Jim Butcher: Proven Guilty

The Merlin nodded at me, his expression serious and distant. “This woman with you is the prisoner?”

“This girl is,” I replied, and put no emphasis on the correction. “She comes to face the Council openly, of her own will, and in open admission of her wrong.”

“And this wrong?” the Merlin asked. “What has she done?”

I looked at Morgan. “She broke the Fourth Law of Magic when she imposed a fear of drug use upon two addicts in order to protect both them and their unborn child from the damage of their addictions.”

Morgan stared back at me as I spoke. I thought I saw a faint frown in his eyes.

The Merlin remained silent for half a minute, then slowly arched one brow. “She violated the free will of another human being.”

“She did-but in ignorance, Merlin. She knew neither the Laws nor the side effects of her actions. Her intentions were only to preserve and protect three lives.”

“Ignorance of the Law is never an excuse, Warden Dresden, as you well know, and has no bearing upon this judgment.” The Merlin glanced at Peabody, then back to me. “I assume you have examined the victims?”

“I have, Merlin.”

“And have you had their condition confirmed by another Warden?”

Ramirez stepped forward. “I have done so, Merlin. The psychic trauma was serious, but it is my belief that both will recover.”

The Merlin eyed Ramirez. “Is that your opinion, Warden Ramirez? Based, no doubt, upon your extensive experience?”

Ramirez’s eyes glittered with anger at the Merlin’s tone. “It is the opinion of the duly appointed regional commander of the western United States,” he replied. “I believe that the Merlin should remember that he personally appointed me. If it hasn’t faded into a blur of senility.”

“ Warden ,“ Morgan barked, and his tone was one of absolute authority. ”You will apologize to the Merlin and moderate your tone. At once.“

Ramirez’s gaze smoldered, but he glanced at Fix and Lily, and then a little guiltily at Morgan. “Of course, Captain.” He drew himself up and gave the Merlin a proper, polite bow. “I ask your forgiveness, Merlin. The last days have been difficult. For everyone.”

The Merlin let it hang in the air for a minute. Then his rigid expression softened somewhat, and I saw a flash of bone-deep weariness in the old man’s eyes. “Of course,” he said in a quieter voice, and bowed his own head. “My choice of words was less polite than it could have been, Warden Ramirez. Please do not take it as a slight upon your performance.”

Clever old snake. Establishing himself as oh-so-reasonable and understanding with the younger members of the Council. Or maybe he really was apologizing to Ramirez, who was the unofficial poster boy of the younger generation of wizards. Or, more likely, he was doing both. That was more the Merlin’s style.

The Merlin returned his attention to me. “To continue. Warden Dresden, have you soulgazed the prisoner?”

“I have,” I said.

“You are convinced of her guilt?”

I swallowed. “I am,” I said. “But I am also convinced that her actions do not represent the malice that defines a true warlock.”

“Thank you for your opinion , Warden Dresden.” His voice turned drolly unapologetic. “Doubtless offered to us out of your own extensive experience.”

“I beg your pardon, Merlin. But when it comes to the Council sitting in self-righteous, arrogant judgment over a young wizard who made an honest mistake, I believe I have more experience than anyone in this room.”

The Merlin’s head rocked back as if I had slapped him. I wasn’t as subtle and proper as him when it came to insults, but if he was going to do it, I saw no reason not to return fire. I pressed on before he could speak, stepping forward and turning to address the room as I spoke.

“Wizards. Friends. Brothers and sisters in arms. You know why this is happening. You know how thinly stretched our resources have become. In the past three years, the Council has tried and condemned more warlocks than in the past twenty. Children who are raised in societies that do not believe in magic suddenly inherit powers they could hardly have imagined, and certainly cannot control. They have no support. No training. No one to warn them of the consequences or the dangers of their actions.”

I reached out and jerked that fucking black hood from Molly’s head, and the girl suddenly stood blinking at the light. Tears had streaked her makeup into dark stains running down her face. Her eyes were red with crying, her expression haunted and terrified. She shuddered and lowered her eyes, staring down at the bloodstained floor.

“This is Molly,” I said to the room. “She’s seventeen years old. Her best friend had already lost one unborn child because of the drugs she’d been addicted to. She knew it was going to happen again. So to protect that child’s life, to protect her friends from their addiction, Molly made a choice. She used her power to intervene.”

I faced Morgan. “She made a wrong choice. No one denies that. She admits to it herself. But look at her. She’s no monster. She understands that what she did was wrong. She understands that she needs help. She submitted herself to this Council’s judgment freely. She wants to learn to control her power, to handle it responsibly. She came here hoping to find help and guidance.”

Morgan didn’t look at me. He was staring at Molly. His fingers kept drumming on the hilt of his sword.

“I’ve soulgazed her. It’s not too late to help her. I think we owe her the chance to redeem herself,” I continued. I looked at the Gatekeeper. “For God’s sake, wizards, if we are to survive this war, we need all the talent we can get. Molly’s death would be a foolish waste.”

I drew in a breath and turned to face the Merlin. “There’s been enough blood spilled on this floor. I beg you to consider clemency. Levy the Doom of Damocles, if you must, but I beg you to spare her life. I will take personal responsibility for her training and accept the consequences of any actions taken under my mentorship.”

Silence fell.

I waited for the Merlin to speak. Molly began trembling harder, and small whimpering sounds came from her throat.

The Merlin’s eyes narrowed, and with that single revealing expression I suddenly knew that I’d made a terrible mistake. I’d outmaneuvered him. I’d startled him with my insult and delivered my speech effectively to the wizards present. I could see it on their faces; the uncertainty, the sympathy. More than one wizard had glanced at the bloodstains at my feet and shuddered as I spoke to them. More than one looked at Molly’s face, and grimaced in sympathy for her fear.

I’d beaten the Merlin. He knew it.

And he hated it.

I had forgotten to take into account his pride, his ego, his self-image. He was the mightiest wizard on the planet, the leader of the White Council, and he was not accustomed to being insulted and manipulated-and especially not in front of outsiders. I, a mere puppy of a young wizard, had stung him, and his wounded pride sprayed arterial anger. He had it under control, but it was no less terrible or dangerous for that.

“Warden Dresden,” he said in a deadly quiet tone. “Your compassion does you credit. But as you yourself pointed out, our resources are spread too thin already. The Council cannot afford to have a regional commander of the Wardens burdened with a hazardous rehabilitation of a warlock. The duties of the war and of containing the increasing occurrence of black magic must have your full attention.”

Oh, God.

“The Laws of Magic are clear. The prisoner admits her guilt. I am not unmoved by the prisoner’s plight, but we are involved in a war for our very survival.”