L. Modesitt - Wellspring of Chaos

“Bailiff!”

“Lord Justicer.” The bailiff stepped forward.

“Have the cooper Mallamet taken into custody for false witness. Ten lashes.”

“Armsmen! To the fore!”

“Ser…no, ser. I was just tellin’.”

“Silence!”

Kharl just watched, totally puzzled, as two armsmen escorted Mallamet out of the Hall of Justice. If the justicer and Lord West wanted to hang Kharl, why were they arresting Mallamet? But why had the justicer not asked more questions about what had happened?

“The cooper Kharl.”

“Stand,” hissed one of the armsmen behind Kharl.

Kharl lurched to his feet, unsteadily. “Lord Justicer.” He bowed his head, then looked up, straight at the justicer.

“Earlier, cooper, you had objected to the testimony of Captain Egen. Now, you have a chance to tell what happened.”

“Honored justicer,” Kharl began carefully, “it all started when I was carrying sealant back from Hyesal the apothecary’s shop…” He told the entire story as it had happened, ending with, “…and when the captain said I’d killed her, I tried to explain that I hadn’t done anything. I didn’t run. I didn’t do anything except I said I didn’t do it, and then someone hit me over the head, and I woke up in gaol.”

“How do you explain that the blackstaffer was killed with one of your drawing knives?”

“There were lots of people around the front of the shop, ser. Anyone could have walked in. Also, I’m not a killer. I mean, I don’t know how to use a knife that way. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Most crafters have a way to defend their shops. What is yours?”

“I keep a cudgel close by, ser. It’s close enough to a forge hammer…”

“And you are a cooper, and that means using a forge. Had you unbanked your forge that morning?”

“No, ser. Charee and I had to walk Jenevra-she was the blackstaffer-to Father Jorum’s. I didn’t want to waste the charcoal.”

“Have you anything else to say?”

“I didn’t do it, ser.”

“But you did try to get away from the armsmen, did you not?”

“No, ser. I said I didn’t do it. I might have backed up one step, but I didn’t try to get away. They were saying I did something I didn’t.”

“That will be all. Please be seated.”

Kharl felt as though the justicer hadn’t really paid any attention to his words. But there was no way out of the Hall, not with his hands bound, and armsmen behind him and all around the Hall.

“Lord justicer!” The bailiff in gold and blue rapped his staff on the stone floor of the chamber.

The justicer looked at the functionary. “Yes, bailiff?”

“Your honor…there is a witness. He has a pass from the Quadrancy.”

The frown of the justicer was so fleeting that Kharl would not have seen it had he even blinked. “Very well. Have him step forward and state his name.”

There was a slight sound behind the justicer, and a slender, gray-haired man, clean-shaven and in blue velvet, his tunic trimmed in gold, slipped into the seat at the higher dais behind the justicer, a seat that had been vacant throughout the trial. Even from where he sat, Kharl could see that the newcomer was old, and that there were dark circles ringing his deep-set eyes.

The figure who stepped forward from beside the bailiff as a witness was Tyrbel, wearing the black robe that he had told Kharl was for appearances before the justicers.

“State your name.”

“I am Tyrbel, scrivener of Brysta, your honor of justice.” The scrivener bowed deeply.

“What have you to say to what has been offered as evidence, master scrivener?”

“What I have to say, your honor of justice, is most plain.” Tyrbel looked squarely at the justicer. “Kharl could not have killed the blackstaffer. He is a good man, but there is another reason why he could not have killed her. She was still alive when he left his cooperage to fight the fire, and he was still with me and the others using the buckets when his consort came out to tell him that something terrible had happened.”

“How do you know the blackstaffer was still alive?” The justicer’s face bore more curiosity than anger.

“I saw her leaning on his workbench through the window when I called for help. She was still standing there when Kharl came out.”

“So your scriptorium was burning, and you had time to watch?” The justicer’s sarcasm was scarcely veiled.

Kharl looked at Tyrbel. The scrivener was perfectly calm. What Tyrbel said was true. Jenevra had been alive. But Tyrbel had not actually seen that, and Kharl had not talked to Tyrbel since the murder.

“I only watched for a moment. It was long enough to see that Kharl had heard and was coming to help.”

“Justicer?” interjected the clean-shaven and elderly man in the high seat, before another word could be said.

“Yes, Lord West?”

Lord West looked squarely at the scrivener. “Are you absolutely certain that the cooper could not have turned back and killed the blackstaffer?”

“Yes, Lord. I had barely reached the fire barrel when Kharl was beside me.”

“And he had no blood on him?” asked the lord.

“No, ser.”

“Does he wear the same garments now as then?”

Tyrbel turned and studied Kharl. “Yes, ser. They are more soiled, but they are the same.”

“I would note, Lord Justicer, that while there is filth on his tunic, there does not seem to be any blood.”

“It is so noted,” replied Reynol.

Lord West sat back, an amused expression on his face.

Kharl didn’t know what to think. One moment, he was convinced he would be hanged, and the next Lord West was suggesting that he could not have killed Jenevra.

“Jorum, priest of the Sovereign, please come forward.”

Father Jorum rose from one of the benches to the left and walked forward, past Kharl.

“I will not trouble you with reminders, Jorum. Just answer directly.”

“Yes, Lord Justicer.”

“What did the woman Charee say to you about the blackstaffer?”

“Very little, ser. She said that someone had been hurt and that she wanted them to finish recovering away from the cooperage.”

“Away from the cooperage? Did she say why?”

“She only said that she didn’t want the person to stay at the cooperage.”

“She gave no reason?”

“No, ser. Except she said that she was having trouble with Kharl over it. She said that she might ask me to talk to the cooper.”

“Did you?”

“No, ser. She never did ask me.”

“Has she talked to you since?”

“She came to me on sixday, and asked me what to do about her consort. She told me that the Watch had taken the body of the blackstaffer and that they had taken Kharl. She was very upset.”

“Did she say anything about the killing?”

“She only said that she wished it had not happened, that she wished the blackstaffer had never come to Brysta, and that she wished that she had not allowed the woman even in the cooperage.”

“Was that all?”

“She asked for me to pray for her and her children.”

“You may return to the bench, Jorum.”

The priest inclined his head, then stepped back.

“Captain Egen,” Reynol stated. “Approach the dais.”

Egen rose, almost languidly, and stepped forward, stopping and bowing.

“When you arrived with the Watch, Captain, did anyone have blood on their clothing?” asked the justicer.

Egen frowned for a moment, as if recalling, before speaking. “The cooper’s consort did. She was the only one. There was blood on her blouse.”

“Did you examine the body?”

“Yes, ser.”

“How was the blackstaffer killed?”

“The blackstaffer had a large jagged cut across her neck, ser.”