The Righteous Blade d-2

by Stan Nichols

  ‘Let’s get this straight,’ Caldason said. ‘These channels, the energy lines, are like…’ he groped for a parallel ‘…a network of rivers. And if you have a boat, you could go anywhere in it.’

  The sorcerer smiled. ‘That’s rather well put. Except the boat would move faster than any wind could drive it.’

  ‘But you’re saying someone’s already using this network for sending messages?’

  The Covenant man nodded.

  ‘It looks like it,’ Karr confirmed.

  ‘Who?’ Caldason wanted to know.

  ‘That’s the big question. But logically, it’s going to be an elite, isn’t it? Those who rule us. Whether that’s the leaders of Gath Tampoor or Rintarah, or the state on a lower level, like the government here in Bhealfa…well, it’s a moot point. But I think a resource like this, with all its potential, is probably going to be jealously guarded by the highest. It would give them such an edge.’

  ‘So, making use of it ourselves isn’t really an option if somebody is already using it?’

  ‘Right. Not much privacy. But that led us to think about another way of turning this to our advantage. If the grid’s being used to send messages, maybe we can intercept them.’

  Caldason addressed the sorcerer. ‘It’s within your power to do that?’

  ‘In theory, yes. But it’s by no means easy.’

  ‘What does it involve?’

  ‘No disrespect, but unless you’re a practitioner of the Craft yourself-’

  ‘Which I’m certainly not.’

  ‘Then I’m not sure I could explain how we’d go about it. One way of looking at it, I suppose, although it’s a gross simplification, would be to think of that energy channel as a silken cord. The spells we’d cast would cut into it like a blade to let the information it carries bleed out. You might say we’d be hacking our way in.’

  ‘Reeth’s a fighting man,’ Karr revealed. ‘I can see he appreciates the comparison.’

  Caldason glanced into the turbulent, freezing pit. ‘These channels are dangerous, aren’t they? The only other time we’ve seen one like this it caused havoc.’

  ‘Yes, potentially very dangerous,’ the sorcerer agreed. ‘But we’ve bound it with a number of powerful containment

  spells. They should hold off any detrimental effects that might arise.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re confident of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to…’

  ‘Of course,’ Karr told him. ‘And thank you.’

  The man moved off to join his colleagues and occupied himself with something out of earshot.

  Karr and Reeth turned back to the pit, their hands on the wooden rail. The liquid below carried on seething.

  ‘Think they’ll be able to do it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Reeth. But it’s a prize worth going all out for.’

  Caldason made no reply. His gaze had slipped to the agitated quicksilver pool.

  ‘Reeth?’

  He didn’t seem to hear. His knuckles were white on the charred rail.

  ‘

  Reeth!

  ’

  ‘Hmm? Oh. Sorry.’ He shook his head, as though clearing it. ‘I was…I guess I was away with the fairies for a minute there.’

  The quicksilver spring staged a minor eruption, like a scaled-down volcano about to spew lava. It spat little globules of mercury that stuck the pit’s walls, then rolled back down to the pool. An even more intense wave of cold came off it.

  Karr tugged at Reeth’s arm. ‘It might be best to come away. Let’s leave this to the experts.’

  They retreated. The sound of the quicksilver’s small upheaval quietened.

  ‘Do you reckon they know what they’re doing?’ Caldason whispered.

  ‘If Covenant doesn’t, nobody does.’ He glanced the way of the huddled sorcerers. ‘Well, I hope it took your mind off Kinsel, if nothing else.’

  ‘A little. But that isn’t why you brought me here, surely?’

  ‘I wanted you to see the stakes we’re playing for. And, I admit it, I hoped that being let into our confidence even more might help you make up your mind about the gold shipment.’

  ‘Always a reason behind everything, eh, Karr?’ He didn’t mean it critically. ‘Well, I think I’ve more or less decided what I’ll be doing.’

  ‘Is it a decision I’ll be pleased about?’

  ‘Depends if you want that gold delivered or not.’

  ‘Good.’ He beamed.

  ‘Karr.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s to do with Kinsel. Disgleirio said something to Serrah and me about…’

  ‘Assassination? He made the same suggestion in Council.’

  ‘What was the consensus?’

  ‘It was unanimous. We don’t operate that way. How could we? If we lose our humanity, our souls, in fighting the oppressors, how are we any better than them? Frankly, Reeth, I find it difficult enough sanctioning the death of an enemy, let alone one of our own.’

  ‘You don’t think Disgleirio or the Blade might act autonomously?’

  ‘No. We made it clear to him that wasn’t acceptable.’

  ‘I suppose I can kind of see his point. What with the CIS operating in Bhealfa now, and their expertise in getting people to talk-’

  ‘Kinsel didn’t break under their interrogation, or any torture they might have applied. He couldn’t have. No one’s been betrayed. We would certainly have known by now if they had. For courage like that I think we owe him more than assassination, don’t you?’

  ‘Can we get anyone in there?’

  ‘The courtroom? Not a chance. And I’ve had every inch of the route from there to the paladins’ headquarters thoroughly checked. We can’t see a chink, no matter how hard we try.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Kinsel. I’m afraid he’s on his own.’

  20

  There was no necessity to bring him in chains, but they did. Rukanis supposed it was to give the impression he was a dangerous man, deserving of punishment. But as he looked about the court from his place in the dock, saw the faces and sensed the atmosphere, he knew they need not have bothered. He doubted anyone here could be further prejudiced against him.

  He had been tortured, and there were times when he’d come close to betraying others. Somehow, he had found the strength to resist. Even when they threatened to tear out his vocal cords and still his voice forever. He felt proud of his defiance, and thought it a triumph of sorts, though his body ached atrociously with every breath.

  The courtroom’s public gallery was empty, and the desk where defence advocates normally sat was unoccupied. The officials of the court numbered just three. A single judge, enthroned higher than everyone else and looking stern; his clerk, seated below; and a scribe to write down the proceedings.

  Three people sat at the prosecutor’s desk. He knew all of them. Ivak Bastorran, the chief of the paladins himself,

  alongside his nephew and prospective heir, Devlor. And Commissioner Laffon, looking like a perched vulture. A pair of guards, one on each side of Kinsel, completed the cast.

  The court wasted no time in beginning its proceedings.

  Unrolling a vellum scroll, the clerk rose, cleared his throat and launched into the formalities. ‘You are Kinsel Rukanis, a singer by profession, and citizen of the Gath Tampoorian Empire, officially resident in the city of Merakasa?’

  All Kinsel could do was stare at him. It was as though he’d forgotten how to talk.

  ‘You must answer,’ the judge grated harshly.

  Kinsel swallowed. ‘I am.’ His voice sounded feeble and uncertain.

  ‘The charges will be put to you,’ the clerk continued, ‘and you will enter a plea. Do you understand?’

  ‘I protest,’ Kinsel managed. ‘I’ve been allowed no legal representation and-’

  ‘Silence!’

  the judge bellowed, hammering his bench with a gavel. ‘This is not the time for speeches. You will answer the questions th
e clerk of the court puts to you. Read the indictment against the prisoner.’

  ‘Kinsel Rukanis. You are charged that on diverse dates and in concert with person or persons unknown you did deliberately and with calculated malice conspire to pass on, disseminate and otherwise broadcast certain confidential information in your trust, to the detriment, potential harm and embarrassment of the Empress, her servants and people. You are further charged with consorting with others with a view to plotting violent and disorderly acts directed at legally constituted authorities and various law enforcement agencies serving those authorities. You are lastly charged that you did scheme, conspire, offer aid to and generally abet designated enemies of the state to commit certain treasonable acts designed to disturb the peace of the realm with the object of

  undermining and ultimately overthrowing the said state. How do you plead?’

  ‘The charges are meaningless. They imply anything you want them to.’

  ‘You will respond as directed!’

  the judge thundered. ‘Do you plead guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘I’ve suffered ill treatment. Torture. My rights have been-’

  ‘The accused will be quiet or be silenced.

  Guards!’

  Kinsel’s warders moved in and painfully tightened his chains. They shoved him to the rail at the front of the dock, knocking the wind out of him.

  ‘How do you plead?’ the clerk repeated.

  Kinsel sighed. ‘Not guilty.’

  ‘The prisoner will be seated.’

  His shackles were sharply jerked, causing him to come down heavily on a wooden chair fixed to the floor.

  ‘The prosecution may summarise the state’s case,’ the judge directed.

  Laffon got to his feet and, for the sake of the record, identified himself to the court. He added that under the newly instigated anti-insurgency laws the statutory right to act as prosecutor in cases relating to terrorist offences had been conferred on his office.

  So it was that one of the supposed victims of conspiracy was also the gatherer of evidence against Kinsel, and his main accuser.

  ‘Despite the range and breadth of the charges against the prisoner,’ he began, ‘this case is essentially quite simple. It is our contention that the accused has long conspired with revolutionary and criminal elements whose sole aim is to bring about the downfall of our gracious Empress’ legally constituted government.’ He paused to let that soak in. The scribe’s quill scratched against his sheet of parchment.

  ‘We do not seek to weary the court with reams of

  evidence,’ Laffon went on, ‘damning as that testimony undoubtedly is. Let one or two examples of this man’s treachery suffice. Your Honour, I beg leave to present the state’s first witness.’

  ‘Proceed.’

  ‘I call Ivak Bastorran, High Chief of the Paladin Clans.’

  Bastorran stood up.

  ‘I see no necessity to insist on protocol,’ the judge told him. ‘You may give your evidence from where you are, Chief Bastorran. Please be seated.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Honour.’ Bastorran sat again.

  ‘I understand all witnesses have been sworn-in prior to this hearing,’ the judge said.

  ‘That is so, Your Honour,’ Laffon confirmed.

  ‘Then let’s get on with it, shall we?’

  Laffon turned to the paladin and smiled. ‘I think we can keep this fairly brief. Be so kind as to look at the man in the dock and tell us whether you recognise him.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And how do you know him?’

  ‘As a public figure, naturally, whom I have in fact met on several occasions. Social functions, that kind of thing. I also know of him in my official capacity as a law enforcer.’

  ‘Perhaps you could elaborate on that.’

  ‘His name has featured in reports compiled by paladin operatives assigned to combating terrorist activities. I’m also aware that other law enforcement agencies have taken an interest in him for similar reasons.’

  ‘And how frequently has his name appeared in these reports?’

  ‘Oh, on numerous occasions. There are copious references to him in our files. The paladins have long harboured grave suspicions about him.’

  ‘How would you characterise the accused?’

  ‘As a fellow traveller at best, and at worst an active participant in illegality. But up to now he’s proved both too cunning and too well shielded by his dissident cohorts for us to bring charges against him.’

  ‘Do you regard him as a danger to the state?’

  ‘There’s no doubt about it. And I base that opinion not only on the evidence, but on the experience I’ve gathered during the many years in which it has been my honour to lead the clans.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Bastorran.’

  ‘The accused may question the witness,’ the judge announced.

  Kinsel was startled. No one had told him he would have an opportunity to question his accusers. The guards hoisted him to his feet.

  ‘Well?’ the judge said. ‘This is a busy court and we don’t have all day. Speak or lose the privilege.’

  Kinsel took a breath. ‘You say, Chief Bastorran, that accusations have appeared about me in various reports. Can you tell me what the nature of these reports is?’

  ‘I can’t answer that question on the grounds of state security.’

  ‘Would it not be possible, then, to produce these reports here in court so that the judge might see for himself the allegations they contain?’

  ‘Again, state security forbids such documents being made public.’

  ‘But surely there’s no one here who could be considered a security risk. Why can’t-’

  ‘Overruled!’

  The judge underlined his decision with a rap of the gavel. ‘The records are secret for sound reasons. The accused will pursue another line of questioning or withdraw.’

  ‘The people who compiled these reports,’ Kinsel said. ‘Couldn’t they attend court to-’

  Laffon was on his feet. ‘I object, Your Honour. The accused is asking the same question differently expressed.’

  ‘I agree with you, Commissioner. Your objection is upheld. The accused must confine his questions to areas other than those covered by matters of state security.’

  ‘If I had an advocate,’ Kinsel complained, ‘perhaps the right questions would be asked.’

  ‘That is not germane. Be seated.’

  The guards dumped Kinsel back in his chair.

  ‘Call your next witness, Commissioner.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I call Devlor Bastorran, General-in-Chief of the paladin clans. Tell me, General, from your knowledge of the state’s anti-terrorist efforts, can you corroborate what your unc-what High Chief Bastorran has said about the accused?’

  ‘I can.’

  ‘You know Kinsel Rukanis to be a man the security services have taken an interest in for some considerable time, and whom you suspect to have been involved in insurgency?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Can you add anything to the portrait, so to speak?’

  ‘Yes. Rukanis’ name has been mentioned on several occasions by people under interrogation. These were felons and enemies of the state who were subsequently found to be culpable in matters of terrorism.’

  ‘In what context did these criminals refer to the accused?’

  ‘As a co-conspirator, a comrade-in-arms. Someone as deeply involved in deeds of civil insubordination as they were. But also as a man whom it was hard to gather evidence against. There were even hints that he might be protected by people in positions of influence.’

  ‘That’s an interesting line of inquiry, General. But one for another occasion, I think. So, to sum up, you’re saying that your assessment of the accused accords with that given by Chief Bastorran?’

  ‘I am saying that. The man’s a menace to decent folk going about their lawful business.’

  ‘Thank you, General.’

  The judge glared down at
Kinsel. ‘Questions?’ he snapped.

  ‘These people you claim named me under interrogation. Can you produce any of them in court?’

  ‘Regrettably, no,’ Devlor Bastorran responded, his face a picture of contriteness. ‘You have to understand that they were hardened revolutionaries and outlaws. Some were sentenced to long prison terms in various of the colonies. Several had the death sentence passed on them. Quite justifiably in my opinion. And one or two of the others, sadly, resisted questioning to the extent of deliberately forfeiting their lives.’

  ‘If their…

  interrogation

  was anything like mine, I’m not surprised.’

  The judge’s gavel pounded his bench again. ‘The accused will refrain from making frivolous and irrelevant comments.’

  ‘If you can’t bring any of these people here, General,’ Kinsel said, ‘at least name them.’

  ‘Can’t be done, I’m afraid. That could compromise ongoing investigations. It’s a matter of-’

  ‘State security, yes. But perhaps you

  could

  tell the court who the persons of influence were who supposedly protected me?’

  ‘Objection!’ Laffon stated. ‘It must be obvious even to the accused that such sensitive information couldn’t possibly be exposed to public gaze.’

  ‘Where are the public?’ Kinsel argued. ‘I see none here.’

  ‘We’ll have no facetious remarks,’ the judge barked. ‘You’re right, Commissioner. Questions on this subject will not be pursued.’ He eyed Kinsel. ‘Do you have anything else to ask? Anything sensible, that is?’

  ‘I…’

  ‘I thought not. Do you have any further witnesses, Commissioner?’

  ‘Just one, Your Honour. He’s waiting outside.’

  ‘Well, bring him in, bring him in.’

  ‘Call Aido Brendall.’

  The name meant nothing to Kinsel. But as the clerk directed the man to the witness stand, he recognised him. He was probably in his thirties. His build was average, his clothes unremarkable and his features nondescript. Except for one thing. He had a black leather protuberance in place of a nose. It seemed to be padded, and was held fast by narrow ties that ran round to the back of his head.