“They’ve closed their residence. If Erdyl’s right, the Hamorian envoy is the only one left here in Brysta, except for us.”
“How soon before the fighting starts, you think, ser?”
“I don’t know. Another eightday. Could be sooner. Could be later.”
“Even with guards, we can’t really protect the residence.”
“I know. We ought to have some supplies laid by so we could ride out in a hurry.”
“Yes, ser. Already been working on that. Khelaya’s been helping. Says she won’t go with us, but she’ll make sure we’re ready to go. Any chance of catching a ship back to Austra?”
“No. Not that I know of.” Besides, although Kharl wasn’t about to say so, leaving now didn’t feel right. Was that because he’d fled once before, and Warrl and Arthal had died? Was he being stubborn and foolish? What could he do?
Offer his services to Lord West? When the lord had sentenced and executed Charee, knowing she was innocent?
“Ser?”
“Just thinking.”
It was just half past the second glass of the morning when Mantar brought the carriage to a halt outside the Hall of Justice. After getting out, Kharl turned and looked at the driver. “This time, I’d like you to come back in a glass, Mantar, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry about the rain, but I’ll need you. If anything changes, Undercaptain Demyst will let you know.”
“Yes, ser. Thought that might be the way it was.”
Kharl readied himself, extending his order-senses, but he could detect nothing more than the usual minute trace of chaos that existed anywhere frequented by people. Once the two men stepped into the front foyer of the Hall of Justice, Undercaptain Demyst halted, stationing himself just inside the doors. Kharl walked on toward the two patroller guards.
“Just finishing the first one, ser.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“No, ser. Never does.”
Kharl slipped into the chamber, past the bailiff, who gave him a quick glance. Outside of those involved in the trial, the chamber was almost empty, except for a handful of men and a single woman in the front row on the left.
A sturdy man was being marched to face the justicer seated behind thelower podium desk in his blue velvet gown-Lord Justicer Reynol, round-faced, gray-haired, and blocky. Behind him, on the upper dais, the single carved high-backed seat was vacant.
“ … you have been accused of disturbing the peace and assaulting a patroller of the Watch. The first offense is a minority. The second is a majority against the Lord West. For the first, you are sentenced to five lashes. For the second you are sentenced to two years’ hard labor in the quarries.”
“No …”
“Any further outbursts will add another five lashes. Justice be done.”
“All stand!” ordered the bailiff.
As the patrollers led the prisoner out, followed by two other patrollers who might have been witnesses, Kharl eased up the side of the chamber. He stood waiting at the end of the first row on the right side.
Fasyn, sitting at the side table, glanced toward Kharl. Beside him was Dasult.
The young scrivener murmured to Fasyn. “That the advocate for the next one?”
“ … advocate … also lord and envoy from Austra … sometimes watches cases …″
The bailiff’s staff thudded three times. “Is there one who would take the Justicer′s Challenge? There being none, the renderer Werwal is here, accused of disturbing the peace, and a majority against the Lord, to be brought before justice!”
“Bailiff, bring forward Werwal, the renderer.”
The doors at the back opened, and two patrollers stepped into the chamber, with Werwal between them.
As they marched Werwal in, Kharl noted that the eyes of the woman on the other end of the first row followed the renderer. Behind Werwal and the patrollers came Fyngel, the tariff farmer, and behind him, the slender figure of a captain that Kharl recognized too well-Egen. Ostcrag’s son was surrounded by a mist of chaos, some of the chaos of having been exposed to magery and some the sullen reddish white chaos of evil. Kharl could also sense the chaos of a beating permeating Werwal.
Egen and Fyngel stood before the benches next to the aisle on the left side, less than ten cubits from Kharl.
“Does anyone represent the accused … Seeing no one-″
Kharl rose. “I would ask leave to represent the accused, your lordship.”
The lord justicer stopped and looked to Fasyn, seated at the black table to the side. “Fasyn? Is he a registered advocate?”
Kharl could sense Egen’s eyes upon him, but he did not turn.
“Ah … Lord Kharl is the envoy from Austra, your lordship,” Fasyn said nervously. “You have seen his credentials. There is no bar in the law to his representing the accused. That is, if the accused chooses to accept him as an advocate.”
Reynol looked directly at the renderer. “Werwal, the Austran envoy and advocate has asked leave to represent you. You may accept his offer or decline it.”
“It can’t be worse than it is,” mumbled the battered renderer.
“Yes or no? And be civil.”
“Yes, your mightiness. I will take aid from any quarter.”
“Be it noted that the advocate from Austra represents the renderer.”
Kharl stepped forward. He did not wish to get too close to Werwal. The renderer had been very perceptive. He might not be that observant in his current condition, but Kharl did not wish to offer him that choice.
“You, the renderer Werwal,” Reynol announced, “have been charged with obstructing the tariff farmer in the performance of his duties and in using violence against the Watch. Both are majority offenses against the Lord West. What you say or believe is not a question. We are here to do justice, and that justice is to determine whether you did so act.” Reynol seated himself.
From behind Kharl and Werwal came the rap of the bailiff’s staff. “All may sit.”
The patrollers sat Werwal in the armless chair of the accused. Kharl reseated himself on the bench.
The first witness called was Fyngel, the tariff farmer who had once tripled Kharl’s tariffs on Egen′s orders. Fyngel avoided looking at Kharl as he described his efforts to inspect Werwal’s property.
“ … told him he had to let me see everything. He said that I’d already inspected his place, and I needed a warrant from the lord justicer for a second inspection. He barred the door. Wouldn’t let me in. Told him I didn’t need no warrant thing.”
Kharl watched Reynol with his order-senses. From the lord justicer’s reactions, Kharl got the impression that such a warrant was needed-or that Reynol thought it was.
“What did you do then?” asked the lord justicer.
“I went and told Captain Egen. Stopping a tariff farmer in his duties, that’s for the Watch.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I didn′t do anything, your lordship. Heard that the Watch had taken Werwal, and I figured that was something for your lordship.”
Reynol nodded, then turned to Kharl. “Do you have any questions?”
Kharl stood. “Just a few, your lordship.” He faced the tariff farmer. “Has anyone ever asked you for a warrant before?”
“No, ser. Never needed one.”
“Have you ever asked the justicers about the need for a warrant?”
“No.” Fyngel looked puzzled.
“I would like to note, your lordship, that the renderer was acting within the precedents and the Code when he requested a warrant.”
“So noted, advocate.” Reynol looked to the patroller seated beside Egen. “Serjeant Feryt, please step forward.”
The narrow-faced patroller with the two stripes on his shoulder stepped forward.
“Please explain what happened when you and your men went to the renderer’s?”
“Not all that much to say, your lordship. We went there, like the captain said, and we knocked on the gate. There weren’t no answer. We knocked again, and there weren’t no answer then, either. So we broke out the hinges and went into the front courtyard. The renderer there, he had a staff, and he laid out Hionot and Jospak cold. Busted Calsot’s arm so bad he’ll be mustered out. Took the rest of us to lay him out.” The serjeant shrugged.