“It’s good for you to end on a high note for you!” Theus corrected her as he rose to his feet.
“And it might be good for you as well,” she said slyly. “I’m much more fun to be with when I’m happy!” she laughed.
They carried their formal clothes back to the lovely city house that the Warrell family kept in Stoke, and stood together on the second-floor landing when they returned.
“It’s been a wonderful day, Theus,” Coriae said. “I’ll sleep well tonight, and tomorrow we’ll learn what happens next in Forgon’s saga.”
“And I might go to a market to get a few things to make a salve to treat all those bruises you left me with,” he added with a smile.
They kissed, a wonderful, lingering kiss, then Coriae withdrew and climbed the stairs up to her room on the third floor, and Theus walked down the hall to his room. He’d enjoyed the evening tremendously. Coriae had charmed him at dinner, challenged him at the armory, and gone a great distance to persuade him to reconsider the reservations he held against her.
He lay down in his luxurious bed, and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 22
The next day was the first of several that Theus spent settling into a routine in Stoke, living in Coriae’s family home with her. They were not allowed to visit Forgon, who languished in the palace prison, but they heard from his advocate that his spirits had risen dramatically upon learning that the missing ring had been found, and that Theus was in residence in the family home.
Theus spent time visiting the markets in the city, buying items that he could use to produce more of the extraordinarily effective cures and remedies that were his legacy from Falstaff’s ancient stone. Coriae boasted of his abilities, and the house soon had a small but steady stream of visitors from the nobility who sought treatment from him, much to Coriae’s amusement.
The pair of them practiced in the armory on a daily basis, and Theus began to spar with others as well. He became familiar with several of the younger generation of high merchants, priests, and nobles in the city. And he would have fit in well, if he hadn’t done one thing.
On some occasions he discussed what he had experienced in Southsand and Steep Rise. He spoke in mostly general terms, without mentioning specifics or particular people. But he talked about the black magic and the widespread slavery and the desire to conquer.
He found that mentioning Southsand made people nervous. There were floating rumors of Southsand as a potential enemy of Stoke. Many people laughed off the idea of the small and far-away city threatening the empire that Stoke controlled, with the great cities of Greenfalls and Great Forks as subjects of Stoke. Others spoke with fear or caution about the rumors of black magic that existed in Southsand, black magic that was forbidden by the gods.
Theus ceased discussing Southsand topics, and stuck to armory practice and medical practice as his main social functions, other than the frequent times when Coriae took him as her escort to dinners and receptions and plays. In fact, Theus began to hear comments about that.
“You know, Coriae says she’ll only accept you as her escort for events now,” one of his patients commented as Theus examined the man’s skin rash.
“She’s never been so particular about any one man before,” the patient added. “Folks are starting to expect to hear some announcement, you know,” he hinted.
Theus coughed nervously without answering, and wondered if he should say something to Coriae.
Then came the news that Forgon’s trial would resume. The palace expert who claimed to be able to read other people’s memory stones had examined the ring Coriae and Theus had brought, and he was ready to pronounce his findings.
Coriae and Theus dressed in somber clothes and went to the royal courts well before the time for the trial to begin, so that they could sit close to Forgon’s seat in the court room. They sat silently and held hands, while the courtroom filled with people and came to life around them.
When Forgon was brought in, chains around his hands and feet, his face smiled at the sight of his two supporters.
Theus thought that his fencing friend looked thin and tired, but the smile was a genuine display of good spirits, and Theus was pleased by that.
The court waited as the three judges took their seats, then began the proceedings. Coriae explained in a whisper what the various legal technicalities were that were being discussed, and what impact they might have on the course of the trial.
After significant time had passed, the judges called the name of Glock, the man who had been a companion of Monsant’s, and who claimed to be able to read the memories stored on private memory stones.
“My lords,” Glock intoned carefully, “I have spent much time looking in upon the memories stored on this jewel in this ring,” he exuded confidence as he spoke.
“This is it!” Coriae whispered excitedly. “He’s going to say that my memories prove that Forgon is innocent; he had no motive to kill Monsant.”
“The memories recorded on the jewel in this ring do not show anything relevant to the case, and should not prevent you from continuing with this case,” the man replied. He was pale white, with white hair, though too young to have gray hair. His lips were colorless as they pressed in a thin smile following his pronouncement.
There were gasps from all portions of the crowded room, at the stunning announcement.
“That’s not true!” an outburst from the audience drew the attention of everyone.
It came from Theus.
Before he even realized he had done it, he had leapt to his feet and shouted out his protest.
“My lords,” he spoke again a moment later, even as he began to realize he was impetuously making another momentous decision.
“My lords, I have the ability to read any memory stone. I looked at the memory that Lady Coriae placed in the stone; it shows that she had no conflict with Lord Monsant on the night he was murdered, and there was no reason for Forgon to have fought the man,” he was skirting around the real truth by only speaking of a narrow truth, he knew, and his stomach felt queasy. But Forgon was not the murderer, and did not deserve to be prosecuted.
“Really? We’ve gone from having no one able to read the secrets of memory stones for hundreds of years, to now having two people in this very room who can do so?” the man who was next to Glock stood and spoke up for the first time.
“Everyone, be silent and maintain the dignity of the court,” one of the judges at the bench spoke loudly, repeating himself and banging his gavel.
“Bailiffs, remove this man,” the judge pointed towards Theus.
“I can read any memory stone, and I’m telling that the stone helps prove Forgon had no reason to harm Monsant!” Theus shouted insistently.
“Fine!” another judge spoke up. “Let’s see you prove you can read any stone; if that’s true, we’ll consider your claim.
“Someone give the boy a stone,” the judge proposed carelessly.
“Why not ours?” the third judge asked with a chuckle.
“Why not?” the second judge agreed, holding up a squared-off crystal that rested on the bench before the panel. “Approach the bench,” he nodded at Theus.
“Theus, are you sure?” Coriae asked in a whisper.
“I think so,” he answered softly, as he started to step past her. His knees were wobbly, he realized, as the gravity of the situation became clear. He was going to have to publicly prove that he could do something he had never admitted doing before. Forgon’s future depended on him; his own future might depend on how he handled the situation.
He stepped into the aisle, then walked up to the railing that kept the spectators away from the trial proceedings, and passed the guard on station there. He approached the bench and looked up at the judges.
The judge in the middle handed down the crystal he had held up before.
“Tell us something contained in this stone,” the judge demanded with a smirk.
Theus took the stone, and he took a deep breat
h. He held the stone up to his forehead, aware of the silence that possessed the entire courtroom. Then he closed his eyes and focused.
The stone was packed full of memories, layer after layer of individual memories that had been stored on the stone. He delved down into the middle of the pack, and selected one at random, one that felt kinder than the others somehow.
A woman was in front of a judge; it was two women, he realized. A man stood between the two women, holding a young child, perhaps a year or two old, Theus guessed.
The memory was given from the point of view of the judge, a man, an elderly man it appeared, based on the veined and wrinkled hands that rested on the wooden bench in the forefront of Theus’s view of the proceedings.
“You gave birth to this child, you say,” the judge spoke.
“Yes your honor, it was just over a year ago, in my sister’s home. He was such a beautiful baby,” the woman on the right, wearing green, affirmed. “There’s no doubt that the baby is mine.”
“But you say the baby is yours,” the judge turned to the other woman, on the left, wearing blue.
“Yes, your honor. I was in our cabin in the woods, alone. I had to deliver my baby myself. It was the most trying thing I’ve ever done, but it was so worth it to have this wonderful child,” she answered softly.
“You both have produced witnesses and stood steadfast by your claims,” the judge cited. “There’s no clear evidence to help solve this case. In your hearts you both know the truth, but one of you won’t divulge the truth.
“So we have two options; the first option is that you shall share the baby. Every other month you shall pass the baby back and forth, from one to the other, to raise jointly,” the judge explained. “I suggest we do that.”
“No your honor!” the two women spoke simultaneously.
“I want every moment of my baby’s life; he needs my love. I’ll lay down my own life for him,” the woman on the right declared.
“There’s no reason she should be allowed to raise my baby,” the other woman said. “I went through all the pain and trouble to give that child life.”
“Well, if you both are unhappy with the logical proposal, I’m afraid we’ll have to fall back to the illogical proposal, the only other option that is available,” the judge spoke sadly.
“We’ll have the baby split in two, and you each shall have half the child,” he said. “Bring in a guard member with a sharp blade and a good eye for the target, so that we can split the baby evenly.”
Theus felt his soul reel in horror.
“No, your honor!” cried the woman in green. “Let her have the baby; don’t kill my son.”
The other woman nodded her head smugly.
“I have reached a verdict,” the judge said. “You are the rightful mother of the child, and you shall have possession, immediately and forever more,” he pointed towards the green-clad woman on the right. “Hand the baby over,” he told the bailiff holding the baby.
Theus pulled the stone from his forehead.
“I just saw the judge in the case where two women claimed to be the mother of the same child,” Theus told the judges. “And the judge threatened to split the baby, so one woman said to save the baby, and the judge gave the baby to her.”
“Everyone knows that case,” the judge over Theus said.
“The woman who received the baby was standing on the right, and wearing green,” Theus tried to add detail. “The other woman wore blue.”
“Give me that stone; let me check,” commanded the judge on the left of the bench, holding his hand out to Theus. A murmur arose in the crowd.
The judge impatiently took the crystal from Theus and held it to his forehead for half a minute.
“He has the details right,” the man said, removing the stone, causing more murmurs to raise the noise in the room.
“Silence!” roared the judge in the middle of the trio. “Someone else give us a stone to test,” he spoke to the crowd.
“I have my personal diary stone,” spoke up the prosecutor, the man sitting next to Glock at a bench. “Let him tell me what the most recent entry says,” he spoke confidently as he rose from his seat and placed a hand in a pocket to withdraw a dark green memory stone.
“Only the most recent one, mind you,” he emphasized as he handed the stone to Theus.
The boy looked at the stone, holding it high for a moment to study it. It had less than half its capacity filled with memories, it appeared to him. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and pressed the stone to his forehead, then focused on finding the memory that was newest. The images faded from nothingness into near reality in his mind.
The prosecutor was sitting in an office, where a small fire burned at night, judging from the darkness in the window. The pale Glock was in the room with him, and handed him a piece of paper.
“This will be my report tomorrow in the court,” Glock announced. “There are no relevant memories in the ring. Monsant’s murder can be revenged now.”
“It will be quite a blow to the old nobility to see a member of one of their own families go down in humiliation for a crime like this,” the prosecutor commented. He looked over the written document.
“With this report, the court won’t need more than an hour to finish up this case,” he concluded.
Theus pulled the stone away.
“Were you unable to read this stone?” the prosecutor asked with insincere sympathy.
“You were sitting in an office at night, with a fire burning, talking to that pale man, Glock,” Theus recollected. “He told you what his report was going to say.
“You said it would be hard on the old families of the nobility, and that the judges would be able to finish up the case within an hour after the report,” Theus reported.
“Is that correct?” the far judge looked directly at the ashen-faced man.
The prosecutor nodded his head weakly, without speaking a word.
“Tell me young savant, what is the second most recent memory on the stone?” the middle judge asked with a malicious grin.
“My lord!” the prosecutor began to protest.
“Do you have something to hide?” the judge interrupted him to ask.
“No, my lord,” he answered in a low, shaken voice.
“Well, go on boy, tell us about the next memory,” the judge urged Theus.
Theus looked at the judge; the man held Forgon’s fate in his hands. Theus had to please him.
Theus looked at the prosecutor. There was some mute appeal veiled in his eyes.
Theus closed his eyes and raised the stone to his forehead.
He sorted his way to the next memory, and let its contents flow into his consciousness.
The prosecutor was walking into a hallway, stepping through a door from the outside. Theus heard the sounds of wagon wheels rolling on the cobbles as the door closed the sound out.
“Daddy!” a pair of young children, a boy and a girl, came running down the hall, a nanny chasing after them. The toddlers threw themselves at the prosecutor with delight, and he picked them both up in his arms, making them laugh with delight.
“My apologies, my lord,” the nanny said as she reclaimed control of the children from their father.
“It’s alright, Natash,” the prosecutor said.
“How was your day today, my dear?” a new voice came down the hall. The prosecutor looked and saw a cool, collected woman striding confidently down the hall towards him. She was lovely, impeccable and composed. She was his wife.
Into the prosecutor’s mind there rose a memory of a different woman, one with very dark skin and very light hair. The contrast in colors was exotic and sensual. The woman in his memory wore flimsy clothing, and she sauntered towards him with a rhythm that was irresistible.
She was the man’s mistress, Theus realized.
He pulled the stone away from his forehead. He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he was sure that he was blushing.
“What did you see, young savant?” t
he closest judge asked, with a wink at the prosecutor.
Theus was at a loss, not sure what to say. He felt like a voyeur for having seen the private memories of the prosecutor, the memory of memories.
“He stored a memory of returning to his home,” Theus temporized. “He has two small children, and they ran from their nanny to see him come home.
“The nanny came to take them from him, and then his wife came down the hall,” Theus stopped.
“And then what? What made that memory so special that he preserved it on his stone?” the center judge asked.
Perhaps, Theus thought, he should reveal the embarrassing truth. He could just simply reveal what he had learned. But, he didn’t feel empowered to be the one to shed a spotlight on another man’s secrets.
“And then he thought how fortunate he was to be married to such a beautiful woman, and to have such adoring children. He felt that his life was good,” Theus hastily wrapped up his altered story, and turned to look at the prosecutor.
The look of gratitude on the man’s face was beyond words; he looked as though he had just received a reprieve, a second chance at life.
“Is that true, Hamter?” the judge directed his question to the prosecutor.
“It is, my lord,” the man replied. “I cannot deny that the boy has the gift.”
“What about you Glock? Can you read any stone at random?” the judge spoke out to the forgotten, pale man who still sat at a table, alone and isolated by the sudden turn of events.
“This all seems impossible to believe,“ Glock shot out, rising to his feet. “What impossible powers allow this young poseur to read stones like no one in a thousand years?”
“Tell them,” the voice commanded, “tell them you are of the blood line of Limber.”
“I was born and raised in the Jewel Hills,” Theus spoke up. He was proud of his heritage, the heritage he truly knew, poor though it was, and he’d not overlook it. “And I am a descendant of Limber.”
The courtroom broke out into a roar of consternation, as the audience heard mention of the ancient city that had once been a rival of Stoke’s.
The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2) Page 27
