A Plague of Wizards

by Wesley Allison

Mother Auni cast a healing spell on the comatose man, but there was no change. She shrugged. “I can detect nothing wrong with him physically.”

  “All right. We’ll find somewhere for him. Maybe he can sleep it off or something.”

  With a nod, the priestess left. No sooner was she out the door than Coote shot up into a sitting position, his eyes wide.

  “It’s her!”

  Chapter Twelve: The Trial

  If anyone had looked at Ravendeep from the outside, and if that person knew nothing of the history of Ravendeep, they might think that it was a modern correctional facility, a proud part of His Majesty’s penal system. The building, a massive five-story edifice with high, gabled roofs and a great tower with a gigantic clock that called back to Freedonian architecture of a century before, was only possible on such a scale because of the construction materials and techniques made possible by the Industrial Revolution. On Avenue Fox, the structure, which had replaced a twelve hundred year old stone fortress some fifty years earlier, was bordered on one side by Swift Lane and on the other by a street officially named Lord Oxenbourse Lane, but which most everyone called Cutpurse Lane. Of course, if anyone had made such an observation and such a supposition, they would have been very wrong indeed, because the majority of Ravendeep was not in the modern and architecturally renowned building, but in the twenty levels, carved out of the solid bedrock below.

  Esther stretched out on her belly on the metal cot, which was the only piece of furniture in the room. Her mind had wondered to the subject of her name. She had thought herself quite clever when she had come up with Esther Ssaharranah. Perhaps she had been too clever. Finding oneself in prison was just the type of situation in which being Esther Staff might have proven beneficial. Iolana had committed any number of crimes from reckless driving to something that at least bordered on treason, and she had yet to see the inside of a jail cell. If that stupid girl at the King’s audience was to be believed, then Iolana’s mother was pretty much a serial killer and she certainly wasn’t incarcerated.

  The lizzie looked around. The cell had been hewn out of solid rock, so the room wasn’t quite square at any corner and no wall was completely smooth. Only a door made of rusted iron bars, that somewhat matched the metal cot, broke up the monotony of dull grey stone. A small amount of flickering light, from the gas fixture in the corridor, illuminated the room. Not that one could see anything. Had she been in possession of one, Esther thought that she might be able to read a book, though humans, with their less acute night vision, would have found that impossible. No, this was not a fit place for Esther Staff. Not even Esther Ssaharrahah. No, this place was fit only for the name they had given her—Prisoner 563621A.

  “Miss Esther. Are you awake?”

  Esther glanced to the doorway. Police Constable Bean was peering between the bars. She climbed to her feet and stepped over to him.

  “If ever I’m not awake, you have permission to wake me. Having a visitor is well worth missing a bit of sleep.”

  “Now I feel bad that I can’t stay,” he said. “I just came by to check on you and make sure you weren’t being mistreated.”

  “Not mistreated exactly. More ignored than anything.”

  “That’s sadly the case, most often. Better than being given the third degree though.”

  “The third degree? What’s that?”

  “It’s all about interrogation,” explained the constable. “The first degree is questioning. The second degree is intimidation.”

  “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Anyway…” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a moment, before producing a small tin. “I brought you some kippers… I mean… well, it seemed like something you would eat.”

  “Thank you, PC. That was very kind.” She reached through the bars and took the tin. “In truth, they’ve been feeding me better than I expected. But I will enjoy thessse.”

  “Is there something that you want that I could bring you?”

  “I was just thinking that I might like something to read.”

  “I’ll have a look around upstairs,” he said. “People leave all kinds of things behind. I happen to know there’s a copy of Odyssey.”

  “Anything but that. Please!”

  “I thought, what with her being your friend and all…”

  “Who do you think had to proofread it over and over and over?”

  “Well, I’ll find something,” he said, with a kind smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” said Esther. “Thank you for remembering me.”

  A little while later, a jailer brought her evening meal, and slid it under the door. The evening meal was always the same—beans with a bit of some indeterminate meat, probably pork. Along with it was piece of bread, one that was fairly heavy and probably had sawdust as a major ingredient. Esther actually preferred it to the light, airy bread that Iolana insisted upon. Finally, there was a quart of water.

  After eating, Esther lay back down on the cot. She dozed off thinking about the breakfast that would arrive consisting of exactly what had made up yesterday’s morning meal—one boiled egg, one piece of bruised and probably moldy fruit, and a quart of water. This would be followed by lunch, which would be four savory biscuits, a hunk of yellow cheese and a piece of dried cod, and a quart of water, just as it had the day before and the day before that.

  She had just finished her lunch the next day, which had been much more palatable with kippers on the biscuits, when Iolana appeared outside the bars of her door.

  “You look well,” she said, her voice full of sunshine, fresh air, and freedom. “The rest must be doing you good.”

  “I’m not well, I’m not resting, and if you think I look good, it’s only because there is very little light in which to sssee me.”

  “Well, someone is in a bad mood.”

  Esther opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say to that. In what kind of mood was she expected to be?

  “In any case, this will all be over soon. Your trial is scheduled for three days hence and our solicitor, Mr. Grove, has hired the very best barrister to argue your case.”

  “Trial? Barrister? Can’t you just bribe someone and get me out of here now?”

  “Believe me,” said Iolana, adjusting her white gloves. “I’ve greased every palm in this entire building. If you were human you would be out by now. Sadly, the police are showing a great deal of racial prejudice. Still, they have been feeding you, and they haven’t mistreated you. You haven’t been mistreated, have you?”

  “They haven’t beat me or anything,” admitted Esther. “Being caged in this dungeon is no treat though.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” said Iolana, but her large eyes, glancing around the room, gave away that she didn’t really think that the lizzie particularly was. “Well, I certainly hope that his teaches you not to bite anyone.”

  “I didn’t bite him! He punched me in the mouth. One of my teeth was loossse.” She reached up and checked the tooth in question, which was now, once again, firmly seated. “Anyway, I was trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need any protection. I can take care of myself.”

  “Sure you don’t! He had his hand so far up your fanny, I thought he would lose his cufflink in there!”

  Iolana’s face flushed violently.

  “I’m not staying if you are going to be so vile,” she said, both her voice and her body slightly shaking. “I will see you again before the trial, and I suggest you show a little more decorum when Mr. Grove comes to see you.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and stomped down the stone hallway.

  The rest of the evening and night, Esther could do little but sit in the semi-darkness and think about the events that had befallen her. If it hadn’t been for the arrival of dinner that evening and then breakfast, sometime later, she wouldn’t have been able to judge the passing of time at all.

  The next morn
ing, just after the aforementioned breakfast, the aforementioned solicitor arrived to go over her case. Mr. Grove was a heavyset man with a full beard, which was a patchwork of brown and grey. He politely declined the constable’s offer of letting him into Esther’s cell, preferring to stand with a set of sturdy bars between them. He asked her to give him the details of the incident and took careful notes on a large legal tablet as she described the evening in question.

  “This seems a clear case of self-defense. If only we had a reliable witness. Lady Iolana says that she remembers nothing.”

  “Willa was right there,” said Esther. “Willa Armice.”

  Grove shrugged. “The word of a maid and a… um, yourself, against the word of a gentleman.”

  “He was no gentleman,” said Esther.

  An hour after Grove had left, PC Bean was outside the cell door.

  “Good morning, Lady Esther.”

  “Hello, PC.”

  “I’ve brought you something,” he said, with a smile, and passed a rolled up magazine through the bars.

  Esther opened it to find that it was a six-month-old issue of Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal.

  “Thank you, PC. This may very well be what keeps me from going mad.”

  “A small enough effort to be of service to my only lizzie friend.”

  “I’m beginning to feel you may be my only friend period,” said Esther.

  “Don’t think like that, miss. Everyone back home are pulling for you. I stopped by there yesterday and they all want your best, I can tell you that.”

  Such words did little to buoy Esther’s spirits, but time did pass more quickly with something to read. By lunch the following day, she had read every word of the 128-page periodical. An hour or so after the lunch tray was picked up, Iolana returned. This time, she had one of the constables open the cell for her.

  “I’ve brought you a dress suitable for our court appearance.” She handed the lizzie a package wrapped in colorful paper.

  “I’m sure it will make all the difference.”

  “I certainly hope you’re in a better frame of mind when you get out of here. You’ve become quite snappish and I don’t care for it. I have a good mind to ship you back to Birmisia.”

  “I would love to see how snappish you become after a few nights in here.”

  “You should know better,” said Iolana. “I am not one to succumb to complaining. There is no profit in it.”

  “That is very true,” said Esther, turning around so that Iolana couldn’t see her roll her eyes.

  “The hearing is a seven sharp. The police will see that you arrive. I shall be there promptly as well. We can put this whole mess behind us. It’s quite a distraction. I’m supposed to be preparing for a speaking tour.”

  “I’m sssorry to be such a bother.”

  “Don’t worry your tail about it,” said Iolana sincerely, patting Esther on the snout. “You’re very important to me, after all.”

  “In Kafira’s name, she’s turning into her mother,” said Esther, when the girl had gone.

  Esther was dressed and waiting when her escort came to retrieve her. She meekly acquiesced as the two constables fitted her with manacles, and then led her up the stone steps to the ground floor. She immediately noticed the heat. If there was one positive thing about being sequestered in an actual dungeon, it was that it was almost thirty degrees cooler than the city above. By the time she was loaded into the back of a police lorry, it was very hot indeed.

  The trip to the Crown Court on Avenue Boar was one of almost an hour. Stepping out of the sweltering vehicle, Esther hurried into the relative cool of the building entrance. The two constables looked just as hot as she felt, but they had the advantage of sweat glands to cool them off. When lizzies were overheated, there was nothing to help them but cool water. Fortunately that was just what she was offered inside the courthouse. She didn’t mind at all that it was flavored with lime juice, but just poured it down her throat.

  The actual courtroom had six large ceiling fans, turned by a single long looping chain, which was wound through all the gears. People inside still fanned themselves with their papers. At the far end of the room was a huge desk, behind which the three judges would sit. Far below them were the court clerk and the prosecutor. Facing them were the seats for Esther’s solicitor and barrister. Esther’s place was behind them, raised up, but not so high as the judges. Finally, on either side, were witnesses and interested parties. On the left was the wanker who had hit her in the mouth, his hand wrapped up in a preposterously large bandage. Next to him was an older man in a dark suit. On the right were Willa, Mr. Barrymore, and Iolana, the latter the only one in the room, possibly the building or the entire city for that matter, that didn’t look bothered by the heat.

  Everyone stood as the three judges entered. They wore black robes and white wigs. All three were men of middle age, two tall and thin, and one shorter and quite rotund. Once they sat, everyone in the room returned to their own seats. Then the court clerk stood back up.

  “Crown Warrant Case 563621: The Birmisian known as Esther Ssaharranah accused of assault with intent to do grave bodily injury to Mr. Ian Drebner Esq.”

  “This is a simple case of self-defense, My Lords,” said the barrister, jumping to his feet. “Mr. Drebner thrust his fist at Miss Ssaharranah and just happened to cut himself on her teeth.”

  “Point of order, My Lords!”

  Esther turned to see that it was the man sitting next to Ian Drebner.

  “Identify yourself!” called the clerk.

  “Chern Edley, Barrister, My Lords. This case has been brought to the court improperly. This reptilian should never have been charged with a crime. As a non-human, it has no place in Brech jurisprudence. It is instead proper that a charge of harboring a dangerous beast be directed at Lady Iolana Dechantagne Staff.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes!” hissed Iolana.

  Esther, for her part, thought that it might not be so bad to be a dangerous animal if that got her out of jail. The judges seemed to be thinking along the same line.

  “Are you saying, Mr. Edley,” asked the fat judge, “that the defendant cannot be charged and should therefore be released?”

  “The reptilian should no more be charged with a crime than an angry dog, but like the angry dog, it would be imprudent to simply let it loose back on the street.”

  “My Lord!” shouted Esther’s barrister, jumping back up. “Miss Ssaharranah had an audience before the king, in which he himself declared that she was one of his subjects.”

  “Indeed,” said the Judge, looking directly at Esther. “Miss Ssaharranah, do you understand what is going on here?”

  “Yesss, My Lord.”

  “Well then, while I’ve heard enough barristers to know that the ability to speak does not necessarily indicate intelligence, I believe that you are as entitled to the crown’s justice as anyone else in Brech City. However, as this is a question of dominion, we must contact the office of the Prime Minister. This case is continued until such time as we receive instructions from the Right Honorable Mr. Primula.”

  By the time Esther arrived back at Ravendeep, the sun was at its most vicious, halfway between noon and dusk. She was so hot that she could think of few things more pleasant than returning to her cell, deep in the earth where it was cool. At least that was the most pleasant thing that she could think of right now. All the other good, cool, and wholesome thoughts escaped her brain. She wasn’t sure if that was because of deep depression or heat exhaustion. She decided at last that it must be the latter, as she could no longer even determine if they were following the correct route to her cell, or even if she was going up or down.

  Finally, she was pushed down onto a chair, one that was not customized to accommodate her tail. Half discomforted and half embarrassed, she started to say something, but before she could, the room began to spin and her eyes rolled up into her head. She had just enough awareness to make out a single voice.

  �
�Good Kafira, Man! Get her some cool water, quickly!”

  By the time she finally began to make sense of her surroundings, she found herself sprawled out on a day couch. Her mouth was agape and a man was pouring a thin stream of cool water into her throat. Another was fanning her with a towel. She put out her hand to indicate that she’d had enough, careful to move slowly so as not to startle either man. The man who had been fanning stepped away. The one with the water stopped pouring, but leaned in close. He didn’t seem startled.

  “Are you sure that’s enough? You can have as much as you want.”

  “No, I’m fine now, thank you… Oh bloody hell! Your Royal Highness, I don’t know what to say. I’m so embarrassed.”

  The man giving her a drink was none other than the fifteen-year-old son of King Tybalt III and second in line to the throne of the United Kingdom of Greater Brechalon and Freedonia. He had replaced his red uniform with a blue one, gold brocade covering most of the sleeves. He had the same pleasant expression on his face. Glancing around, she saw three other men in the room, which was some kind of office.

  “You remember Mr. Verlan, my Chief of Staff. That’s Mr. Stigby. He’s my copper. And that’s Bob. Bob just makes sure that I don’t get in any trouble.” It had been Bob who had been fanning her.

  Esther straightened out her dress and tried to get up, but the prince laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.

  “Please relax, Lady Esther. I was very worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You were severely overheated. None of the men here recognized it for what it was, and I suppose I wouldn’t have either, had I not read Lady Iolana’s book. It’s really quite remarkable, isn’t she… I mean, isn’t it.”

  “Please, must we talk about her?” Esther gurgled.

  “I think I know how you feel.” Clitus turned and set the water pitcher aside. Before he had returned, Mr. Verlan had pulled out a chair for him. “You have been treated most inconsiderately. Please believe me when I say that I’ve only just learned of the whole sordid mess, or I would have come sooner.”