The Road to Hell # Hell's Gate 3

by Weber, David

  The light behind vos Hoven flashed again.

  “Really?” Sogbourne murmured. “That’s an interesting theory, Specialist vos Hoven. Perhaps you’d care to explain to this Court why you’ve lied twice in the past ninety seconds?”

  Vos Hoven’s face went totally blank, then collapsed into a sick expression as he realized what he’d done in his zeal to convict his nemesis. He started to jerk around to look at the lie-detection light behind him, then controlled that instinctive reaction and got himself turned around again, facing the officers of the court. Before he could say anything further, Commander of Five Hundred Anshair Kolthar, vos Hoven’s assigned defense counsel, was on his feet.

  “Sir, counsel for the defense respectfully requests that all mention of the lie-detection alarm be stricken from the record.”

  “On what grounds?” Sogbourne asked coldly.

  “On the grounds that a lie-detection spell cannot be used to penalize a witness expressing opinion, rather than fact. Specialist vos Hoven was expressing his personal opinion that Hundred Olderhan bore a grudge against Fifty Garlath, a grudge moreover that was strong enough to send an inferior officer into harm’s way to rid him of a troublesome problem. While that opinion may be unpleasant to the majority of listeners, it’s still merely an opinion and cannot be used to the detriment of the witness expressing it. Again, counsel for the defense requests that all mention of the lie-detection spell’s alarm be stricken from the record.”

  “An interesting request, Five Hundred.” Ten Thousand Rinthrak’s tone was cold enough to freeze fire. “An outright accusation of murder is not an expression of opinion, however. It constitutes libel, false witness, and a violation of the military code of conduct while under oath before a court-martial.

  “Furthermore, the lie-detection spell didn’t register because the witness stated an opinion. It registered because the witness uttered a false opinion. If the accusation Specialist vos Hoven leveled at Hundred Olderhan had been vos Hoven’s true opinion, his statement wouldn’t have triggered the alarm.

  “This court is left with the inescapable conclusion that Specialist vos Hoven lied about his ‘opinion’ as part of a premeditated attempt to destroy his commander’s career. His action is contemptible and your protest, Five Hundred, does not even merit a hearing, let alone being sustained.

  “Be warned that you’re treading on extremely thin ice even raising such an objection when you know the mechanics of lie-detection spells and the regulations regarding them as well as you know your own name. If you don’t know them, you have absolutely no business being entrusted with the defense of anyone, not even someone who stands self-convicted of lying under oath about his superior officer. Do I make the Court’s displeasure sufficiently clear, Sir?”

  Sweat had popped out along Kolthar’s brow. “You do, Sir,” he said in a flat monotone.

  “Very good. Sit down, Sir, and save your protests for legitimate points of statutory merit.”

  He sat.

  Bok vos Hoven swallowed hard under the Court’s stony stares, and Sogbourne pinned him with a glare that had reduced grown men to gibbering shakes more than once.

  “Need I remind you, vos Hoven, that you already face serious—indeed, perhaps capital—charges? If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t utter so much as one syllable that might be misconstrued as additional deliberate falsehood. Be advised that your false accusation of attempted murder against Hundred Olderhan will be added to the charges you already face.”

  Sogbourne hadn’t thought it possible for a man to look more thoroughly terrified than vos Hoven already did, but that admonition did the trick. For a moment, he feared the shakira would slide to the floor and grovel on his belly. He got himself under control, however, and nodded in a movement made jerky by muscles locked tight against bone.

  “Very well, I suggest you reconsider your testimony about the events leading to Fifty Garlath’s demise. Do you wish to re-phrase your account of them?”

  Another jerky nod.

  “Then proceed,” Sogbourne said coldly.

  Whatever the lying bastard said, it ought to be interesting.

  * * *

  Commander of One Thousand Arnith Janvers, Count Tisbane, was—like most Andarans, when viewed from a more normal Ransaran height—tall enough to scrape the sky with his hair. Gadrial had begun to feel so small and so intimidated by the towering male bodies surrounding her everywhere she went that her temper had begun to simmer. Not that her temper needed much excuse, given the unholy circus which had enveloped people about whom she’d come to care deeply. The information Duke Garth Showma had shared with all of them was enough to fill anyone with fury; adding the stress of Jasak’s court-martial to it only made things worse, and the way in which so much hatred focused on Shaylar and Jathmar—the only two true innocents caught up in the entire rolling disaster—was sickening. It had taken her considerable self-control to refrain from incinerating some of the people behind that hatred—like that loathsome slime toad Minister vos Durgazon—on the spot. Just one well-placed levin bolt would’ve done it. There was, she thought darkly, a reason Magisters of the Hood took such binding oaths to use their Gifts for nothing but humankind’s good.

  Eliminating vos Durgazon would serve humankind’s good, the back of her brain whispered to the front. Temptation was a terrible thing. At the moment, however, she faced a very different challenge. Count Tisbane was one of the finest attorneys money could buy. He was also a senior officer in the Judiciary General’s office who carried a reputation as a scrupulously honest man who was ruthless to adversaries and fiendishly intelligent.

  If Tisbane had been assigned to this case as prosecutor, rather than Jasak’s defense attorney, Gadrial would have tasted despair. Instead, she took her seat in the witness’ box with a fair appearance of equanimity, folded her hands in her lap, swore the required oath of truthfulness, and waited for him to speak.

  “Magister Gadrial,” he said in a soft, cultured voice that could have charmed bees into handing over honeycombs and dragons into rolling over to have their belly-plates scratched, “there are two main questions this court must resolve: was Hundred Olderhan derelict in his duty and did he perform his duties with good judgment.

  “As a civilian, you won’t be able to assist the court in determining whether or not he was derelict in his duty, as that determination is made under a complex set of criteria embedded in Andaran military code and the Articles of War.”

  She nodded, having already been briefed on that point.

  “What you can do, Magister Gadrial, is assist the court in determining precisely what happened that day and whether or not Hundred Olderhan used good judgment in the performance of his duties as an officer, before the crisis, during the crisis, and after the crisis.

  “You were present, either within view or within earshot, of all the main events this court must consider. As Hundred Olderhan’s defense attorney, I’ll ask a number of questions related to the issues the court must resolve. After I’ve questioned you, the prosecutor will cross-examine you on many of those same points and, potentially, on issues I haven’t raised during my initial examination. If that’s the case, I’ll then be given a chance to discuss those new points with you, to clarify your testimony on behalf of my client’s defense. Is that clear and is that acceptable, Magister Gadrial?”

  She drew a deep, silent breath and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Very well, let’s begin. How well did you know Hundred Olderhan when he took out the platoon that escorted you in the search for Halathyn vos Dulainah’s Class Seven Portal?”

  She answered gravely. “We’d barely met, Defensor.” From the corner of her eye, she caught several surprised expressions from the officers of the court. They hadn’t expected a Ransaran to know the proper title of the defense counsel in a military courtroom. Well, that was fine with her. She intended to surprise them again, before this was done.

  “What was the extent of your interaction with him?”

>   “Sir Jasak departed on the same transport ship I’d arrived on, when I joined Magister Halathyn in the field. We spoke briefly on deck, where he wished me a pleasant and productive research mission, and I left the ship after wishing him a safe and speedy journey. I wasn’t even aware, at that time, where he was headed. I knew only that he wasn’t expected to return for some time, which I learned when one of the ship’s officers mentioned it while welcoming him aboard.”

  “So you spoke briefly when he departed, leaving Fifty Garlath in acting command of the company until Hundred Thalmayr’s arrival?”

  “That’s what I was told, yes, Defensor. Hadrign Thalmayr was due to arrive at any time, aboard a special courier dragon, since his connecting transport had been delayed, causing him to miss the ship’s scheduled departure. Fifty Ulthar’s platoon was at the coast, on R and R, which left Shevan Garlath in charge of the camp at the Swamp Portal.”

  “And what was your assessment of Fifty Garlath’s capabilities?”

  “He was an arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent twit.”

  Gadrial heard a stifled squeak from someone on the bench that sounded suspiciously like laughter stuffed down before it could burst loose.

  “Ah, yes, that is a very clearly stated opinion,” Count Tisbane said. Despite the serious mien of his long, square face, Tisbane’s eyes twinkled with carefully restrained mirth. “Could you enlighten this court with specific details that would illustrate this somewhat remarkable opinion?”

  “I’d be delighted to, Sir.”

  And she did. For the next eleven minutes. Without even reaching, yet, any description of the events surrounding their departure on the ill-fated search for Halathyn’s portal.

  “Please, Magister,” Count Sogbourne finally pleaded. “You’ve made your point. Eloquently and convincingly. Shevan Garlath will be entered into the court records as a—what did you call him?”

  She smiled sweetly. “An arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent twit.”

  “Ah, yes, that was it. Let it be noted that the court designates Commander of Fifty Shevan Garlath as, ah, seriously deficient in the criteria which define a competent officer of the Union of Arcana.”

  Gadrial smiled, but her heart seethed with hatred of that arrogant, lazy, shiftless, ill-mannered, power-mad, incompetent bastard. If he hadn’t shot an unarmed man through the throat…

  They wouldn’t all be sitting here in judgment of the man she loved.

  “Magister Gadrial,” Count Tisbane’s voice jolted her attention back to the courtroom, “your powers of observation and recall are clearly substantial and—to judge from comparison with other witness’ testimony—accurate.

  “What was your overall impression of Hundred Olderhan’s command judgment during the preparations for your journey into what proved to be the contact universe?”

  “Hundred Olderhan told Fifty Garlath to have the platoon ready to march within the hour,” she said flatly. “Fifty Garlath was incapable of complying with that order. In the two weeks Fifty Garlath spent in charge of the camp, he managed to reduce his command to a state of total chaos. His platoon was physically incapable of reorganizing and repacking its equipment, supplies, and even personal gear, which Fifty Garlath had insisted the troops lay out in constant ‘surprise inspections’ that he sprang without warning every other day or so.”

  Her lip curled in remembered disgust.

  “Those inspections were apparently designed to show his favorite cronies which troopers had the gear most worth stealing. A number of troopers complained viciously within my earshot that someone had stolen various items after each surprise inspection.”

  “They complained of stolen gear?” Tisbane asked softly as every officer on the court-martial board went rigid with anger. “What kind of gear, Magister?”

  “Yes, Defensor, they most certainly did. One soldier complained about losing a spell-powered canteen that purified water in one pass. Another had deluxe nav-gear stolen from his pack—gear he’d paid for with personal savings. I heard a number of similar mutters over the course of those two weeks, ranging from the theft of expensive equipment to the filching of specialty cross-bow quarrels and popular snacks sent by family members. They’d just arrived in the mail sacks that were delivered from the ship I sailed on, traveling to meet Halathyn. That was bad enough.

  “But one night I overheard one of Fifty Garlath’s cronies whispering to another of his favorites that he had enough gear stashed away to earn several thousand in profits when he went on leave.

  “When I brought that conversation to the fifty’s attention, he told me civilians had no business butting into military affairs and warned me that civilians who did so invariably had their noses bloodied. He gave me breezy assurances the troopers would be questioned and their gear would be searched, but those assurances were as worthless as the rest of him. They were never questioned, never searched, and certainly never censured.

  “That was the reason the platoon was in such wild disarray when Hundred Olderhan gave the order to march. Garlath had ordered a major inspection that morning, to include a full layout of field loads. Not just personal gear, but field dragons, the spell accumulators to power them, medical equipment, you name it. They’d only put away half of it when Hundred Olderhan returned to camp.”

  Gadrial shrugged. “I would have taken it up with the hundred at an opportune moment, but both men involved in the stolen gear incidents were killed in the fighting at Toppled Timber. So was Fifty Garlath. We were far too swamped after that battle, just trying to keep the wounded alive while Hundred Olderhan sent men ahead to verify the portal and pulled the rest of us back to the Swamp Portal, to bother reporting it. Truth to tell, I’d completely forgotten about it until I sat down to prepare for this testimony.”

  All eyes had darted to the truth detection light as she spoke. It never so much as flickered, and now the entire panel of officers stared at her in white-lipped rage. Sogbourne leaned forward with a furious demand.

  “Were you aware of any other illegal dealings by Shevan Garlath or his ‘favorites’ among the platoon?”

  “Not that I could prove, Sir. Fifty Garlath and Specialist vos Hoven were very tight, having apparently served together in another platoon. But I heard and saw nothing that could serve as evidence that would hold up in court, either military or civilian.

  “By the time Hundred Olderhan arrived, I was so disgusted with Shevan Garlath and his nasty little games—including constant belittling of men he or his cronies disliked—I would have turned him in to Hundred Olderhan in a heartbeat if I’d had sufficient evidence. Shevan Garlath was the most repulsive man I ever met, including the shakira faculty and students at the Mythal Falls Academy.”

  Sogbourne actually winced.

  Solvar Rinthrak and the other officers scowled like gorgons.

  Count Tisbane took Gadrial carefully through the events of that terrible day, from the moment of their departure to the first, fateful rifle shot in the distance. She described Jasak’s efforts to rehabilitate the officer, forcing Garlath to do his job to at least minimally acceptable standards. She described Garlath’s insubordinate behavior and language and Jasak’s attempts to protect the safety of his command as well as her interpretation of his decision to leave Garlath in command of the platoon despite his patent inadequacies.

  “I’m not a soldier,” Gadrial said carefully, “but I’ve worked with military men on a number of occasions during my tenure as assistant director of NAITHMA. The academy’s housed on a military base, after all, and derives a high percentage of its funding from military sources. During the early years, almost all its funding came from the military, in fact, and I was responsible for meeting with a wide variety of officers to secure and administer those funds. I’ve seen any number of officers interacting with subordinates, whether they were visiting my lab or I was visiting their offices on one military base or another.”

  Tisbane nodded. “Understood. P
lease continue, Magister.”

  “When trooper Osmuna was found dead and no one could even make a guess as to what had killed him, let alone who, the troopers were visibly rattled. Some of them were terrified. For that matter, so was I. Everyone was jumping at shadows for those first few minutes.

  “When one of the cartridge cases was found on a stream bank overlooking Osmuna’s body, alongside footprints that looked very much like human feet had made them, a lot of the fear dissipated, but the men were still shaken. Hundred Olderhan ordered me to stay back during the preliminary investigation of Osmuna’s body, with two troopers as bodyguards. When we finally joined the rest of the platoon, I overheard one of the soldiers say he was glad Hundred Olderhan was back, but he was just as glad the hundred had left Garlath in command.”

  “Why, Magister Gadrial?” Tisbane asked.