Ostin shook Unt’s hand through the bars. The grip was stronger than Unt had expected.
“A pleasure,” said Ostin. “Probably not mutual though, heh, heh,” he added, rambling. “But let’s see if we can’t put this right for you. Tulk, would you be so kind?”
Tulk took out his big key and let Ostin into the cell. He didn’t bother to lock it after him. Ostin looked around briefly then realised there was no other chair. He perched himself on the edge of the cot beside Unt.
Putting his pouch on his lap, he carefully peeled out a single sheet like it was some secret document. He sighed. “Ok, Unt, let’s get down to business. First of all, the charges against you…”
He started to summarise from the sheet. “An unnamed witness has come forward to the Council and asserted that you allowed another person to take credit for a rescue performed by yourself.
“The alleged false statement you gave about that incident affected the Talent Rating of yourself and the other party. This, in turn, altered the result of your Fall. This is being construed as deliberate tampering which is a class-A offence: the most serious charge allowed in law.”
“Ok,” said Unt.
“You understand the charges?”
“Yes”.
“And you’re not denying them?”
“No.” The word was out before he’d properly considered.
Ostin looked relieved. “That’s good,” he said. “A Guilty plea will keep things nice and simple.”
“Hold on,” said Unt, “I thought you were asking me as my Defender. I didn’t say that was my plea.”
Ostin groaned in disappointment and wiped his sickly brow. “All right,” he said, “so you want to claim that you’re innocent.”
“I want to explore my options,” said Unt.
“Well, start by taking a look at this” said Ostin. He rooted about in his satchel and removed a slip of paper. “This is the Sheet of Sentencing. This tells you what punishments you get depending on your crime and your plea.”
Unt looked at the sheet. It was a table with letters across the top and punishments down the side. Numbers filled the spaces in the middle. Some numbers were in brackets and some were not.
“If the judging Councillors find you guilty, they each roll a dice and take the average as your punishment,” Ostin explained. “The numbers not in brackets are your sentence if you plead guilty. The bracketed numbers are if you plead innocent and fail to prove it. You’ll note that the bracketed numbers carry a more severe penalty.”
Unt studied the sheet carefully. He knew the letters rated the seriousness of the crime with A being the most-serious and E being the least. The punishments ranged from “Censure”, to “Stocks”, through different terms of imprisonment to “Exile”. Right at the very bottom was “Death”
“Death?” he asked, horrified. He’d no idea the town had a death-sentence.
“Yes, death,” said Ostin as though he’d proven a point. “You are accused of a class-A crime, the most serious we have and unless you plead guilty, you leave yourself open to that possibility.”
Unt didn’t take his eyes from the chart. “But the highest penalty that can be rolled is for exile,” he pointed out.
“Yes,” said Ostin, “But if you have to be proven guilty, the judges can add a further modifier. They can increase the penalty by one.”
“Wait,” said Unt. “If I plead guilty, I’m guaranteed to get a prison term.” The lowest score of one lay against the punishment of three month’s imprisonment. The prison lay outside town and was filled with the colony’s worst offenders.
Unt was terrified of the prospect of even a short spell in there. Not many people got sent to prison and the ones that returned came back affected in one of two ways: they either looked galvanised by their experience or destroyed.
“What do you expect?” said Ostin. “It’s a serious crime that you’re accused of.”
No, Unt wanted to shout. No! “What do they need to do to prove their case against me?”
Ostin shook his head. “Nobody will be trying to prove you guilty,” he said. “There is no case. If there’s a case, there’s an agenda and that’s something we avoid in our community.”
“Fine,” said Unt, “But how does it all work?”
Ostin looked impatient. “First the charges are read out and we make a plea. Unless you plead guilty, the causes of the charges are heard and then we hear witness statements. The judges take turns to ask questions and then I get to cross-examine. If the judges want to ask more questions they can do and then we can respond once more.
“Once every question’s been asked, the next witness is summoned and we work through each one until they’re all finished with. You’re then questioned and then the decision is made.”
“Who are the judges?” asked Unt.
“Five of the seven Councillors,” said Ostin. “Normally, they’re drawn at random but given your relationship, Brooker will probably exclude himself. Kelly might stand down too if he thinks it proper.”
That decided the other five then. Lasper would be among them and he’d get to write his own ticket to convict Unt.
“How do they reach a verdict?” he asked.
Ostin looked at his watch. “After all the evidence is heard, each judge declares a personal verdict and these are added together to give your Verdict Modifier.
“Each then makes a roll of two dice to decide if you’re guilty or innocent: if it’s higher than seven, that’s an innocent verdict. If it’s lower than seven, it’s a guilty verdict.”
“And seven?”
“Inconclusive. When they’re done, they add up the five judgements in what we call the Verdict of Fate. Whichever result is in the majority is final verdict made on you.”
“So what if the number of innocent and guilty rolls is equal?” asked Unt.
“Then they go with the direction of the Verdict Modifier.”
Unt thought that over. Lasper might be out to get him but he’d got the impression that the other four were reasonable men. If he could persuade them he was innocent then the Verdict of Fate should fall in his favour. It depended how well Lasper attacked him.
“One of the Councillors has a vendetta against me,” he voiced his concern, “How can I be sure he won’t make a case against me?”
Ostin made no effort to hide his condescension. “If one of your judges does have a vendetta against you it makes little odds. Before they come out, they all sit down and for every witness, they come up with a particular line of questioning for each of them. They then pick one of the five topics at random and explore those questions to their fullest.”
That sounded hopeful. “So they only ask the questions they’ve been given?”
Ostin’s reluctance to talk was trumped by his enthusiasm for his profession. “Not exactly, no,” he said. “If a Councillor has ideas about a particular line of questioning, he may ask to swap with a colleague. They can also go off their given topic too. But don’t worry; if the chairman of the panel thinks someone’s making a case against you, he’ll shut him down.”
“Who’s the chairman?” Unt pressed.
Ostin answered instantly. “Erk, assuming he’s among the five. As Councillor responsible for security, it’s his patch.”
That sounded hopeful. Erk was a hard man to read but he seemed fair. If he could keep Lasper in check, Unt should get a fair hearing.
Ostin seemed to realise he’d given Unt hope. “If you’re thinking of pleading your innocence, you can go ahead and do that,” he said, “but you’re going to have a hard time making it stick.”
“But there’s no evidence,” protested Unt.
“No physical evidence, yes,” said Ostin. “So it’s just your word against theirs. But you just admitted to me that you did it, so what you’d be doing is pitting a lie against the truth. If you think you can do that, fine, but I’ve not seen many young people with the guts to carry it off.”
That was a crushing blow to Unt. All the
while he’d been sat there he’d been trusting that the lack of evidence would keep him safe. Ostin’s unenthusiastic assessment had shown a flaw in the plan that he hadn’t considered and would surely undo him.
Ostin pressed his advantage. “If you try and lie to them directly and they catch you out, they’ll want to make an example out of you,” he said. “They’ll likely vote to increase your sentence and that brings this into play.” He stamped his finger on the word “Death.”
Unt closed his eyes. “If I admit it, I’ll go to prison.”
“Most likely for less than two years,” said Ostin. “That’s nothing in the span of your life. Even if you got the very worst and got eight years, you’d still be a young man when you came out.”
“It would ruin my life,” said Unt.
“Not as surely as a noose,” said Ostin.
It was harsh but true.
“Look,” said Ostin, “I’ll leave you to think about it overnight and I’ll call by in the morning. Just keep looking at that chart.” He rose to leave.
“Wait,” said Unt. “You haven’t said when the trial is.”
Ostin looked surprised. “Well, tomorrow, of course.”
“Tomorrow?” Unt was stunned.
“What did you expect? A serious crime like this, the Council will want to deal with it swiftly and with no evidence to gather, there’s no reason for delay.”
Ostin looked at Unt like he couldn’t understand his reaction. He patted his shoulder awkwardly, from as far away as was possible. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be sorted in the morning,” he said. “Tulk, could you let me out, here?”
“It ain’t locked,” said Tulk from behind a book he was reading.
“Yes, of course,” said Ostin and slipped out smoothly. He turned at the door and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Unt.”
When he was gone, Tulk stretched and sauntered over to lock the door. “You’ve landed some real sour cream there,” he said. “That there’s a slippery one and not in a way that’ll be any use to you.”
Unt was just staring at the chart but he looked up as Tulk turned the key. “Do you cook, Unt?” he asked.
“Cook?” Unt was confused.
“You know, get some ingredients together and make a meal.”
“Yes.”
“Then you must have cracked eggs into a bowl. Our Mr Ostin’s that little bit of shell that ends up in there and no matter how you try to pin it down, you can never get your fingers round it to fish it out.
“I must have seen that man handle a hundred clients over twenty-three years and the only ones I ever saw get off did so in spite of him, not because of him.”
“You think I should ignore him?”
“I think you’ve got a Defender who wants the easiest possible result,” said Tulk, “That’s all.” He went over to the stove and set about lighting it.
“My wife didn’t come,” said Unt, randomly.
“Say what?” Tulk didn’t look up from his work.
“This afternoon, while you were sleeping. I listened for her coming but she didn’t.”
Tulk stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Unt. Squatting there, all old and wizened, he looked like some kind of goblin.
“Didn’t come, eh? And you thought she would?”
“I hoped,” said Unt. “I mean, we haven’t been married all that long and we’re just getting to know each other but I didn’t think she’d abandon me.”
“Hmm. What did you say she does for a living?”
“She’s a Medic.”
“There you go then. Busy job is a Medic. She’s probably not been home all day. Like as not, she’ll be getting home right now wondering where that blasted beau of hers is.”
Beau indeed. “But Pearson promised he’d let her know,” Unt insisted.
“So what if he did? Doesn’t mean she can get away from work: some poor child might be bleeding in her arms. She can’t very well up and leave saying she’s off to visit her husband, can she?”
“I suppose not,” Unt admitted.
“Too right,” Tulk grunted, “So I’ll tell you what. I’m going to lock down for the night while you get some shut-eye. If a young lady comes calling, I’ll wake you and let her in - any young lady, if you like, heh, heh.”
Unt smiled at the feeble joke. “Thank you.”
“There!” The old man cackled in triumph as the stove took light. He went back to his desk, poured some sour whisky in a tin mug and took it over to Unt. “Get that down you and when you’re done, get your head down. You’ve got one hell of a day in the morning.”
* * * *
Crystal didn’t call that night but when Unt awoke, he found himself more anxious to see his Defender than his wife. It was the smell of cooking that had woken him and before he’d even sat himself up, the beadle was coming over with bacon, eggs and a pot of black coffee.
“There, don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for you,” he grunted as he slipped the breakfast through the feeding hatch.
Unt thanked him and wolfed them down. He was mopping up the yolk with his final bit of bacon when there was a quiet knock at the door.
“I’m coming, ain’t I?” Tulk grumbled as the knock was hesitantly repeated.
When the door opened, Crystal stood there. He was almost disbelieving. He’d given himself to the assumption it was Ostin. Part of him was disappointed that it wasn’t the Defender - he needed a strategy right now - but the greater part of him was happy and relieved.
When he saw her standing there, cheeks touched to colour by the early morning crisp and eyes full of worry, he realised there was beauty in the world he’d already started to miss.
“Well, there’s no doubting who you are. You must be Mrs Unt,” Tulk greeted her warmly.
“Crystal,” she introduced herself, “May I see him?”
“Of course, my dear,” he ushered her in, “There’s few give me as much peace as your husband here.”
Crystal seemed not to hear this last bit. As soon as she was past the beadle she slipped swiftly across the cabin to Unt’s cell.
Her eyes were wide with worry and lined with that watery film that could turn to tears at a moment’s notice. Whether they were for him or herself, Unt couldn’t know.
“Oh, Unt!” she gasped. It seemed like she would say more but didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was that she didn’t know what to say first. She gripped the bars with her hands and he wrapped his fingers over hers. They looked directly at each other and it all suddenly felt like a problem shared.
“You came,” he said. Folded into his relief was an undercurrent of accusation for her delay.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” she said, “I was working. Pearson tried to deliver the message but they turned him away so he went to my mother’s and told her.”
“She didn’t pass it on?”
Crystal looked pained. “She did,” she said, “but she begged me to stay with them and not come. It was late when I’d finished so I agreed to stop the night but when I woke up this morning, I knew I couldn’t stay away.”
Unt was angered at the interference from Landress and worried at the implication that Crystal had almost heeded her. He was too weary to dwell on it, though. Ultimately, he was thankful Crystal had come at all.
“Thank you,” he voiced the thought.
They stood there, awkwardly. Crystal looked at the bottom of the bars. “Is it true, then?” she asked at last.
Unt shrugged, “That I saved those girls? Yes.”
“And you let Bulton take the credit?”
“Yes.”
Crystal said nothing further for a while. Unt watched the trickle of creases appear and disappear through her brow as she worked her way through the network of cause and effect that followed from that single lie. It was like pool balls cannoning around a table: the first effects were obvious, then the interplay of rebounds made it more difficult to fathom, but ultimately, all of it came from that initial impact.
&
nbsp; Somewhere in among her sequence of thought was the point where Unt’s actions intersected her own life. That was the point where she was torn from her lover and thrown into the life she hadn’t welcomed.
“Did you know you would benefit?” she asked him.
“How could I?” said Unt, “I could never have predicted what would happen.”
He could have added that the chain of events that trapped her with him were far too improbable to plan. Or, he could have reminded her that a place in the Council had never entered his dreams. She had entered them, of course, but saying that would hardly help right now. In the end, he said no more. His point was clear enough without muddying the water.
“Whose idea was it?” she asked.
Was she looking to absolve him? Whatever, he wouldn’t allow Bull to be caught up in this mess and be ruined by it too.
“Mine,” he answered truthfully, “Mine and mine alone.”
“Bulton didn’t give you a nudge?”
Unt smiled sadly. “Bull doesn’t have the foresight to think that far ahead. I only wanted to help him and thought he might as well benefit from it.”
Suddenly, Crystal was stern. “Unt, don’t ever repeat that.”
“What?” he asked, recoiling from her intensity.
“Never say what you thought or what you were feeling,” she told him. “Don’t even admit to doing it. If we’re going to beat this, you can’t acknowledge any form of conscious thought.”
When she saw his reaction she softened her voice but not her words. “The Council doesn’t care about why you did it, they only care that the rule was broken. The human reason why doesn’t come into it. In fact, it’s dangerous.
“They want to stop people’s desires interfering with our lives so any intent, good or bad, can only make things worse. Our best hope is to deny you thought about it at all. Just say it was an accident and leave it at that.”
If Unt hadn’t been holding onto the bars, he might have fallen to the floor. He was astounded by her unexpected care, by the surprising way she spoke of this as their combined problem. He was also impressed by the weight of her argument.
The Fall of Chance Page 20