‘…can’t come in right now, miss!’ they heard him say.
‘They said he was here!’ insisted the young woman, knocking the keeper’s hand away.
An older woman appeared at the door behind the young woman. This one was obviously blind, as she was leaning on a stick and holding the door frame. ‘Essie?’ she said, but Essie – Bel assumed Essie was the young woman – wasn’t answering. As Essie’s head turned, her eyes fixed on a point and blazed.
‘There!’ she shouted, pointing at Corlas. ‘There he is, Mother! He’s there! It’s him! That man!’ she screamed, ignoring the peacekeeper trying to quiet her. ‘That’s the swine who murdered my father! HE KILLED MY FATHER!’
She screamed it again and again, stabbing her finger like a dagger of justice. Her blind mother called plaintively from the door frame, and everyone else stood and stared.
‘Oh, yes!’ shouted the woman. ‘I recognise you, you swine, you dog, you filthy, murdering –’
‘Enough!’ roared Bel, stepping forward. ‘Cease this slanderous outpour lest I choke it to a stop! This man is Corlas Corinas, the hero of the Shining Mines, a soldier of Kainordas! Who are you to dare sully him with these baseless accusations?’
‘Do you deny it?’ spat Essie, still staring at Corlas.
‘Of course he denies it!’ shouted Bel, and whirled to his father.
Corlas stood frozen, staring at Essie, his expression ashen. Bel blinked, not understanding what he was seeing.
‘Father?’
More guards appeared. ‘Seize her,’ said Baygis. Essie continued to scream and claw at the keepers who held her, while her mother sobbed. ‘Take her to a holding room, and see the blind woman is given a place to wait.’
‘What madness is this?’ said Bel.
‘That,’ said Baygis calmly, ‘is exactly what we shall find out.’
The hatred from this young woman is astounding, sent Fahren.
Yes, replied Baygis. She believes it so vehemently .
They were in one of the rooms used to house prisoners before trial, featureless but for a table at which the girl Essie sat. A guard behind her forced her down each time she tried to rise, to shake her fists in anger, to scream and yell. It took time to get any sense from her.
It was over twenty years ago, said Baygis. And she remembers only a big man with a big beard. Many fit that description. A man with a similar beard and build to Corlas would be easy to mistake.
But his name, said Fahren. She knows his name.
‘How did you learn the name of this man?’ Baygis demanded.
‘What?’
‘His name, girl! You knew the name Corlas. Did you learn it during the attack?’
Essie stared back defiantly. Baygis laid his hands on the table and leaned in close, piercing her with power-filled eyes. She faltered before them, her gaze flickering downwards.
‘You didn’t, did you?’ said Baygis. ‘Even insane murderers usually don’t leave their names behind for witnesses to remember.’ He sent magic into her, slipping around her tongue and vocal cords, making them pliable to the truth. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘How did you learn the name Corlas?’
Essie gulped. Only the strongest of wills withstood Baygis’s ability to force out the truth.
‘Arkus,’ she gasped.
‘What?’
‘Arkus sent us a messenger!’ she said shrilly. Again she tried to stand, but the guard behind placed strong hands on her shoulders. ‘He said we deserved justice!’ she shouted. ‘He said that the crimes against our family had gone unpunished long enough! He said that the Sun God himself had deemed us worthy to know the name of our transgressor!’
‘A messenger?’ prompted Baygis, raising an eyebrow.
‘Iassia!’ shouted the girl. ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell!’
Iassia? came Fahren’s thought. The weaver you caught?
Yes. He obviously has some dark purpose in this.
‘Essie, listen to me,’ said Baygis slowly. ‘That bird is a manipulator of minds. Do you understand? He is no servant of Arkus. This name he gave you means nothing.’
Essie shook her head miserably. ‘I know him,’ she said. ‘I’ll remember his face till the day I die. He killed my father. He ruined everything! After he came, the farm fell to dung around us. My mother could hardly get out of bed. It is no lie. It is no lie. ’ She fell back, exhausted by her struggles.
What could the bird want? asked Fahren.
I don’t know. But we cannot trust this girl.
Her conviction is powerful, though, said Fahren. For all their skill, I do not think weavers can reinvent memories. Baygis, she truly believes that Corlas murdered her father.
Do you?
There was a pause. No, said Fahren. Not yet. But I find it worrying. Weavers are extremely intelligent. I don’t think this Iassia would have underestimated our ability to discover he’d played a role here. And …
What?
Weavers have the power to silence those they enter into a bargain state with – yet Iassia didn’t invoke that power here. If he’d made a deal with this girl, we’d never have discovered his involvement. Yet he didn’t block us from finding that out.
What are you saying?
That weavers are magnificent engineers, Baygis. Right now, we might be doing exactly what Iassia wants.
You mean he wants us to question Corlas?
Yes.
We must still question him, said Baygis.
Yes, said Fahren, his face growing worried.
I cannot see Corlas’s hand in this, said Baygis. The man has been a faithful servant of the light for as long as we’ve known him. He fought the Shadowdreamer himself, by Arkus!
Let us see him.
They went to the next room. It was just like the first, except Corlas sat at the table, his expression unreadable.
‘Taskmaster Corlas,’ said Baygis, drawing up a seat. Fahren did the same.
‘High Overseer. High Mage.’
Baygis glanced at Fahren. Do we mention the bird?
Not yet.
‘These are troubling accusations, Corlas,’ said Baygis, and his face indeed was troubled. ‘What do you have to say about them?’
Corlas stared back from under bushy brows. ‘I do not know this young woman, nor her mother,’ he said. ‘I did not kill their kin.’
‘You were in that area, though, around the time of the crime,’ said Fahren. ‘Were you not? On your journey between Whisperwood and the Halls?’
‘You know that to be the case,’ said Corlas. ‘I would not deny it.’
‘And you never stopped at the farm where these women lived?’
‘No.’
He has always been difficult to read, said Fahren. When he first returned to the Halls and explained absconding from the army with a story of enchantment, I could not fault him. It was a version of the truth, however, and …
You sense a lie in this?
Yes.
I shall ask about the bird.
When Fahren raised no objection, Baygis went ahead. ‘Have you ever had dealings with a weaver bird, Corlas? The one called Iassia, perhaps, whom I tracked down outside Kadass?’
Corlas opened his mouth, and paused. Then he said, ‘No.’
‘Corlas,’ said Fahren, ‘please – we are not your enemies. We don’t think you’re a murderer, but there is something more to this, something beyond mistaken identity. Those women were coaxed here by a weaver – a weaver who knew your name.’