Heroes Return (14 page)

Once the court room was as full as it was going to get, Bailey and two footmen, Daniel and Sam, stood beside the throne. That, apparently, was the signal for Fiona to proceed down the steps. I followed her. Once she was seated, Bailey announced in a booming voice, “Her Grace, the Duchess of Westsea, will hear your submissions. All seeking her counsel may step forward.”

I had been informed that all petitioners and respondents were gathered and supervised in the foyer. Through the door from the foyer, two men were escorted by two burly footmen, Rikin and Hiroki. One of the applicants looked familiar, a lushly handsome man with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair.

The other one was unfamiliar, and was not so grand to look at, being scrawny and pale with uncombed red hair. To my shame, I was already inclined to believe the handsome one. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling I’d seen him before, and that we’d met under somewhat pleasant circumstances.

“Merchant Jem Carther is the petitioner,” Hiroki announced. The handsome one bowed deeply. “The respondent is Merchant Chris Demont.”

“I didn’t do nothing,” the other man alleged.

“I shall hear Merchant Carther’s submission first,” said Fiona. “No interruptions, Merchant Demont, if you please.”

“My petition involves a theft that took place four days ago,” Carther announced. “The day started like any other day. Up too early and limiting myself to only one cup of coffee because beans are scandalously expensive in this place.”

“Too true,” uttered an older man sitting near us.

“I was in the market square at my usual place. Scrubbing all the bird feces off my stall, because bird droppings just don’t inspire people to plunk down their money. Once that was done, I cleaned myself up and wandered down to the bakery where I purchased this delicious cheese pastry from the equally delicious Baker Tracy.”

There were some appreciative whistles at that. I grinned. I’d met Baker Tracy. She was a handsome woman.

“I unlocked my stall. I set out my wares. I sell jewelry, a range from light and sweet to dense and expensive. All are welcome at my shop.

“There was nothing unusual about the day, and I didn’t notice anyone watching me while I was working. The morning passed as it usually did, and I was bringing in fairly good trade. And then this . . . well . . . creature came up. A frightful-looking block of a man, with unnaturally black hair all greased up into a cone on the top of his head, this weird green and blue paint smeared about his eyes, and the most hideous triple-striped shirt with indecently tight trousers. And really, a man so poorly endowed should not be so eager to show everyone his poverty. Either way, the man looked like a clown and I asked him where his players were. Now”—Carther lowered his eyes in an expression of remorse that I didn’t believe for a moment—“I know that was rude of me, but he also smelled like a privy, and I was worried he would drive away all the customers from the stall.

“He seemed offended by my question, though I smiled so sweetly when I asked it. And he started shrieking, his voice quite grating, and he accused me of having sold him an inferior product. Well, I knew immediately that something was off, because I never sell inferior products, and I didn’t care how this creature had tarted himself up, I have a gift for remembering voices and I would have remembered that one. I’d never served him before. So I ignored him and continued the discussion with the customer I had been assisting before he’d arrived.

“That incensed him, so he grabbed the front of my shirt, and he was stronger than he looked, for he pulled me almost off my feet and pushed me out onto the street, all the while screaming that he would have me whipped like a dog. For some reason, he didn’t seem like someone I should be taking seriously. So I twisted his hands off my shirt and headed back to the stall.

“That was when I saw this mousey fellow in my stall, surrounded by all these people who apparently were too engrossed in the clown to notice what was going on right beside them. He had one of my strongboxes, and his furtive movements made it clear he had no intention of paying for anything in it. Or the box itself. Those things cost a pretty coin, I tell you. Anyway, my plan was to dive at the fellow and flatten him, but the clown tackled me mid-flight and down I went.

“They both ran off, and I reported the theft here. Demont, the mousey one, was caught by some of your people, but the blocky one escaped.”

“Bailey?” Fiona asked.

“That’s correct, my lady. We have been unable to find anyone matching the description of the accomplice.”

I imagined the accomplice had changed his appearance by the time anyone was looking for him.

I sneaked a look at Fiona. She had been aggravated to learn Taro and I had been robbed. What did she think of this second example of crime? Or was it only the second?

“What about the jewelry? Was that found in Merchant Demont’s possession?”

“No, Your Ladyship.”

“I see. Merchant Demont, what is your description of events?”

“I wasn’t in the market that day,” that man said.

“Where were you?”

“At home.”

“Where is your home?”

“I don’t live around here.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Where is your home?”

“I live in Little Rock.”

“That’s within a day’s ride from here.”

“That’s not close,” Demont insisted.

“So you don’t use our market.”

“No. No, I mean yes. But not that day.”

“Why not? That’s the principal market day for the week.”

“I was in Red Bird.”

“You just said you were at home.”

“No, I forgot. I was in Red Bird.”

“There’s no market of note in Red Bird.”

“There is a fine market in Red Bird.”

I didn’t know if disagreeing with the adjudicator was the smartest thing a party could do.

“I open the question to the court,” Fiona said. “Did anyone witness these events?”

A woman halfway down the left side of the room raised her hand.

“What did you see, Baroness Graydon?”

“I was in the market the day of the theft. I saw a man such as Merchant Carther described assaulting him.”

“Did you see Merchant Demont steal anything from Merchant Carther’s stall?”

“No, my lady.”

“Did anyone see anyone stealing anything from Merchant Carther’s stall?”

There was no response.

“Did anyone see Merchant Demont anywhere on the day in question?”

There was no response.

“Then I have nothing more to rely on than the words of the parties. I find Merchant Carther more credible and that Merchant Demont did commit the theft.”

“No!” Demont shouted, and Rikin and Hiroki moved closer to him. “That’s not right!”

“Everything Demont owns shall be given to Merchant Carther immediately. This matter is settled.”

Carther bowed again and left. I didn’t know what to think about the verdict. Had Fiona believed him merely because he was more articulate? Maybe Demont had merely been rattled answering a bunch of questions in front of all those people. I knew I would be. Could she really make such a drastic decision based on so little evidence?

But I had to admit that some instinct was telling me the petitioner was telling the truth. Maybe Fiona had had the same instinct.

The next petitioner was a woman seeking money for a child from one of Fiona’s servants, one I couldn’t remember meeting. I thought he was an under gardener. The petition gave a detailed account as to when she met him, where they engaged in their affair, and her failed attempts to get support once she realized she was expecting.

“It’s not mine, Your Ladyship.” He scowled.

“And how do you know that?” Fiona asked coolly.

“She’s no better than she should be,” he declared boldly. “She’s had every man in the community.”

“Including you?”

He didn’t confirm that, but he didn’t deny it, either. He just looked down at his feet, then scuffed the floor. I decided right then that I didn’t believe a word he said.

“I declare Manin Ford is the father of—”

“Your Grace!” he shouted in protest.

She pointed a finger at him. “If you wish to avoid responsibility of a child, you will refrain from the activities that create them. I declare that Manin Ford is the father of Ilya Wright, daughter of Julia Wright. Ford will pay to Wright four coppers a month. My stewart will see that the money goes to the petitioner.”

“You have no right to do that!” Ford objected.

“Rikin, please help Ford out.”

Footman Rikin put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. Ford shook it off but headed toward the door without further protest. I supposed he was smart enough to want to keep his job. Wright, who looked grimly satisfied, left unattended.

What followed was a dispute over a land boundary, a complaint from one woman that another had lured her cook away, which Fiona dismissed as too trivial for her attention, and a charge of the sale of an inferior pig. I saw none of the uncertainty Fiona had claimed when we were stuck in the cave.

I wondered how well Taro would do this job. He was clever, and he seemed to understand people better than I. He could possibly charm both sides into believing they had won.

On the other hand, people thought of him as either a half-wit or a philanderer. Would they have respected him?

Why did these people want someone of his reputation as a titleholder?

Maybe they thought he would be weak and easy to manipulate.

In time, Fiona called the midday break. She withdrew, but I stayed behind to watch what happened. The doors to the foyer opened and maids pushed in trays covered with platters of sandwiches and jugs of coffee and tea. Those seated in the spectator chairs headed down to partake in the refreshments. I decided to join them. I was feeling peckish.

I didn’t look at him, I swear I didn’t, yet Rosen ended up beside me anyway. “Good day,” he said. “I am the Baron of White Locks. I take it you are Shield Dunleavy Mallorough.”

Immediately, his accent annoyed me. There was something pompous and artificial about it. “I am.” Unfortunately.

“I was almost a Source, you know. I was taken to the Academy because I had all the qualities of a Source. Only once I had been there a few months did they determine I was not in fact a Source.”

What was it about him that made me think he was lying? It wasn’t as though such things never happened. I knew that they did. It was just that Fiona’s description of him was shaping my thoughts. I shouldn’t be letting that happen. I couldn’t seem to help it.

“It was just as well, of course. I think being raised among one’s family is more normal and much more healthy. It leads to a sharper mind, you know.”

Did he know he was insulting me by saying that? Did he care? And there was nothing I had ever seen to suggest children raised among their families were any healthier than those who weren’t. Crazy people showed up everywhere.

But Rosen needed no answer from me. “My family were tenants on a beautiful estate just outside Westsea. My father was the blacksmith and my mother worked the land. They both knew I was too intelligent for any such trade, so they concentrated on and paid more for my education than that of my brothers and sisters. My siblings were happy to make the sacrifice, knowing I would go farther than any of them.”

My gods, he was telling me his life story. Literally. Right from the first moment of our meeting. I’d never met anyone who did this. It was strange.

“I did very well as a student, you know. The best in all my classes, and the tutors appreciated my intelligence. They ran out of materials years before I was old enough to be finished with my schooling. One of my tutors was an intimate acquaintance of a world-renowned barrister, who took me on as an apprentice. I was with him only a few weeks before he told me I had an exceptional legal mind.”

Really, I could only stare at him. So many boastful statements crammed together. Who spoke like this? Was this a joke? Was someone setting me up for something?

“From the beginning, I was involved with complex and important files, and my files were always successful. I have appeared before adjudicators all over the world, including in the Southern Islands and before Her Imperial Majesty Empress Constia.”

I would have dearly loved to see this pompous individual interacting with the brutally honest residents of Flatwell. The people of Flatwell would have no problem telling a person he was an idiot right to his face. I was wishing for that kind of bravery right then.

“I was a regular confidant of the Empress and performed many services for her. Upon his ascension to the throne, the Emperor granted me the barony as a sort of payment for my work for the Crown.”

How could he think anyone wanted to hear this? It might be interesting to friends and family, but not to a stranger. How could he not know this?

“The Emperor is a brilliant man, don’t you think?”

What, he actually wanted me to contribute to this conversation?

Suddenly, Radia was at my side, curling a hand around my arm. “There you are, Shield Mallorough,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I could have pointed out that there weren’t so many in the large room that one would be hard to spot or reach, but I was sensing an opportunity to escape and I wasn’t going to curdle it. “Please excuse us, my lord,” she said. “We have important Shield and Wind Watcher business to discuss.” And she pulled me away from him before he could answer.

She steered me toward the refreshments. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to look him in the eye?”

I laughed.

After the break, the first petitioner was almost visibly bubbling with rage, Rikin following him closely. Fiona spoke before the petitioner could say anything.

“No, Callum,” she said as soon as he reached her platform. “My decision was final.”