“Oh? And you saw this?”
“I did. He came around just before dark. I was finishing the last of my orders. I’d gone to the rear of the shop when I heard the door open. I came back to the front in time to see Haivel throw a bucket of paint over the latest bolt of fine cloth I’d ordered from Sunhame! You have no idea how much that cloth cost. It was ruined. Haivel laughed at me—laughed at me—and ran out of the shop.”
Levron leaned back in his chair. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think Haivel was that sort.”
“Well, he is. You haven’t been in town for years and haven’t seen the change in him. I immediately went to the authorities and made my report.”
“Did they arrest Haivel?”
Barro’s face darkened. “They talked to him. He denied everything. He said he had a witness who would swear he was nowhere near my shop that night.”
“And his father took his side?”
“Of course. Dear Haivel, beloved only son, who couldn’t have done anything so dishonest.”
“So you’re taking the case to court.”
Barro squared his shoulders. “I am. Now, old friend, any advice?”
Old friend? Levron all but laughed. Barro had never been a friend . . . an off-and-on comrade, but never a friend. In fact, when he and Barro had been young boys, Barro had been somewhat of a bully, with Levron taking most of the abuse when the two of them were together.
“No advice other than to tell the truth. Judge Perran is quite adept at knowing who’s lying and who’s not. As I’ve told you, I’m not a legalist. I do know a person who lies before him is in worse trouble than if he had not.”
“Some help you are,” Barro muttered. “I guess that’s all I can expect. After all, you aren’t the judge, your master is.”
Levron smiled, despite the veiled insult. “I wish you the best, Barro. Destruction of property is a crime and should be punished.”
“You’re damned right!” Barro shoved his chair away from the table, tossed down a copper coin, and stood. “I suppose I’ll see you again.” And with that, he turned and made his way toward the tavern’s door.
Levron’s shoulders slumped, and he relaxed somewhat, amazed that this meeting had made him so tense. Once again, he felt the pressure of memories from the past. Barro, Haivel, and Trika. He knew, or thought he knew, them all. And, he admitted, he was growing more than relieved he no longer lived in Streamwood.
Perran looked up when Levron entered the room they shared. From the expression on his assistant’s face, he had not spent a pleasant time out in the town.
“Well, did you see anyone you know?”
Levron frowned. “A few. No one I considered close. I did see one of the people you’re to judge tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Barro.”
“Ah, the fellow whose cloth was ruined, who reported it was done by Haivel.”
“Yes.”
“That’s interesting. A man by the name of Haivel came here looking for you. I can’t believe you didn’t pass him on your way in.” Perran watched Levron closely. “You might want to go out and see if he’s still around. What did Barro have to say?”
“What didn’t he have to say! He told me the whole story, how Haivel ruined a bolt of expensive cloth by dumping a bucket of paint on it. All out of jealousy . . . over, of course, Trika. The two of them are trying to court her. She’d spent all her time with Haivel and then started seeing Barro. He wanted advice, which I refused to give him. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
Perran nodded. What Levron told him matched information he’d received before he had agreed to judge this case. However, a new twist had arisen when Levron had gone out earlier and Haivel had come looking for him, information Perran wasn’t yet ready to share. Let Levron find out himself, unprepared for what he would hear. Not being forewarned, his reaction would be unlikely to arouse suspicion of prior knowledge. This, in itself, could aid his observations later. If he could find Haivel.
And the way events had transpired so far, Perran was certain Levron would do just that.
It didn’t take long for Levron to locate Haivel. The inn sported a few tables and chairs to the side of the building where, when weather permitted, people could sit and drink or share a dinner. Agreeing with Perran, Levron was surprised Haivel had missed his recent arrival. He drew a calming breath as he approached another person from his past.
“Levron!” Haivel smiled and nodded his greeting. “Sit, sit. It’s been a long time.”
“That it has,” Levron acknowledged. “So how has life been treating you?”
“I’ve done well. You know I’m a scribe. There’s a good life to be made writing for folk who don’t have the skill.”
“I can only imagine.”
“So you’re assistant to Judge Perran, are you? You obviously made something of yourself when you left Streamwood for Sunhame.”
“I did, and I’ve never regretted it.”
“You know I’m going to trial tomorrow.” Once the polite pleasantries had passed, Haivel jumped straight to the point.
Levron briefly closed his eyes. “And I won’t give you any advice if you ask for it. I can’t.”
Haivel drew back slightly in his chair, his handsome face darkened. “And why is that?”
Fresh memories of his conversation with Barro surfaced, but he refused to let Haivel know the two of them had spoken a short time before.
“I’m slightly aware of the case, but,” Levron repeated, “I don’t know the law, and I can’t offer any advice save to tell the truth.”
Haivel snorted. “Well, let me tell you, if Barro thinks he’s going to have a judgment entered against me, I’m countering him with my own accusation.”
“Oh?” Levron blinked in surprise. “And what did Barro do that you’re going after him in court?”
“He came into my shop one afternoon, in broad daylight mind you, and took a knife to an entire shipment of paper sitting on the counter before I could stop him. Cut it into pieces! Do you have any idea how much paper costs?”
Or what the going price is for a bolt of fine cloth? Levron shook his head in disbelief. “I couldn’t guess, but it probably wouldn’t be cheap.”
“It’s not! I don’t have any idea what possessed him! He’s been acting strange ever since . . .”
Levron waited, refusing to lead Haivel to further explanation.
“Here’s the problem,” Haivel said, spreading his hands. “You know Trika?”
“I knew her,” Levron admitted. “Years ago.”
“I was courting her, seriously courting her. Her father evidently thought well of me. And then, for some reason, she dropped me like a hot rock and started seeing Barro.”
“And?”
“Someone vandalized cloth in Barro’s shop. He swears it was me and reported the crime to the authorities. But I have a witness I wasn’t near his shop. And, days later, he came into my shop and destroyed my paper.”
“That’s odd. In broad daylight, too. Do you have a witness?”
“Only my own two eyes. I can’t let him get away with this.” Haivel drew a deep breath. “Are you certain you can’t—”
“I can’t offer any advice except what I’ve already told you,” Levron said. “Speak the truth. Judge Perran will be able to tell who’s lying and who’s not.”
Haivel shrugged. “I understand, though I hoped you might be able to help a friend, for old time’s sake.”
Old friend again. Do the two of them truly believe we were friends?
“I’ve explained why I can’t. All I can do is wish you the best of luck. One word of caution, however . . . don’t dismiss Judge Perran as just another traveling judge. What I can tell you is this: he’s one of the best, and anyone who thinks otherwise makes a huge mistake.”