The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

  Chapter 20

  Witness

  Leraine sat on the bench, her eyelids heavy with sleep and all too aware of the only other person she shared her seating with. Anseri acted as if she wasn’t there, her lips a thin line of disapproval.

  Leraine rubbed one eye, trying to clear it. This was important. Rock’s future could very well be decided by how the loretellers ruled. But there was more going on.

  Springstep had been murdered last night and her corpse found hanging from the rafters near the podium on which she’d accepted her triumph. Some of Springstep’s tribe had tried to get the person most people thought responsible. Of course, the Pumas had not wanted a bunch of Wolves to enter their territory and a brawl had ensued.

  Nobody had died, thankfully. But it had taken several shamans and a quarter of all the guardians to break it up. The commotion had interrupted her sleep, and going back to bed while the peace of Chappenuioc might rupture at any moment hadn’t even crossed her mind. Judging from the yawns and bleary eyes, most had agreed with her.

  For now, however, that peace held while everybody sought Rending Snarl. He’d disappeared, confirming his guilt to many. But not to Leraine and the shamans. There was another suspect: the impostor, the murderer of Tense Coil.

  Murdering shamans was bad enough, but this last one seemed aimed to light the kindling within the Federation. If this kept up, Mother’s plan would be useless. If the tribes went to war here in Chappenuioc, more than the Truce would break and it would happen before the Conclave Games had concluded.

  Silence fell and Leraine realized Testing Fork had finished her speech. She tried to remember what exactly had been said, but her mind drew a blank. At least Blue Scale seemed more awake, nodding and stepping forward with her fingers entwined.

  “I mean no disrespect to my fellow loremistress, but I do believe she’s getting ahead of herself again. Rock doesn’t deny that Ardent is his mother, the same Ardent who was once a blacksmith in Caetiwo. However! However, simply because she left to learn how to make living swords from the Immortal after a murder occurred does not mean she did it.”

  Blue Scale turned to her opponent in this trial. “You spoke eloquently about how Caetiwo suffered. What debt the murderer owes. I agree that justice must be done. But before punishment must come guilt. I ask you to show us, show us all, the strength of your case. Rock may be an outsider, Ardent was not. She is owed a measure of respect.”

  “Certainly,” Testing Fork said. “Though it has been over twenty years and I had little time, I have found a few who can attest to the events. Including myself, as it so happens. I will show that Stern Anvil was killed by Ardent over a matter of little import. I will show exactly how much respect Ardent, formerly of Caetiwo, is owed. None at all.”

  “Right, then,” Steel Cobra said. “Let’s get on with it. Who are you calling as your first witness?”

  “Ambiguous Coin. She is a niece of Ardent and knew her well. She can attest to the relationship the . . . accused had with her victim. I mean, the victim,” the loremistress said when Blue Scale opened her mouth.

  She beckoned forth a woman in her late thirties. Judging from her clothes she was a trader. The golden ring in her draen studded with a single little emerald spoke of success. Or the appearance of it.

  ***

  Eurik stared at the woman walking over to Testing Fork. A niece of his mother. That made them family, right? He had to think hard exactly how they would be connected, and why hadn’t she approached him?

  Is she my aunt? No, no, that would be the sibling of a parent. She’s a . . . child of that sibling. A niece then? Though, how do Mochedan count such things?

  Ambiguous Coin showed little interest in him, even now. She stood before the seated loretellers, right hand on her hip, and her draen jingled with every motion of her head. Blue Scale asked her to tell everybody what she knew of Ardent and Stern Anvil.

  Ambiguous Coin shrugged. “I knew a little less than others, since I was still a child at the time. But they both liked to think themselves the best blacksmith of Caetiwo. And both accused the other of sabotage. Tools went missing, that had to be Stern Anvil. Someone had smeared shit all over Stern Anvil’s anvil, must have been Ardent. That went on for a couple of years.”

  One of the loretellers leaned forward. “Did it ever escalate to actual confrontations?”

  Ambiguous Coin nodded. “Yeah. Every few months they and their apprentices would get into a screaming match which ended in a brawl. Nobody died in those, and I know the old rangtauk would try to settle the problem after that. And that kept the peace for a week or so.” She shrugged. “Then it would start up again.”

  Another loreteller spoke up. “And who would start it?”

  “Does it matter?” Blue Scale said. “The witness admits she only knows what was widely known. Or believed.”

  “It may, or may not,” a third loreteller said. He twisted the ring on his finger around. “We can circle back on the matter if necessary. I’d like to hear more about the events leading up to the murder of Stern Anvil. Had the rangtauk intervened again, or had these incidents escalated into violence?”

  Ambiguous Coin looked up into the sky for a moment. “I think things had heated up. Yes. The shit thing had happened maybe a month before. Then the rangtauk decided her retainers needed new armor and she gave the task to Stern Anvil. Ardent didn’t like that, not at all. I remember her getting real drunk several nights before the murder. I think her smithy was in trouble.”

  “And what of the day in question?” Testing Fork said. “When did people find out what had happened to Stern Anvil?”

  “Not right away. She went missing, actually. People went looking for her and it took hours to find her.”

  “And where was she found?” Testing Fork faced away from Ambiguous Coin.

  “A barrel behind Ardent’s shop.”

  The questioning loreteller spun around. “And where was Ardent?”

  “Gone.”

  ***

  Rock’s cousin had done him no favors with her testimony. Blue Scale had done her best, but all she’d managed was to show that the women’s conflict had waxed and waned for years. The incidents leading up to Stern Anvil’s murder had not been an outlier in that history.

  Now, though, the loremistress was on the attack herself as Testing Fork herself testified. Leraine listened as she explained how they’d reconstructed that night. “We retrieved Stern Anvil from the barrel in which Ardent—I’m sorry, I should say the murderer—had stuffed her.”

  “Testing Fork,” Steel Cobra said. “If you must resort to rhetorical trickery, try to use something better than what we’ve all learned in the first years of our apprenticeships. Treating us like simpletons will not help your case.”

  Testing Fork bowed deeply. “I apologize. No insult was intended.”

  “You will not be warned again. Now, continue.”

  “Yes. Stern Anvil had been clubbed to death by a hammer or some such. All the wounds were on her back, back of her head, between the shoulder blades, lower back. It looked like an ambush, but it wasn’t a robbery. She still had some coins in her pouch.”

  Blue Scale motioned toward Testing Fork. “And you found her behind Ardent’s smithy. So naturally you looked inside for clues.”

  The loremistress from Caetiwo shifted her weight. “Yes. The place was spotless. All the tools clean. The ones that weren’t missing, that is.”

  Blue Scale waited a little longer after Testing Fork had fallen silent. “And how did you know Ardent had left?”

  She let out a breath. “Her room above the smithy was a mess. Clothes were missing, her money chest empty. And her horse wasn’t in the stables either. Guards confirmed she’d left but a few hours before, heading west. That false trail threw us off.”

  Testing Fork’s gaze glided over the assembled loretellers. “We did more digging, including through her books. Ardent had debts she couldn’t pay, not withou
t the job of outfitting the rangtauk’s retainers. Our conclusion, at the time, was that Ardent had lured Stern Anvil to her smithy and killed her there by surprise. Then left before the deed could be discovered, or the debts were called in. It fit the facts we had,” Testing Fork emphasized.

  “Forgive me, but I believe you are confusing facts with interpretation. Tools were missing. Well, a blacksmith would take her tools with her if she decided to leave. And if she left because of debts, why kill Stern Anvil?” Blue Scale raised a finger. “Put another way. Killing Stern Anvil before she could do the work would have saved Ardent since then the assignment would go to her. The facts you have presented would make sense of one part but not the other. And you can’t honestly tell me that a settlement like Caetiwo has but two blacksmiths?”

  “They were our best,” Testing Fork said.

  “But with both Ardent and Stern Anvil out of the way, one of these lesser blacksmiths got the job. Didn’t they?”

  Leraine took a moment to gauge Fervent’s mood as Testing Fork nodded. She didn’t look happy, not at all. Blue Scale was doing good work, sowing doubt. But there was only so much she could do with a murder this old.

  “But then how do you explain the note found in Stern Anvil’s pouch?” Testing Fork’s voice was smooth, the perfect example of an innocent question.

  Blue Scale froze, then directed a deep frown at her opponent. “What note?” She bit off the words.

  “Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but you asked another question. There was a scrap of paper in her pouch. The water in the barrel had run out much of the ink, but what could be read showed that it was an invitation to visit Ardent’s shop. Her family told us that she had received a note that evening and that she’d left shortly after. Nobody saw who delivered the note.”

  Fervent relaxed, gritted teeth disappearing behind a hungry smile. Leraine directed her worry at Blue Scale, who held herself well. No sign of worry there, but loremistresses were trained actors.

  “And how does this prove that Ardent was indeed the one who murdered Stern Anvil?”

  “It looked like her handwriting.”

  Blue Scale chuckled. “I’ve had to deal with blacksmiths’ handwriting before. It’s barely legible. And here the paper had been soaked, the ink must have been dripping off the scrap.”

  Testing Fork’s nose went up as she straightened to her full height. “My mentor was certain. Sadly, she died some years ago. But who here can dispute Measured Flute’s judgment?”

  That name stirred some of the loretellers, though Leraine herself didn’t recognize it. No surprise there, she’d never paid much attention to those telling the stories. Her head was too filled with their words and the images they conjured.

  “I am.” Blue Scale’s voice cut through, tinged with humor. “I am disputing it here and now. Her skill is well known. My own mentor used Measured Flute’s investigation of the murder of the rangtauk of Uthamac to instruct me in the finer points of the art. But we don’t have her or the note you spoke of to see for ourselves whether she was right.”

  Leraine tried to guess how much that argument swayed the loretellers, but much like Blue Scale, they knew how to give away nothing they wished to hide.

  ***

  Eurik blew out a breath. The trial was over, the part where they argued and dueled with words anyway. The judges had retreated deeper into Chappenuioc leaving the rest of them to wait and wonder.

  He’d joined Blue Scale and Silver Fang, but was too antsy to sit. “So where do I stand?”

  Blue Scale let out a long sigh. “We’ll know soon enough. If they don’t come back soon, then we have a chance. Time was against us here. I offered another version of what might have happened, but none of us will ever know what truly happened. Barring intervention by the spirits themselves.”

  “But likewise, Testing Fork could do little to disprove your words,” Silver Fang said.

  The loreteller nodded. “Yes. But I didn’t know Measured Flute had been the one who’d done the investigation. Arguing she made a mistake . . .” She made a gesture with her right hand. “It was the only path I saw. But you must prepare yourself for a judgment of guilty.”

  “I’m not sure that would be wrong,” Eurik said. “The truth is, I do not know that she didn’t do it. And if she did murder Stern Anvil, should that not be said?”

  Blue Scale blinked several times while Silver Fang shook her head. “Only you . . . Perhaps, from the perspective of Fervent and her sept. If your mother truly killed Stern Anvil. But for your mother to be judged a murderer, one who fled justice, it will reflect on you. How others treat you.”

  “I just thought there would be a penalty, a price I had to pay?”

  “At a minimum. But Fervent or someone else may petition a tidaechanek to remove you from the Conclave Games. Honor travels both up and down the generations. Your mother’s dishonor is your dishonor.”

  “But I am not a Mochedan.” He struggled to find the right words, but Blue Scale’s Linesan was quite poor and he didn’t want to exclude her from the conversation. And his own Irelian wasn’t any better.

  Luckily, Silver Fang understood what he was trying to say. “That helps and hinders you. It is understood that you don’t fully grasp what proper behavior is. But there aren’t that many obstacles to treat you harshly either. No family to shield you, or allies.”

  He crossed his arms. “Us being friends doesn’t count?”

  Leraine took care not to glance at her sister, still sitting on the bench. “It counts for less. It has gotten you this trial. And an advocate,” she said, indicating Blue Scale who inclined her head. “If you had come here alone, there’s a very good chance the loretellers would have left the original finding stand and thrown you out of the Games and Chappenuioc. After that,” she trailed off looking behind Eurik.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Fervent and Testing Fork were on the opposing bench, speaking with Silver Fang’s sister.

  “After that,” Silver Fang said. “I think Fervent would have followed with some of her people. I think highly of your chances, though the Road would not have helped. But defending yourself might only compound your problems.”

  “That’s not right.”

  Blue Scale hummed. “Yes. I’m not sure Fervent would risk you getting away. Better to demand a high galautik and take you back to Caetiwo to put you to some unpleasant, dangerous work.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Eurik said.

  “I know what you meant,” Silver Fang said. “But you must understand. If you seek to connect with your parents, then you seek to connect to all of us. You can’t pick and choose.” She hesitated for a moment. “But I am glad you are here. I, for one, am comforted that there’s someone here I can trust.”

  Right, there was a murderer going around. One that had come to visit him. This wasn’t a good place to talk about it, but he shouldn’t delay it any longer. “I heard a commotion last night. Did Springstep get murdered?”

  “You heard, then. Yes,” Blue Scale said. “And Rending Snarl is missing. Quite a few have made the obvious connection.” She shook her head. “There hasn’t been a murder here in years, now two in as many days. I preferred it when the momentous events were safely in the past. Now, there’s something building.”

  He hesitated, but what good would keeping quiet do? Silver Fang hadn’t, though she’d been told to. Eurik did have to remember not to hint at that in Blue Scale’s company. “I got a visit last night from someone who . . . looked and sounded as Rending Snarl did.”

  Blue Scale’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  Eurik gathered his thoughts, and the words he’d need to express them. Or as best as he knew how to. “I thought he was Rending Snarl, but . . . he did not act right. His words were . . . not what I remembered. Of him.”

  Blue Scale shook her head a little. “You are claiming someone is stalking Chappenuioc and using magic to take on the appearance of others.�
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  Next to her, Silver Fang bared her teeth. “He is. What did it say?”

  Blue Scale shifted her attention to her fellow Mochedan. “You would trust his words even in this? He’s claiming someone is using magic within the confines of Chappenuioc! Why would you simply believe that?”

  “Because not all magic stops in Chappenuioc,” Eurik said. “I can use the Ways. Yes, I’ve always said that they’re not magic and they’re not. But I am using . . .” His command of Thelauk faltered here. “Never mind. Misthell can use his abilities without issue. So some powers do work.”

  The loreteller leaned back. “That is concerning. So this murderer visited you in confinement? How? Even looking like Rending Snarl would not have helped. The guardians should have stopped them. And why?”

  “He, it, wanted to talk to me. It was curious. And it wore the shawl and the rod of a shaman. It must have disguised itself as one.”

  “That . . . could work. Well, it would have a better chance than at any other time. There are many shamans—and loretellers—visiting at the moment. The guardians would not be so surprised to see one they did not know. And reading the vipaen in the dark would be difficult.”

  Silver Fang leaned in. “Did he tell you why he’s killing? What is he after?”

  “It seemed to hate people. No, it used the word humanity. It was looking to push us to destroy ourselves? And referred to persons as “it.” I don’t think the murderer is human.”

  “And you waited until now to tell anybody?” Blue Scale hissed. “This is important. It must be some angry spirit then. A most powerful one. The shamans can calm it or destroy it, but only if they know what they are dealing with.”

  “I wasn’t sure anybody would believe me,” Eurik said. Though the defense sounded feeble to his own ears. He’d known people had died; Silver Fang had nearly joined their number. But he’d been afraid and . . . distracted. Distracted by his own small concerns.