Ian Irvine: Alchymist

The platform came together so quickly that the operation must have been practised many times, back in Nennifer. Well before noon it was complete. The prisoners were then hauled up in ropework baskets, arms and legs dangling through the mesh. The guards and scrutators were lifted, dignity intact, in canvas chairs. Within half an hour all the prisoners had been assembled in the centre of the platform. The soldiers prevented them from running to the rim, or the central hole, and leaping to their deaths. The majority of the air-dreadnought crews and soldiers were lowered to the platform, to stand in arcs surrounding the prisoners. They were to be the witnesses. The pilots remained at their stations, however, and many guards at theirs, ever vigilant for signs of the enemy.

Soldiers were also placed at the bow and stern of each air-dreadnought with great axes, ready to cut the ropes should an emergency occur. The witnesses would have bare minutes to run to the walls of Fiz Gorgo before the platform collapsed. Anyone still on it when that happened would plummet fifty spans to the paved yard.

Rope chairs hung above each of the scrutators, of course, so they could be hauled up to safety. Irisis prayed that the enemy would attack. It would be worth anything to see Scrutator Ghorr swinging in terror on the end of a rope while a lyrinx slashed and clawed at him. Had there been any way of summoning the enemy, she would have done it without hesitation.

Anything, even the belly of a lyrinx, was better than the disgraceful death being planned for them. A host of chroniclers and tellers stood by to record the shameful scene. Beside them, at the front, were half a dozen artists at their easels. It was their job to portray every moment of the trial, and to capture the agony on the faces of the criminals as they were executed. For as long as they endured, the Histories of Santhenar, and the personal Histories of every family involved, would tell of their disgrace and ignominious end.

A horn blared. The master of the executions made the sign of a blade being drawn across a throat. Absolute silence fell. Chief Scrutator Ghorr came forward.

'Recorders and witnesses,' Ghorr said in that low, carrying voice, 'for these vile traitors there can be no formal inquisition. We are deep in enemy territory and cannot afford such niceties for those who would give comfort to the enemy.

Nevertheless, the process laid down for this situation will be followed to the letter.

'I must be brief, for even now the enemy could be on their way. The Council of Scrutators has appointed me to summarise the evidence. In each case, I assert that the prisoners are guilty of treason, and other capital crimes too numerous to list. The penalty for such wickedness is flaying, selective disembowelling while maintaining life, and, finally, dismemberment. Ultimately, the body parts shall be distributed to feed the lowest of carrion eaters.'

He paused to scowl at the prisoners, and then at the assembled witnesses, though to Irisis he seemed to be striking a pose for the tale-tellers and the artists. How she despised the man.

'However,' Ghorr went on, 'the formalities of trial must be preserved. Let it not be said that the scrutators are above the law.'

You stinking hypocrite, Irisis thought. A hundred thousand times, when it suited you, the scrutators have acted as judge, jury and executioner, so don't pretend otherwise for the sake of your own place in the Histories. She was drawing breath to scream it at the world when Flydd elbowed her in the ribs.

'Don't!' he hissed. 'It won't do you any good at all.'

'It'll give me the satisfaction!'

'The scrutators have unique forms of excruciation, should you prove recalcitrant. To make an example they may take you back east, tormenting you all the way—'

'It'd be worth it.'

'Oh, Irisis, you have no idea! Nothing is worth what they can do to you. Just shut your mouth and pray for the quickest possible death. I'm looking forward to mine,' he added in a low voice.

'Surr!' she whispered, shocked.

'I mean it. I've fought the long fight and been defeated. The present is a bitter failure, a reminder of a futile life. All my hopes, and all my work, have come to nothing. There's not a thing I can do now and I no longer have to carry the burden of the world. I can let it go at last and go to my death with dignity. I'll embrace it.'

Embrace it?'

Since the scrutators tortured me as a young man, I've not had a day without pain. Not even poppy syrup can cure it now. Death is the end of all pain and I long for its release.'

Irisis shivered and said no more.

'. . , therefore,' Ghorr was going on, 'before I pronounce sentence, I call upon the assembled witnesses to confirm the guilt of the prisoners. Witnesses, should any one of you disagree with the verdict, you must come down and state your case for the prisoner, after which the other witnesses shall vote on the merits of the case. The scrutators will, of course, abstain from the vote. Should the vote be for the prisoner, that prisoner will be freed. If the vote goes against the prisoner, guilt is confirmed and the sentence will be carried out as soon as the remaining trials are finished.'

Ghorr motioned to the master of the executions who, with a flourish, presented him with a scroll and bowed low.

'No, man, that's your job!' Ghorr's low voice carried as far as Irisis. 'Get on with it! We've a war to win.'

The master of the executions dropped the scroll and scrabbled on the canvas for it, looking uncomfortable. He held the scroll out in front of him. 'Pilot Inouye,' he said in a nervous whine, 'the Council of Scrutators, in formal assembly, has found you guilty of treason. Does any witness disagree with the verdict?'

'I beg leave—' Flydd began.

'Denied,' said Ghorr.

No one else spoke. After a lengthy pause, during which the master of the executions scanned the rows of witnesses, he turned to Ghorr and said, 'Since no witness has come forward to oppose the verdict, the sentence is confirmed.'

'Say it to the witnesses,' hissed Ghorr, 'not to me, you damn fool! The scrutators must appear impartial.'

Turning to the witnesses in front of him, the master of the executions said, rather more loudly than was necessary, 'Pilot Inouye has been found guilty of treason. Take her to the place of execution to await her fate.'

The little pilot was dragged away to a pen surrounded by barbed ropes, plus at least twenty guards, weapons at the ready.

'Sergeant Flangers,' said the master of the executions. 'The Council of Scrutators, in formal assembly, has found you guilty of treason. Does any witness disagree with the verdict?'

After another lengthy pause there was a stir in the crowd and someone shouted, 'Sergeant Flangers is a war hero, awarded the Star of Valour for heroism beyond the call of duty during the Siege of Plimes. I contest the verdict.'

Ghorr scowled. 'Come down, witness. State your case for the defence.'

A soldier moved down through the ranks, wearing the uniform of a high officer. 'My name is General Galliman, and I was the commanding officer of the garrison at Plimes during the onslaught by the enemy two years ago. Sergeant Flangers was instrumental in saving the city. Ten times he fought off an attacking force of lyrinx, slaying nine of them and fighting alone for more than two hours when the remainder of his squad was dead. Though sorely wounded, he held the breach against the enemy for most of the day, and remained at his post until reinforcements broke through the enemy lines to relieve him. His Star of Valour was confirmed by the full Council, and it is not the only instance of his heroism, which should be an example to us all.'

The master of the executions turned to Ghorr for the rebuttal.

Ghorr smiled thinly. 'I am well aware of the case, for I personally awarded Sergeant Flangers the Star of Valour. But not even the greatest hero can be exempt from the justice of the scrutators. Sergeant Flangers has since turned on his own kind, conspiring in the escapes of Irisis Stirm and Fyn-Mah, and later, Xervish Flydd and the detestable Cryl-Nish Hlar. He fired on a Council air-floater and destroyed it, causing the deaths of many men and grievous injuries to Scrutator Klarm.