The lad tapped a knuckle on the top fieldstone of the enclosing wall. ‘Well. We’ll see. If he doesn’t return, then I’ll just have to catch up with him elsewhere.’ And he ambled off, whistling tunelessly to himself.
Lee remained behind for a time, still shivering, yet perhaps this time with the wet chill of the island. It now seemed to her that perhaps Gef had made a mistake in sending for this odd fellow; that they were caught up in something far beyond the usual mere scuffle of street-gangs. Something far more deadly, and rather frightful.
She decided then that Gef be damned. She’d keep her head down in the future – especially in any fight involving someone who made her skin crawl the way this one did.
* * *
Locked in his unofficial prison, Tayschrenn did not bother to keep track of the mundane passage of days. He was intent upon his meditation, and this, when he achieved total focus, was by definition timeless. And so it was something of a surprise when some strangeness drew him back to himself. He blinked, centring himself upon the here and now, and he found two of Tallow’s cult proctors standing by the open door to his cell, their staves just lowering from prodding him.
He nodded and slowly straightened on his numb tingling legs. The proctors pointed the way, directing him by a roundabout route through unused narrow tunnels to a closed door that he recognized as a side way into the inner temple audience chamber.
So. The trial would be held here in the secret precinct rather than the open main temple. The audience would be kept to a minimum, all high-ranked cult functionaries. Tallow had stacked the deck as thoroughly as possible.
No matter. He was innocent of any wrongdoing; that truth would prove undeniable.
They waited, one guard behind, the other before him at the door. Presently, the small door was opened. The priestess who opened it was a red-robed court custodian – a Fang of D’rek – who carried one small curved blade only, but this was more than enough to enforce order, for its sheath was sealed in wax and the blade saturated in a scorpion’s venom so potent that just being a Fang was the most deadly position in the cult, from accidental poisonings alone.
The hatchet-faced woman gestured him in. Only now did a tinge of unease brush his spine as it occurred to him that court sentences were sometimes served in a rather summary manner, and usually by the Fangs of D’rek. He entered, squinting momentarily, as the audience hall was very dark. Deliberately so, of course. The bench behind the heavy basalt table held seven judges – seven high-ranked priests. Tallow sat at the centre, the position of the Demidrek, and seeing this Tayschrenn could not keep a frown from his face. Before the court stood one priest whom Tayschrenn was surprised to recognize as Feneresh – he had not thought him sufficiently high in rank to be involved at this level. Similarly, he remembered two on the court as being far too low to be serving as magistrates. None were particular friends of his, nor allies of Ithell, while two, Salleen and Allatch, stood as longtime rivals of the former Demidrek. Tallow must have promoted these mid-echelon priests and priestesses within the last month. That sickening feeling returned to him in strength. He had not even considered the possibility of such a thorough winnowing of the ranks. Tallow had been very busy indeed.
He peered round the hall and made out a small audience, very small given the charges and – he presumed – the importance of the case. Feneresh gestured to him and announced to the court, ‘The accused.’ And from his pompous and self-satisfied smile, the loathsome fellow was obviously in his element.
The trial, Tayschrenn was surprised to see, had been in session for some time. Feneresh, acting as the prosecution, had already made his opening statement and now called upon a series of lesser priests and priestesses to answer questions regarding the accused. Tayschrenn could only lift one brow in silent commentary as he heard himself described variously as unfriendly, dismissive, cold, unfeeling, aloof, conceited, vain, ruthlessly ambitious, self-seeking, self-obsessed, deceitful, manipulative, and careerist.
He only frowned at the last few; these he’d certainly take issue with. He drew breath and addressed the court, speaking over Feneresh as he droned on. ‘All very well … but flaws of character are no crime.’
Feneresh threw his arms up in exasperation as if to say:
Tallow, he noted, remained unmoved, his thick arms crossed. It was Salleen who leaned forward, fingers tapping the stone slab table before the court. Old Salleen, whose official role was overseeing cult discipline – such as at the Pits. ‘Of course,’ she agreed. She directed a cold glance to Feneresh. ‘You do have complaints of a material kind?’
Feneresh bowed. ‘Of course, ma’am. Merely laying the groundwork.’ He waved to another of the Fangs of D’rek. ‘Bring forth the priest Imarish Laccon.’
