by Gareth Lewis
*
Waiting outside the magistrate's office made it more imposing, giving Adajo time to consider it. Tsotu sat beside him, but the place was otherwise deserted apart from the secretary and the distant footfalls elsewhere in the building.
The magistrate's scheduled meetings had been cleared for the judgement. As the investigators they were required to attend, and while he'd attended judgements before, Adajo had never attended one for which the required punishment should be death or exile.
He found himself unable to remain as calm as Tsotu, but held his tongue until the secretary entered the office.
'May I ask a question?' said Adajo.
'You may,' said Tsotu. His voice betrayed no anxiety.
'How did you know it was him? I assume you wouldn't push the questioning in that way without being certain.'
'Correct. Did you note the state of his desk?'
'Messier than his inn room,' said Adajo.
Tsotu nodded, and Adajo felt sure there had been some acknowledgement of his perception in noticing it. Or maybe he'd just wanted it.
'Some scholars can be messy. If so, why was his room less so? While we don't know which was aberrant, the difference was suspicious. More of a factor was that his reactions seemed off. I gave him the opportunity to direct us to more reasonable targets, which he happily took. While none of these in itself is proof, his increasingly desperate reactions were reason enough to push.'
'Do you often push suspects until they try to kill you?'
A soft chuckle came from behind the mask. 'Facts are usually enough. Sometimes they're hidden, and must be enticed out.'
Approaching footsteps halted Adajo's questions. He turned to watch Varnu being escorted down the corridor by a pair of enforcers.
They rose as the secretary emerged from Zobrek's office, leaving the door open. The enforcers reached them, handed the manacled scholar over, and took up positions on either side of the corridor. Tsotu led them into the office. Adajo followed, propelling Varnu before him.
The magistrate sat on a simple chair before his desk. Of plain wood, it contrasted with the restrained opulence of the office, but the role of judging another required a certain ceremony. That included the black mask the magistrate wore.
They halted the shaking scholar a few paces from the magistrate, and took positions to either side of the accused.
When the magistrate spoke, his voice was calm, firm, and precise, treating the ritual with due solemnity. 'Varnu of house Sisama, you have violated the tenets of the Book of Law. Will you make a voluntary confession?'
'It was an accident,' said Varnu. The forced calmness barely held, his gaze all over the place. 'We'd found the object in the ruins the previous day. I was examining it on the way there when it suddenly went off. I panicked. I knew he had links to the adherency of Rauthon, and didn't want to cause repercussions for my family.'
It could be true. His family, while more influential than the Lanus, weren't as powerful as some adherencies. But it didn't ring true. While possible they hadn't wanted to leave it unattended, if it were that valuable would he risk examining it while walking? It was the way he said it which seemed off, as though rehearsed.
Tsotu seemed to agree with this assessment, shaking his head slightly as the magistrate looked to him.
'Very well,' said the magistrate. 'Jofen, let the light of your truth illuminate proceedings.' While servants of the empire were banned from invoking, there were dispensations. Examiners could invoke to assist investigations, and magistrates could do so when passing judgement. Jofen was a minor spirit, used to compel the accused to speak the truth.
Varnu stiffened, his mask of calm slipping.
'Tell us what happened,' said the magistrate.
'I killed him,' said Varnu, straining against the words he couldn't hold back.
'Why?'
'I was told to.'
'By whom?'
Varnu's tension grew. He flinched, as though straining against his own body. Had he been compelled to withhold the answer?
Seeing he was unlikely to receive a response, the magistrate continued. 'Why was he to be killed?'
'To drive a wedge between the high houses and the adherencies.'
'Why?'
'Because these spirit's slaves have no right to power,' said Varnu.
'You committed this violation because you strongly believe this?'
Varnu struggled a moment before responding. 'Because I wanted the power of the sceptre.'
'The object was given you by your benefactor?'
'He directed me to it.'
'Where did he acquire it?'
'I don't know.'
'How does it work?' said the magistrate.
'An invocation.'
'To?'
'Garnuk,' said Varnu.
'I'm unfamiliar with a spirit by that name. Who is it?'
'I don't know, only that I have to say his name to burn the target.'
'Does the object react to other invocations?' said the magistrate.
'None I know of.' Varnu's breathing grew laboured as he fought the compulsion.
'Very well,' said the magistrate. 'Sisama Varnu, you are found guilty of a violation of the Book of Law in the murder of Lanu Kilipa.' He was silent a moment, as Varnu deflated. 'The punishment for this crime shall be a cursing.'
Adajo suppressed his confusion. The prescribed punishment for murder was death or exile, and given the circumstances it should be death. The Book of Law was precise in the punishments for given crimes, magistrates no longer able to interpret things as they once had. In theory. Prior to the Emperor's rewriting the Book of Law, there had been different levels of punishments for those of the high houses and everyone else. While Adajo had heard remote districts still tended towards the old interpretation, he hadn't thought anyone in his province did so.
'Uleth,' said the magistrate, his voice growing sombre. 'In your name I curse Sisama Varnu thus: let thy voice nevermore be heard, that thy lies cause no more affront, or thy words supplicate the spirits thou wouldst invoke.'
They grabbed Varnu's arms firmly as he moved, whether to fall or to lunge at the magistrate Adajo couldn't say. He fought them, with little strength, struggling to scream. Nothing emerged.
'Expel him, and let his family decide whether to also strip him of their name.' The magistrate remained seated as they removed the prisoner.
They handed him to the waiting enforcers.
'Throw him out,' said Tsotu. He glanced at Adajo, and nodded him a short way down the corridor. Out of hearing of the secretary, and still far enough from the busier section of corridor, he met Adajo's gaze. 'You're confused by the judgement?'
Hesitating, Adajo wasn't certain how to respond. He didn't want to cause offence. But Tsotu had asked, so likely knew his thoughts.
'Disappointed would be more accurate,' said Adajo. 'I assume he received the reduced sentence due to his family?'
'Probably. While not as high as they once were, they have powerful allies. More powerful than the Lanu family. Understand, the magistrate is not an unfair man, and probably did more than some might, but there are political realities he must address. Had the crime been less, the potential punishment not as severe, he'd have followed the law. But to order the execution of a member of an influential family could cause problems. As it is he enacted a stronger punishment than Varnu likely expected, to show the families that the law will be enforced while offering some lenience. Varnu will probably lose his family's support, so don't doubt he'll suffer for his crime.'
'But he won't be treated equally under the law as someone of lower birth?'
'No.'
'You consider this right?'
The examiner was silent a moment. Adajo wondered whether he'd pushed too far.
'I believe equality is an ideal,' said Tsotu. 'A worthy aspiration. I settle for stability, for keeping order. That's our job. You did yours well. If you fight the way things are you will lose, and I'd rather we not lose someone like
you. We caught a murderer, and probably prevented further crimes. Focus on that.'
While not sure that'd be enough, Adajo didn't want to risk his tongue running away with him. He offered a quick half-bow. 'It was an honour to work with you.'
'And you,' said Tsotu.
'I should leave. There's enough daylight to reach home.' Barely, but he found himself missing its simplicity. They parted, and he'd reached the city gates a half hour later, only getting lost once.
The judgement still felt like a betrayal. This wasn't what he'd been enforcing. While the guilty had been punished, he could still be a danger, which felt wrong.
But he'd learned something – other than the harsh reality of how things worked. He still studied how Tsotu had examined the mystery. He'd probably only caught the surface details of the examiner's training, but didn't feel like hanging about to learn more. It was more than he'd known before, so maybe he could finally start on what he should be doing.
It had been going on a decade since Aethrie had vanished, and despite all he'd been told about how the lesser spirits acted – their fickleness and short attention spans – he'd never lost the desire to find her. He'd put what he'd learned to use.
###
Supplementary material is available at www.garethlewis.eu/ShadowsoftheHeavens.html
The story will continue in Part 2: The Shadow's Bride
A Fistful of Faeries (short story)
Allegiances
Blade Sworn
Broken Worlds
Cage of Thoughts (short story)
Coral Throne
Demon's Whisper (short story)
Disposable (short story)
Expressions of Freedom (novelette)
Geographicide (short story)
Glyphpunk
Grey Engines
Nomabduce (short story)
Rainbows in Eclipse
Silent Echoes (short story)
Spikebreaker (novelette)
Stoneweaver
Street of Lost Gods (short story)
The Sin of Hope
The Story (short story)
To Hunt Monsters