The Fall of Chance (27 page)

Unt considered. These five had never been friends. They’d never been open enemies but there was mutual dislike. Their only connection had been age and now they were adults in different walks of life.

“Probably,” he admitted.

“Then that’s the whole damn result,” said Ostin. “Stand down now.”

“I can win this,” Unt insisted.

“No, you can’t. Your Councillor friend’s got the measure of you and he’s going to work you until you’re just a mess on the floor. Every barrier you put up before him is only going to irritate the other members of the bench. Let him flatten you before it’s too late.”

Ostin didn’t give Unt a chance to answer, he just upped and left, back to his seat. Unt watched him stuff papers into his satchel as though he was going to leave altogether.

“Well, Mr Unt?” Erk peered down.

“I retract my denial,” said Unt.

That got the crowd talking. Unt just stared at the curved and polished rail in front of him. He feared to look at Lasper and see his satisfaction. He feared to look for Crystal and see her reaction. He feared the disappointment of Bull’s parents and the scandalous joy of the crowd.

“Order!” Erk tried to no avail. He settled for letting the noise peter out. At last, he was able to turn to Lasper and bid that he continue.

Lasper, head cocked upward, mulled it over like an artist considering the stroke that would finish his masterpiece. He was deciding whether to kick Unt while he was going down or let his fall deliver the drama. “No further questions,” he smiled and with it, carried the day.

Erk turned now to Hodd who said, “Unt, I had a different set of questions in mind but now I have only one: why did you lie just now?”

Unt’s will was spent. “I was just scared,” he said.

“Scared of being found out?”

“Scared that it would look bad for me.”

“Well it certainly does now,” said Hodd.

Unt nodded in silent agreement.

“It disappoints me to see a young man act this way,” Hodd continued. “Your case is based on Innocence of Intent at from what I’d seen, I was willing to accept that you’d made a mistake. With no evidence of coercion, that should have been the end of it.

“But now we see the signs of a perpetual liar. You could have relinquished your lie at any point before the Fall but you didn’t. You could have admitted it afterwards but you didn’t. You’ve lied to us just now in the most brazen fashion.

“And from that last lie, it transpires that on the eve of the Fall, at the point your conscience should have pricked you most keenly, you were boasting about where your lies might get you. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Unt felt exhausted. He wanted to give up and go home, let it all wash over him, but he knew he had to find some strength to fight.

“All I can say is I’m a fool,” said Unt, “I’m not a perpetual liar, just a perpetual fool. The fear from one mistake led me from one bad judgement to another.

“What you call a boast was a mistake of another kind. I gave in to peer pressure and engaged in a conversation that was insensitive and cruel. For that, Crystal, I apologise.” He looked for her in the crowd but couldn’t see her.

Hodd had no further questions so Ostin was asked to cross-examine. Ostin was shuffling papers and looked up long enough to say, “No questions. My client has already given you what he can.”

“Very well,” said Erk solemnly, “Mr Unt, before we pass judgement, would you care to change your plea?”

“No thank you,” said Unt. “Innocent of intent is what I am. I haven’t meant to do bad, I just have.”

“The Council will now pass judgement,” Erk announced, “Going from my right, the members of this panel will enter a verdict of guilty or innocent and then we will roll for the Verdict of Fate. Councillor Lasper, will you start us off, please?”

“Guilty,” said Lasper.

“Guilty,” said Taylor.

“Guilty,” said Erk.

“Innocent,” said Pello, to some surprise.

“Guilty,” said Hodd.

“We have a result of four guilty verdicts to one innocent,” said Erk, “This gives us a modifier of three in favour of guilt.

“Each panel member will now make a roll in the Verdict of Fate. Overall guilt will be determined by the most verdicts. If the overall verdict is inconclusive, the Judgement Verdict of guilty will stand.

With a guilt modifier of three, that meant that a score of five or more was a guilty result for Unt. He needed three of the five Councillors to roll less than that. The odds were overwhelmingly against him.

“We will now go down the line in reverse order,” said Erk. “Councillor Hodd, begin, please.”

Hodd rolled, “Seven.”

“Guilty,” Erk confirmed.

Pello rolled quickly, “Four.”

“Inconclusive,” said Erk. A good result, thought Unt but he still needed the innocent scores to outweigh the guilty ones.

“Two,” said Erk, sounding surprised at his own score. “Innocent,” he added. The chance was there. Hope remained.

Taylor paused before rolling. He’d expected a guilty verdict to be secured before he rolled: now he held it in the balance. He rolled. Everyone waited. “Four,” he said.

“Inconclusive,” said Erk.

Unt couldn’t believe it. He was still in with a chance. The odds had been shortened from something incalculable to just one in twelve. The numbers were still stacked against him but he felt something in the air, a shift in momentum. He sensed the crowd felt it too. He felt the weight of their expectation on his shoulders.

Lasper looked pale and clammy as he cocked his wrist to throw. He rolled. He said nothing. He just sat there, looking at the dice.

“Eleven,” he said.

The bottom dropped out of Unt’s stomach. Hope flushed away leaving an empty husk. Even fear didn’t reach him.

“Guilty,” said Erk, “Which gives us a verdict of two Guilty rolls to one Innocent. The result is carried by the judges’ overall verdict of Guilty.”

*              *              *              *

Unt was sunk. Erk gave a long minute for the crowd to vent their excitement. “It is now the panel’s duty to pass sentence,” he said, finally.

As he spoke, the black velvet curtain was flung open to show the
array of punishments that waited for Unt
. The harsher numbers - the ones that had been bracketed on Unt’s card - were imprinted in red.

“Mr Unt,” Erk spoke gravely, “You have been convicted of a class-A crime after refusing to admit your guilt. The severity of this crime means that you will be punished from the maximum sentences available.”

The red numbers glowed out from the panel at Unt. An average score of one would get him half a year’s imprisonment and an average of two would get him a whole year. They were the soft options: scores of three or four would get him two or four years respectively, five would get him eight years and six meant exile.

But they weren’t finished with him yet. “Before we roll to sentence, the Council will apply mitigation,” said Erk. “The panel will now vote whether to reduce, maintain or increase the sentence.”

“Increase it,” said Lasper, uninvited. “He not only lied in the first place, he lied to this court. He’s shown utter disregard for any of our laws.”

“I agree,” said Taylor. “Throw the book at him.”

“Wait,” said Pello, “This is a young man with the potential for a useful life ahead of him. Any form of punishment will be a lesson he will learn from. A reduced sentence will allow him to reform and redeem himself.”

“I, for one, believe in the justness of our legal system,” said Erk. “These sentences were made with considered judgement and not swayed by passion. We shouldn’t change that.”

Hodd didn’t voice an opinion.

“Shall we call the vote then?” asked Erk.

Seeing no objection, he nodded to Lasper who said, “Increase.” Taylor concurred. Erk said, “Maintain,” and Pello said, “Reduce.” All eyes fell to Hodd; Unt’s most of all.

With a word, this man could put the prospect of death before him. He was also a man who knew it and was weighing his options carefully. He looked at Pello, then looked up the line at Lasper, judging their arguments.

“Increase,” he said.

So that was it. Death was on his doorstep and his life hung in jeopardy. It would take an average of six from five dice to make it happen but Unt’s luck had deserted him. This morning he’d feared a long prison term, now he’d embrace it.

Erk announced the plus-one modifier and asked Hodd to begin sentencing.

“Five,” Hodd announced: not a good start. Already, the lowest possible average rounded up to two.

Pello winced as he rolled. “Six,” he said. Five-point five average, thought Unt. That rounded to six and Death. His lowest possible score now was three.

Erk followed with another six. Disaster. He was deeper into the danger zone and his minimum sentence was now eight years imprisonment.

“Six,” growled Taylor. It wasn’t fair! The odds of all four rolling such big numbers were sky-high. When the next die came, a five or a six would kill him. Unt dared not move.

Lasper took his time. He was savouring it. He flicked his wrist as though it were the lightest executioner’s axe.

“Four,” he announced.

The total was twenty-seven. The average was five-point-four. Unt was safe by the narrowest of margins.

Erk called out the scores and read out the average. “Mr Unt,” he said, “the court has determined a sentence of expulsion. You are to be evicted from the limits of this community whereby you shall never return upon pain of death. Sentence will be carried out in one hour.”

Unt looked at Lasper. The old man was horrendous and glorious in his victory.

What had Tulk said about life outside? “Might as well be a death sentence.”

16. Expulsion

The hall was slowly evacuated, leavin
g
Unt alone. At some point, the judges and their entourage had departed but Unt hadn’t noticed. When he looked around and saw just the two guards, he had no idea how much of his hour had passed.

He looked around in an unattached way. The familiar building was no longer part of his life. The doors at the main entrance had been barred shut which was something that had never happened before. The doors were always kept open during the day to show that the Council was always accessible. The fact they needed to be closed didn’t bode well for Unt.

Somewhere between the trial’s end and the crowd’s departure, the mood had gone sour. The buzz of excited disbelief had turned into an angry noise that reverberated through the walls to reach Unt in his dead space.

It was a frightening noise, like the crash of waves heard outside in a storm, but that wasn’t what scared Unt the most. Relief in dodging the death sentence had quickly faded as he dwelt on the meaning of expulsion.

Tulk’s words haunted him. He’d thought himself independent, toughened by being orphaned, but he was completely unprepared. He could make a meal but he couldn’t hunt, mill corn or even plant a crop without first having the tools. He could sew but he couldn’t make cloth. He could repair a shelter but he couldn’t build a house.

He’d done the mandatory survival courses. He’d even done quite well. He could make a shelter, build a fire and - he hoped - tell which fungus would feed him and which would kill him. But that half-forgotten training had only been a week long and designed to keep you alive for half that time. It always assumed a hope of salvation but for Unt there was none.

He almost welcomed the other two distractions that vied for his mind’s attention. Both issues were women and those women were Crystal and Mélie.

Crystal was the hidden trap that had killed him. If he had really plotted to get her, he might have seen the attack coming and have been ready for it. But he hadn’t seen the weak-point in his armour - only Lasper had - and his oblique attack had found its mark.

He found himself resenting her for it, blameless though she was. It made no sense but he felt it anyway and what made it worse was the fear that she’d resent him. Would she believe he’d set a trap to snare her? He’d been convicted of that and the bonds they’d started to make had already been tested by the charges alone.

It was absurd to even worry about it. Whether or not she blamed him, she was no longer a part of his life and there was no hope of atonement. Nothing was real anymore. This Grand Chamber, the building that contained it and the town around it were all just scenery from a play that had finished its run and was waiting to be torn down.

Anger was real, though. Anger, he sensed was going to be the manna to sustain him in the trials to come and the spring from which it flowed was Mélie.

He just couldn’t fathom it. She was so meek, so quiet: so nice. It just didn’t make sense that she’d turn on him like this. He’d given her life and she’d taken his. Whatever bad things may have come from their interference, it was nothing compared to what they were doing to him.

If she’d felt guilty, why didn’t she take the blame she deserved and leave Unt out of it? It was nothing like the girl he thought he knew: this wasn’t the girl that had held his hand on the eve of the Fall and promised - well, he’d obviously read
that
situation wrong.

One of the side-doors opened and Unt turned quickly. His mind raced to wonder before his eyes could catch up. Crystal was the first person that came to mind but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Mélie come to apologise, Lasper come to gloat or Brooker come to express regret. It was Pearson, alone. He carried a tray in his awkward and over-large hands.

“Hey, mate. How’s tricks?” he asked, approaching.

“How do you think?” said Unt.

“Tell me about it,” said Pearson, setting the tray down in front of him. Unt looked at the offerings: there were sausages, bacon, beans, mushrooms and eggs. Toast lay on a side-plate with a pot of coffee beside it.

“Here, I made you something,” he said.

Unt looked at the hearty meal but his stomach felt immune as stone. “Thanks,” he said, “But I’m not hungry.” He edged the plate away with a fingertip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Pearson shoved the plate back at him. “This is your last chance of a good meal for who knows when, so eat.”

Unt accepted the second offer and attacked the plate like a man possessed. He put anger into every bite.

“I’d hoped you were Crystal,” he admitted between toast and a slice of sausage.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for her,” Pearson told him. “As far as she’s concerned, you’ve committed a major fraud to get in her bed. Women can’t be reasoned with when it comes to bedroom matters. They’re fickle: they snap into hate-mode as easy as flicking a switch.

It was a good opening to bring in Mélie and Unt laid his thoughts out in front of Pearson.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Pearson as soon as Unt had finished. “She’s got a crush on you that’s turned bitter: no fury like a woman scorned and all that.”

“What, you think she liked me and now she hates me?” asked Unt.

“Like I said, my friend, they’re fickle creatures. She’s probably had it buried for ages without telling another soul. Then she sees you with another woman and flips.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Unt.

“It doesn’t have to,” said Pearson. “Reason don’t come into it where women are concerned.”

“Maybe,” Unt allowed uncertainly. His eyes were still drawn to Pearson’s door.

There was an especially loud roar from outside.

“Have you seen the crowd?” he asked. “It sounds like there’s a lot of people.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen it,” said Pearson, “But doubtless the whole town will have turned out to watch.”

“You think?”

“I’ve only seen an expulsion once in my lifetime,” said Pearson. “The whole town came out to watch that one and I can’t see today being any different.”

“Was it bad?” asked Unt.

“It was horrible.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you want me to say? If I dressed it up I’d be doing you no favours and you wouldn’t believe me anyhow.” Pearson paused and cocked his ear to another surge in noise. “That’s them begging for blood there.”

“Why?” asked Unt. “I get everyone turning up to watch but why do they suddenly hate me? I never did anything to them. Most of them don’t even know me.”

Pearson shook his head. “Unt, mate, they don’t hate you, they hate who you are. Councillors – us - are cock of the walk in this town. We talk about being equal but power attracts lots of little benefits and they’re all jealous of what you have.

“You cheated your way to get what they want but can’t have, and that makes them hate you.”

“Some people might be,” said Unt, “but surely not everyone’s that jealous.”

Pearson shrugged. “No, you’re right, but even the ones who aren’t jealous will hate you. Hate loves company and those people will bring whatever anger they’ve got bottled up and throw it at you.”

Unt didn’t answer and Pearson, a glazed look in his eye, continued. “The children will be the worst,” he said.

“Children?” said Unt, “They won’t even understand what’s happening.”

Pearson shook his head.  “You think that matters? Children are the closest thing in mankind to nature and nature has one hell of a vicious streak.

“That expulsion I went to? I was a kid then and I know how bad they can be. I’m not ashamed of much in my life but I am ashamed of how I acted that day. We chased her down the street, threw rocks at her - hell, we’d have beaten her to death if the Rangers hadn’t warded us off. Such malice - I’ve never known it before or since.”

“Thanks for the warning,” said Unt bitterly.

“Hey, it’s like I said, I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I prepared you with anything less than the truth.”

Unt swallowed a mouthful of food. “I wanted to be a farmer,” he said.

They sat in silence for a while as Unt devoured his last meal. He kept looking to the door but it remained unmoving.

“What you going to do, then?” asked Pearson after a while.

“I haven’t had much time to think about it,” said Unt. “It doesn’t seem two hours ago that I was sat in our office, looking forward to lunch.”

“Well, you’d better start thinking about it,” said Pearson, “because you won’t stay in good shape for long.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Head south,” Pearson spoke with certainty. “Most of the people passing through here are heading south so there must be something there. Besides, if you get lost, south’s an easy direction to find: if you look at the trees, moss always grows on the south side.”

Unt figured if you could tell one direction you could work out all others anyway but it wasn’t worth saying.

“Oh, and look for a stream,” said Pearson. “If you find one, follow it. Flowing water’s always going somewhere and what’s more, it never comes back.”

At that point, a door to the rear opened and a black-clad Ranger came forward. His hood was up, concealing his face and in his hand was a murderous-looking glaive. “It’s time,” he said.

Pearson extended one of his big, white hands. “Good luck, mate,” he said.

Unt took the offered hand then rose in the shadow of the Ranger. He didn’t say a thing as he was led away toward the exit. At the threshold, they were joined by a second Ranger. He took the opposite side of Unt to the first so that they bracketed him. A third Ranger stood to the side, ready to open the doors.

“Do it,” said the one who had first come for him.

The doorman opened it and the one who seemed in charge took them out into daylight.

The noise that met them hit Unt like a wall. The force of it almost pushed them backward. The crowd was pressed thick at the foot of the steps, the crush of bodies so dense that the ones at the front had to fight from being pushed forward.

Unt’s first feeling was that they were going to rush him, the Rangers were so few, but even in their feral madness, something staid them. It could have been the muscle-memory of acting like civilised people, or it could have been the glaive’s gleaming edge. “Back!” the lead Ranger bellowed and the mob succumbed.

“Make way!” said the Ranger, using a sweep of his weapon to sketch the path he wanted.

“Back!” Some in the crowd took up the order. There were heavy murmurings of dissent but a space was still cleared. Unt saw he was being directed down West Street, back toward his old neighbourhood. Was it a conscious effort to humble him before his old neighbours or was it just the easiest way out of town?

The mono-roar of the crowd gave way to a general rumble through which single insults were hurled like missiles. It was like a rain of bee stings: each strike did little damage on its own but it was the cumulative impacts that hurt.

Out of the square, the natural boundaries made by the street gave some shape to the disorder. By unspoken agreement, the crowd pushed back against its walls. This made a corridor through which Unt and his guards walked, although with so many people, the corridor was a narrow one.

Order was no salvation in the tight street. All the pent-up, crushed hopes and dreams of the onlookers were concentrated into a single pressure-cooker.

The chief Ranger laid a hand on his shoulder. “That won’t be necessary,” Unt told him but the hand remained.

They were maybe thirty yards down the street when the first object struck. Unt didn’t see it coming: the first he knew of it was a wet thud on the back of his neck. It was something neither hard nor soft: some piece of food, most likely. More followed, one after another, getting faster and thicker the way a heavy rain shower starts.

It was hitting him and he couldn’t see where it was coming from. The sight of a wheeling arm or the loop of some object was the only occasional warning. Most of it struck while he was still feeling the impact of the strike before it.

Some of the stuff was soft, some wet. It was the rotten food people had plucked from their bins especially for him. Some of it was just mud, filthy, stinking but harmless. But the worst were the stones. West Street was a busy thoroughfare and didn’t have proper rocks lying about but like anywhere, there were always small stones to be found and they were all finding their way to Unt.

He’d hoped to be dignified, to march out with his head held high, but as the stones rained in, he had to raise his arms to defend himself. The Rangers did nothing to stop the blows so long as nothing hit them. Unt was forced to see his way through the gaps in the crooks of his elbows.

The crowd was stationary; a viscous mass he had to wade through, but at the edges, against the buildings, he spotted the flicker of movement. Following his progress like shadows were the gambolling forms of children. Unt thought of what Pearson had said, how the children were the worst, and he saw that most of the stones were coming from them. Not happy with pelting him as he passed, they were pursuing him, harassing him like a hunting pack against a weakening prey.

And Unt was weakening. Each blow on its own did nothing - what Bull called an attention-getter - but taken together, hit after hit, it sapped him to the core. He was dying a death of a thousand cuts and over it all, like a leaden sky, was the hot noise that swamped him.