Fly Up into the Night Air

by John Houser

  The clerk rose and brought his staff down three times. "All rise!" Magistrate Tine progressed rapidly out of the hall. "This court is adjourned until ten bells, tomorrow morning."

  * * *

  Harte tapped his foot impatiently as he waited at Watch House for Griff to return from escorting the Greer family home. When Griff entered, he wasted no time with greetings. "It was nothing but attack and deny, attack and deny, Griff, but all too effective, I fear. Never mind, we have work to do tonight."

  "He barely addressed your evidence and made no mention of your witnesses."

  "No doubt he will have much to say about them, later."

  Griff put up an arm and leaned against the frame of the ready room door. "For that matter, why did you make so little mention of Mr. Ghast? Surely he's your best witness now, not Peli."

  "I'm not sure. I--we'll talk of this later. First, I need you to do something for me." He placed a small note on the table in front of him. "I must speak to these people tonight. Take your men. Insist, if you must. If they ask, you may explain that I want to prepare for tomorrow's testimony." He placed his index finger below one name. "Leave him to me. Bring the others here at six--" He smiled wolfishly. "--make that seven bells. Have a man ready to take notes, in the clock room."

  Griff pointed at another name. "He will not want to come."

  Harte shrugged. "I no longer care what he wants. Go. Please, Griff, I must bring my thoughts into order."

  * * *

  "Thank you, Griff. Please ask Mr. Ghast to join me here. Have the others wait in the ready room. I'm sure they will appreciate the fire, tonight." Harte was seated with his back to the clock, which displayed seven bells and five. There was an oil lamp on the table near him, and two more in sconces on the wall behind him. Their flickering orange flames made the room into a living thing.

  "Where is P--"

  Harte spoke sharply. "Let's not keep these gentlemen waiting any longer than necessary, Griff. I am ready to proceed now." Griff's eyebrows rose just a fraction, but he bowed and left without comment.

  "Mr. Ghast, thank you for coming. Would you care for something hot to drink? Tea perhaps?"

  "No, thank you, Mr. Walford. I'm not fond of the muck, myself."

  "You prefer stronger brew?"

  "Well. When the horses are settled for the night."

  "Yes, of course. A teamster's first priority is always his team. Perhaps you will understand, then, when I tell you that a Presenter Advocate's first priority is always his witnesses. Rarely is a case won without solid witnesses. Would you consider yourself a solid witness, Mr. Ghast?"

  "Well, I think so. I mean, why wouldn't I be?"

  "Indeed. Why wouldn't you be?" Harte watched the dancing flame of the oil lamp on the table as it seemed to reach and grasp for something unseen. He tried to soften his tone, a little. "Some witness are easily led than others. That is to say, they are easily persuaded to believe they saw things they didn't. Others may lie outright, to protect themselves or others." Harte returned his gaze to Mr. Ghast. "You wouldn't have any reason to fall into either of those categories, would you?"

  Mr. Ghast began absently pulling at his beard. "No, I shouldn't think so. Now, what's this about? I were given to understand that you were lookin' for a witness to the beatin'."

  "Indeed I was, Mr. Ghast. I just have some additional questions for you. What were Mr. Greer's friends doing, while he was fighting with Raf?"

  "They was watchin', I guess. Can't say as I recall."

  "Did they speak to or engage with anyone else, besides Mr. Greer and Raf?"

  "Not that I recall. Everyone was concentratin' on the set-to. I sure was."

  "Did anyone try to intervene and stop Mr. Greer from beating Raf?"

  Mr. Ghast's eyes wondered around the room before settling on his hands. "There were a bit of a commotion at one point, but I can't say as I paid it much mind."

  "I see. When did Mr. Greer first kick Raf? Was it before or after the boy fell down?"

  "Oh, I'm sure it was after."

  "And did Mr. Greer stamp on Raf before or after Raf stopped fighting back."

  Mr. Ghast sat back in his chair and pulled his beard. "I can't be sure of that. I weren't so close as to be sure when the boy quit fightin' back."

  "You were close enough to be sure that it was Mr. Greer who hit and kicked Raf?"

  Mr. Ghast put his hands on the table. "Oh yes. I'm sure that it was Mr. Greer."

  "How is it that you know Mr. Greer?"

  "Seen him before, down on Dock Street."

  "What does he look like?"

  "What?" Mr. Ghast's eyes went wandering again. "Well ... he's a big man, I suppose." He paused, looking at Harte. Harte made no sign. "Dark hair, I think. Dresses like a toff--a bit like you do ..."

  It was enough. Harte spoke coldly. "Mr. Ghast, did you actually see Mr. Greer beat Raf? Have you ever met Mr. Greer?"

  "What's the point o' this? I'm meant to help your case, right? Why question me so hard?"

  "Why indeed, Mr. Ghast?" Harte spoke softly. "Why muddy the picture with facts, when accusations will do. Why bother at all? Do you think the advocate for the defense will not question you?" Harte lifted his voice. "Griff? I believe we're done for the moment." Harte let his attention return to the flickering lamp.

  Ghast shifted and had half risen from his seat when Griff returned to the room. "Mr. Ghast, will you follow me?"

  Harte drew a long breath and stood, briskly. "Keep the three of them company in the ready room for a moment, will you, Griff? I'll come for them when I'm ready to continue."

  Harte waited until Griff and Mr. Ghast were out of sight, before stepping quickly to the small room from which one could look through the clock. "Peli. How are you doing? Are you warm enough?"

  "This rug is warm. Is it the one from the sleigh?"

  "Yes, it is." Harte put his foot on the lower rung of the stool on which Peli sat, wrapped in the rug. The room was so small he had to leave the door ajar, in order to fit. "What did you think of Mr. Ghast?"

  "I don't like him. He's oily, like a fish. Did you notice how he smelled when you questioned him?"

  Harte dropped his foot to the floor and examined Peli's face. "Not exactly. Did he look or sound funny to you?"

  Peli made a face. "No, but I thought I was going to spew at the end, when you asked him if he'd ever met Mr. Greer."

  "Spew? Why Peli?"

  "It was his breath, when he opened his mouth to answer."

  "Huh." Harte looked at Peli, and let his mouth stretch into smile. "You are a wonder, Peli."

  "What did I do?"

  "You have been a great help."

  "I don't understand."

  "I will explain later, Peli. Will you go to the ready room and tell Griff to bring Soloni to the clock room?"

  Peli's thin shoulders hunched a little, but he did not move from his stool. "Don't you want me to watch some more?"

  "No, that won't be necessary. Leave the rug and go tell Griff what I asked. You'll be warmer in the ready room. I'll come get you when I'm done. You've done very well today."

  "But I haven't done anything."

  "Peli. You've been very helpful. I will explain later. Go. I must speak to Soloni now."

  Peli finally slid down from his perch on the stool, his face tight. Harte backed out of the little room. A watchman leaned against the wall, picking his teeth. How long has he been there? Harte motioned to Peli to stay where he was. "Please tell Patrol Leader Tarren that I am ready for the next witness. Thank you." Harte waited until the watchman had left before speaking. "Peli, I don't think I want that man to see you. Quick now, go out around the other way and wait in the kitchen for Griff to come and get you." Peli must have heard the urgency in his voice, because he did not argue, but turned and ran down the corridor.

  Harte took his seat again under the clock to wait for Soloni. Griff ushered him in a minute later. "Anton. Good of you to
come. You are well, I trust?"

  Soloni was dressed elegantly and expensively as usual, but he seemed to have new wrinkles around his eyes and a new crease between his eyebrows. "I was very well, thank you, until your friends rousted me from my home and business. I take it you have not invited me here to toss dice with the watch."

  "No, I have not."

  * * *

  The broadsheet screamed the next morning. "Prosecution using canny mind reader to interrogate witnesses!" Harte would have a talk with Griff about the watchman he'd seen in the corridor. Thank God he didn't identify Peli. The town hall steps were even more crowded today. There were more men and fewer women and children. Catcalls and epithets started as soon as he was recognized.

  "Traitor!"

  "Keep the Canny out of Walford's Crossing!"

  "Leave Walford to the real Walfords!"

  "Stay out of our heads!"

  Harte pushed through the crowd without commenting and made his way to the presenter's table to wait for the magistrate.

  * * *

  Magistrate Tine settled into his seat, resting his elbow on the bench and his chin on his hand. "Mr. Walford, please continue with your witnesses."

  "Thank you, Magistrate."

  "I call Peli of Walford's Crossing to the stand."

  Peli stood and walked forward from the spectator's gallery, giving the defendant's table a wide berth as he passed. Harte watched Brin follow Peli's movements. Brin seemed to be trying to memorize Peli's features, much as a gambler might memorize the features of a man whom he is convinced has cheated him.

  The clerk of court stood. "Do you swear on your sacred honor that you will speak truth to this court?"

  "I do."

  "State your full name and place of residence for the Court."

  "Peli of Walford's Crossing. I'm staying at the Sisters of Mercy Hospital."

  "Please be seated."

  Harte took a position near the witness stand. "Peli, I'm going to start by asking you about the events of six December, last year. Do you remember that night?"

  "Yes."

  Harte tried to smile reassuringly. "Good. This morning, we heard testimony from three men who went to Dock Street with the defendant, Mr. Greer, on the night of the sixth. Did you see any of those men on the night of the sixth?"

  "Yes, I did." Peli identified Caleb Stowe and Miles Groat.

  "Thank you, Peli. Now, when did you see these two men?"

  "I was a little after two bells. I was waiting outside the Red Rooster."

  Harte kept his voice gentle. "You need only answer the question I ask, Peli."

  "Oh, right."

  "How do you know it was after two bells?"

  "I heard the bells, while I was waiting. It was a little after that, when I saw the men."

  "What were they doing, when you saw them?"

  "They were coming up Dock Street towards me."

  "From north or south?"

  Peli looked unsure.

  "Let me rephrase that. Were they walking towards Hill Street or away from it."

  "Oh. They were walking towards it."

  "And where you were waiting, you were between them and Hill Street."

  "Uh huh."

  Magistrate Tine lifted his chin off his palm. "Please use the words yes or no rather than sounds, Mr.--ah, Peli. We don't want any ambiguity in the record, do we?"

  "Oh, right."

  There was a pause. Harte prompted, "Do you need me to repeat the question, Peli?"

  "Sorry. No--I mean yes, I was between the men and Hill Street."

  "Oh dear, perhaps we'd better clarify that. I'll ask it again, and you just answer, all right? When you saw the men walking towards the Red Rooster, you were between them and Hill Street, right?"

  Peli nodded. Harte gestured towards his mouth. Peli blushed and stammered. "Yes."

  "Good. You're doing fine, Peli. Just relax and answer my questions."

  "Now, were the two men you've identified alone, or were they with others?"

  "They were with two other men. But, I couldn't see them very well, because they were on the other side of the street."

  "Very well. What happened, when they got near the Red Rooster?"

  "That was when Raf came out of the Red Rooster."

  "And what did Raf do when he came out?" said Harte.

  "He went up to the men and said something."

  "Did you hear what he said?"

  Peli thought for a moment. "No."

  "Was his behavior threatening in any way?"

  "No. I don't think so. He was singing, you see, and walking funny."

  "Do you remember what he was singing?"

  "A drinking song. You know--the one that goes like this." Peli sang a few bars. Magistrate Tine's eyebrows rose and his mouth twitched. There was open laughter from the spectator's benches. Peli blushed again.

  "Thank you, Peli," said Harte, with careful gravity. "I take it Raf had been drinking, when he came out of the Red Rooster."

  "I guess so. I mean he could still walk and all."

  "What happened after Raf spoke to the men?"

  "One of them hit him in the head."

  "Did you see who hit him in the head?"

  "No, I couldn't see his face, because he had his back to me."

  "It wasn't either of the men you've identified?"

  "No."

  "What happened, then?"

  "Raf began to yell."

  "Did Raf try to defend himself?"

  "Yes. He tried to hit the man."

  "Did he get in a good punch?"

  "No, he just got the man's arm."

  "What happened, then?"

  "The man kept hitting Raf. Then Raf started to scream for help. Real loud."

  "Did anyone come?"

  "No. Everyone ran away."

  "Why did they do that?"

  "Objection!" Councilman Greer was on his feet. "The question calls for speculation on the part of the witness."

  Magistrate Tine sat up. "Rephrase or withdraw the question Mr. Walford."

  "I'll withdraw the question. What happened next, Peli?"

  "Raf fell down and the man started kicking him."

  "What did you do, then?"

  "I yelled, and I tried to stop him, but the other men wouldn't let me get to him. One of them tried grab me--"

  "Which one tried to grab you, Peli?"

  "That one." Peli pointed.

  "Mr. Stowe."

  "Yes, Mr. Stowe. But I ran away."

  "Before you ran away, did you see what the man who hit Raf was wearing?"

  "Yes. He had on a dark cloak with a black and white striped, fur collar."

  "A dark cloak with a black and white striped, fur collar." Harte walked back to the presenter's table. He reached into a canvas sack that rested there. "Is this the cloak that you saw that night, Peli?" He lifted out the cloak and placed around his shoulders. He strode back towards the witness stand.

  "Yes, that's it. I've never seen another like it."

  "Thank you, Peli." Harte removed the cloak and returned it to the table leaving the striped collar visible on top. He took a breath. "Now, I'm going to ask you about something that happened during the week after the beating. Where were you living at that time, Peli?"

  Peli looked down and mumbled. "I was living under a boat."

  "It's very important that you speak up so that the council can hear you, Peli. Please say it again."

  Peli sat up in his seat and drew back his shoulders. "I was living under a boat, by the river."

  "Thank you. You're doing fine, Peli. What happened to you during the week after the beating, while you living under the boat?"

  "I was washing in the river, when a man came down to the shore and sat on my clothes."

  "He sat on your clothes?" There was muffled laughter from the spectator gallery.

  "Yes, so I had to stay in the river and couldn't p
ut them back on again. I was very cold, and I couldn't stop shivering."

  "Is the man who sat on your clothes here in the courtroom?"

  Peli identified Brin Greer.

  "Thank you, Peli. Did Mr. Greer say anything to you?"

  "Yes. He said, 'If you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever knew anyone named Raf.'"

  "Then what did he do?"

  "He just sat there looking at me, while I shivered."

  "What was Mr. Greer wearing, then?"

  "He was wearing a black, fur-lined cloak."

  "Not the same cloak you saw on the night of six December?"

  Councilman Greer stood again. "Objection! The presenter advocate is leading the witness."

  Harte was undeterred. "I'll rephrase. Was the cloak the same as the one you saw on the night of six December?"

  "No, it was different."

  "What happened next?"

  "He got up and threw my clothes into the river."

  "He threw your clothes into the river--so they were soaked?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you have any other clothes, Peli?"

  "No."

  "So you had to put on wet clothes in the middle of December?"

  "Yes." There were murmurs from the crowd.

  Harte turned to Councilman Greer. Councilman Greer was staring at his son's indifferent face. "Your witness."

  Councilman Greer rose slowly to his feet and wandered over to the witness' stand. By the time he had reached it, there was a broad smile stretched across his rubbery features. "Peli. How long have you been a resident of Walford's Crossing?"

  "About eight months."

  "Eight months. Hmm. How old are you, Peli?"

  "I'll be fifteen in March."

  "It's just Peli, then? Haven't you a family name to share with the Court?"

  Peli shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I have no family."

  "Surely, you did not spring whole formed from the earth? What happened to your parents?"

  Harte stood. "Objection, Magistrate. Relevance. What have Peli's parents to do with the matter at hand?"

  Magistrate Tine was laconic. "Councilman Greer? You have some point? Or do you hope to expand your social circle?" There was laughter from the back of the spectator's gallery.