"Why?" Rod looked up. "Because it gives us a way to have a body, where there isn't a Wolman missing?"
Chornoi shook her head. "That body was a real Wolman."
Rod frowned. "How can they tell? Tattoos?"
"That, and other tribal marks."
Cholly nodded in agreement. "Yer wouldn't notice 'em in the usual course of action. However, fer yerselves, yer might be able to use 'em to win a stay of execution, by demanding that Hwun prove none of his own people was responsible fer the murder, nor that it wasn't committed by no impersonator, neither."
Rod smiled slowly, and Gwen said, "They're as likely to demand that we prove there were no false Wolmen had a blade into this, either."
"True," Rod agreed, "but no one could expect us to have evidence about real Wolmen, could they?" He grinned at Chornoi. "Thanks, lady. That might win us time."
"I'm not a lady," Chornoi snapped.
Before Rod could say it, they heard the tavern door open upstairs, and a dozen pairs of boots tramped across the floor above their heads.
"Ah!" Cholly looked upward. "Yer escort's come, I dare say."
The troop didn't lead them to Shacklar's office. Instead, it took them to a giant log cabin between the tavern and the administrative compound.
"What is this?" Rod asked the lieutenant. "Town Hall?"
"Close enough," the man growled, and he threw the door open. Rod and Gwen marched in, shoulders square and chins high. Their escort followed.
Rod took a quick look around. Inside, you couldn't have told it was built of logs. The walls were paneled and plastered, and the furniture was so smoothly finished that, at first glance, it looked like plastic.
There was a beautifully finished desk, too, squarely in front of Rod, and at least six feet high. Shacklar would've been dwarfed behind it, if his chair hadn't been so huge and ornate. Real leather upholstery, Rod noted. Well, colonists had to make do with what they could find.
The side desks were just as sumptuous, but a foot shorter. The one at the left had five Wolmen behind it, and the one at the right had five soldiers, each of whom had officer's insignia gleaming on his collar tabs.
Rod scanned the scene and saw the basis for a constitution.
A sergeant stepped out in front of Shacklar's bench, thumped the floor with an oaken pole tipped with chalk, and bellowed, "Order in the court!"
Rod bit back the traditional rejoinder, but Gwen caught his thought, and had to suppress a smile.
"Accused, please present yourselves," Shacklar said quietly.
Rod looked at Gwen. Gwen looked at Rod. They shrugged, and took a joint step forward.
"How do you plead?" Shacklar inquired.
"Guilty, or not guilty?" the sergeant prompted.
"Not guilty," Rod said firmly.
"Proof!" Hwun was on his feet behind the Wolmen's bench. "What proof them show? Must give evidence that them not do murder!"
"Come to that, I don't believe I'd mentioned that a murder had been committed," Shacklar mused. "Horrible oversight. But really, old chap, I must request that if you intend to prosecute the case, you remove yourself from the bench."
Hwun stared at him, then slowly nodded. "It is sensible."
Rod stared in amazement as the Wolman came down from the bench and around in front of it. The move seemed completely at odds with what he knew of the intractable, hostile Wolman chief. Why had he been so quick to agree?
There was a slight stirring at the back of the room, near the outer door. Out of the corner of his eye, Rod noticed Yorick and Chornoi slide in quietly. He bit his lip in vexation—he hadn't wanted them to get pulled in so openly. The soldiers might assume guilt by association.
But it was nice to feel their support.
Hwun strode up to glower at Rod and Gwen. "You say you not guilty. Give proof!"
Rod suddenly realized that he and Hwun were going to determine, right here and now, whether Wolmar's legal code would be basically Napoleonic, or basically English. If it were basically Napoleonic, it would assume that the accused was guilty, and had to prove his innocence, which meant that the rights of the individual wouldn't be the most important element in the constitution about to be born.
"No," Rod said softly. "It's not our job to prove we're innocent. You have to prove we're guilty!"
Hwun just stared at him, and his gaze was so cold that
Rod could have sworn it was giving him frostbite.
"That's so."
The Chief Chief spun around to look at the colonists' bench. A slender officer was on his feet. With a shock, Rod recognized the officer who had been so courteous to them on the Wall the morning before.
"Lieutenant Corrigan," Shacklar acknowledged. "On what basis do you state agreement with the accused?"
"Why not?" Corrigan answered, with an easy smile. "Still, it's common sense, sir. We know nothing of these two people, except that a Wolman patrol chased them to us. If anything, that would indicate a Wolman bias against them. No, really, in all fairness, we must ask that some reason be given for believing them guilty of a capital crime."
"The point is well-taken." Shacklar turned to the Wolmen's bench. "Those of us present at the hearing yesterday morning have heard such reasons, but the majority of the individuals making up this court have not. We will hear it stated anew."
Rod breathed a sigh of relief—the English concept had won out. The laws of Wolmar would assume that the accused was innocent, and the state would have to prove his guilt, which meant that the rights of the individual would be the most important element in the embryonic constitution. All of a sudden, the term "founding fathers" gained a whole new meaning.
Shacklar turned back to Corrigan. "However, Lieutenant, I must ask that if you intend to take the part of the accused, you also step down from your bench."
Thereby preserving an equal number on each side, Rod noted, as well as establishing the functions of prosecutor and defense. He hoped Shacklar would be as careful in his judgment as he was in his establishing of precedents.
Corrigan stared blankly for a moment, then heaved a sigh and stepped down to the floor.
Shacklar turned back to Hwun. "Please present your proofs, Chief Chief, your reasons why we should believe these two people murdered a Wolman."
Hwun only stared at him.
Shacklar leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, totally at ease.
Finally, Hwun said, "They were there."
Rod breathed a sigh of relief. The English concept had triumphed.
"Yester morning," Hwun went on, "them outside Wall. Outside, in middle of plain. Who know where before that?"
"Precisely," Corrigan agreed. "Who does know?"
Hwun didn't even acknowledge him. "Wolman found dead. Dead, at Sun-Greeting Place. Me found body! Who would kill him? Only colonist!" His finger stabbed out at Rod and Gwen. "Only them outside Wall—no reason! So!" He folded his arms across his chest. "Them kill Wolman."
"Oh, come now!" Corrigan scoffed. "There were traders outside the Wall, too, and Wolmen from other tribes. Even if you assume that no member of his own tribe would kill him…" He spun to the General, stabbing a forefinger. "Which point has not been established, sir!" Then back to Hwun. "Even if, //, no member of his own tribe slew him, there's no reason to think a member of another tribe didn't!"
Hwun kept his face turned toward Shacklar. "Wolmen not bloodthirsty."
Shacklar sat very still, and the faces of the other officers froze. Rod could almost hear the laughter they were holding back, and really could hear them thinking, That's not how it looked!
"Wolmen not slay other Wolmen!" Hwun thundered.
The officers' faces stayed frozen. Just what the blinking hell do you think you were doing when we came here— holding community picnics?