I love you. Melissa said, ‘I love you.’ What do I do?
Chapter 20: Before the Octojurata
April 12th. Late Morning. Market Isle at Four Rivers.
Rowboats crowded the waters around Market Isle as thousands converged at the site of the trial. Victualers spread tables on the north side with bread, soup, fish cakes and ale for sale. On the east side, tents were set up for interviewing witnesses. Vedarran, Thedarra and Makri sat in one tent, while Metookonsen, Ecraveo, and Skandik were in the other. From outside, Olsurrodot relayed his questions to Thedarra. K'Fuur’s responsibility was to uphold the treaties; he left evidence gathering to the other Jurors, and sat at his sofa on the podium on the south side, before the grove of trees. Orokolga crouched on the ground beside him, while a crew sawed and hammered feverishly to reinforce the platform for her seat.
Melissa’s sofa was right of the podium, facing sideways. Curved like a daybed, it was only backed where she rested her head and shoulders. She eyed all who entered or exited the interview tents, and composed her own roster of witnesses. This is bogus. Half the jurors are also witnesses. Skandik. Ecraveo. Shoroko. Me, at least on paper. How can I swear to events I never witnessed? One witness surprised her: Soorararas. We never spoke about his role. What did he see? For character witnesses they called for testimony from the work party present when she was captured. Rougelek would substantiate her claim that other Lissai were similarly affected by tainted liosh.
She glanced at the fractioning tower on the west side. Jessnee was adjusting valves with a wrench and attaching buckets to catch the condensates. They set up near the water, in case of fire. Men unloaded and stacked firewood and coal from a boat tied up beside it.
While other preparations took place, Melissa closed her eyes to focus. She felt about and detected the faintest mental tether connecting her consciousness to White Talon. The true dragon awaited her own fate on Earth before a different judge. Once she accepted that no details were available and advice from White Talon unobtainable, she addressed the voice in her head. Are you real? What is your name? Do you have any help to offer? She waited and listened, really listened. After long silence, a reply.
Am I real? I am. The help I did not send yesterday is the help I have sent today. Do not be fooled by the emptiness; you are full.
Melissa had no time to ponder riddles; a trumpet announced the reading of the charges. Vendors stowed unsold food while spectators hurried to the area behind the ropes and sat on the grass. High officials and town elders took their places on the bleachers, while witnesses sat on chairs before the court. A lissairn tallied the number of Claws on the island, approached three and directed them to return to Embassy Knoll, leaving forty-two present for trial, excluding Melissa. The crowd hushed as the remaining jurors took their seats. All eyes were on the golden dragon, highest juror and president of the court.
“I am Orokolga. I am neither friend nor enemy to any of you here and was chosen by another to oversee today’s trial. The honor is mine, but experience in your laws and customs is not. In all matters except my final ruling, I defer to the most honorable and Lofty K'Fuur, for procedures and regulations concerning relations between Hands and Claws, and to Lord Metookonsen, for expertise in criminal law and trial protocol. Anyone present today may at any time during trial appeal to me to question a procedure, ruling, or instruction of the court, and I will decide, but not for trivial matters should you try my patience. Are we prepared to hear the accusation?”
A woman in a black, ankle-length, hooded robe approached the accuser’s table, which faced sideways toward the jurors. She spread a scroll before her and folded back her hood to reveal long, straight black hair. It was Zocrita. “Who was lost to our world? Shorassa, a daughter, sister, friend, and artist. Yesterday, we celebrated her life. Today we investigate her death. How was she lost? She was attacked and suffered cuts and bruises, which by the action of a poison led to illness and death. It is the work of this court to decide who, if anyone, is responsible for her death. The Claw named White Talon, Hlissak of Rampart, stands accused of willfully causing this injury. Who here demands justice?” She rolled up the scroll, left her table and walked before the jurors, stopping before Orokolga. “Declare your partiality and take your oath.”
Lofty K'Fuur leaned over and whispered to Orokolga, who then faced Zocrita. “It is from White Talon, through Shoroko’s mediation, that I am able to speak with you today, after hundreds of migrata spent in isolating silence. Also, I hope to find my love, Kilgain in Nehenoth, where also White Talon seeks her Silverthorn, so her success in finding passage to that place would assist me. Nevertheless, my quest cannot succeed if Hands and Claws war against each other, and a false decision in this trial would inflict terrible injury to the peace. I swear to seek truth, apply law, balance mercy and justice, and show no partiality to persons high or low.”
Zocrita moved on and each juror in turn took the oath of partiality. When it came to Shoroko, tenseness on his face and stiffness in his words forced Melissa from the detached attitude she affected to keep her courage from failing.
“I am Shoroko. Shorassa was my sister, and White Talon my friend. Having a hlissak as a frequent guest in our house brought great honor to our family and multiplied our prosperity. In my grief and firm conviction of White Talon’s guilt–”
Zocrita frowned and opened her mouth to denounce Shoroko’s unfounded declaration.
Shoroko quickly continued. “A conviction formed absent any witnessing of the direct events of the incident and without careful search for evidence. It was with this conviction that I planned and executed my vengeance unlawfully against White Talon, who having opportunity to resist and kill me, instead spared my life and healed me. Her surrender demonstrated her trust in the fairness of this court and persuaded me to withhold judgment until I have carefully considered every word spoken today.”
Melissa had been watching his lips, but as he recited the oath of partiality, she noticed his fidgeting hands. Shoroko was always composed. His hands said otherwise. Shoroko pursued honor always, risking death repeatedly. Honor demanded full disclosure to the court. A full disclosure would mean exposing her identity, introducing questions they had no procedure for deciding. So Melissa watched his hands, and his hands said what his lips dared not. He didn’t know what his telltale digits were up to. She glanced about. There was no recognition on Soorararas’ face, or K'Pinkelek’s. She returned her gaze to fingers a-twitch, and wrists bending and straightening, and elbows sliding forward and back. Shoroko was subconsciously signing in Siglissik, a language he had never known, exposing clandestinely the Chinese-American doctor whose spirit had exchanged places with a dragon. What mouth refused to say, hands made plain. When fingers finished fulfilling the mouth’s solemn oath, they said one thing more: Melissa, I love you.
So transfixed was she by his hands, that she didn’t hear the first witness being called, sworn in, testifying and being questioned. All at once, Shoroko balled those hands into fists and clasped them together. Melissa snapped out of her reverie and listened to Jessnee offer his medical opinion.
“The wounds to Shorassa were certainly from a large creature with claws,” said Jessnee.
“An olissair’s?” asked Zocrita.
“Yes, an olissair could make such marks.”
“Are there other signs suggesting the injuries were lissine in origin and not the work of a different animal?”
“Poison in the wound bleached the skin white and left a distinctive line of red blisters along the veins.”
“Doctor, do you know of any poisons that leave such traces?”
“Only one, the poison secreted by lissine spurs.”
“Have you sufficient familiarity with other poisons commonly found in the area to back up this claim?”
“I have treated seventy patients in the last six years for ailments stemming from over two dozen plant and animal poisons. I have also spoken at length with other healers to familiarize myself with addition
al toxins I’m likely to encounter in my work. I am convinced contact with a Claw’s spurs poisoned Shorassa.”
“One more question, Doctor. The cuts and bruises from the attack, the poison that entered the victim’s blood, and the infection that followed – did these injuries cause Shorassa’s death? Or was she already ill before being attacked with a disease that would inevitably have caused death?”
“Shorassa was in perfect health before the attack, and no person known to be ill was permitted to visit her while she lay on her sickbed. I attended to her care personally.”
Zocrita turned toward the seated jurors. “I would like to summarize the inquiry so far. Shorassa died as a result of the attack we are investigating and no other cause. Do the jurors in unanimity accept this conclusion, or is additional questioning along these lines necessary?”
One by one, all the jurors nodded their assent.
Zocrita continued. “Do our jurors have questions of their own to address to the doctor? Or those advising the accused?”
Thedarra whispered to her father, then stood. “We do, inquisitor.” She walked up to Jessnee. “Do you know of a person to sustain similar injuries, yet be healed?”
“Yes. During this past week.”
“Is the one who performed this healing present?”
“Yes. I have seen White Talon heal more serious injuries of a different nature and heard from others present here…”
“I am sorry,” said Zocrita. “Unless the doctor personally examined the injured party, we cannot accept his testimony.”
Thedarra scratched her chin. “Doctor Jessnee, who here do you believe can shed light on this matter?”
“Juror Shoroko.”
Zocrita and Thedarra faced Orokolga for a ruling.
“The court will allow Juror Shoroko to testify, bound by just as strong an oath as the oath he took to serve as juror.”
Shoroko looked about hesitantly, then stood and walked to the witness seat.
“Answering questions about the death of your sister must be difficult,” said Zocrita, “so I will be brief.”
Melissa exerted every power in her eyes to read Zocrita’s face. Behind the stony eyes and flat expression, she saw what she wanted. You want to stir up pain. You want passion to cloud his mind and make him accuse me. She shifted her gaze to Shoroko and waited.
Zocrita continued. “Have you seen White Talon heal anyone of poisonous injuries like those inflicted upon your sister Shorassa?”
“Yes,” said Shoroko. “White Talon healed me using blue flame and offered to accompany me and heal my sister.”
“In making the offer, did the accused admit to causing Shorassa’s death?”
“No. She said she lost her memory, on account of the head wound she suffered at my hands.”
“Is it possible White Talon’s offer was itself an admission of guilt?”
“What? I don’t understand?” Shoroko sat on the front corner of the chair, like he wanted to get up and walk away.
“Had Shorassa lived, would not the guilty person receive more lenient punishment?”
Thedarra stood. “The inquisitor implies one motive when others are equally plausible.”
Orokolga reached out a claw towards Thedarra. “Can you support another motive through sworn testimony?”
“Yes, we can,” said Thedarra.
“When that testimony is given,” said Orokolga, “you may introduce those alternate motives. Inquisitor, you may resume your questioning.”
“Shoroko,” said Zocrita. “When you attacked White Talon in her cave, how did she react?”
“She fought back. Flame, claws. Nearly killed me.”
“Did she strike instantly, or did she hesitate?”
Shoroko furrowed his brow. He couldn’t understand the point of the question any more than Melissa, so neither of them liked it. “She hesitated. I surprised her. Interrupted her, I think.”
“Could it be she felt guilty and deserving of death, and her guilt suppressed natural instincts of self-preservation?”
Shoroko’s nostrils flared, his knuckles turned white and he breathed heavily. “I stabbed her at the very instant she saw Silverthorn in her seeing-sphere. Feeling guilt? No. If anything she felt grief at losing her mate mixed with the faintest hope she might recover him.”
Zocrita approached Melissa and bowed. “Honorable one, without guile, in the interest of truth and expediency, and with no obligation to answer additional questions on this point, can you assent to Shoroko’s assessment of the feelings that guided you at the onset of his attack?”
Melissa reflected on the very first of her memories in her soul’s second home. She didn’t know what White Talon had been feeling, and worried this was a trap to undermine her claim of amnesia. An image of Silverthorn passed through her mind. So unbreakable was White Talon’s bond with her love, that a connection immediately opened up with the real White Talon. We are on trial, thought Melissa.
You must not be punished for my actions, thought White Talon. Return me to my world. I will face my accusers.
I’m not finished here. I constructed a machine. It will isolate the poison that robbed you of your sanity and allow us to remove it. You need this from me. Once it has been demonstrated, you will be exonerated. Then. Then she would lose Shoroko. But surely the crisis was deepening? Her new abilities as Rainbow Bride would be needed. She would renegotiate her deal with White Talon. She would see the sense of it. She must! I am being questioned. When Shoroko attacked, were you feeling guilty? Mournful? Hopeful?
Why is this important? thought White Talon. Such questions are always tricky.
I don’t know. What answer should I give?
Say you were mournful, but little of your memory from before that remains.
Melissa said, “Yes, it is as Shoroko says. But before that, I remember very little.”
Zocrita approached the jurors again. “White Talon is afflicted with grief so strong that it can override even strong imperatives like the necessity to defend her own life. Has this fact been established to your unanimous satisfaction?”
All jurors nodded their assent.
More witnesses were questioned as the inquisitor narrowed in on the fundamental event. Ecraveo recounted how while riding to see Shorassa, he saw White Talon flying in the area minutes before finding his fiancé wounded in her outdoor studio.
“How do you know you saw White Talon, not another?”
“By her bracelet,” said Ecraveo. “I was there the day Shorassa completed it and gave it…” The soldier paused and twisted his words with irony. “To her friend.”
Makri cleared his throat and adjusted his golden collar. The merchant was decked out in a gold and black checkered shirt beneath a dark maroon coat, and wore a wide-brimmed, soft-sided, flat-topped hat. The effect said rich more than stylish. His eyes laughed on account of his new stature. The juror rotation for his slot was chosen by lot, and a high-profile murder case would make a celebrity of him. “For my sake, describe the bracelet in detail. Surely the notoriety of this design will render a copy popular and profitable.”
Zocrita stammered. “Su-such cu-ri-ri-os-os-ity is out of place during trial.”
Makri grinned even wider and put his palm forward. “Of course, where are my manners.” He leaned toward the witness bench and lowered his voice. “But tell me anyways. Jewelers often come to me for settings, and White Talon’s technique surpasses mine. Someone must satisfy the market if she’s locked up.”
Zocrita stood there silent, shocked.
Ecraveo looked around, wondering if he was supposed to answer.
“I am new to this society,” said Orokolga. “Knowing what fashionable Lissai wear will enlighten me. Please answer the juror’s question.”
“Uh, gold, with uh, red jewels in a ring around the band and green gems in a circle across the band…”
“Excellent!” said Makri. “I have five matching that description on display at my shop this week! Continue.”
/> “Uh, I wasn’t close enough to see any more of the details, but I remember what it looked like when Shorassa…”
Makri raised his hand to silence the witness. “Enough description. The item is as similar to what White Talon wore as one could make out at that distance, but also resembles other pieces available here in Four Rivers. Do you recall any other details with which you can make a positive identification of White Talon, as opposed to another White Lissai?”
“No,” said Ecraveo. The court dismissed him and recalled Shoroko to the stand.
“How soon after the attack did you find your sister?” said Zocrita.
“Only moments. I heard her scream, so I ran from the house. She lay unconscious when I got there. I revived her with water and bandaged her wounds.”
“Did she tell you who attacked her?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell the jurors who your sister named.”
Melissa watched, her heart in torment. The strain on Shoroko’s face threatened to rip his skin to bloody bits. His eyes made the briefest contact with hers, then tore away. Nor could he look at Zocrita, or the crowd. He settled upon a spot on the ground in front of him.
“She said White Talon attacked her,” said Shoroko. “She was so confused, so sad. She couldn’t understand what had happened to her. They were such good friends. I tried to talk to her, but all she could say was, ‘Why? Why? Why?’”
Zocrita stepped aside, and Thedarra began her cross examination. Melissa couldn’t follow what was said. The man she loved, compelled by honor, had just accused her of murder. While Thedarra plied Shoroko with questions about Shorassa’s description of White Talon’s state of mind, and produced solid descriptions of an olissair’s uncharacteristic insanity, Melissa’s own state of mind unraveled. After rage over her love being transformed into a knife, a twang of guilt pierced her anguish. Thedarra is defending me. I hate her, and she’s defending me. All because she loves Shoroko, and helping me is what he wants.
A Most Refined Dragon Page 20
