Future Dreams (9 page)

Jame grounded herself by clasping her hands behind her back. “First off, we’d like to thank the Tribunal for allowing us to present this case before them. Second, we’d like to thank all those who have taken time from their busy day to come witness this case.” That wasn’t a part of the formalities and more than one puzzled look flashed across the spectators’ faces. “And last, I’d like to thank Tigh for allowing me to present her case. It has been a profound honor to work with her.”

Jame hid a smile at the spectators’ surprised expressions.

“I’m here to help Paldar Tigis of Ingor pass to the next level in her rehabilitation.” Jame turned to the Tribunal. “She’s been successfully cleansed and the Board of Healers has determined she’s mentally ready to interact with other people. In most cases I’ve both defended and witnessed, these two factors have been enough to allow a former Guard to pass through to the next step. But Tigh was not an ordinary Guard, nor has she been an ordinary patient through the rehabilitation process. Because of this, there’s been concern that the cleansing hasn’t worked as well on her as with the other Guards.”

The Tribunal shifted and exchanged quick glances.

“Since the concerns that have reached my ears have been vague, I haven’t been able to form specific arguments to address them.” Jame noted the odd combination of curiosity and unsettlement in the Tribunes’ faces. “So, if the Tribunal will permit, I wish to conduct this hearing according to Bailikon’s procedure.”

Sharp gasps followed by low stunned twitters filled the chamber. The words “foolhardy” and “crazy” rose above the others.

“Your boldness is refreshing, Jamelin,” Sitas said. “But let me take this opportunity to remind you that only Bailikon, herself, has ever been successful in presenting a case according to her own procedures.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Tribune Sitas.” Jame bowed her head. “I’m well aware of the odds of making a successful case following this procedure. Bailikon possessed an exceptional gift. But I also know it’s the only means I have to present Paldar Tigis’s case with any chance of a successful argument. So I stand by my request.”

“Do all the Tribunes accept Bailikon’s procedures?” Sitas looked to either side of her. The expressions of her colleagues ranged from intrigue to outrage. Onderal, a small, compact man with a tight grim face, let the anger smolder in his eyes but he nodded a terse agreement. “You may continue, Jamelin.”

“Thank you, Tribune Sitas,” Jame said. “According to Bailikon’s rules the argument for the defense is built from a series of agreements between the arbiter and the Tribunal. Each agreement is accepted as inarguable truth upon which the case can grow. In other words, it’s my job to figure out what you will accept as a successful defense of Paldar Tigis.”

The rumble from the chamber grew so loud that Sitas signaled the Keeper of the Bench, twice, to sound the chime for silence.

“Some members of the Tribunal have not been shy in voicing their doubts that Tigh the Terrible’s cleansing has been less than successful,” Jame said. “Two days ago outside this chamber, I overheard Tribune Onderal state that Tigh was pretending to be cleansed. Certainly, a member of the Tribunal would never make such a statement unless there was evidence to back it up. So my first question is, what evidence has Tribune Onderal uncovered to come to such a conclusion?”

“Why didn’t you ask me when I allegedly made that statement?” Onderal’s eyes bored into Jame’s. “Or is it easier just to make things up and turn a hearing into a street corner carnival?”

“I think Tribune Ewan will recall that I tried to ask but you interrupted my question, telling me not to bother you and then you entered your private chamber,” Jame said.

Onderal sneered. “So you’re now implying that Tribune Ewan heard me make this statement?”

“You made the statement to Tribune Ewan,” Jame said.

Ewan, a thin, fidgety woman of advanced age, darted uncertain glances at Onderal. “I believe Tribune Onderal was simply making an offhand observation.”

“Excuse me for being a little confused. But aren’t we suppose to maintain discretion about voicing opinions that concern pending hearings, especially in a public place?” Jame knew that Onderal was notorious for making offhand judgments and statements but most people were too afraid of the power of the Tribunal to challenge him on it. Given the choice between fear of the Tribunal and defending Tigh, there was no choice as far as she was concerned.

“We’re only human,” Sitas said.

“So does that mean you don’t think Tigh is pretending to be cleansed?” Jame asked.

Onderal glared at Jame. “I haven’t given it much thought, one way or the other.”

“You haven’t given it much thought, yet you state an opinion on it in public.” Jame gazed at Onderal with sincere confusion. “Let me approach this from another direction. What would it take to prove Tigh is not pretending to be cleansed?”

Sitas stared at Jame. “What would it take?”

“Yes. What do I have to do to prove that Tigh has been cleansed and is ready to take the next step in her rehabilitation?”

Tribune Acran rubbed her ample chin in thought. “We’d have to think of a way to prove she isn’t violent anymore.”

“We’re all violent under certain circumstances, Tribune Acran,” Jame said. “How do you propose to distinguish between our thresholds of violence and Tigh’s?”

Onderal stood up. Incredulous anger radiated from him. “Threshold? There is no threshold. There’s a gaping hole that she could leap through at the least provocation.”

Jame struggled to keep from grinning as her insides whooped with hopeful joy. Tigh’s strategy worked. Irritate the weakest point of the enemy and they’ll defeat themselves.

“Define least provocation,” Jame said.

Onderal gazed at Jame. “Any provocation.”

“So if someone came at her with a knife what would happen?” Jame asked.

Onderal crossed his arms. “She’d kill that person without thought.”

“What if she wasn’t taken by surprise? What if she knew someone was going to come at her with a knife such as in practice?”

“She’d kill that person,” Onderal said. “That’s why Guards weren’t allowed to practice their skills on living things. It was the one flaw in the enhancements.”

Jame was sure Tigh had a thing or two to say about that.

“Does the Tribunal agree, if the cleansing was not successful, Tigh would kill anyone who raised a hand to her?” Jame cast steady eyes over the seven Tribunes.

Sitas looked at each of her colleagues and received hesitant affirmative nods.

“If that’s the case,” a rough voice roared from the standees along the wall behind the defendants’ box, “I have a fifty-fifty chance of ridding the world of Tigh the Terrible.”

A tall battle-hardened woman in leather-armor sprang forward with a knife flashing in the filtered light. She reached a hand over the low back of the defendants’ box, pulled Tigh up off the bench, and pressed the blade against her neck.

Shock cascaded over the hall as a handful of soldiers approached the assailant who let go of Tigh and handed the knife to Jame.

“She was just helping me with my demonstration,” Jame said to the soldiers. “Thank you for your help, Tanley.”

The warrior, eyes filled with respect, nodded and returned to the back of the chamber.

Tigh sank onto the bench.

Jame turned to the Tribunal. “Do we need to continue?”

“Give us a sandmark to deliberate,” Sitas said.

The Tribunal stood and swept through the little door near the bench.

Jame’s knees gave out and she sat down hard on the bench. A tentative hand took hers and gave it a squeeze. She turned her head and all her nervousness and apprehension faded at the pride in Tigh’s eyes.

Chapter 8

Jame watched the restless audience as they spun out opinions and speculations on the brief but dramatic proceedings. She sighed at the heated discussions amongst students and assistant arbiters. This was going to be the only subject worthy of discussion for weeks to come. She wondered if she could move into the wagon house until her well-meaning peers found something new to talk about.

She shifted her eyes to Tigh. She knew that Tigh was in a meditative state and she’d give anything to learn how to shut everything out and weave a contented inner world to inhabit for a while.

Tigh seemed to be confident that Jame had waged a victorious battle, and the Tribunal’s or her peers’ opinion of her bold attempt to follow Bailikon’s procedure weren’t as important to her as Tigh’s praise. To have the former Supreme Commander of the forces that led the Southern Territories to victory compliment her on her courtroom strategy cleared away any doubts that she was destined to be a good arbiter.

Jame slid her gaze to a corner of the chamber where the Federation Council representatives were clustered. She prayed that the Tribunes weren’t being pressured into making a less than fair decision.

The small door leading to the Tribunal’s chamber creaked open and the spectators quickly retook their seats.

The seven Tribunes walked in and settled behind the bench. Sitas didn’t have to ask the Keeper of the Bench to bring the house to order this time. The quiet was so deep Jame swore she heard the sand filtering through the sandmark clock.

“Will the defendant rise,” Sitas said and all eyes went to the defendants’ box. Jame and Tigh stood and exchanged brief glances. “Every once in a while someone comes along who displays a special talent for arguing a case. Jamelin Ketlas, possessing the legendary daring of her Emoran ancestry, has fashioned a new approach to Bailikon’s procedure. Having heard many cases from Jamelin over the past two years, we know she most likely has several more equally compelling arguments prepared for this case.”

Jame tried not to grin at Sitis’s inquiring gaze.

Sitas nodded. “Since it’s been proven that Paldar Tigis no longer possesses the impulse to kill when provoked and given the signed certificates that she has successfully passed through the first two steps of rehabilitation, there isn’t a sound reason to keep her from taking the next step.”

A murmur rose up from the spectators. Sitas lifted her hand for silence.

“Like any other Guard going through rehabilitation, this decision will be reversed if the Guard displays any behavior that is considered dangerous to others. We now place Paldar Tigis in the care of the counselors.” Sitas looked at the Keeper of the Bench. “Next case.”

Jame didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Sitas finished speaking and she swayed from lack of air. A hand on her shoulder snapped her back to reality and she took a long breath of relief. She almost stopped breathing again when she turned to Tigh and witnessed a joyful glint in her eyes and a grin tugging at her mouth.
I did that
.
By the waterfalls of Laur, she has a wonderful smile
.

Jadic and a slender, light-haired woman in a white tunic and leggings approached the defendants’ box. Jame and Tigh stepped through the knee-high door, finally free from the ordeal.

“It’d be my luck to follow your brilliance,” Jadic said. He backed up and side-stepped around Tigh into the box.

Jame smiled at Jadic. “You’ll do great.”

“Good luck,” Tigh said softly to the young Guard.

“Thank you,” the Guard murmured as she raised sad, knowing eyes to her former commander.

“They say it gets better after this,” Tigh said.

“Thank you, Commander.” The young Guard straightened and stepped into the box.

“That was a nice thing to do,” Jame said as they walked to the door that led to the defendants’ chamber.

Tigh gave her a surprised look. “I hope she believes it because it won’t happen unless she does.”

A straight-backed woman, dressed in the deep greens and pale yellows that were the colors of Ingor, blocked their way.

“I’d like a word with you,” the woman said in a voice that told Jame she was used to getting her way. “I’m Rantigar Wentis, the Federation Council representative for Ingor.”

“Jamelin Ketlas,” Jame said.

“Did I hear the Tribune say that you’re from Emoria?” Rantigar studied Jame as if she were a piece of merchandise.

Jame nodded. “Yes.”

Rantigar frowned. “There weren’t any Ingoran arbiters available?”

“The choice of arbiter is up to the defendant.” Jame held back a rising anger at this arrogant woman.

Rantigar turned to Tigh. “You didn’t ask for an Ingoran?”

Tigh shrugged. “I rejected the Ingoran arbiter. I accepted the Emoran arbiter. No further discussion or explanation is necessary.”

Rantigar opened her mouth, then shut it. Jame thought it interesting that she hadn’t been prepared for an argument.

“Will Jamelin continue as your arbiter?” Rantigar asked. “There are several more hearings to go and perhaps the Ingoran would be better suited for those.”

“Jame will continue as my arbiter as long as she consents to represent me.” Tigh sounded confident but Jame caught her questioning glance and, barely able to keep away a grin, nodded in agreement.

“Don’t make too hasty a decision,” Rantigar said. “And don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. We’re all anxious for you to return to Ingor where you belong. Good day to both of you.” Not surprising, she went to Tigh’s parents who waited in the doorway.

“Did you really mean that? About letting me represent you?” Jame asked as they ducked through the door to the defendants’ chamber where a pile of papers awaited their signatures.

“Of course.” Tigh looked surprised. “As long as you want to represent me.” Her voice held a hint of uncertainty.

“I want to continue to represent you,” Jame said as the happy realization she was going to spend more time with this intriguing woman washed over her.

GOODEMER’S ENTHUSIASM WANED as the open top coach they sat in left the foothills behind and rumbled through a scruffy arid land. Although they were north of Maymi, the midday heat was sharper and the ground was not the rich black soil she was used to but dull tan sand that looked as if it had never been touched by rain.

“What interesting looking plants.” Yana gazed at the oddly shaped low-lying vegetation covered with delicate brown needles. “I thought sand was only found on beaches.”