The judges nodded in agreement and cast stern glances at Mr. Hancott. He nodded and turned to Nikola.

  “What were you afraid of Talvi doing if you hadn’t subdued him?”

  “He was hysterical with grief—that’s why I subdued him,” Nikola said, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s common knowledge that wood elves are ten times stronger than humans, which I happen to be, by the way. There was also broken glass lying everywhere, not to mention a Druid knife. Don’t you want to ask me how Finn Marinossian—a committed atheist—came to possess a ceremonial knife that’s only given to a Druid after they take their sacred vows?”

  Mr. Hancott scoffed.

  “I’m not particularly interested in how a collector of artifacts from different cultures came to possess a particular knife. Perhaps it was a gift? Perhaps he bartered with someone. He was an addict—perhaps he stole it? It doesn’t change the fact that his brother murdered him with it. No further questions for this witness, your honors.”

  With that, Nikola was excused, fuming all the way back to his seat next to Runa. His mouth twisted into an angry frown while Elden was called up next as a character witness. He painted a gruesome picture of a paper mill soaked in blood, of curses and lack of income and financial struggles. Mr. Hancott even had Elden’s medical reports of how long it took for his severed hand to heal after Talvi had cut it off in a fit of rage.

  “And you say this all began after a perceived insult to the honor of the defendant’s twin sister, Yuri Marinossian?” Mr. Hancott asked him. Elden nodded his head.

  “She led me on for months. I only ever tried to kiss her,” he said with an innocent shrug.

  “And for that, you lost your hand,” said Mr. Hancott. Talvi’s own hand curled into a fist, but he held his tongue as Greyson approached the stand with a small stack of papers.

  “Doesn’t your hand work properly now?” he asked Elden, who merely scoffed at him.

  “It took some time beforehand,” he replied. “I lost income because of it.”

  “But the case went to a local court and you were fully compensated, were you not?”

  “I was.”

  “Would you mind reading off this list of reports for the court?” Greyson asked, and handed over the papers. Elden glanced down at the top sheet and frowned. When he looked at the second sheet he frowned even more. Soon it became a full-blown sneer.

  “Any time now,” Greyson prodded. “Or you could simply hand them to the judges. I’m certain they’d like to know what sort of man Talvi was protecting his sister from…a man who’s been accused of multiple counts of assaulting and battering ladies throughout his adult life, including his wife.”

  “Objection,” Mr. Hancott argued. “These are mere accusations. They are not official convictions!”

  “No, however they are formal complaints, which are available for anyone to find in the public records office of Sivita,” Greyson replied. “Clearly there is a habit of this witness mistreating women.” The female judge motioned for Elden to hand over the documents, and then deliberated quietly with the other two robed men for a number of minutes.

  “We’ve heard enough,” she said. “The witness may step down, unless the defense has any further questions.”

  “I do not,” Greyson said, and Elden was promptly escorted out of the courtroom.

  Asbjorn was called up next. He gave an anxious smile to both Talvi and Greyson as he swore to tell the truth and took a seat in front of Mr. Hancott.

  “Asbjorn Aslanian, where were you while the argument between Talvi and Finn Marinossian was taking place?”

  “Er, I was near the back of the pasture.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Oh, burning some refuse.”

  “Why after sunset?”

  “Well, it was quite warm during the day, so I thought I’d wait until nightfall, when it was cooler.”

  Mr. Hancott walked over to a table that was decorated with evidence, including weapons, documents, and a fragment of a burned painting, which he picked up.

  “Is this what you were burning that night?” Asbjorn couldn’t hide the flush on his face.

  “Yes.”

  “Who is the owner of this artwork?”

  “Finn Marinossian.”

  “What, pray tell, is this artwork depicting?”

  “It’s difficult for me to say, exactly,” he said with a nervous laugh. “That’s the trouble with abstract art.”

  Mr. Hancott peered down at the signed canvas.

  “I see a male and female figure intertwined and about to kiss. It’s quite an intimate pose, I might add.”

  ”Objection—counsel is testifying,” Greyson interrupted.

  “What do you see, Mr. Aslanian?” one of the judges asked Asbjorn. He squinted at the colorful image in front of him and ran his hand through his blond curls.

  “I see a masked lady and lad…wrestling.”

  Mr. Hancott gave him a dubious look.

  “Wrestling?”

  “Yes. Definitely wrestling.”

  “Would you care to explain the identity of the two people depicted here?” he asked, and held a photo of Annika and one of Finn beside the painting.

  “Well, as you can see, they’re wearing masks, so again, I can’t really say,” Asbjorn replied.

  “Fine,” Mr. Hancott said while continuing to hold the photos of Annika and Finn beside the painting. “If you truly can’t identify the couple in the paintings, and if you claim that all they’re doing is wrestling, then why did you wait until the evening that Talvi returned home before you decided to burn the lot of them?”

  “I didn’t want him to see them and…”

  “And what?”

  “And get the wrong idea,” Asbjorn said with a miserable look on his face.

  “What wrong idea would that be?”

  “I don’t know…” he muttered while he fumbled for words. “I suppose that Talvi could have assumed that it was his brother and his wife. I can’t confirm whether or not it’s actually them. Because of the masks, you see.”

  “Why would Talvi get that idea after viewing his brother’s paintings? Why would he make that assumption about an anonymous masked couple that happens to enjoy wrestling?” Mr. Hancott pressed. “Was there a history of inappropriate behavior between Annika and Finn? Was there an attraction? An affair, perhaps?”

  Asbjorn shook his head.

  “There was no affair, but they shared a closeness in their friendship that Talvi envied. I knew that the art collection would upset him if he saw it. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

  Mr. Hancott lay the painting back on the table and sat down at his desk.

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? No further questions.”

  Now it was Greyson’s turn to try and smooth things out.

  “Let’s go back to where this all began, shall we?” he kindly asked Asbjorn, who sighed a breath of relief. “Talvi’s wife had arrived without him at the family’s country estate, and you were trying to notify him of her whereabouts. Is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  “So you instructed Finn to write his brother a letter, except that you advised him to use clandestine terminology since Annika is a modern human and her ongoing presence wasn’t exactly encouraged. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. But the real trouble began when Talvi didn’t catch on to our hidden messages,” Asbjorn explained. “And Finn took that to mean that Talvi didn’t care for Annika as much as he did. Finn was adamant that Talvi was more focused on his career than he was on his wife. They married awfully fast, which was all the more reason for the troubles in their marriage. All Finn wanted was to be her friend and protect her.”

  “How did he plan to protect her?”

  “He never intende
d to steal Annika away from his brother…” Asbjorn said, letting his voice trail off as he caught Talvi’s wounded gaze. “But then he had a morphine relapse while spending some time with her in Paris this past summer. She and Talvi brought him home to recover. I think Finn latched onto her as a way of distracting himself from the withdrawal process. He became addicted to her instead—there’s no other way to explain it. I don’t think he was truly in love with her, but I do know that he loved her in some capacity.”

  “How do you know this? Did he admit this information to you specifically?”

  Asbjorn nodded until his large, soft curls fell into his eyes. He pushed them back and sat up a bit straighter.

  “He didn’t say the exact words. Then again, he didn’t have to,” he said, wiping his eyes. “He was my closest friend. I knew how he felt. He told me everything.”

  Greyson nodded sympathetically.

  “Did he ever admit that he would be a better partner for Annika than his brother?”

  “Aye, he did.”

  “Did Finn ever tell you that he wanted to cause harm to his brother, or go so far as to kill him over this fact?”

  “More than once,” Asbjorn said with a miserable frown. “He told me that Talvi would need eyes in the back of his head whenever they met again. He said he was waiting to have it out with Talvi over his treatment of Annika. I begged Finn to leave the house when Talvi returned, but he refused to even lock his bedroom door. He wanted a physical confrontation. He even threw a few punches my way when I tried talking sense to him.”

  “I take it that he was beyond reasoning with,” Greyson said.

  “Objection—leading the witness,” Mr. Hancott called out.

  “We’ll allow it,” one of the three judges replied. Runa grabbed ahold of Nikola’s hand, and he placed his other one on top of hers.