Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

So there it was, not one lie but two. I cannot truly account for the icy calm that possessed me then, much as I remain unable to explain the presence of mind that allowed me to sink a knife into the base of General Tokrevʼs skull. It could be that there are occasions when fear becomes redundant. “Credible testimony?” I enquired.

Lord Velsus blinked and I deduced he had been expecting some outraged protestation of innocence, no doubt to be shouted down by a well-prepared, and suitably theatrical rebuttal. He recovered his composure quickly, however, and gestured to the guards at the door. “Bring in the witness.”

I was expected here, I realised as we waited in silence. The trap is too well laid.

The witness was duly led in, a young woman in a plain dress, her colouring typical of the northern empire, dark hair and skin of an olive hue save for a cluster of livid red stripes on her neck. She was clearly overawed by her surroundings, hands clasped together and head held low, her eyes alighting on me for only a second before she snatched them away.

“State your name,” Lord Velsus ordered.

The young woman had to cough twice before she got the words out, her voice coloured by a barely suppressed quaver. “Jervia Mesieles.”

“That is your married name, is it not?” Velsus enquired.

“Yes, my lord.”

“State your birth name.”

“Jervia Nester Aruan.”

“Quite so. Your father was formerly Governor of Linesh, was he not?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“In fact, he held stewardship of the city at the time of the Hope Killerʼs occupation. An occupation many believe led to an outbreak of the red plague, during which you yourself almost perished. Is this not so?”

Jerviaʼs hands twitched and I surmised she was fighting an impulse to touch the marks on her neck. “It is so, my lord.”

“However, you were saved by the intervention of the Hope Killer, who called for a healer from his homeland. So, it would be fair to say your father considered himself in the Hope Killerʼs debt, would it not?”

Jervia closed her eyes, raising her head and drawing a breath. When she opened them and looked at me I saw the unmistakable apology they held. “It would, my lord,” she said in a laboured tone, the voice of a reluctant actress.

“It is said,” Velsus went on, “your father was given a gift by the Hope Killer shortly before his arrest. What was it?”

“A sword, my lord.”

The Imperial Prosecutorʼs gaze swept the assembled advisors, brows raised in surprise. “He accepted a gift of the Hope Killerʼs sword, the very blade that had been stained with the divine blood of the Hope himself. A man of more noble spirit might have found such a gift an intolerable burden on his honour, but given your fatherʼs ineptitude in defending his city and failure to take the honourable course in the aftermath of defeat, hardly surprising. Tell me, was there anything unusual about this sword?”

Jervia took another ragged breath. “Yes, my lord. The blade had strange markings upon it, and sometimes… sometimes Father would take it out, at night when he thought no one could see. He would draw the sword and the blade would glow with a strange, white fire. It… did things to Father, changed him, somehow…”

She faltered as I laughed, her face suddenly bleached white and eyes moistening.

“Forgive me, honoured lady,” I said. “Please continue.”

Velsus rounded on me, face twisted in anger, finger pointed in accusation “Mark well this manʼs humour, my lords! See how he delights in his own evil!”

He turned back to Jervia, calming himself with an effort that made me suspect this was not all theatre. “You have seen this man before, have you not?”

“I…” She looked down at her clasped hands, white now and shaking. “Yes… Yes he came to see Father, the night before the Hope Killer was brought to the city.”

“You witnessed their meeting?”

“I did, my lord. I wasnʼt supposed to, but I knew a hidden place in Fatherʼs study where I could hear his meetings. I was worried, you see. The sword had changed him so much, and with the Hope Killerʼs return I wondered what he might do. Father told Lord Verniers he intended to return the sword to the Hope Killer. Lord Verniers became very angry, calling Father a traitor, saying he would have the Emperor send guards to arrest him… But Father showed him the sword, and he became quiet. Father said with this sword the Hope Killer was sure to prevail in his duel in the Isles, if Lord Verniers voiced no objection to its use he would receive a great reward.”

“I see. And the nature of this reward?”

“Knowledge. The Hope Killer would relate the story of his life and the reasoning of mad King Janus in starting the war.”

“A rich reward indeed, to be cherished by any historian.”

Velsus levelled his gaze on me, his aspect the unwavering focus of a leopard eyeing cornered prey. “You did travel with the Imperial prisoner to the Meldenean Isles, did you not?”

“At the Emperorʼs order,” I said.

“Quite so, but also, I recall, at your own request. And during the voyage did the savage keep his end of the bargain? Did he tell you his sorry tale?”

“He related what I believe to be a partially accurate account of his role in the invasion.”

“And you gave him the sword.”

“Governor Aruan gave him the sword. A plain weapon of little distinction, I might add.”

Velsus gave a dismissive wave. “The Northmen were renowned for their ability to conceal their magics. And on arrival at the Meldenean capital, having received your reward, did you feel no obligation to warn the Hope Killerʼs opponent that he now faced a foe rendered invincible by unnatural means? And in doing so did you not ensure the Hope Killer would prevail in the duel, a contest that by all accounts lasted barely a second, thereby robbing our murdered Hope of all justice?”

“There was no warning to be given.” I glanced at Jervia, her head now lowered, face drawn in abject misery. “I do not know what threats have forced lies from this unfortunate woman. And it grieves me to see her distressed on my account. But if Al Sorna was made invincible that day, it was not by such a mundane thing as his sword.”

Velsus descended the steps, moving with measured deliberation as he advanced towards me. “See how he wriggles on the hook, my lords. See how he squirms and gives voice to yet more falsehood. This vile man, picked out and ascended to high station by the Emperorʼs grace, and yet willing to sell himself like the cheapest whore for the words of a savage. Were that his only crime, it would be perhaps forgivable, upon receipt of due punishment naturally, for all men are weak and liable to seduction. However, my lords, it transpires this creature has an even greater crime to account for.”

He turned back to the dais, pausing to address Jervia with a few curt words of dismissal. She raised her gaze to me as the guards led her out, tears flowing freely as she mouthed, “My father,” eyes rich in appeal for understanding. I replied with the barest nod, even managing a small smile before she was led from the throne room.

“I humbly call upon the Empress Emeren I,” Velsus intoned, bowing low before the dais. “To graciously consent to bear witness in this matter.”

The Empress waited a moment before standing, an action that required all others present to kneel. I duly sank to one knee, gesturing for Fornella to follow suit. This was one piece of etiquette we could not afford to ignore, disrespect of the Imperial person being punishable by instant death.