by Levi Jacobs
“I do not deny it,” Clarella said with raised eyebrows, “but there was no guarantee then or now that you weren’t lying. Clearly,” she turned to the council, “she would have reason to keep her affairs secret, as I believe she was intending to take my client as her own.”
“I had no such intention. Is a Councilate citizen not free to consort with whom she pleases?”
“Perhaps,” Odril cut in, “this would be a good time to call our next witness, Ms. Prula Meadowfils. Clarella, thank you.” He held a plump hand to her, gentlemanly, and she stepped from the podium.
Prula looked much as Ella remembered her, pinch-faced and sharp. And, in this instance, scared. Of course—Odril had likely paid or threatened her to say whatever he wanted. “Council recognizes Prula Meadowfils,” one of the councilors intoned.
“Good. Ms. Meadowfils,” Odril continued, hands working at his sides, “how would you characterize the nature of your relationship with Ms. Aygla?”
Prula cleared her throat. “She came to my office claiming to be a calculor, and worked for me for some time under that guise.”
“Did you pay her for the calculism?”
“I did.” Several of the councilors shifted, and murmurs came from the audience.
“Objection,” Ella cut in. “I did not come, I was brought, beaten and unconscious, and the payment was only what was stipulated in my contract with Mr. Alson, already proven to be signed under duress.”
“Overruled,” Mentas intoned. “Defense citing evidence from yesterday’s dismissed proceedings.”
“Prula,” Ella said, searching the woman’s eyes. “You know this is a lie. You know the situation you and the others are in. Now is your chance! Speak up, and tell the truth!”
The older woman’s mouth worked, as though grinding down the lemon life had fed her. The most recent of many. She glanced at Odril. “What I’ve said is the truth.”
Ella squeezed her fists, trying not to be angry at the woman, at the situation. She had her reasons. But if she would just fight—
Odril spread his hands. “I rest my case.”
Ella took a deep breath, willing it all down. Control. She needed control.
“Attack calls a third witness,” Odril said, eyes gleaming. He was winning. She knew with a sinking feeling that he was winning. “Arten Sablo, if you’ll please come forward.”
Ella’s stomach dropped out. Sablo?
He stepped from the witness room in a crisp tan suit, ruggedly handsome, the picture of Councilate authority. Ella forced slow breaths as the council recognized him. Slow to cool the anger, slow to still the panic. There was a way out of this. There had to be.
“Mr. Sablo,” Odril began, “How would you describe the nature of your relationship with Ms. Aygla?”
“A blend of friendship and business,” Sablo said. “She came to me seeking help in pursuing this suit, and also offering bookkeeping services.”
Odril nodded. This was all obviously rehearsed. But why would Sablo stoop to helping Odril? Surely their falling out hadn’t left him that bitter, and he had too much money to be bought. It was almost too confusing to stay angry. “And was it your impression that she had, in the past, sold her services under the guise of a licensed calculor?”
Sablo considered. “While she never said this directly, she was certainly competent with the books, treating them as she would need to, were she claiming calculor licensure.”
“I see. And how did you first meet the defendant?”
“In Merendian’s Tavern, a few weeks ago.”
“And in what situation did you find her?”
“She was in an altercation with Mr. Pruitt,” he gestured to Pruitt, now sitting in the aisles, “over a refund for services she’d rendered him under the guise of a calculor.”
“I see.” Odril glanced at the councilors, face sweaty and excited. “And what was your impression of her profession at the time she came to the Tower?”
“I—assumed she had been working for you. As a calculor.” Sablo met her eyes briefly, the gaze totally unreadable. It wasn’t hate or revenge or even power there—so what?
“And if you were a council member, you would rule her guilty of illegal commerce in this regard?”
“I would,” he said, jaw working, some emotion there. Ella thought through their days together, their political discussions, the mock arbitrations, the playful tone they’d kept. Had there been more to his offer yesterday than sex? Had her refusal done more than bruised his ego?
“Ms. Aygla, any further questions?”
Her head snapped up. A possibility came into her mind. Prula’s. Accountancy. Would that work? “I—just a moment.”
Not waiting for the response, Ella struck resonance, hard. She ran out of the frozen arbitrarium, down the hall, spiraling down the long flights of the Tower, dodging between people frozen in place. Let the library be open. Let the books be easy to find. She had to get back before they noticed her gone, before Sablo stepped down.
She zipped into the library, filed through the legal section, familiar to her now. Countersuits and the Stack, Jace Tenswerth. Ella plucked it out, opened it, scanned through the pages. Interruptions—Counter-countersuits—there. She put her finger down, read it, and smiled. Yes.
Ella ran up the stairs, huffing, shoes dangling from one hand. Prophets, she thought, I need to get out more.
She was relieved to find the courtroom more or less as she’d left it. How long had she been gone? Seconds? Minutes?
She sped back to the stand and took a moment to compose herself, then dropped resonance.
“—where she’s go—“ Odril cut off, staring at Ella.
“I am sorry for that,” she said. “Defense rests in the case of Mr. Sablo. Ms. Meadowfils, if you would return to the stand?”
Prula stood, face even more pinched, glancing between her and Odril. He grimaced, then waved at the stand.
“Prula, where did we first meet?”
She chewed on the question, looking for danger in it. Ella hated the position this put the woman in, but if this worked it wouldn’t matter. “In Odril’s office, in Hightown.”
“And did you, on those occasions, pay me for calculism?”
“I said I did, girl.”
“And are you aware who owns and runs Odril’s office?”
Prula frowned. “Odril does.”
“Objection,” Odril cut in. “The defendant has clearly stated her guilt—“
“But you have stated yours first,” Ella cut in, “verified by this witness, as well as the contract you’ve brought as proof, and your own papers of ownership.” All eyes turned to her.
“How?”
“By employing an unlicensed woman as a calculor in your house,” she said. “Before I ever worked the books, you signed me into an illegal contract to work them. I am willing to overlook the fact that you stole my money, coerced me into signing the contract, and in fact have done so to every woman in that house, as the evidence is not solid. But here it is clear: you illegally employed an unlicensed woman in your house as a calculor. And on these grounds I hereby challenge your standing to countersuit.”
Odril looked stricken. The crowd was abuzz. Sablo, of all things, had a slim smile on his face. “Council,” Ella called over the noise, “I hereby dismiss Mr. Alson’s countersuit, on charges that he has been proven guilty himself of illegal commerce. Is my dismissal recognized?”
The councilors put their heads together, Arbiter Mentas frowning behind. Odril was trying to signal something to him, without success. The councilors broke. “It is,” the spokeperson said. “Countersuit dismissed. Citizen Aygla, do you wish to press the countersuit charges, or continue with your original suit?”
“The original suit, your goodnesses.” Charges of illegal commerce would get him fined, the office temporarily shut down at best. She needed more than that.
“Very well. Please assume attacking position.”
Ella gathered her papers and exchanged places wit
h Odril, his scowl hovering somewhere between anger and defeat. “Right. As attacking party, I present these ledgers as evidence of Mr. Alson’s theft against House Alsthen.” Ella passed them to the councilors. “You will find the original has been altered, ledgers changed to reflect a lower amount, the balance of which I charge Mr. Alson has been stealing.”
The councilor in Alsthen’s blue and orange, an older man with a pinched face, blanched. “I’ve attached notes to each page reflecting the difference. In total, I make it to be around eight thousand marks for Yielmoon 108.”
“Objection,” Odril cut in. “Those ledgers are clearly forgeries. I demand a mindseye.”
“As do I,” Ella nodded to him. “I believe she’ll find your hand wrote every entry in both ledgers, sir.”
Odril smiled then, a knowing smile, and a flutter of fear passed through Ella. Did he know something? Was she wrong about who kept those ledgers?
The mindseye approached, laying hands first on one ledger, then the other. She opened her eyes, refocusing them. “Attacking party’s claims are true. Defendant made all the entries in these books.”
Ella sighed in relief, then smiled. Odril, however, didn’t look done.
“Seer,” he called. “Can you also see the more recent history of those ledgers?”
“I can.”
“How were they obtained from House Alsthen?”
She saw his ploy then. He knew they had to be stolen. If he could discredit her—
Ella turned to the seer, eyes wide, imploring. She shook her head slightly. Don’t do this.
The seer met her gaze, calm. “They were stolen by the attacking party, with help from an Achuri woman.”
A roar broke out in the crowd, and Ella’s heart dropped like a shot bird.
“Then I dismiss Ms. Aygla’s suit, on charges that she has been found guilty of theft herself.”
Odril grinned and Ella laughed without mirth. He’d used her own move against her.
The spokesperson turned to her. “Ms. Aygla, any words in your defense?”
Ella took a breath. “Yes. Councilors, it is true that I stole these ledgers from House Alsthen. Having witnessed Odril’s guilt firsthand, after escaping his confinement I convinced a friend to slip me the evidence. I have every intention of returning them, and took them for the sole purpose of proving House Alsthen has a thief in its ranks.” She stepped from the podium, wishing not for the first time that she was a mosstongue. “I recognize soliciting a subpoena would have been proper procedure, but feared due to my unknown status and a House’s understandable desire for secrecy that the claim would not be granted.”
“But you are guilty,” Odril cut in. “Case closed.”
Someone had not done his homework thoroughly. “In my understanding,” she overrode him, “cases of personal theft must be championed by the offended party, in this case House Alsthen.” She turned to Alsthen’s representative, the pinched-faced man. “Councilor, I apologize for the wrong I’ve done your house, and hope that you see it was in the service of doing Alsthen a greater good. If Mr. Alson stole eight thousand marks in a single month, think what he has taken from your House in the course of his career. I ask you now, as legal representative of the House, not to champion charges against me.”
The councilor considered her.
“Or if you do, I ask that you also take up the suit I must drop, and punish Mr. Alson to the fullest extent of the law. I hope it has been clear from the proceedings these last two days that he’s guilty not only of excessive theft, but of coercion, illegal commerce, and violence against his employees. I do not believe this is the type of person House Alsthen wishes to employ, or even to let free in these trying times.”
“Arbiter,” Odril called, “objection!”
Mentas held up a hand. “Hold a moment.”
Odril scowled. Ella met the councilor’s eyes, imploring. He had to see the goodness of her cause. Just this once, let someone take her side. Let someone stand with her.
“Speaking for House Alsthen,” the man said slowly, “any theft against us is despicable. But Mr. Alson’s is the worse of the two. We will not press charges.”
Ella whooped before she stop herself, the crowd bursting into noise again.
“Quiet!” the arbiter called, pounding his staff. “I will have quiet!”
The crowd quieted after some time. Long enough for Ella to lock a delicious gaze on Odril. He slumped against his podium, looking quite alone. She had him.
“Does the attacking party wish to continue?”
“I do, your goodnesses, and my thanks to House Alsthen.” The pinched man nodded, face returned to impassivity. “I have no further arguments at this time. I believe the ledgers speak for themselves.”
The spokesman nodded. “Defense? Any rebuttals?”
Odril stood, sweating, hands working at the wood of the desk. His mouth opened and closed a number of times. “Go easy on me,” he finally burst out. “I didn’t mean harm, I swear it, I—“ He went on for some time, voice dropping until he was clearly talking to his voices alone.
The arbiter pounded his staff. “Councilors, what is your judgement?”
“Guilty,” the first said. “Guilty.” “Guilty.” The words passed down the line, unanimous.
Odril deflated. Clarella scowled, and Pruitt shoved hands in his pockets.
Ella smiled like the sun at daybreak. She’d won.
Sentencing came after a brief recess. The eight councilors had returned, along with the lieutenant arbiter and the bulk of the arbitration audience. Odril stood next to a pair of lawkeepers, pale face sweaty, hands working at something under his shirt. “Arbitration hereby finds Odril Alson guilty of gross theft against House Alsthen, total theft to be discovered, but not less than eight thousand marks. Councilor Alsthen, as principal shareholder, has asked for punishment to the full extent of the law. Mr. Alson is hereby stripped of citizenship for a period not less than five years, his assets seized and his position within House Alsthen summarily terminated.”
A low buzz of chatter erupted. It was nearly the full punishment allowable by law for non-lethal crimes. There’d been no mention of Prula’s house, however, or to whom it would be transferred. It wasn’t enough—Odril was ruined, but if Tunla and the others passed to any of the men Tunla had talked about, their situation would be no better.
“Councilors, if I may?”
The councilor reading the sentence looked up, and nodded.
“You know that I have not sought my own ends in this suit, and am content to see justice served. But I would ask a favor, that a particular holding of Mr. Alson’s—a calculism house in Hightown—be specifically remanded to Alsthen with its contracts dissolved. Many of the women there were forced into illegal contracts as I was, and though there may not be sufficient evidence to convict Mr. Alson of these charges as well, it would do a measure of justice to let these women renew their status on their own terms, rather than those forced upon them by inheritance clauses.”
The councilors put their heads together a moment. “Agreed, Ms. Aygla. All contracts will be dissolved, and renewal of work pendant to instating new contracts.”
Excellent. “I thank you councilors.” Arbitration was called then, the next suit to begin in a quarter-turn, and Ella filed out with the audience members, a few of whom congratulated her on a suit well-fought. The flow of people took her past Odril, who snarled, “This isn’t over, sow. Far from it. I have bigger friends than this. You’ll see.”
She tensed for an attack, for the hand clutching his shirt to draw out a knife, but the flow of people took her past without incident. She remembered then that he wore an iron pendant, a circle pierced with nine spears—she’d seen it the morning they fought. And the symbol clicked in her head: it was the same one drawn in the front of Sablo’s book—the one he’d been so hasty to take away.
She looked back, but the flow of people had already obscured him. Were Sablo and Odril connected somehow? Was that why Sablo had test
ified—from some secret loyalty?
What was the significance of a circle pierced with nine spears?
32
And of this bitter solitude
The Gods thought quick to make an end,
And built for us brethren aboard the moon,
Their fires constellating the dark orb.
But oh the bitter jest of gods,
If gods there be to laugh at us
That they are bound in heavn’ly orbit
And we stuck fast to dirt and rock,
Gazing nightly in wonder and awe,
Never the twain to meet.
--LeTwi, Reflections
Tai woke to music. It was soft, bittersweet and lilting, repeating each time with changes. There was a red glow in the air, the smell of sage. He tried to sit up, gasped.
The music stopped. “Tai?”
He knew that voice. “Lumo?”
A red-bearded face appeared above his, pipe still clamped between wide teeth. “You are awake. That is good. How do you feel?” The green eyes searched his, pressed delicately at his neck.
It came back then—the strike on the camp, Tulric, their fight— “You’re okay. Did we win?”
“I am okay. We escaped when you fell. Drink this.”
Tai tried to shake his head but the bandages were too thick, and strong hands held him steady. Something sweet poured in his throat, forcing him to swallow. “But the prisoners. The rebellion—“
Lumo shook his head. “They will wait, my friend. Sleep.”
He woke again to lamp light, Aelya sitting in her furs on a ledge in the small space. She was gnawing on a plug of dreamleaf.
He smiled. “Aelya. Prophets, it’s good to see you.” It came out as a croak.
Aelya jumped, turned to him. “It’s good to see you, Tai. Meckstained idiot for letting Tulric stab you.”
Tai shrugged, wincing at the motion. “I got mad.”
She laughed. “And you get stupid when you get mad. Like that time with Yolen?”
Tai grinned. “It was her fault, trying to sell us wormy barley.” He shook his head, thick with bandages. “Is everyone alright? Did we get the people out?”
