by L. W. Jacobs
“Yes,” Odril snapped, raising a hand. “I summon Melswerth Pruitt to the attack.”
A pit opened in Ella’s stomach. Pruitt—one of the military men from the boat. She had done his books, so his evidence would hold up to a mindseye. Shattercocks.
Pruitt sauntered from the defense room, open door giving a glimpse of others inside. How many had Odril brought?
“Pruitt,” Odril said, sharing a smile with the man. He’d likely paid him to be here—Prophet knew Odril had the money for it, with the amount he’d been stealing. “Tell the court about your relationship with Ms. Aygla.”
“She’s a fake. Tried to play like she was calculor,” he said, Seinjialese accent butchering the word, “but I knew all along.”
“You mean you found out,” Odril corrected, smiling, “after she’d tricked you.”
“Right. Anyway, she’s guilty as the night is long, and you can mindseye me for proof.”
Ella shifted, mind racing as a diminutive woman in Councilate white approached Pruitt, laid hands on him. She needed a way out of this, fast.
“It’s true,” the mindseye said, eyes refocusing. “The man has had commerce with the defendant and paid her for the services.”
The councilor raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Aygla, how do you respond? This is damning evidence.”
“Jurisdiction,” she said, recalling her first mock arbitration with Sablo. “Mr. Alson’s claims are made for activities done on the Ein, days out of Ayugen. Such cases need to be handled by the Councilate’s transport arbitrarium.”
“What?” Odril cried. “But the proof’s right here—”
“Upheld,” Sablo intoned. Ella relaxed, though the Arbiter looked troubled.
“I still have the contract,” Odril snapped. “It’s proof enough she was carrying on here in Ayugen.”
“Submit to the mindseye,” Ella said, keeping her voice level. “She’ll see it was signed under duress.”
Odril’s mouth worked for a moment. “No. I refuse the mindseye.”
“As is your right,” Ella said. “But why not? Councilors, this is as good as an admission of guilt.”
The House representatives shifted.
Odril scowled. “My reasons are my own.”
“In response”—Ella drew herself up—“I submit my own memories of the contract, showing that I ended that service days after it was begun, and proving that I was not a willing party to the original contract.”
“That was when she attacked!” Odril’s face reddened. “You can see the scars here, on my head!”
“You embarrass yourself, sir,” Ella said. “Let the mindseye verify the conditions under which your wound happened. That you attacked me after you knew I had proof of your theft.”
The crowd shifted at this, and she could see she’d won a point. “No,” Odril snapped. “I refuse the mindseye.”
A councilor opened his mouth, but Ella spoke first. “In this case, you cannot. My memories are my own, and I willingly submit to the seery. Or, if you’d rather clear your name, why not submit to the mindseye yourself?”
Odril growled something and paced back to his podium. The mindseye came and laid a hand on her arm. Ella’s bones registered the whine of her resonance, high and faint compared to the physical abilities. “She tells the truth,” the woman declared, releasing the document. “Mr. Alson attacked her on discovery of his crime. Though Ms. Aygla defended herself nicely.” She gave Ella a shy smile.
Whispers ran through the crowd, and Ella could see Odril begin to sweat across the room.
“This appears to be proof enough,” Sablo said from his dais. “Ms. Aygla, do you wish to push these charges of assault against Mr. Alson?”
“No,” Ella said lightly. “I wish to push my original suit.” An assault charge wouldn’t be enough—she needed to ruin him.
“Very well, then. We proceed—”
“I object!” Odril called. A murmur swept through the crowd.
Sablo broke off. “On what grounds, Mr. Alson?”
“I demand replacement arbitration. Arbiter Sablo is biased.”
Low talk began in the crowd. “Biased?” “Toward who?” “What is this?”
Sablo spoke over them. “In what way, sir?”
“You are pursuing an intimate relationship with the defendant!”
Ella gasped, and the crowd burst into commotion.
He couldn’t. If Sablo stepped down, Odril would likely know the replacement, be paying them from his stolen funds. Sablo had to follow through, regardless of what had happened yesterday.
Sablo pounded his glass-beaded staff. “Quiet! Quiet in the gallery!”
The crowd began to quiet. “How do you respond, sir?” Odril asked, face victorious. “Do you deny the charges?”
Sablo grimaced, jaw working. “Arbitration calls a recess.”
Ella watched Sablo and the council file out, stomach sick. The crowd burst into noise again, and Odril approached her from the far podium. She struck resonance, world slowing, then let go with an effort. She was here to pursue legal recourse. Other options came later. “What?”
“Just wanted to make you an offer.” He’d wiped the sweat from his brow, his old look of superiority returned. “You’re not going to like who’s taking Sablo’s place. Things could go badly for you. So, I thought I’d offer you a deal.”
“I want nothing you have to offer.”
“A return to my service. Same contract; we’ll just write it up fresh. That way you can avoid all the…prison you’ll have to go through.” He reached up for her and she flinched away. “You won’t be nearly this pretty by the time you get out. Think about it.”
“I have thought about it,” she said, meeting his eyes. “And I already told you my answer. I won’t settle until I’ve seen you destroyed.”
Odril blanched, then regained his poise. “Too bad. Doesn’t look like today’s your day.”
Sablo and the others were filing in. She looked to him, but the Arbiter kept his gaze ahead, taking his seat. Odril smirked and returned to his podium, legal advisers filing back into the crowd.
Ella took a breath. Sablo pounded the beaded staff of state against the floor, and the crowd silenced. “Arbitration will resume,” he intoned.
The councilors sat. “In response to Mr. Alson’s objection of bias,” Sablo continued, “I hereby recuse myself from the proceedings.”
A gasp went through the crowd. “What?” Ella heard herself say, eyebrows knitting. He was backing down?
Of course he is.
Ella shook her head, not wanting to believe it, feeling at the same time she’d known all along. Of course he is. The irony hit hard—he was stepping down not because they were having relations, but only because it looked like they were. But if she had agreed to relations, he likely would not have stepped down. Councilate meckscatter.
“In my place,” Sablo was saying, “Lieutenant Arbiter Mentas will serve for arbitration.”
Odril smiled. More talk burst from the crowd. Sablo met her eyes then, and she saw—what? Apology? Sadness? Betrayal?
Betrayal. Her own gaze was cold, meeting his. It had all been a ruse—his affection, his support for her scholarship, his promises of support in the arbitration. An attempt to trick a young woman. He was just like the rest.
Hell with him, Ella. We don’t need him. We never have.
“Exactly,” she breathed, gaze shifting back to Odril. She would still destroy him. Whatever it took.
“Arbitration will resume tomorrow at this same time.” He pounded the staff twice. “Make room for the next hearing.”
Ella stood, air in the room suddenly stifling. Some of the audience got up, but many stayed, likely spending a day in the arbitrarium as entertainment. Clarella was one of those leaving, and the woman gave her a wicked smile. Ella clenched her jaw, wanting to swing at someone like she had at Odril.
Odril. Pruitt. Sablo. Her voice began listing targets.
With an effort, Ella controlled her ang
er and returned to her paced breathing. Here of all places was not the situation to attack someone. Instead, she joined the flow of people leaving the courtroom, head high. Sablo was outside, waiting for her.
“Ella, I—”
“Save it,” she snapped. “Maybe Clarella wants to hear it.”
He jerked back as if stung. Ella swept past, a cold smile blooming on her lips. Did he expect her to go limping back to him after he’d abandoned her?
We don’t need him.
“We don’t need any of them,” she intoned, shouldering through the crowd. It didn’t matter what advantages Odril had in the arbitration, or how many people betrayed her in the process. She would ruin him if she had to tear this city to the ground.
31
These dogs wouldn’t know culture if it stuck ’em in the stain ring.
—Councilate soldier, Riverbottom
Ella spent the afternoon fuming. The library, the Tower, the smoking city out the window, none of it held any interest for her. Even her books seemed a petty distraction. She wished her resonance would speed time instead of slow it, make the morrow’s arbitration come sooner. She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t thirsty, wanted nothing but another chance at Odril.
She left the Tower after a while, pacing the streets of Newgen in hopes of seeing Tai. He wasn’t there. The enclave was still cut off from the rest of the city, and she still couldn’t convince the guards to let her out.
Sablo’s betrayal felt like the final nail in the coffin she’d been building for the Councilate. Proof that the system was rotten even at its highest levels, even among the most educated, the most apparently kind and generous. That at bottom, their worldview was about money and power, and every person they touched, every culture they reeducated, was only a tool on the way to it. They had to be stopped.
And you’re going to stop them? Telen asked.
“I’m going to do what I can, anyway. Starting with beating Odril and then, yeah, I think I’m going over to the rebels. Maybe I’ll help them fight—I’m a timeslip, after all.”
And what, defeat the Councilate?
“Yes, Telen. Defeat the Councilate. Is that so strange? You never liked it either. You’re the one who wanted to change our House so much.”
He gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. Can’t argue with that, I guess.
“But?” She knew him well enough to know there was more.
Just don’t get yourself killed, okay? I’ve already died once.
She gave a wry grin. “I’ll do my best.”
Ella considered timeslipping out the gates, but she couldn’t risk getting locked out of tomorrow’s arbitration. Still, it was so frustrating not to be able to pass Tai this news. What had Sablo said? We’ve got someone on the inside now. Let’s just say we’ll be ready, next time they try to attack us head-on. The rebels needed to be ready too, and she couldn’t even send a staining message.
She’d missed the date to meet up with Tai. Why didn’t he just come to her rooms?
Ella paced her room, paced the Tower commons, paced the streets again. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty or worried about learning more legal jargon. She just wanted the suit done. To get her revenge and go.
And what difference will that make, if it’s inside a corrupt system?
She was sitting in her bed, sun still frustratingly high. “Probably nothing. But what else can I do?”
You can get out.
“What?”
The army’s coming. You know that. And you know the rebels are going to get betrayed, and you can’t get word to them. This whole thing’s going to go down in shit, Ella, like the Seinjialese and Yati resistances did. And you don’t want to be here when it does. Worry came from him, concern.
She shook her head. “Where would I go? Back to Mom and Dad? This is my place now, Tels. My fight.”
You could go anywhere, I don’t know, explore! We have a little money now. Let’s go visit the At’li or find the Minchu. You know, do real ethnography like Markels used to. Or hell, get back to the capital and get our savings and find a way across the sea to Gyolla. You’ve got the research for it now.
Ella took a deep breath, found herself standing again, pacing. Those were her dreams. All her dreams. And yet—what difference would she really make, writing a book about a dead culture or serving as an advisor to a Council that had long since erased the Achuri? What about Tunla? What about Tai?
It’s war, Ella. People die. And even with your yuraloading thing, they can’t stand up to an army. Whether you stay or not.
Ella stopped at the window, gazing at the charred wreck of the bluffmanses. “If I leave, I’m no better than the rest of them. I’ll have no place to complain about the Councilate, because this is my chance to do something, to change something. Probably the one chance in my life, and you’re telling me to throw it away.”
This is a chance to help yourself, E. To help me.
Ella narrowed her eyes, as if to see him better. “Why would I need to help you? You’re a ghost, Telen, or an ancestor or whatever. You can’t get better or worse.”
I can die again. You already took one life from me.
She started pacing again. “Oh, now you’re going to guilt me? After you said it was okay? What the hell are you, anyway, Tells? How do I know you’re not just another impostor, come to torment me like LeTwi did?”
He hesitated. Because I’m your brother.
She cocked her head, then turned for the door. “No.” Here, at least, was something she could do now. “No, I need proof.”
What do you mean? I already showed you I know about you and Poddy’s place. No one else could know that.
“Yeah, but I know that. I need something only you would know.”
Like what?
Ella thought a minute, striding down the spiral walkway. “Peccability. Sablo mentioned something about it in one of our conversations, but I haven’t had a chance to really look it up. Is it the same as culpability?”
I—I’m not sure.
“Elkscat. You were a licensed barrister. You would have to know this for the exam.”
Ah—yes. Peccability is a form of guilt.
Ella pushed through the doors to the library stacks. “Okay. Good. Now let’s take a look.” She began searching the legal section.
You realize this is totally offensive, right? That you would even try to doubt me?
Ella scanned the contents of a thin leather-bound volume. “You helped Mom and Dad keep me locked in a room for five years when you could’ve let me out at any time. I think we’re beyond taking offense. There! What did you say? That it’s a form of guilt? Peccability,” she read from the page, “refers to a client’s ability to make an error, and should not be used to refer to actual errors made, whether legally or morally binding.” She looked up, victorious.
That’s— It’s just an interpretation.
“Elkscat. You didn’t know. But any barrister would.”
I forgot, all right?! It’s been years since I read anything!
“Okay. Let’s try again.”
No. Ella, this isn’t fair.
“It isn’t fair? Since when did you give a stain about fair?” She cocked her head. “You’re afraid.”
No, I’m not.
“I can feel it, Telen. Or whatever you are. You’re afraid because I know now. I know you’re a fake.” She slammed the book, waiting for him to disappear.
I’m not a fake! I’m your brother!
With LeTwi, there had been a peeling-off, a sensation of getting lighter. Ella waited, scholar’s curiosity aroused—but nothing happened.
“What the hell? You’re supposed to go away now.”
I’m not going away because I’m not a fake.
He still sounded scared. “No, you’re a fake. My brother would have been angry, really angry at this point, not afraid. Why aren’t you gone? Maybe I…need to take some yura?”
Ella, please. You’re the only one I have left. Don’t do this to me.
&nb
sp; She snorted. “Let’s make a deal, how about? You shut up, and I’ll let you tag along until I figure out how to get rid of you. Otherwise, I’m going out and spending everything I’ve got on yura, and we’ll see how long you last.” She barely had that many moons, but it would be worth it.
There was a long silence. The voice that spoke again was different from Telen. Lesser, somehow.
Deal.
She awoke later that night, air chilly on her bare skin. The star was down out the window, just a blue glow against the western hills. The room was quiet. She saw the book she’d been reading and pushed it away. There was a nameless longing in her—not for food, or sleep, or scholarship.
For revenge?
Not for revenge, either. Ella got up and wandered the room, unable to decide if she should go out for some tea or just lie down again and sleep. Neither sounded good, so she sat on the bed and clutched a pillow, uncomfortable silence in her head.
Time crept by.
A knock came at her door.
Fear, at least, that was an emotion that came easy. Ella struck resonance, mind churning through possibilities. Odril, come to finish the job early? Clarella, wanting a fight? Councilate lawkeeper come to take her away?
She dropped resonance. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sablo, Ella. May I come in?”
Sablo. Anger replaced fear, her jaw clenching. “Sablo. The stain do you want?”
“Ellumia, will you just open the door?”
She opened it, torchlit hall bright against her eyes. His eyes widened, and she realized she was wearing little more than a sleeping gown. “What?”
“Ellumia, I”—he reached out for her, and she flinched away—“I wanted to say I’m sorry. That I couldn’t be there for you today. It’s the legal system, it’s—”
“It’s fine. It’s what I should have expected. I was a cute little toy until it really mattered, then just an inconvenience. I get it.”
“No, I—”
