The advocate turned his back on the dais momentarily to glance up at the rearmost gallery, where the merchants were listening with interest.
“Even if Kellarin has only a fifth the riches of tradition, it is most assuredly a wealthy land. We don’t even know how far it extends, what resources might be found over its distant horizons. Small wonder that the House of D’Olbriot covets it all. But all the wealth of Kellarin pales into insignificance when we consider other advantages that might accrue to D’Olbriot as a result of this exclusive association with D’Alsennin. We’ve all heard the rumours, haven’t we, ancient enchantments safeguarding these lost colonists and arcane magic sustaining them?” He laughed for a moment with delicate scepticism. “Well, much of this may be mere fireside fancy, but no one can deny the presence of young Esquire D’Alsennin here today.” This time he turned to look full at Temar and everyone in the court and the gallery above did the same. About half looked envious while the rest seemed faintly repelled.
“Esquire D’Alsennin,” the advocate repeated, “who was stabbed, beaten and left for dead in the dirt of the road. Not two days later he sits before us, hale and hearty. Does the House of D’Olbriot propose to share the esoteric arts that make this possible? Will we be spared the death of our loved ones in childbed, our sons and daughters saved from pestilence? Such magic supposedly safeguarded the Old Empire and wrought more wonders besides. Can one truly send word back and forth across hundreds of leagues in the blink of an eye? Does D’Olbriot propose to share such knowledge, or keep the advantages for himself while the rest of us are limited to the Imperial Despatch?” The advocate looked apologetic. “I do not mean to disparage those excellent couriers, but it is undeniable fact that a horse can only cover so much ground in one day.”
He turned briskly on his heel, walking up and down before the screened dais. “That a mighty House might succumb to the temptations of selfishness and greed is understandable, if regrettable. But such base emotions cannot go unchallenged, lest they unbalance the compact of mutual respect that knits our Empire together. That’s why we’re all here today. My esteemed companions advance the most basic claims of those other Names with legitimate interest in Kellarin. I argue in defence of common justice and against abuse of noble privilege. As always, it falls to the Emperor to redress the balance.”
Bowing first to the faceless screen, the advocate turned to walk back to the table where his clerks were sitting. I saw a suitably modest smile as he lifted his face to the gallery, guileless warm brown eyes inviting everyone to agree with his entirely disinterested speech.
Messire’s advocate, Master Burquest, was walking to his own lectern, smoothing the grey silk of his robe over his plain blue coat sleeve. He looked up at the centre of the screen. “May Raeponin hold me to my oath.” He spoke simply, as if he were talking directly to the Emperor. “I’m here to argue for D’Olbriot. I’ll show that the House’s interest in Kellarin was an unforeseen consequence of attempts by men sworn to the Name to uncover the reasons for robbery and attack suffered by a son of that House. Surely no one will deny D’Olbriot the right to protect its own? I’ll argue that it’s hardly reasonable to complain the free flow of commerce is being restricted when trade with Kellarin is still barely a trickle. I can show that with the briefest survey of the Name’s accounts.” He waved a dismissive hand before voice and face turned serious, still focused on the unseen Emperor.
“I will show that magecraft is used to cross the ocean from simple necessity. Surely no one would suggest that the perils of the open ocean be needlessly risked when there are ways to lessen the dangers? That would hardly be reasonable — or should I say rational?” Everyone in the gallery was hanging on Burquest’s words now, a smile here, a nod there approving his dry, unhurried delivery.
“It is just as reasonable for Esquire D’Alsennin,” Burquest raised a finger, “in the absence of a Sieur of that Name for the present, just as reasonable for him to turn for advice and support to the Sieur of the House that risked so much, both materially and in reputation, to help those lost across the ocean. Perhaps, had Den Domesin and Tor Priminale shared in those initial expeditions, rather than dismissing D’Olbriot’s folly, those Houses might have been able to make themselves known to their distant cousins. Esquire Albarn and Demoiselle Guinalle might well have been grateful for their aid and counsel. We’ll never know, because they have been entirely ignored by their erstwhile Names. Tor Arrial, on the other hand, have shown us all a better way, welcoming their long-lost daughter and undertaking to work with D’Olbriot in supporting the colonists in Kellarin in their future endeavours.”
Burquest didn’t look at Avila, which was probably just as well because I could see her neck going pink from where I was sitting. So the Sieur had got Tor Arrial on his side; that was good news. But even a hundredth share of the Kellarin trade would go a long way to restoring the Name to its former status. Diminished as it was at present, Tor Arrial didn’t have a lot to lose.
Burquest leaned his elbows on his lectern. “Of course, any actions or circumstance can look good or bad, depending on your point of view. Which is why we trust this court to listen to all the arguments, to take a wider perspective and give judgement without fear or favour.” He smiled warmly at the fretted screen and turned to walk calmly back to his table.
There was a muted bustle of activity behind the screen and a small bell sounded. At that signal the clerks all burst into activity, some scribbling furiously, others sorting through ledgers and notes. Conversation hummed round the gallery, low-voiced speculation ringing with anticipation.
“Is that it?” Temar looked at me in perplexity. “What now?”
“Each advocate presents his argument in detail, point by point, calling evidence as he goes.” I pointed to the deed boxes and stacks of ledgers piled high down the middle of each table. Burquest sat at his ease, chatting with a smile for his clerks and idly fanning himself with a leaf of parchment. Den Domesin’s advocate on the other hand was frantically concentrating on a closely written sheet of paper and Den Muret’s man looked positively unwell. Each had a much smaller team of clerks, some of whom looked barely old enough to shave.
“When does D’Olbriot’s man get a chance to answer?” demanded Temar.
“Every time the Emperor thinks the point in question has been made and he wants to hear from the other side.” I nodded at the screen. “You’ll hear the bell.”
“What good will any of this do?” Avila hissed with irritation. “You people mouth the words that should secure your justice and yet you all remain free to lie and dissemble.”
The Sieur, myself and Camarl looked at her in confusion.
“Forgive me but I don’t understand,” Camarl apologised for all of us.
Avila turned in her seat, face hard. “The invocation, what does it mean to you?”
Camarl raised uncomprehending brows. “It’s a reminder to all involved to act honestly.”
“Penalties are imposed, for any found forsworn,” Messire assured her.
“Those words once invoked Artifice proof against any forswearing!” Avila took a breath and forced herself to speak more quietly. “Enchantment should make it impossible for anyone to speak a lie within this court.”
“It was ever thus, in our day,” Temar agreed grimly.
“What happens to someone lying?” frowned Camarl. I knew what he was thinking; we’ve all heard the nursery tales of the fox who’d lied to Talagrin about who’d eaten the plover’s eggs. His tongue turned black and shrivelled up, but I couldn’t see any advantage to D’Olbriot if that happened to some opposing advocate. The House’s associations with magic were clearly going to be used against us and any overt display would just condemn the Sieur further.