The day of the trial arrived for a nervous Justern who reacted by becoming sullen and quiet, with his shields high and tight around him. It was also his first trip into the media spotlight since he’d been released from the hospital. Hidden in the Carrington house, he had been able to avoid the media hubbub that encircled Greg.
Court was scheduled to start early, so they got to the courthouse ahead of time and found a news crew already outside the courtroom. Justern’s navy suit, dark hair, and downcast eyes marked him as the one on trial in the group of Azellians who surrounded him. They all followed Peter down the corridors, and Tamara trailed along behind.
Joely stood at the entrance with her lawyer. When she saw Justern, she went pale and grabbed on to what must have been her father’s arm. He glared at Justern, the hostility pouring off him. Alarin lifted his hand and touched Justern’s arm. Tamara could hear his mental voice in her head saying something to Justern on his private level.
The courthouse itself was an incongruously beautiful building, with soaring architecture and light pouring in through all the windows. The view from the window of the whole Front Range was breathtaking, the early morning sun playing sharp shadows over the folds of the hills. Tamara tore her gaze away as Peter pulled open the doors and peered inside. “Justern,” he said in a low voice when he returned to the young man who was as pale as Tamara had ever seen any Azellian, “the judge is listening to another case right now. We have a bit of a wait, so take a seat and don’t let her bother you. They’re going to try to intimidate you before you even walk in. They want to put you on the defensive so you act guilty.”
Tamara went over to the water cooler that stood in the corner and got Justern a cup of water. When she handed it to him, he gave her a weak smile and took the plastic cup, his hands shaking so much he almost spilled the water on himself. “I’ve never been on trial before,” he said, in a hoarse whisper to Tamara. “The aarya help me.”
“Do you want Greg to help?”
Justern closed his eyes. “Maybe he’d better.”
Tamara motioned to the Healer, who dodged a reporter and came over. He ran his hands over Justern’s aura lightly, surreptitiously, as Alarin and Mellis blocked the reporter’s view. Tamara’s attention wandered over to Joely. One of the other reporters cornered Joely’s father. Joely herself stood against the wall, doing a fair imitation of a borderline hysterical girl. It was nearly perfect—until Tamara realized Joely really was scared. Her fear, however, was not so much of Justern, but of Alarin.
Alarin, she’s scared of you, Tamara told him mentally. Do you think you could coerce her into telling the truth in the courtroom?
I’m certainly going to try. Alarin’s mind tone was grim. Although I’m rather limited because Merran’s going to be here and he’s under strict orders to keep the rest of our abilities under wraps. I also won’t be able to get near enough to be sure that what I’m doing will work.
Justern looked up at them. I do appreciate your effort, Alari, but remember that I’m not worth jeopardizing human and Azellian relations. Bitterness threaded through that statement, although he did try to minimize it. Tamara’s heart ached for him, wishing she could help.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor made them all look up. The reporters pulled away from Joely’s angry-looking father to encircle the new arrivals. Merran approached, his authority held like a mantle around him, with three Azellian assistants surrounding him. Dressed as an Azellian in an ornate robe that hung to the floor, Merran looked far more alien than Tamara had ever seen him, his brown eyes remote and cold, the short dark hair spiky and partially hidden under an elaborate hood. His aura glowed a brilliant hazel, still showing tinges of blue and green, the legacy of Tamara and Alarin’s evenings together over these past couple of weeks. It was so bright that Tamara had a hard time looking at him. If he’d planned on an entrance, he certainly was making one. Every human in the hallway stared at him, drawn by a magnetism they could hardly resist. They might not be able to see his aura, but they were reacting to it nevertheless.
The reporters flocked around Merran, shooting questions at him as quickly as they could, seemingly unfazed by his … majesty. There really was no other word for it, Tamara thought to herself. He was majestic and playing up the entrance he’d made. He juggled questions easily, making it look simple, as if he hadn’t rehearsed for every question they shot at him. Tamara did not hear most of the questions, except for one that resounded distinctly down the hall.
“What does the government of Azelle think of all of this?” the reporter eagerly held a microphone in front of Merran.
Merran inclined his head. “The Azellian Council is quite satisfied that Justern Memaxthal is innocent, as decided by our methods. We are confident this case will be judged fairly.”
“What happens if he is found guilty?” another reported asked. “What will the government of Azelle do then?”
Merran turned cold brown eyes on the reporter, who actually turned pale as sweat beaded at the edges of her hair. “We are confident that this case will be judged fairly.”
“How did the Azellian Council make a decision on this case without a trial?” Another bold reporter asked. “Without talking to the victim?”
That got an active glare out of Merran. “Alleged victim. There has been no proof of any wrongdoing at this time. As for our methods, our Healers have ways of determining the truth. The Healers are satisfied that Justern Memaxthal is completely innocent.”
That got murmurs flying between the reporters. “How? Can Healers read minds?” One reporter demanded, asking the burning question they’d all been batting about for a month, ever since Justern’s arrest and Greg’s revelation of possessing Healing abilities.
Peter stuck his head in the courtroom again and came back out. “They’re ready for us.”
Justern took a deep breath and got to his feet. He followed Peter into the courtroom, sitting beside him at the long table positioned at front left of the judge’s bench. Tamara, Mellis, Alarin, and Greg followed, sitting on the rows of benches just behind the table. Justern looked so young, lost, and lonely sitting up front that Tamara reached out mentally and brushed his shields. Justern turned back and gave her a small smile that faded immediately, not relaxing his shields one bit.
The jury trooped in, then Merran entered, his arrival quieter than the event it had been in the hallway. His aura was noticeably damped down as he sat behind Tamara. Sitting next to Alarin and in front of Merran, Tamara could feel the currents between the three of them clearly. She reached out and extended a tendril to both Alarin and Merran. Merran’s thoughts flashed through her and into Alarin, far more worried than he’d let on to the reporters, thousands of possibilities flying through his mind along with the steps he must do to combat each. Alarin’s emotions flowed the other way, through Tamara and to Merran, dominated by a strong thread of anger that someone dared to hurt one of his friends, a fierce loyalty and determination to do what he could to right what could become a terrible wrong. Her own concern for Justern spilled out, meshed with Merran and Alarin’s emotions. Linked to these two men, on whom she’d come to depend so much these past few months, she stood with the rest of the court as the judge entered.
Dressed in black, seated high above the rest of the court, it was apparent that the judge was a hard man, cold and closed off to any psi abilities. Tamara’s heart sank. The members of the jury were the ones to impress, but this judge would not be sympathetic to anyone, she was sure.
As the accused, Justern would be called to the stand later—after Joely’s side presented their case. Joely must have recovered from her fear, because the moment she took the stand as the very first witness, she gave a flawless performance. The story she spun, complete with terrified looks at Justern and safely controlled crocodile tears, was convincing. Not too badly overacted, but just enough. Even the Azellians in the room would have had a hard time telling exactly what in the testimony was lie and what was truth. Too far away to do a
s he wished and force her to tell the unvarnished truth—and unsure he could have done it anyway, given how convinced she was that Justern had done her some terrible wrong for which he should pay—Alarin’s simmering anger spread through Tamara and Merran.
Peter did some good, dragging up incidents of trying to get Justern alone, of her own propensity for dating lots of men. He slimed her as best he could, but the damage had been done. She even produced witnesses who told of the volatility of their relationship. The witnesses established a picture of a person Tamara did not know, cruel and careless, who might very well have beat up and raped his girlfriend, nailing his coffin shut. Peter objected that these witnesses hadn’t been offered to him beforehand to investigate or depose, but the judge allowed the witnesses anyway. Peter managed to discredit them somewhat, but the very fact that she’d produced witnesses with firsthand knowledge of Justern and Joely’s apparent interactions was damning, and he knew it. Justern’s behavior toward her in public could have been seen as an abusive boyfriend rather than an immature young man who did not want a young woman’s attentions.
By the time Justern took the stand and told his side of the story clearly and concisely, admitting that he tried to drive her away and had drunk too much that night, which gave her the opportunity to take advantage of him, no one was listening anymore. The judge called a recess in the middle of his testimony, breaking the rhythm of questioning. Tamara seethed in her chair at the ten-minute recess; Merran and Alarin were as irritated as she. Peter went over to Justern and spoke to him in a low voice. He returned to his seat when the judge returned.
“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Peter said after the prosecutor got done ripping Justern apart on the stand, leaving him shaking and horrified. Tamara could feel the pain and sinking despair lacing through him. “We have heard both sides of this story now. It is apparent that there is no real evidence that a crime was committed except for the words of that young lady. There was no hospital visit after what should have been a traumatic event, even though she claims to have been slammed around by the defendant. I would like to offer a solution. You all know that Healers have abilities beyond what we as Earth humans can claim. One of these abilities is to read memories. With the court’s permission, and because we have a Healer in court today, I would like to have both of these young people’s memories read and the truth of this alleged event brought out in this court.”
Joely went white. Tamara could feel her panic and she glared at the girl. Joely bent over and whispered to her lawyer, almost frantic. He listened and then got to his feet. “Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I agree that should Healers have this amazing ability, it would be wondrous indeed for the justice system. I would point out, however, that the so-called Healer in court today is a very good friend of the accused and we would have no way of knowing whether or not he is indeed reading memories or just making up things as he goes along.”
“Call the Healer up on the stand,” the judge said to Peter. “The defendant is excused.”
Tamara hardly dared breathe as Justern stepped around the stand and came to the table again.
Greg stood up, looking normal and very human in his grey suit as he walked to the front of the room. His sandy blond hair gleamed from the lights above his head as he stood in front of the courtroom, waves of serenity pouring off him.
“Please state your name and address for the court. Please be sure to speak slowly and clearly,” the judge instructed him.
“Gregerin Tenricth.” He spelled his name for the court reporter, then gave his address on campus.
“Gregerin, are you a Healer?” Peter asked.
“I am.”
“As a Healer, what do your abilities include?”
“I can manipulate cells and molecules to help encourage physical Healing. I am trained to limited contact mentally to help Heal mental illness and to read memories to help in the treating of psychological disorders.” It actually was not training that allowed him to read memories but was close enough to the truth that it could get by.
“What are your limitations?”
“I must be in physical contact with the patient to have a reading.” Greg lied easily, his lie only obvious to the other Azellians in the room. There was a collective noise from the reporters and other humans in the room. “I cannot Heal anyone who does not work with me.”
“Would you be able to read the memories of these two young people to discover the truth of what took place?” Peter motioned to Joely and Justern.
“Yes, I can.” Greg’s reply created stirs among the audience in the courtroom.
“Thank you, I have no further questions.”
The prosecuting attorney stood up. “Healer. Is that your title?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Healer, are Azellians capable of lying?”
“Healers are oath-bound, strictly ruled by an ethical code.”
“I didn’t ask if Healers had ethics. I asked if Azellians are capable of lying. Please answer the question, Healer.”
Greg was caught. Without revealing more than the Council had authorized, he couldn’t say more than, “Yes, they can.”
“I see. Now, Healer, how long have you known the accused, Justern—excuse me if I struggle a bit with the last name—Mem—Memathal?” He looked down at his notes.
“I have known Justern Memaxthal for ten human years.”
“Ten years. That’s a long time. How would you consider your relationship?”
“I don’t understand.” Greg looked at the attorney steadily. He knew exactly what the man was driving at, but he was going to make him work for it. Tamara’s stomach leaped.
“You came to Earth with Justern. Do you spend spare time with him? Did you spend time with him at home on Azelle?”
“Objection,” Peter interjected, knowing it was fruitless. “Relevance.”
“I’m simply trying to establish the relationship of this Healer to the accused, Your Honor.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Mr. Dettner. I’ll allow it.” The judge leaned back in his chair. Tamara wanted to scream. Why was this continuing? They all knew where the questioning was going, and it might as well be thrown out right now. Since it was obvious that Greg shared a long-term relationship with Justern, it wasn’t going to work. So why draw it out?
“What is your relationship to Justin Memthal?” the lawyer pressed, losing Justern’s name completely.
“I would consider Justern Memaxthal a friend.” It was hard to unnerve Greg, but he was becoming a bit rattled. Merran sent him a steadying tendril and he calmed.
“Under what circumstances would you lie, Healer?”
Greg saw the trap in the attorney’s mind. “I don’t.”
“You’ve never lied?” The lawyer raised his eyebrow. “You’ve never given anyone false hope, misled them, made them think they were not as sick as they really were to spare their feelings?”
“I told you, Healers are governed by a code of ethics. One of those ethics is to present the whole picture to the patient, not a partial or blurred picture. We do not abuse our powers.” Greg avoided that little trap neatly, and the direct question of whether he had ever lied. He had an agenda and spoke more for the reporters than for the prosecuting attorney. Tamara could read his intentions clearly. It was hopeless, however, for Justern. If the judge wasn’t going to allow it, and she was sure that would be his position, why the hell was he allowing the questioning to continue? Tamara looked over at him and saw that he wasn’t even paying attention. She hung on to her temper, mainly because she could feel that Alarin was very close to losing it himself. Alarin’s anger appeared as a white rage in both their minds and took both her and Merran to keep him under control.
“I’m not talking about as a Healer now, Mr. Tenrick. As a man whose friend has been accused of a terrible crime, wouldn’t you be tempted to shade the truth?”
“No,” Greg said firmly. “If my friend had actually committed a crime lik
e this, I would be the first one of the group to make sure he got his punishment.” He was certainly convincing and Tamara applauded him to herself. Greg was a wonderful Healer, and the one thing that Healers were good at was appearing to be honest—although he had lied like a pro when he had to. Tamara clenched her hands together, praying that the judge and jury had bought the whole performance, despite the judge’s lack of attention to the details.
“Are you sure? No leaning on the truth to try to get your friend off? Not even tempted?”
“No. Not even for a friend.”
“Not even if it were on the orders of someone else? An ambassador, or the Council that rules your planet, perhaps?”
Peter stood up. “Your Honor, he has already answered the question.”
The judge waved a hand. “Enough, Mr. Dettner. He has answered the question.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, may we have the court’s permission to get to the bottom of this by having the Healer read the memories of the accused?” Peter asked.
The other attorney’s protest was immediate. “Your Honor, I would like to point out that no matter the personal integrity of this particular Healer, everyone has different perspectives of a traumatic memory. How can we decide what is truth and what is not based on two people’s memories of the same traumatic event?”
“You have made your point, Mr. Dettner. As fascinating as this Healer’s abilities may be, it is not this court’s duty to test the limits of that ability. In this case, the Healer is too personally involved to offer an objective opinion. I will not allow it. You may step down, Healer.”
Greg gave the judge a slight bow and stepped down.
“I think we have listened to enough. Please be prepared to offer your closing arguments after a ten-minute recess.” He smacked the podium.
Tamara was shaking when Greg returned to the seats. “Oh God, if he’d let you read her memories. Did you feel her terror when Dad suggested it?”
Justern joined them, still pale and shaken. “You did really well, Greg. Thank you.”
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