Some of his colleagues had been rather less discerning, however. They’d intended to treat Shaylar as a hostile witness, and treat her as a hostile witness they had. Squadron Master Olvarn Gerandyr, the court-martial’s Navy representative and second ranking member, had led the way. Gerandyr was a Chalaran, from the Arcanan equivalent of Esferia, the enormous island off the peninsula of Yar Khom, and Thankhar Olderhan (who’d known him for over twenty-five years) had warned Jathmar he was about as tactful as a brick at the best of times. He was also, the duke had said, a man of honor who would do his best to consider the evidence, but it had been obvious the squadron master was one of those who regarded all things Sharonian-and especially Sharonians with those unnatural “Talents”-with profound suspicion.
“So, Madam Nargra-Kolmayr,” he’d begun in a sharp, aggressive tone, “you continue to assert that your ‘party of civilians’ had nothing but peaceful motives, do you? Perhaps, then, you’d care to explain why all of you were armed to the teeth? And why, when you realized there was another survey force in the area your immediate response was to run-run in a body-for the nearest portal rather than sending a single member of your group, or even a small delegation of it, to attempt to establish nonviolent contact with it? Surely people with these ‘Talents’ of yours should’ve been able to locate and contact Hundred Olderhan’s platoon without precipitating a bloodbath if you’d chosen to make that effort instead of settling into what can only be described as an ambush position!”
Shaylar had stepped back half a pace, wincing under the power of the emotions rolling off of him. Then she’d rallied.
“I’m not ‘asserting’ anything,” she’d replied in an equally sharp tone. “I’m telling you what actually happened-exactly what happened-and your own lie-detection spells should tell you I’m doing it as honestly as I possibly can.”
“Oh, really?” Gerandyr had scowled. “And how do we know our spellware even works against someone with your ‘Talent’? All we have is your word for that. And, frankly, I’m not at all convinced we should accept it. Besides that-”
“Magister Gadrial’s also explained that-” Shaylar had begun, but Gerandyr’s palm had slapped the top of the bench before him like a gunshot.
“I was speaking, Madam!” He’d glared at her, flushed with anger. “You’d do well to remember your situation here! In the eyes of this court, you and your husband-”
“Are my son’s shardonai.” Sathmin Olderhan’s cold, clear voice had cut through Gerandyr’s bluster like a scalpel. It had also snapped the ship master’s eyes to her, and her smile had been even colder than her words.
“Shaylar and Jathmar come under the house honor of House Olderhan and the civil protection of the Duchy of Garth Showma under the provisions of the Code of Housip,” she’d continued with merciless precision, “and that code-like the Kerellian Accords-was given formal force of law and incorporated into the Articles of War-by the Union’s Constitution at the time it was drafted. They are members of my family, Squadron Master, and I’ll thank you to remember that!”
“Your Grace,” Gerandyr had started, “I was merely-”
“I know precisely what you were doing, Olvarn Gerandyr,” the duchess had said crisply. “However, you will not verbally abuse, or threaten, or attempt to frighten a member of my family! Shaylar is not your prisoner, nor is she accused of any crime. The worst that can possibly be alleged against her is that she and her companions defended themselves against attack by a far larger force of trained soldiers. That they did it superlatively well is to their credit and no grounds for abusing her when she and her husband are captives so far from home! If you wish to lodge formal charges against her, then I invite you to do so.” She’d bared her teeth. “I don’t think you’d like how that would turn out, Ship Master, but by all means try, if that’s what you want. In the meantime, however, you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you interrogate a member of my family.” She’d paused, sweeping the assembled, momentarily petrified court with cold eyes.
“I trust,” she’d added then in velvet tones wrapped around a dagger of ice, “that I’ve made myself clear?”
She had.
Under the circumstances, the court had decided to excuse Shaylar from any further examination that day and allowed her to return to Garth Showma House. Clearly, they’d hoped the duchess would go with her.
She hadn’t.
With Shaylar absent, Jathmar had, perforce, borne the brunt of the officers’ questions about Sharona, but with the duchess sitting silent and watchful at his side, they’d been remarkably calm, even courteous about it. They hadn’t been any less suspicious or thorough, but they’d definitely watched how they asked those questions, and he was just as happy they’d been asking them of him. He might not be good at lying and prevaricating, but he was better at it than Shaylar. He’d succeeded in tiptoeing through the brutal day without once tripping the lie-detection spell’s alarm, which he considered quite an achievement.
But today, thank all the gods of Faltharia, he wouldn’t be formally testifying in a witness chair. He had little doubt he’d be questioned; but he felt more capable out here, more in control and far more comfortable with the subject matter at hand. Even breathing fresh, clean open air helped.
Jasak was explaining his plan to the officers of the court. Jathmar watched their faces, predicting an outburst at any moment. That outburst came twenty seconds later.
“Are you mad, sir?” Count Sogbourne demanded incredulously. “Allow a prisoner to touch-to operate-a terror weapon? In the presence of the Commandery of Arcana and the entire War Ops and Intel Committee? Including your own father and Speaker Skyntaru? Not to mention us? Are you mad?”
The “us” in question was the glittering row of officers selected to try Jasak, who remained perfectly calm and formally at ease.
“Jathmar Nargra is the most appropriate person to demonstrate these weapons, Sir,” he replied in a patient, firm tone. “My father, by the way, concurs with that opinion, because Jathmar understands their function and operation far better than I do. And he’s not going to commit suicide and leave his wife alone to face a lifetime of imprisonment, either, I assure you!”
His argument made perfect sense to Jathmar, but no member of the court was likely to care very much what he thought. For that matter, they didn’t seem overly impressed by what Duke Garth Showma thought, either.
Under the circumstances, he wasn’t surprised when Sogbourne insisted Jasak conduct the demonstration. In fact, they’d all expected that reaction, and Jathmar had spent two and a half hours the previous evening coaching Jasak on how to load and operate the rifle and handgun they planned to use today. Jasak had already fired each type of weapon, but that had been weeks and eighty-five thousand miles-and a multitude of universes-ago. Firing a weapon someone else had loaded, just enough times to realize its true power, was hardly sufficient preparation for a demonstration of this kind.
So Jathmar had coached him, resisting the fleeting notion of teaching him an incorrect technique that would cause the Commandery to dismiss the guns as unreliable and far less effective than they really were. It was so tempting he could taste it, but he couldn’t do that without putting Jasak at risk of serious injury, and he wouldn’t-dared not-risk the death of Jasak Olderhan.