David Weber - The Road to Hell

Sweat had popped out along Kolthar’s brow. “You do, Sir,” he said in a flat monotone.

“Very good. Sit down, Sir, and save your protests for legitimate points of statutory merit.”

He sat.

Bok vos Hoven swallowed hard under the court’s stony stares, and Sogbourne pinned him with a glare that had reduced grown men to gibbering shakes more than once.

“Need I remind you, vos Hoven, that you already face serious-indeed, perhaps capital-charges? If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t utter so much as one syllable that might be misconstrued as additional deliberate falsehood. Be advised that your false accusation of attempted murder against Hundred Olderhan will be added to the charges you already face.”

Sogbourne hadn’t thought it possible for a man to look more thoroughly terrified than vos Hoven already did, but that admonition did the trick. For a moment, he feared the shakira would slide to the floor and grovel on his belly. He got himself under control, however, and nodded in a movement made jerky by muscles locked tight against bone.

“Very well, I suggest you reconsider your testimony about the events leading to Fifty Garlath’s demise. Do you wish to re-phrase your account of them?”

Another jerky nod.

“Then proceed,” Sogbourne said coldly.

Whatever the lying bastard said, it ought to be interesting.

* * *

Commander of One Thousand Arnith Janvers, Count Tisbane, was-like most Andarans, when viewed from a more normal Ransaran height-tall enough to scrape the sky with his hair. Gadrial had begun to feel so small and so intimidated by the towering male bodies surrounding her everywhere she went that her temper had begun to simmer. Not that her temper needed much excuse, given the unholy circus which had enveloped people about whom she’d come to care deeply. The information Duke Garth Showma had shared with all of them was enough to fill anyone with fury; adding the stress of Jasak’s court-martial to it only made things worse, and the way in which so much hatred focused on Shaylar and Jathmar-the only two true innocents caught up in the entire rolling disaster-was sickening. It had taken her considerable self-control to refrain from incinerating some of the people behind that hatred-like that loathsome slime toad Minister vos Durgazon-on the spot. Just one well-placed levin bolt would’ve done it. There was, she thought darkly, a reason Magisters of the Hood took such binding oaths to use their Gifts for nothing but humankind’s good.

Eliminating vos Durgazon would serve humankind’s good, the back of her brain whispered to the front. Temptation was a terrible thing. At the moment, however, she faced a very different challenge. Count Tisbane was one of the finest attorneys money could buy. He was also a senior officer in the Judiciary General’s office who carried a reputation as a scrupulously honest man who was ruthless to adversaries and fiendishly intelligent.

If Tisbane had been assigned to this case as prosecutor, rather than Jasak’s defense attorney, Gadrial would have tasted despair. Instead, she took her seat in the witness’ box with a fair appearance of equanimity, folded her hands in her lap, swore the required oath of truthfulness, and waited for him to speak.

“Magister Gadrial,” he said in a soft, cultured voice that could have charmed bees into handing over honeycombs and dragons into rolling over to have their belly-plates scratched, “there are two main questions this court must resolve: was Hundred Olderhan derelict in his duty and did he perform his duties with good judgment.

“As a civilian, you won’t be able to assist the court in determining whether or not he was derelict in his duty, as that determination is made under a complex set of criteria embedded in Andaran military code and the Articles of War.”

She nodded, having already been briefed on that point.

“What you can do, Magister Gadrial, is assist the court in determining precisely what happened that day and whether or not Hundred Olderhan used good judgment in the performance of his duties as an officer, before the crisis, during the crisis, and after the crisis.

“You were present, either within view or within earshot, of all the main events this court must consider. As Hundred Olderhan’s defense attorney, I’ll ask a number of questions related to the issues the court must resolve. After I’ve questioned you, the Prosecutor will cross-examine you on many of those same points and, potentially, on issues I haven’t raised during my initial examination. If that’s the case, I’ll then be given a chance to discuss those new points with you, to clarify your testimony on behalf of my client’s defense. Is that clear and is that acceptable, Magister Gadrial?”

She drew a deep, silent breath and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Very well, let’s begin. How well did you know Hundred Olderhan when he took out the platoon that escorted you in the search for Halathyn vos Dulainah’s Class Seven Portal?”

She answered gravely. “We’d barely met, Defensor.” From the corner of her eye, she caught several surprised expressions from the officers of the court. They hadn’t expected a Ransaran to know the proper title of the defense counsel in a military courtroom. Well, that was fine with her. She intended to surprise them again, before this was done.

“What was the extent of your interaction with him?”

“Sir Jasak departed on the same transport ship I’d arrived on, when I joined Magister Halathyn in the field. We spoke briefly on deck, where he wished me a pleasant and productive research mission, and I left the ship after wishing him a safe and speedy journey. I wasn’t even aware, at that time, where he was headed. I knew only that he wasn’t expected to return for some time, which I learned when one of the ship’s officers mentioned it while welcoming him aboard.”

“So you spoke briefly when he departed, leaving Fifty Garlath in acting command of the company until Hundred Thalmayr’s arrival?”

“That’s what I was told, yes, Defensor. Hadrign Thalmayr was due to arrive at any time, aboard a special courier dragon, since his connecting transport had been delayed, causing him to miss the ship’s scheduled departure. Fifty Ulthar’s platoon was at the coast, on R amp;R, which left Shevan Garlath in charge of the camp at the Swamp Portal.”

“And what was your assessment of Fifty Garlath’s capabilities?”

“He was an arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent twit.”

Gadrial heard a stifled squeak from someone on the bench that sounded suspiciously like laughter stuffed down before it could burst loose.

“Ah, yes, that is a very clearly stated opinion,” Count Tisbane said. Despite the serious mien of his long, square face, Tisbane’s eyes twinkled with carefully restrained mirth. “Could you enlighten this court with specific details that would illustrate this somewhat remarkable opinion?”

“I’d be delighted to, Sir.”

And she did. For the next eleven minutes. Without even reaching, yet, any description of the events surrounding their departure on the ill-fated search for Halathyn’s portal.

“Please, Magister,” Count Sogbourne finally pleaded. “You’ve made your point. Eloquently and convincingly. Shevan Garlath will be entered into the court records as a-what did you call him?”

She smiled sweetly. “An arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent twit.”

“Ah, yes, that was it. Let it be noted that the court designates Commander of Fifty Shevan Garlath as, ah, seriously deficient in the criteria which define a competent officer of the Union of Arcana.”

Gadrial smiled, but her heart seethed with hatred of that arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent bastard. If he hadn’t shot an unarmed man through the throat…