by Ben Peek
2.
‘How do we hold a god accountable for the crimes it commits?’ Zaifyr heard his sister address the crowd before he saw her. ‘That is the question at the heart of the trial we begin today. Today, you will stand in judgement of a man who is not mortal. A man who once saw himself as a god. A man who was once viewed as a god. A man who has worshipped and feared. You will stand before him and you will judge him, though not a single one of you is his equal. Not one of you could defeat him in combat, not one of you knows the history that he knows, and not one of you has lived the lives that he has lived. It is only when you stand with each other, when you represent your families, your friends and your loves, that you have authority over him.’
She stood beneath the twisting bone-white branches of twenty-three trees, their pale limbs a crown much too large to wear or assume. On either side of her – a few steps back – were the empty plots of Bau and Fo’s trees, the torn earth smoothed over to look like recent graves. Between them was a huge podium made from dark wood so red it verged on black, on which sat a dozen men and women – the judges. Mortal on one side, immortal on the other, they watched Zaifyr intently as he was led through the centre of the crowd. He was unchained, but with a guard on either side of him – one immortal, one mortal. The first was the Soldier, Xrie; the other was a female soldier whose name was Oake. She had close-cut snow-white hair and looked as if she had been carved from ice.
Before the judges was a sealed glass box, small and square, the companion to the dozens of tall glass cylinders that were peppered throughout the crowd.
‘The man who is led past you is known by many names,’ Aelyn continued. ‘Today, he will be referred to by the name he has used the longest. That name is Qian. For some of you, his name will resonate. For a great many others, it will not. Whether you know it or not, what is important to know is that Qian stands before you because he has committed a crime. He has killed Fo and Bau, two Keepers of the Divine. He did this in Mireea, on the back of Ger’s Spine, in a city that is now in ruins. In killing Fo and Bau, he broke a law that was made by his peers to ensure that the War of the Gods could not begin again. He was fully aware of this law when he broke it. Indeed, he does not deny that he broke the law when he killed them. What he will insist today is that it does not matter that he killed Fo and Bau. To Qian, their deaths are meaningless because there is a larger threat that stands before us. A threat that must unite us before we are consumed by it.
‘He therefore does not argue a mortal defence to you. He argues, instead, an immortal one.’
In the last few days, after the judges had been announced, Zaifyr had learned who they were, had learned so that they were not strangers to him.
He had been unsurprised to find Kaqua at the centre of the Enclave’s representation. For all that his presence spoke of bias, either he or Aelyn had to head the Keepers’ representation. The crowd would accept no one else. According to Jae’le, Kaqua had resisted, had said that he could not, because of the very public knowledge of his role in the Million Ghosts, but no one would admit that Aelyn’s presence as a judge was tenable. When Kaqua had accepted, Jae’le said that he had done so gruffly, angrily, though Jae’le believed a part of it was an act. Still, if he was partial to Zaifyr’s guilt – and Zaifyr had to admit that it was likely – his presence paled next to the Keeper beside him. The brittle gaze of Eira, the Cold Witch, had not left him since he had come within sight of the podium.
‘She controls what is written about you in the papers,’ Jae’le had said to him earlier. ‘She has let some bitter things be written about you.’
‘I have never met her.’
‘She was Fo’s lover.’
Next to Eira sat Kalesan, the Beauty, a man whose dark androgynous form held the division between the male and female body with a strange, alien ugliness. Zaifyr had been told that Kalesan claimed to alternate his gender roles, and on the first day of the trial, he was a male, by body and by the black and dark-blue trousers and shirt that he wore. Next to him was a slim, olive-skinned woman named Resao, the Swarm, a woman who was much feared by farmers for what she could – and occasionally did – to land holdings.
After her sat Mequisa, the Bard, who flowed in finery. He had been the first champion and first funder of the fabled presses of Yeflam. Beside him, the last of the Enclave’s representatives, sat Fiel, the Feral. He was a squat, red-haired and bearded man who, in taking after Hienka, the god of Zaifyr’s childhood, had come to represent anarchy and rebellion against the established order.
On the other side of the Pauper sat the mortal men and women of Yeflam. The head of them was Lian Alahn, present as a high-ranking figure from the Traders’ Union. His son Illaan Alahn had been Ayae’s partner, a man whose dislike for Zaifyr had been based, Zaifyr assumed, on a bigotry he had learned from his family.
‘There was some debate in the Enclave about that very fact,’ Jae’le said when Zaifyr pointed it out. His tone was one of dry distaste, for he had found the endless debating of the Enclave to be tedious. He thought, Zaifyr knew, that Aelyn should simply do away with them all. ‘He is said to want power to be given to mortal men and women in Yeflam, but he is also a moderate when it comes to war. It is believed that he will be a balance to the Bertan Brothers.’
Fean and Gall Bertan were the largest owners of farmland in the south of Yeflam, a pair of large, hulking white men. They were grey- and silver-haired and had, until recently, been strong allies of Benan Le’ta.
Beside the two brothers sat Saliense Ma’Laar, a small elderly woman whose skin was a dark black. She was an academic who had been born on one of the small islands spread throughout Leviathan’s Blood and she had become a strong voice in favour of evolution in the Keepers, suggesting that divinity was the natural end-product of the men and women who ruled the Floating Cities. Next to her, Gaarax Gaarax, a youthful-looking man of pale skin and twisting dark-patterned tattoos, was also an academic, though based in Zoum. According to Jae’le, he argued similarly to Ma’Laar, though he claimed that it was anything but natural and rather a universal necessity.
At the end of the line of judges sat Olivia Raz, a middle-aged woman who had begun to lose shape in her body. She was responsible for a large amount of the cheap pamphlets and newspapers that were printed throughout the cities. Hers was one of the presses that the Enclave had enlisted to help explain the long glass containers that had been secured throughout Nale.
Aelyn continued to address the crowd before her:
‘You are a jury of one thousand and one. You have been selected carefully to represent the mortal men and women of Yeflam in this trial.’ She held up her hands, revealing a pair of stones, one red and one white. ‘You will listen to both the mortal accusation and the immortal defence today. You will hear the arguments that are laid out by the men and women you see before you and the defence. To do so fairly, you should clear your minds. You should listen to your intellect and your heart. You should be modest and you should be proud of your presence here today. You will make history. We will all make history.’
Lastly, as he approached the podium, Zaifyr felt the child. The pain of her sharpened against him, but he did not see her until he was led to stand at the right side of the judges. He had heard that she was not a child in appearance any more, but when he first found her in the crowd, he saw not the woman that she had made herself into, but the broken body she had controlled while he had been no more than a haunt: he saw what she had done to that body when he recalled Anguish. The image lasted for but a handful of seconds, and when he looked at her again, he saw that she was young and beautiful. Her blonde hair fell in a wave down to her shoulders. Her eyes were green – the green he had seen first in the mind of a haunt – and she met his gaze through the crowd with a casual ease, with no hint of fear.
Beside her stood priests in brown robes and his brother, Eidan. He was behind her, a man who could reach out and snap her neck with a single movement, but he was a man who could not – or would not �
�� do so.
You gave me a name, brother: Lor Jix, Captain of Wayfair. An ancient dead. What is it that you know that I do not?
‘Each of you holds a stone of red and a stone of white. A stone for guilt and innocence. Only one can be placed in the glass tubes at the end of this trial,’ Aelyn said. ‘You have given blood for each and the blood you have given will ensure that you can cast only one. The other will crumble into the palm of your hand once your vote is cast. At the end of this trial, your votes will be tallied, and the verdict will be reached – at which point, the men and women behind me, the judges of this trial, will act.
‘I have faith in you. I have faith in all of you, but I cannot stand beside you as you pass judgement. Qian is my brother. We have stood together on every continent in this world. We have fought together. We have grieved together. We have ruled together. In the Five Kingdoms, he was the ruler of Asila, the man who was known as the Speaker of the Dead, and later, after all five had fallen, the Madman. He has performed both great and horrific actions. If he is found guilty of a mortal crime, he will be sentenced to imprisonment in the poisoned lands of Eakar. He will be locked in a small tower that has been made by myself and my family. He will have no access to food or water or mortal or immortal company. He will be kept in there until future generations decide he will be released. For, if Qian is found guilty of his mortal crime, if his immortal defence does not convince you to overlook his actions, then it will be you and your kin who will decide when, or if, he is released. Once before, immortals held that key, and if he is found guilty, then it is our judgement that has failed you. If he is found guilty, the key cannot be held by the same people who held it before. Such a change is, we feel, only right.’
3.
Ayae left the house stiffly, heavy still with grief, but not reluctance. She arrived at the Enclave in a small carriage that she shared with Jae’le.
The carriage had struggled through the crowds and was finally forced to stop three blocks from the Enclave. It was halted by Yeflam soldiers who were directing traffic. Ayae had been aware of the swelling crowd as they drew closer to their destination, but she was still unprepared for the sea of people before her when she stepped from the door of the vehicle. The crowd was of such a mass and density that she would have struggled to make her way through to the Enclave had not Faje and half a dozen soldiers been waiting for her and Jae’le. Even with them, the walk was slow. Fortunately, Ayae was not affected by the heat as others around her were. It had come from a mixture of the mass of bodies around her and an unseasonable, eerie calm in the weather that resulted in a dead, clear sky, where not even the flags on the Yeflam Guard’s barracks moved. The morning’s sun caught the tops of the long glass tubes and food vendors struggled to raise their voices over the crowds. Pamphlets and papers littered the road, torn from the stacks that had been left for people to take. She heard shouts, but mostly the crowd was well behaved, in part due to the increase of blue armour. Yet, as the presence of the Yeflam Guard grew, so did that of the Leeran priests. They appeared in pairs and sometimes more, often standing around the glass cylinders. Had the crowds not been so loud, she would have pointed that out to Jae’le – the first words that either would have spoken since they left Aelyn’s home.
Faje led them to a part of the crowd opposite the largest collection of Leeran priests. There the feel of teeth against her skin grew, much stronger than she had ever felt. Yet, it was different, as if the skin that was exposed no longer felt the sharpness of the child’s need; the sensation was in the flesh beneath, the muscle and veins and sinew. Composing herself against the feeling, Ayae found the beautiful young woman – the child – that the Faithful followed in the group opposite. For her part, the child’s gaze was on the men and women in the podium, and on no one else. Behind her, however, stood the larger figure of Eidan. Unlike the child, the brother of Zaifyr had no interest in the twelve judges, and instead his gaze flicked along the crowd, over the Keepers who watched him intently, over Jae’le, who ignored him, and to Ayae.
His gaze left her a moment later when Aelyn appeared on the podium. In a strong, clear voice, she began to speak, while the crowd parted, and Zaifyr was led through the crowd. Throughout it, Zaifyr stood quietly beside the podium. The charms throughout his auburn hair caught the late morning’s sun, and the stillness of his body gave no threat. In truth, he had a closed, almost meditative look that suggested a lack of interest or care in what was being said by his sister. He moved only when Xrie, with a gentle touch on his elbow, drew him to the box that stood behind him. It had been removed from the rest of the podium and held a single seat that he placed himself in, before Xrie and Oake took up positions on either side. Once that was done, Aelyn turned to the judges, and said, ‘We are ready to begin.’
The judges looked to each other, paper was passed, a few hushed words were said that Ayae could not hear, and then Kaqua, the Pauper, stood.
‘We call Keeper Paelor,’ he said.
The Ranger, dressed in expensive leathers that were more ornament than armour, and with his hair slicked back, stepped onto a second, smaller podium that forced him to face the crowd.
‘You are one of the few men and women who have travelled to Mireea since its fall. You are therefore one of the few who have seen where Keeper Fo and Keeper Bau died,’ Kaqua said. ‘Would you explain to us what happened to them?’
‘They were murdered in the courtyard of the Spine’s Keep.’ Beside Ayae, Jae’le gave a sour grunt at the word murdered and a murmur from the crowd accompanied the language. ‘The bodies of both Keepers were ripped open by what appears to be hand and by tooth, the result of which was a massive trauma to their bodies that they could not overcome. Final death was most likely the result of blood loss. All fluids had been drained from their bodies, leaving behind crushed veins and internal organs in a state of desiccation. This was especially true of the heart of each.’
‘How many living creatures can kill a person this way?’
‘Spiders and wasps.’ The Ranger raised his right hand to indicate their size, none bigger than a fingernail. ‘Not one would be a threat to a person.’
‘What else would explain the wounds?’
‘Only the dead raised by Qian.’
‘Would you expand upon that?’ The Cold Witch, Eira, did not rise from where she sat. ‘The dead were raised here in Yeflam without any violence.’
‘That is true,’ the man replied. ‘However, the injuries were consistent with the essays that Keeper Fo wrote about the fall of Asila.’
More questions followed, each designed to give more colour to the scene that Paelor had begun to draw. Fiel asked about Fo’s connection to Asila; Kalesan added to it by asking for the age of the Keeper, linking it to the date of the fall of Asila. The six Keepers began their narrative with ease, with none of the other men or women challenging them. Gaarax Gaarax asked about the rest of the Spine’s Keep, and Paelor spoke of the burnt remains of the tower in Mireea, the broken ground – ‘The tower broke apart from its damage’ – and, to Ayae’s frustration, none of them tried to expand the story beyond what had happened to the Keepers. Ayae felt herself grow heavier with every answer that Paelor gave, a feeling that only increased when, with the judges’ questions to the Ranger exhausted, Kaqua turned to Zaifyr and asked him if he had a question for the Keeper.
‘No,’ Zaifyr said, ‘I have no questions.’
The crowd murmured, but fell silent again when, a moment later, Lian Alahn rose. ‘We wish to call Faje Metura to the stand.’
The old man emerged from the crowd in the same faded pale-blue robes that he had worn since Ayae had first met him on the road to Yeflam. He walked with a severe dignity and took Paelor’s place on the podium.
‘Tell us,’ Alahn said, ‘on what orders did Keepers Fo and Bau go to Mireea?’
‘A request had come from the Lady of the Spine, Muriel Wagan, for aid against the Leerans,’ Faje replied immediately. ‘The Enclave met in the month of Deuan to re
spond. It was during that time that the Keepers of the Enclave agreed to send Fo and Bau in an observation roll to Mireea. It was agreed upon by all that the neutrality of Yeflam would not be broken. Both Fo and Bau were instructed to leave before the fighting began.’
‘Deuan,’ Alahn mused. ‘Was that not shortly after the epidemic on Xeq?’
‘It was.’
‘What was the Enclave’s response to the disease?’
‘No conclusive evidence has ever been produced to link Keeper Fo and Keeper Bau to the sickness on Xeq. Yet, because of their work in treating the sufferers, it had been reported in the papers of Olivia Raz that they were responsible, resulting in a public outrage.’ At Faje’s words an angry ripple passed through the crowd and Ayae heard, more than once, a man or a woman claim that it had not been the papers that caused the outrage. ‘Because there was no evidence that could prove either their guilt or innocence, members of the Enclave, led by Keeper Kaqua and Keeper Aelyn, argued in favour of both going to Mireea so that public anger could subside.’
Lian Alahn waited for the murmur of anger to calm. ‘And their response?’ he asked, once Nale fell quiet.
‘They believed it was a politically weak move.’
The new leader of the Traders’ Union smiled as the crowd burst out in complaint.
Once order had been restored, Mequisa, the Bard, attempted to challenge the characterization of Fo and Bau, but his point that both had gone, regardless of what they thought, echoed flatly in the crowd. It was clear that Alahn had dulled some of Paelor’s testimony in favour of Zaifyr, and Ayae was pleased when Fean Bertan pressed Faje for other instances of disease outbreak. None could be officially proved, Faje responded, but when Gall Bertan listed two outbreaks in the last thirty years, the steward had to admit that the two Keepers could not be exonerated completely. Yet, with the characters of Fo and Bau sitting on the edge of immoral, needing only to be pushed further to complete such a representation, Zaifyr still did not rise from the box.