In unison, people looked over their shoulders to the crowded front entrance of the hall, expecting Maynard Kurtz to emerge from the swarm of people and stroll up the center aisle in dramatic fashion, much like Adelaide had done a short while ago. But when nothing happened, they turned back around in their seats and looked at Katherine, wondering if she had misspoken or was playing a trick. A local pumpkin grower, sitting with his wife on one of the front benches and whispering into her ear, stood up and pointed at the jury.
“Hey, look up there!” he called out, indicating one of the jury members on the right end of the back row who had slowly stood up and gazed across the rows of spectators in a strangely familiar manner. “Isn’t that…?”
All eyes locked onto the tall, unshaven man standing silently before them, wearing brown, weather-beaten pants and a matching coat over a heavy woolen shirt. A sun-baked hat rested upon his head, covering the long strands of dark brown hair that fell down his neck and disappeared beneath his coat. As everyone carefully studied the individual, including Nicholas, Constable Brindle and Zachary Farnsworth, most saw a vague resemblance to someone they had known long ago but were unable to identify. A moment later, his eyes widening, Clay Brindle finally recognized the man and rose from his chair, standing with both hands upon his cane for support.
“Maynard!” he shouted with a mix of disbelief and delight. “Where’ve you been?”
“At the swamp, just as Katherine told you,” he replied, removing his hat and coat and setting them on the chair, allowing his recognizable long hair to be seen by all, though it was now tinted dark brown to disguise its trademark silvery-black color. He stepped forward in front of the other jury members who appeared equally surprised by his presence, not having recognized him when they convened inside the hall minutes before the public as he had remained quiet and kept to himself. “I apologize for the theatrics, but I, like Adelaide, was cautioned that my presence should be concealed until the last possible moment. But I did have to confide in one person near the end to secure this seat.” Maynard glanced at Deputy Tyler Harkin who stood off to the side, his eyes cast down. “Well, two people actually.” He signaled to a man hiding among the crowd at the other end of the hall to step forward and take his rightful place on the jury. Chase Kevic, sporting a mop of gray hair and ruddy cheeks, hurried sheepishly down the aisle and took his assigned jury chair, addressing Nicholas and Constable Brindle as he passed by.
“I hope I didn’t foul up this trial,” he said, “but Maynard insisted that he had a good reason to temporarily assume my place. And him being an old friend…”
“I understand,” Nicholas said. “Maynard can be persuasive.”
“Apparently so,” Clay Brindle agreed. “But if Nicholas has no objections to continuing after this strange twist during his own trial, then I have none either.” He glanced at Farnsworth for a ruling.
Farnsworth, seething inside at Maynard’s reappearance, hastily put on a façade of objectivity now that the crowd’s focus was temporarily upon him. “We shall proceed,” he ordered as everyone’s attention quickly shifted back to Maynard while Farnsworth silently stewed, envisioning his modest empire crumbling before his eyes. After everyone took their seats, Maynard strolled up closer to address the crowd.
“I suppose you’re all wondering if what Katherine told you about the wizard Arileez is true,” he began, heartened to look upon the faces of the many friends and acquaintances he hadn’t seen in a long time. “Let me assure you that she is telling the truth, hard as it is to believe. Despite the fantastical nature of her account, Arileez visited my farm late one evening about a week and a half after Nicholas had left Kanesbury.
“It was a chilly night. I was in the barn at my workbench. I had been restless and unable to sleep much, worried about how Nicholas was faring and fretting about what had happened to Adelaide. Despite Constable Brindle’s investigation and the efforts of many local search parties, no progress had been made as to her whereabouts. And so I carried on as best I could, enduring the void that had been visited upon me.
“But on that particular night as I stood hunched over my bench in the light of an oil lamp whiling away the hours, I heard a faint noise behind me as if something had scurried into the barn. I grabbed the lamp and turned around, expecting to see a stray cat taking refuge from the cold. What I saw instead was a small red fox looking hungry and chilled, though to my surprise it didn’t appear the least bit afraid of me, its yellowish eyes locked onto mine. It struck me as a most surreal sight for some reason, and feeling sorry for the creature, I decided to go to the house and find it some scraps to eat.
“I had only taken a few steps toward the barn door when I turned around to see if the fox was following me. But when I looked down in the faint light, I saw that the creature was gone. In its place, however, was a set of mud-stained boots identical to the ones I was wearing. Upon seeing such an odd sight, I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was imagining things. As I slowly raised the oil lamp, I saw a pair of legs in those boots, then a whole body, and finally the face of an individual standing there in absolute silence, his sharp stare cutting through the gloom and burning into my soul. I was flabbergasted by the sight, unable to speak for a few moments as I stood there looking directly at–me.”
Maynard paused, rubbing a trembling hand over his face as he recalled the strange and shocking images from that night while his mesmerized audience looked on. Though he had already told Adelaide and Nicholas this story in private after he had regained consciousness, revealing these details in public now made the incident sound highly implausible to his ear. But he knew he must continue for Nicholas’ sake.
“When I was finally able to utter a few words, I asked the individual–my twin–who he was. He replied in a voice identical to mine, ‘I am you,’ and then curiously eyed me as if studying my features and subtle mannerisms. After my nerves settled, I asked him what he wanted and where he had come from. ‘Where I come from doesn’t concern you,’ he told me. ‘But I want your life,’ he added with little emotion, whereupon I saw him raise a hand in the air toward me. And though he possessed no weapon, I heard him utter a series of strange, whispered words in a language I had never heard before. I found myself mesmerized by the sound of his voice, unable to move my limbs or draw my eyes away. As his voice faded in the recesses of my mind, the faint light from my oil lamp also seemed to grow dimmer. Soon I was overwhelmed in darkness and then–”
Maynard paused again as he swept his gaze across the villagers, taking solace in their presence. “And then I remembered no more until I woke up in a stranger’s farmhouse with Adelaide looking down upon me. It was the seventh day of New Winter as I was informed, meaning that I had been asleep for about seven and a half weeks under that strange sleeping spell, most of the time spent lying in a small shed on an island in the swamp. Adelaide told me that while locked inside her prison home, she had seen Dooley Kramer and the other gentleman she referred to earlier carrying my body onto the island one night. They took me to a shed where I remained asleep until Katherine and Lewis found me. I recall nothing during that time except for scattered dreams, nor do I remember the manner in which I was removed from my barn after that wizard had cast his spell.”
As Maynard elaborated upon a few of the compelling details, Farnsworth looked on in silent dismay, knowing it was only a matter of time until he was publicly exposed for his crimes. He recalled the night he and Dooley were instructed by Arileez to wait in a wagon just down the road from Maynard’s property, prepared to implement the next phase in Caldurian’s complicated plan. When Arileez silently signaled to them from the barn with a wave of an oil lamp, Farnsworth drove the cart inside the gaping doors and saw Maynard’s sleeping body sprawled upon the ground.
“Get rid of him far from here,” Arileez had instructed. “Permanently,” he added in a sinister tone that belied his kindly appearance as Maynard Kurtz. It was then that Farnsworth fully understood Caldurian’s reason to remove Nicholas Raven fro
m the property, though he had no idea just what devious intentions either wizard had in store for the other residents of Kanesbury. At the time he only wanted to get away from Arileez as quickly as possible as he felt a looming sense of dread in the wizard’s presence. He and Dooley loaded Maynard’s body onto the cart and covered it with a blanket, promising the wizard to bury it deep in the woods outside the village.
“No one must ever see him again,” Arileez had told him, his words cold. “Ever.”
“And no one ever will,” Farnsworth promised before he and Dooley drove out of the village to the swamp, neither having the nerve to kill Maynard despite him being fast asleep and unable to put up a struggle.
Now, as Zachary Farnsworth watched Maynard in front of the packed hall, he regretted not possessing more hardened nerves back then to finish the job they had promised to do. He bit the inside of his cheek, determined to resort to any ruthless means to extricate himself from his imploding world in the next few minutes, knowing that it was just a matter of time before the finger of blame pointed his way. He again scanned the room for the hired hand he had sent outside to alert his other help, wondering what was delaying the man’s return. The time to act was drawing near.
“At this point,” Maynard concluded, “I would ask that Katherine fill in the remaining details of the story as I was fast asleep during this most curious affair.”
“Thank you for your helpful words,” Nicholas said, standing up to shake Maynard’s hand before he took a seat among the crowd.
Nicholas signaled to Katherine with a grateful smile, silently indicating that they were nearing the end of their plan. And though he suspected that Farnsworth might attempt something rash before the trial concluded, he also worried that Katherine already knew what that something was after he had earlier witnessed Gilbert Trout whispering into her ear and causing her to register a look of stunned disbelief. He guessed that Gilbert had warned her about a gathering of Farnsworth’s men outside, perhaps in numbers greater than they had anticipated. With uncertainty in the air, Nicholas knew they must be extra cautious once they implicated Farnsworth. But one way or another, his ulcerating presence would end here tonight, though in what manner, fate was yet to decide.
“Now, Katherine, after all the astounding information we’ve heard this afternoon, is there anything you might have left out?” Nicholas asked.
She stood. “There are three matters left that I wish to address,” she replied, “the first one regarding the fate of my Uncle Otto. Maynard explained how he had been kidnapped and replaced by the shape-shifting wizard. So, too, was my uncle. As Dooley informed Lewis and me at the swamp, the man you all thought was Otto Nibbs skulking about in the dead of night and warning certain people about the impending danger to our village, and who then fled our borders out of selfish safety for his own concern, was not Otto at all. That man was the wizard Arileez in Otto’s form, working on Caldurian’s order to stoke up your hatred and disrespect for my uncle until his unexpected return in this very hall. At that fateful moment, the citizens of Kanesbury collectively vented their wrath upon Otto and cheered for his imprisonment, handing Caldurian the victorious revenge he had been seeking for over twenty years.”
Silence filled the room saturated with the guilt and remorse that was buried just below the surface of the village for these past few months. Katherine saw in the faces of her friends and neighbors a genuine sense of sorrow and a desire for forgiveness at how horribly they had treated Otto and for succumbing so easily to Caldurian’s fraudulent words. She knew they were good people at heart who had been led temporarily astray, certain that even Otto himself would forgive them. And the kind, soothing tone of her next words conveyed that notion to them, at once lightening the mood.
“But as I stand here among you,” she continued, “I am wholly convinced that whatever shortcomings we’ve all committed over the past several months are far outshone by the many good deeds and earnest efforts to right the wrongs that have been visited upon us during that dark and wayward chapter in our lives.”
As the crowd soaked in her healing words, Nicholas detected a shift in everyone’s mood, as if a shadow of melancholy and lingering guilt had been lifted off their shoulders and scattered to the fair breezes of approaching twilight. And though he would never fully forget the pain and hardship he had suffered on his long journey, he only now began to appreciate how much his fellow villagers had suffered locally at the hands of the same forces who had cast their poison across Laparia. He was proud of Katherine and so many others who had fought tirelessly at home with as much grit and determination as individuals like Eucádus, Malek and Max.
“Secondly, I’d like to discuss the fate of Dooley Kramer,” Katherine went on as the afternoon light softened upon the darkening window panes. “As you know, Dooley provided much information to Lewis and me. And though he had much to pay for to redeem himself, I’d like to think that his confession may have partially absolved him. Still, I must regretfully report that Dooley, whether due to destiny or bad luck, paid the ultimate price for his participation.” Concerned whispers drifted among the spectators.
“What are you saying?” asked a woman sitting nearby. “You know of Dooley’s whereabouts?”
Katherine nodded to the surprise of many. “While all of you are aware that Dooley has been missing for quite some time, I know what happened to him at the swamp after he led Lewis and me to Adelaide and Maynard.” She detailed Dooley’s encounter with Adelaide, his fatal fall off the staircase and his subsequent burial in the nearby woods. “The following morning I went to inform Clay Brindle of all that had happened on the island, but the constable was attending to other business. Sadly, before I could contact him the next day, Clay had been attacked that very dawn. It was a most tragic coincidence as I later learned from the person who I assumed was behind Clay’s assault.”
“What are you saying?” Nicholas asked. He and everyone in the room were chilled by Katherine’s insinuation even though he had heard her speak those very words thirteen days ago when they talked in the ice cellar.
“Yes, what are you saying?” Clay chimed in. He stood up next to Nicholas with the help of his cane, teetering on the verge of anger, his eyes wide with wild speculation. “You know who attacked me and didn’t tell me? Who?” he angrily demanded. “And why did you keep it secret?”
“Please forgive me, Clay, for not stepping forward sooner,” she replied in apologetic tones. “And let me stress that while I do not know the name of the specific individual who attacked you, I am more than convinced I know who hired that person. And that is the third and final matter I wish to address.” She paused as everyone looked at her, all yearning to hear the name of the person behind such an awful attack. “It was the same man who worked with Dooley Kramer to frame Nicholas. I have no definitive proof, but I can say that I was subtly threatened by this man shortly after Clay’s attack.”
“But why would he threaten you?” Clay asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“He wanted me to keep silent about what had happened at the swamp,” she said. “At the time, this man correctly suspected that I had been there and knew of his involvement in Maynard and Adelaide’s abductions. How he discovered this, I do not know, but he made it eerily clear that what had happened to Clay Brindle–or perhaps even something worse–could just as easily happen to my loved ones and friends unless I held my tongue. Until this trial today, I have kept silent on these matters out of fear of violent reprisals. But for the sake of this village, I can no longer hide the truth. This individual and his criminal deeds must be exposed so all can see who has been lurking among them in plain sight, slowly poisoning their very lives.”
Everyone sat silent, letting Katherine’s sobering words sink in. Clay finally stepped forward, still unable to logically connect all the pieces of her riveting account.
“Pardon me, Nicholas, but I must ask Katherine one more question if that’s all right with you,” he said amidst a swirl of muddled thoughts.
“Take as much time as you need,” Nicholas replied, stepping back. Everyone directed their attention to the constable who stood leaning upon his cane.
“Katherine, while I appreciate the thoroughness of your testimony which has answered quite a few lingering questions–”
“And poses more,” someone softly called out, followed by a sprinkling of mirthful laughter across the benches.
“Yes, yes!” Clay replied with mild annoyance, holding up a hand to keep order. “But what I still don’t understand are the motives of this yet unnamed individual who worked with Dooley Kramer and two powerful wizards. You haven’t yet told us why he committed these horrible deeds,” he stated, scratching his head. “What exactly did he gain from all his troubles–and ours?”
Katherine pondered the question with sadness in her eyes. “I suppose, Constable Brindle, that the accumulation of money and power at other people’s expense is what motivates individuals like the man of whom we speak. And just as in the far off corners of Laparia, here, too, in Kanesbury, the same sinister forces have been at work while most of us have gone about our daily business.
“You see, this man has slowly climbed his way up in Kanesbury society while in league with Caldurian and his associates. After Uncle Otto disappeared and Maynard was abducted and replaced by Arileez, it was the impostor Maynard who was appointed by the village council as acting mayor in Otto’s absence, just as Caldurian had planned. The wizard knew that one of Maynard’s duties as head of the council would be to fill in for the mayor during any absence. And later, after Caldurian and his men had left after terrorizing us and imprisoning my uncle, who did this impostor appoint to replace Ned Adams on the council after he resigned to rebuild his gristmill?”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 194