Thrall's Wine

by Hausladen, Blake;

  “Name them.”

  “Oh … ahh. Clive was across the street, Chief Prelate,” he said and pointed to a man in the audience. Clive was the noisy blacksmith in Merit Square, and he was not happy to be called out. I couldn’t hear him cursing, but his lips sure were moving.

  Avin asked Circ, “Why did you not accuse Clive instead of this man?”

  “What? No sir, Chief Prelate. I mean … I know Clive. It wasn’t him. It—”

  “Master Awen, let me say this so all shall hear it. You cannot accuse a man of a crime simply because you do not know him. It is only for you to report a crime to a bailiff and for their investigation to deliver to my court evidence, a prisoner, and the charges that they, and they alone, believe to be supported by the evidence.”

  “But I was robbed.”

  Avin stood up and walked slowly around the table. “I do not doubt that you were. I do doubt that the man you have accused is responsible, and absent evidence, no man in Enhedu will be bound for more than a day, as prescribed by the High Court of our Holy Sten.”

  Circ looked horrified, and the merchants around me could not have been more uncomfortable upon the hard benches.

  “Hold,” Avin said as they began to hiss and suck their teeth at him. “Let me make this plainer still.” He asked Circ, “Do you keep your lockbox behind your counter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have the only key?”

  “No. There are three. My wife keeps one and my boy the other.”

  “Your boy has a girl in Ojesti?”

  “Yes …”

  “She recently came into possession of a necklace. Do you know who purchased it for her?”

  “What? Ohh. Blast him. That little—”

  “Be silent, Master Awen,” Avin barked, and then with the tone of a priest delivering a benediction, he said to the prisoner, “Thile Seaton, you are hereby released with this court’s sincerest apologies. Would you accept employment with Master Awen, if he were to offer it? I understand you were a cooper by trade before you were found to be churlish by the Tanayon court.”

  Thile was a slave—had been for much of his adult life. He’d been at Apped Prison with Avin and me. A shrug was all he could manage.

  “Thile,” Avin said, “look at me. I need you to make a choice. Master Awen falsely accused you of a crime. Would you accept employment with him as recompense, or shall I have him locked away for the same number of days you have spent in my bailiff’s care?”

  The room froze. Master craftsmen did not go to jail on the say so of former churls. No one did. This was something extraordinary.

  “I’ll make barrels for him, if he’d have me,” Thile said, and for him, I was very proud. I’d bet just about anything that he’d been outside Circ’s shop that day trying to get up the courage to ask for the position. I very nearly stood and applauded.

  Well done, Avin.

  “It is done then,” Avin said. “Master Awen, do you accept this judgment?”

  He nodded vigorously, and Avin dismissed them. They hurried out, Circ mumbling more apologies to Thile as they went. They shook hands.

  Avin pointed at the stack of sheets Eargram held. Loudly he declared, “The rest of these cases similarly lack merit. Accusations should not have been made, men should not have been arrested, and a great many of you should be ashamed of yourselves. Enhedu is not a collection of petty-fiefdoms where lords get to point their fingers and make men disappear.”

  He turned left and then right, his eyes drilling into the craftsmen in the crowd. He said to them, “I will make this offer once, and once only, to those of you who feel that you have evidence to present. When Eargram calls your name, raise your hand. A bailiff will collect you and endeavor to bring to me a true case. Beware, however. There are few crimes that will inspire my wrath faster than a knowingly false accusation. Do not trifle with me.”

  “Eargram,” he said then with a crackle of anger. “Call the names.”

  Eargram was quick, and the crowd was silent as he read one name after another. Only nine men raised their hands.

  The rest of the prisoners were immediately released, and Avin told them that they would receive the silver Barok promised to those who were acquitted.

  Once it was done and the freed men had been escorted out, Avin said, “Every man not still a party to one of the remaining cases will exit these proceedings.”

  The jail was nearly emptied, the benches, too. The men left in the cells looked eager to hear how they too would be released and paid. I followed the surprised crowd. The confused merchants and freed prisoners separated once their eyes adjusted to the sunlight. A nearby troop of greencoats put themselves between the two groups.

  “Who are the rest inside then?” someone asked.

  “The justly accused,” someone said.

  One man laughed at this, but the rest seemed to understand it as well as I did. Law had come to Enhedu.

  The crowd of merchants dispersed, leaving behind the confused mess of exonerated men. All of them were from Apped, and I could recall each of their faces. They looked no better. Apped had stolen their dignity, liberty—everything. It was no wonder that they had been blamed for everything that ailed Urnedi. They looked guilty. Some might well be.

  “Join me for a meal?” I asked the group. “Come. A meal on me,” I insisted. The greencoats were startled. The Apped men shrugged and followed. We drew many eyes as we walked through the town. The staff of the Constant Pony did not look pleased to see us.

  “Lunch for 45,” I said over their growing chatter. “Special of the house and mugs of your best beer, all around.”

  While the beer was poured and the meal was prepared, I spoke to them as I could about the few happy things I knew we shared: being free in Enhedu, the warmth of those days, and the view of the Daavum Mountains we enjoyed. They could not have been less interested. The beer went fast, and I was suddenly at a loss. Knowing they were damaged and knowing how to mend them … these were two different things.

  They started to ask for more beer. Others began to grumble about the men who’d falsely accused them. Names were named. The food arrived just in time.

  Eargram stepped in as the heavy bowls of fish stew and grilled sausage with hash disappeared. “Everything alright?” he asked as though I was their hostage. I got the sense that he had a hundred men outside.

  “Fine,” I replied, but with very little conviction.

  “Good. Good,” he said, then banged an empty mug on the table. “Alright, all of you. I’ve an idea. I have a boat heading to Almidi. You will each soon have silver enough in your pockets to get wherever you want to go. Who’d like a ride? On me.”

  A lot of nodding followed. Many simply stood up and started toward the door. The rest called for more beer.

  “I have a barrel on board,” Eargram said to them, and they filed out without another word about it.

  I got a look outside as they went. It was closer to 300 greencoats that had come along with Urnedi’s bailiff. Eargram’s men got the procession organized.

  Eargram stopped me at the door.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked with something between anger and a smile.

  “They looked hungry. I’d shared Apped with them. I thought …”

  His anger faded a touch, but he did not move out of my way. “They aren’t the kind, Geart. Every one of those men has at least one murder or rape to his name. Avin and I worked it out a long time ago. The accusations made against them were ones we’d come up with in order to get these men off the streets.”

  “You falsely accused and incarcerated them.”

  “Not a man of them deserved to walk free. Avin refused to execute them for past crimes, so we are giving them back to the Kaaryon.”

  “Just like that, you are throwing them out? They have done nothing to us.”

  His anger returned. “You are a murderer, too, Geart, and don’t think for one second that I wouldn’t be shipping you back to Bessradi with the r
est if it wasn’t for the magic you are capable of. Those men are no less guilty than you, just less fortunate.”

  “That is not fair. I am nothing like them.”

  “No? Depends upon the laws you live by, I suppose. Maybe every murder you committed was justified—during the war with Heneur, a royal niece in the cellar of the Deyalu, slaves who thought to steal your food, and any priest you’ve come across since.”

  “I—”

  “I don’t care to hear it. You do not belong in a public house on a public street.”

  I thought to argue, but had nothing I could say. Who can argue with his jailor?

  The group of them moved off north.

  Pemini stood in their wake holding the largest bunch of yellow daisies I’d ever seen. She could hardly keep hold of them. “He’s a real prick, isn’t he,” she said.

  “You heard.”

  “Every word. Pile of crap that was. Not fit? I’ll shove something that doesn’t fit right up his ass if he’s not careful.”

  “He didn’t make it up. I have murdered many people.”

  “So what? Rules like those are for ordinary people.”

  “How do you know who is ordinary?”

  “I have a god to tell me. Worrying about it now is nonsense, though. All I care about today is that I have the rest of the day off. Do you want to spend it kissing on me some more? I’ve a few spots you missed.”

  I took hold of the bundle for her, and she led me away by the arm.

  I sighed.

  “Hush,” she said and hugged my arm. “You can’t be sad while carrying that many flowers. It’s just not allowed.”

  41

  Madam Dia Yentif

  Anton Oklas

  “Every man not still a party to one of the remaining cases will please exit this assembly,” Avin said, and my disguise deteriorated. Pemini and Horace had worked very hard to get me into the jail. In the thick crowd, the dozen greencoats packed into one corner did not stand out. But, as the room emptied, we became more conspicuous.

  “We should go,” Horace whispered.

  “No,” I told him and peeked between the heads of the greencoats at Avin. He’d sat back down. “I came to hear Anton’s case, and not you, Avin, or any amount of morning sickness is going to stop me. Station another troop in the opposite corner so we look more like we belong here.”

  Horace relented, but as Avin got back to work, it seemed he meant to make Anton’s case the last. He dealt with a series of petty criminals and sentenced several to a season in prison. A very few were made to pay a fine. One man was expelled from Enhedu for injuring a boy while robbing him.

  My back seemed it would break. Horace did me the service of getting down onto one knee so that I could sit down. I could not see anything through the wall of green but did not miss much.

  Avin called the slavers next, one by one, and invited each to deny the details of how he had come to Enhedu to seize its people into slavery. He made quick work of the lot and sentenced the entire group to death. They were marched out. A place had been prepared somewhere for them, and it was likely that Barok meant to send their heads to Bessradi—a Yentif tradition. I was not interested in the details.

  When Swordmaster Fenol was called, he refused to answer Avin’s questions about the attack or his dead co-conspirator. Witnesses were called that detailed his action, and a sentence of death by fire was Avin’s summary judgment. I did not like the idea of a man burning to death upon a church pyre within Enhedu. And, I liked less the number of executions he had doled out. This was not what I had hoped from Avin. The sentence needed to be something other than death. Only the Shadow profited from a violent end. I wondered if Bayen’s law had been written specifically to encourage the Shadow’s propagation.

  The way I’d managed to save Errati was not something I could do for everyone, but Barok might be willing to pardon the swordmaster and try the same with him. Avin’s butcher bill was too high.

  It was getting late when Anton’s cell was opened, and he was taken before our merciless judge. I stood and peeked between the greencoats. The warehouse was nearly deserted. Eargram and a few of his men lingered, though Anton was the only prisoner left. One last troop of greencoats waited near the exit to take Anton away when the time came. Captain Gern sat with Soma and Sevat on the right-hand side along with a woman I did not know, a witness, perhaps. Erom sat opposite them, completely alone. The stalwart troops of greencoats in each corner looked very odd now.

  Anton was delivered before Avin, and four greencoats took up station around him. The young man’s black hair and round, well-fed cheeks reminded me that he was the only man from the Kaaryon to have joined the greencoats. It seemed likely that he would be the last.

  Avin wasted no time. “Anton Oklas,” he said, “you stand accused of high treason, sixteen counts of murder, sixty-seven counts of attempted murder, and an assault upon a son of the Sword of Our Lord Bayen. I am Avinda Dooma, Senior Nolumari and Chief Prelate of Enhedu, and will judge you. What say you to the charges brought against you?”

  “I did not do it,” he said with no force while staring at his shoes to avoid having to look at his father.

  I suppressed a yawn. It would be over in moments. The boy would burn, and I could get some rest.

  “Where were you posted the day of the rockslide?”

  “At the end of Prince Barok’s guard column.”

  “You saw the rocks come down?”

  “No,” he said, and it struck me that he was the first of those who had been questioned to not keep talking. Asked and answered. Avin seemed to note this, too. He leaned forward, crossed his arms, and knocked his knuckles on the table once.

  “Why not?”

  “I was delayed at the inn.”

  “No one recalls seeing you at the inn. Can you account for this?”

  “My horse was not where I left it. I had to find it.”

  “You lost your horse?”

  “Yes … I mean, no. It had been moved by the inn’s staff, Your Grace.”

  I’d not heard any of these details, but Avin knew where this was going.

  He said, “I understand that the inn’s staff moved a number of horses that were blocking the side entrance to a post around back. You claim that your horse was not at either location, is that correct?”

  “I found it behind a nearby warehouse.”

  “What did you do after you found your horse there?”

  “The rockslide had already happened, so I rode up to try and help.”

  “But you did not rejoin your troop then, did you?” Avin asked.

  “No.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I rode around to the top of the ridge.”

  “Why?”

  “It is ground I know. The guard post I manned was atop that ridge.”

  “What can you see from there?” Avin asked.

  “The entire harbor and road. Everything.”

  “You reported to Captain Gern that you found the marks of tools on the rocks, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of tools?” Avin asked.

  “A heavy pulley block hoist and two heavy taper rods.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The bark was torn off a thick oak twenty paces back from the ridge, and the chipping from where the rods levered against the rock were plain. Anyone could—”

  Avin cut him off. “How do you know what the tools are called?”

  “They are common enough tools.”

  “Are they?”

  “Well, I guess not.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “I have used such tools my whole life working for my father. Splitting rock is what he does.”

  Erom had his head held in his hands, and I could not help but feel sympathy for him. His son was doing nothing to hide his guilt.

  Avin stood up, and the boy wilted. “Anton Oklas, did you cause the rockslide?”

  “No,” he replied, his voic
e cracking.

  “Did you take the tools from your father’s quarry?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Did you lead your horse around to the back of the warehouse?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me guardsman, how did it take you so long?”

  “What?”

  “Your horse could have been tied at the bottom end of the pier, and you could have retrieved him in time to join the column. Why did it take you so long?”

  “He was tied fast to the post there. I couldn’t get him untied. I had to cut the straps.”

  Erom picked up his head, and Avin came to a momentary halt. The small crowd woke to the change in mood.

  “Thank you, guardsman,” he said. “Stand aside for the moment.”

  A jailor on the far side was the only one who seemed to understand what Avin wanted done. He crossed and put Anton back in his cell.

  “Lady Broi, step forward,” Avin said, and the woman was hurried to the same spot. “You told my bailiffs that you moved the horses, including Anton’s. You have stated that you are certain you left his horse with the rest. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you find a cut lead?”

  “Me? No.”

  The hesitation in the girl’s voice had Erom up off his chair and Soma up off hers. Avin did not miss it, either, and pounced. “Who found the cut lead?”

  “I did not find anything,” she insisted.

  “Lady Broi, you risk being found guilty of treason and being burned alive. Answer my question now. Was a cut lead found?”

  She began to cry. “Yes.”

  “By whom?” Avin demanded with terrifying force.

  “Haton,” she cried.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I saw him working it off a rail a few days after the rockslide.”

  “Did you speak to him about it?”

  “He told me not to mention it to anyone. It didn’t seem important. I—”

  “You are dismissed. Please see yourself out. Guards, bring Anton forward.” The lad was barely back to his place when Avin asked, “Have you ever spoken to Master Dorish?”

  “Who?”