Each judge nodded slightly at the blessing, and did not touch the stone.
The second oldest followed with another basket, setting down a white stone carefully beside each red one. “May your judgment be tempered,” murmured the white-haired woman. “Made without whim or caprice, without assumption, without conspiracy, and without greed for the assets of others.”
Another, balding elder followed with green stones. He said quietly to each judge, “May your judgment be balanced, made with humanity in mind, not the letter of the law. May it be made without arrogance, without anger, without a desire for revenge. May it be made with all hands on the scale.”
A fourth elder carried the basket of black stones. “May your judgment be made without fear for yourself or others, without vanity, without ambition, and without debt. May it hold steady when all truths come to light.”
Now the youngest elder—his hair was still partly grey, not wholly white—came forward. The thin man chalked a black line around the long, curved table in front of the judges. The elder stepped back when he was done and his voice rang in the silence. “This is the finality of the words that will be spoken, the line that all must cross who pass judgment on another, the line where trust may be broken or mended, where faith may be broken or restored, where we will be bound by truth and responsibility, not emotion and the flaws of the self. May this line be a mirror each time you speak, here and before the moons.”
The Ell nodded as he finished, and patted Mian’s clenched hands. The girl’s fingers were white, and she sat like a trapped bird beside him. Nori’s jaw tightened. Although she had known several of the judges at her own Trial, they had all seemed like strangers. Stern-faced, flat eyes, watching, weighing, judging her statements and every action she’d taken.
Now Nori glanced at Mian and had to force herself not to reassure the girl. She looked instead at Payne.
He nodded once, a small motion. Then he glanced at Wakje and caught the older man’s attention. The ex-raider nodded in turn. Kettre was with a group of chovas, he noted, watching two other outriders. Hunter was in front of a group of elders, and Fentris was now idly scanning the crowd with apparent boredom as he listened politely to a pudgy man tell jokes. Payne couldn’t see Leanna, but she should be keeping an eye on the outside of the circle, watching to see if anyone left. Payne nodded back at his sister.
When Brean called Mian, the girl stood and then looked as if she would throw up. The judges were silent, and the crowd’s expression was closed and angry, as if the girl had somehow betrayed them. A few more minutes, Nori told herself, and then all of them would know.
“Declare yourself,” Brean stated flatly.
The girl’s voice was reedy and thin. “I am Mian Enna maB-Brekiat,” she stumbled. “D-daughter of Nonnie Ninelegs and Cy Windytrack. I am cozar-born and cozar-raised. I accept cozar law, and so stand before the c-council.”
“Do you understand why you are here?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “My tano got loose. It caused the wrecks, it almost killed Repa and Bere and my mama. And the Tamrani,” she added belatedly.
Brean turned to a woman and nodded. The white-haired elder stood and read from a long list: “Repa Ripping White’s wagon, almost fully destroyed. One wheel, eight panels salvaged. Damage: fifty-six gold. Goods damaged, sixteen gold, eight silvers. Keyo Ki’s wagon, splintered side and back, and bottom of the wagon damaged: eight gold, three silvers . . .” The list went on in that calm, steady voice, and Mian seemed to shrink with each word. “. . . Eight dnu injured. Two broken legs and numerous gashes and punctures, four gold, nine silvers for treatment and medications. Lease of replacement dnu for teams and for riding, four coppers a day per riding dnu, one tenpiece a day per harness team . . .” The tally grew. Then came the injuries. “Repa Ripping White: sprained wrist, one deep gash, bruises and scrapes. Nonnie Ninelegs: concussion, open gashes, bruising. Kened Catchall, severe bruising on his right arm and a sprained wrist. Gallo Cantaway Soon, kicked by a dnu in the thigh. Bere Quiet, dislocated shoulder, drag-burns on the arms, extensive bruising.” And Frecka Wrongway, Ed Proving, Jeri Dancing Mad, four others, and two Yorundan chovas. And finally, the Tamrani. The woman’s voice grew darker. “Condari Rahnbada neKeatus Brithanas, Tamrani, First Son, First House, Sidisport, Ramaj Eilif, punctures on the shoulders and neck and threat of death by venom.” The list finally ended. The woman glanced at Mian with an expressionless face and sat down.
Brean asked, “Do you dispute any of these damages or injuries?”
“No,” the girl managed.
She might be over the age of Choice, but she was still before the age of Test, and Brean asked sternly, “Does your family dispute any damages or injuries?”
The girl’s father stood up. Cy’s mate was sedated in the healer’s wagon, unable to move without pain. Now his daughter stood before the council, and he had to let her stand alone. His voice was tight. “No.”
Brean had not taken his eyes from Mian. “Do you understand the extent of the damages and injuries?”
The girl’s eyes flew to her father’s. “Yes,” she managed.
“Do you understand the danger the caravan was in? Do you understand the danger to the cozar?”
She whispered, “They could have died.”
Brean continued flatly, “What is your statement, Mian?”
The girl answered shakily, “I brought the tano into the train. I did not check the cage often enough, and it rotted and broke open. The tano—dyen p’ya jen ai. Its release is my f-fault alone. The damages and injuries are my fault alone.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s my fault,” she burst out. “I almost killed them. My mama’s almost dead, and it’s all my fault.” Her voice broke.
Nori stood abruptly. “May I speak?” Her voice cut across the circle.
Heads turned. No one missed the fact that the Hafell did not rebuke her for interrupting. There was speculation in many faces.
Ell Tai took Mian’s hand firmly, and the girl choked in a breath. The old man pressed her back in her seat and murmured something to her.
“Black Wolf,” Brean acknowledged.
She said without preamble, “I have examined the cage. It did not break open by accident.”
There was dead silence. Then Cy was on his feet. “How dare you. What, by the eighth hell, are you sa—” One of his friends clamped a hand on the man’s forearm to keep him quiet. His face twisted, but he broke off. The air tasted of violence.
Payne’s dark eyes glittered as he studied the faces around the circle. Hunter’s cool green gaze met Payne’s for an instant, then slid on past in his own scan. Someone there would not be surprised at what the wolfwalker had discovered. Someone had to be thinking now of how to react or how to hide his face.
Brean didn’t look at the girl’s father. “Explain,” he ordered Nori.
She answered flatly. “I looked closely at the latches to see how the tano had broken out. A prying tool had been used to distress the wood where the latch screws were sunk.”
“But that’s—” Cy’s friend gripped him hard, but an ugly murmur grew up around them. Payne, his gaze on Rezuku, saw nothing in the merchant’s face. Like Fentris, the merchant looked bored at being required to sit through another cozar event. But when Payne shifted his gaze to the woman beside Rezuku, for an instant he thought he saw fury on the outrider’s face. MaSera, he recognized the chovas. That’s one, he said to himself.
Brean waited till the noise began to subside, then questioned, “If Mian had checked the cage, would she have noticed this damage?”
“Aye, if she had rattled the door sharply.” The girl blanched, and Nori glanced her way. “But I checked the cage myself when she bought it in Sidisport. I checked the cage again two days ago when I was teaching her how to transfer the tano from one cage to the other. There was no damage to the latch screws then. There was also no reason to check the cage for another ninan. Once a ninan during cleaning is considered more than adequate for safety. Many
do it only once a month.”
Brean gave no indication that he had heard any of this before, and Nori admired his control. Her own control was slipping. She could almost feel the animal within the crowd, the fury of the cozar that their own had been harmed deliberately, and that another one of their own—and a young girl, by the moons—had been singled out for blame. The sense of the beast roused the wolf in her, and she found her gaze held first by B’Kosan’s dark, angry eyes, and then by the chovas beside him.
The Hafell barely got her attention back. “Two days ago,” he prompted. “How closely did you examine the cage?”
She forced herself to look back at Brean. “Closely, Hafell. I wanted to show her how to look for damage from the tano’s claws.”
“Could not the damage have been made by exactly that, the tano’s claws?”
Payne was no longer visible, and Nori knew he’d seen something and had slipped back in the crowd to follow someone or change his line of view. The wolf in her began to sharpen. “No, Hafell,” she answered tautly.
“Why not?”
“Chisels leave flat marks with a beveled tip where the chisel point meets the wood. A tano’s claws are tapered, curved and round. The marks they leave are also like that. Also—” She looked beyond Brean and met the gaze of the outrider beside the man. Her violet-grey gaze locked on to his and hinted of something violent. “—the marks were beneath the latch, where the screws bit into the wood. The latch had been replaced to hide them.”
There was silence for a moment. Brean stood before the cozar could erupt. “Black Wolf.” His voice was sharp. “Do you have any other statement?”
The outrider’s eyes bored into hers.
“Black Wolf?”
“No, Hafell.” She brought her gaze back to Brean. “What is needed has been done.”
Brean resisted the urge to turn and see where she was looking. He’d set two of his best people to watch Payne and Wakje. Then he’d set his own mate to note anyone that Black Wolf took interest in. If anyone had sharper eyes than his mate, he’d never met them yet. He looked around fireside. “Is there anyone else who would speak?”
Payne stepped forward from another part of the crowd. “I, Payne Aranur neBentar, ranked scout; first bar, general science; Ramaj Ariye and Ramaj Randonnen, witnessed the examination of the cage. I offer my corroboration of all that my sister has said.”
Hunter also stepped forward. “I, Condari Rahnbada neKeatus Brithanas, First Son, of the First House Wyakit, also witnessed the examination of the cage. I offer my corroboration.”
Brean looked at Wakje. The ex-raider’s gaze flickered, but he said curtly, “It’s as she said.”
Brean stifled his irritation. Like others of the Wolven Guard, Wakje consistently refused to identify himself when speaking to the council.
The Hafell let his gaze sweep the crowded circle. He could see the closer faces clearly, but many of those in the back were in shadow from the lanterns. He projected his voice harshly. “Is there any among us who will admit to this action?”
No one moved.
Brean waited. Finally, he looked at the girl. Mian sucked in a breath and forced herself to stand. The Hafell’s voice was flat. “Mian maBrekiat, do you accept the judgment of the council and the reparation sentence for those who have been harmed?”
“Yes, Hafell,” she whispered.
Brean then looked across the circle to where the injured were present. “Repa Ripping White.” He called the woman forward. She limped up to the front. “You are among those injured in person and in goods. You have the right of second verdict, if you so choose.”
The woman’s face was badly swollen and bruised, and Mian had to force herself to face the wagon driver as the woman met her gaze. Repa’s face was tight with anger, and her words slurred as she spoke around the swelling of her lips, but she nodded curtly to the girl as if in apology for what she had thought. “I hold no grudge hand to the girl, but my pain and my anger have influenced my judgment. The wisdom of the elders will be greater than my own. If they are willing, I ask that they speak for me in this.”
Brean identified the next man. “Bere Quiet, also known as Bere Verian and Bere Never Bet, you are among those injured in person and in goods. As the driver for chovas Ki, you have the right of second verdict, if you so choose, or of separate trial.”
Ki’s driver stood stiffly. His ribs were bound tightly, making it difficult to bend, and his hands and arms were heavily bandaged, but his face was as expressionless as Repa’s had been angry. His voice was so low as to be nearly a growl. “I hold no grudge hand to the girl.”
“You will allow the council to speak for you in this matter?”
The man nodded.
Frekka Wrongway, Jeri Dancing Mad, One For Brandy, and each of the others whose cargo, wagons or dnu had been damaged rose when called and relinquished the verdict right. Cy Windytrack started relinquishing his verdict rights against his daughter almost before Brean finished the question, as did the woman who spoke for Mian’s injured mother.
Then it was Hunter’s turn. An edge of distant formality entered Brean’s voice as he called the Tamrani. With his open collar, the blood marks on Hunter’s neck stood out harshly. Mian couldn’t hide the tremble in her hands when that last name was called. Tamrani were powerful, sometimes even more so than a county’s Lloroi, and they had long memories. It was almost moot that this one was a First Son, and that he’d survived the tano’s attack. Most Tamrani would consider it unforgivable either way, to have been set upon by some cozar’s untamed pet.
Brean said to the Tamrani stiffly, “You are among those injured in person and threatened with death, yet you have no ties to us. You have the right of second verdict, or of separate trial or of transport trial, if you so choose.”
Mian made a tiny sound.
Hunter looked at her directly. “I do not require separate trial or transport trial. Your council may speak for me with regard to the girl.”
Brean hesitated, but nodded. He’d been fairly sure the Tamrani would not insist on a Sidisport trial, but like most Ariyens, he didn’t quite trust them. With regard to the girl alone . . . Brean bit back the question and let it pass.
As Hunter stepped back, the Hafell looked at the eleven judges and finally nodded his permission. It was a large council, and a larger crowd. The damage and injuries had been extensive, and the men and women chosen to judge included almost every one of the train’s highest-ranked elders, as well as the four borrowed from the other caravans who shared the circle. Now the first woman in the long line of elders leaned forward and used her middle finger to push the green stone forward. Green for punishment. Mian looked as if she would faint.
The second elder used his middle finger to push his green stone forward across the black line. None of them looked at each other. There was a hesitation before the last elder stretched out his gnarled finger. Then he shifted and pushed the green stone forward as had all the others.
A long, low murmur ran through the crowd. The unanimous line of green was an unusual verdict. It was tradition for there to be one dissent when all other votes had gone one way. That dissent, token as it was, was the responsibility of the elder who had served the longest and whose duty it was to make sure all sides, even those that weren’t known, were represented. The single black stone, the traditional dissent, represented the fallibility of man, and the possibility that the issue at hand could be revisited. By voting with the others, the elder was stating that there would be no revisiting of the issue, no matter what happened and what truths came to light in the future.
Mian stared at the line of green and began to breathe too quickly. Her father started to shove through the crowd. He barely subsided at a sharp look from the old Ell.
Brean stepped back and the center elder stood. The old woman waited a moment, but none of the other elders stood for discussion. The woman relaxed slightly. Especially with a unanimous vote, it was a sign of trust, that her wisdom was enough for them
all. She had never confessed to anyone but her mate how nervous she was each time she stood alone. She could make a mistake. She might have missed something in someone’s voice, an expression that would make a difference in her perception of truth, something someone else would have seen. And she knew Mian. She knew the girl could not have done something so deliberately careless as they had first thought. But as she looked at the girl and felt compassion uncurl in her chest, she squelched it sternly. It was not her job to soften the blow, but to make sure the blow was fair.
Her voice had grown frail in the last few years, and she gathered it carefully. “Here is the judgment of the council,” she stated. “Mian maBrekiat, you are not responsible for loosing the tano. The damages and injuries will not be held to your account. You are released from that burden. Be at peace. However—” The elder paused, and her voice grew more serious. “—you are responsible for bringing the tano among us. When evil arrived, in the form of this deliberate act, it had a weapon in its hands through you.” Mian’s face was white as linen. The elder said quietly, “This is the first responsibility in the chain, and that burden is yours alone. Are you prepared to render your punishment?”
The girl sucked in her breath three times before she choked out, “Yes, Elder.”
“Then we will hear your amends.”
Mian looked at her father. Cy’s hands clenched, but his daughter had reached the age of Choice last year, and it had been her choice to raise the exotics.
The girl tore her gaze from her father’s taut face and forced herself to look back at the elder. “I sh-should have the tano put down. I should not be allowed to take care of the other exotics until I am older. I should tend Repa and Bere and my mama, and the Tamrani and the others,” she added belatedly again, “until they are healed. And I should take care of the wounded dnu. Then I should b-be b-banished after that until I’m old enough to be more responsible, so that my animals c-can’t harm anyone again.” The girl’s voice broke at the end.
Wolf in Night Page 38
