Chapter 66
Slowly, the crowd gathered together from both sides. They self-segregated in the process, with the stra’tchi sticking mostly to the east and south, and the Sustained to the west. The Councilors were still present, surprisingly, but they stayed huddled in the middle of their own entourages on the north end of the Sustained group and closest to the threads.
It didn’t look like the fake Hauld had survived. Either no one had grabbed him or he’d shrugged off any attempt to do so. Arico was relieved about that, too. The poor man had been tortured and most likely mutilated. Even if he could have escaped, his people were all dead and gone as well. He’d probably chosen to die, and Arico couldn’t blame him.
In between these two new groups were Arico, Jaas, Velya, Endu and Sabra. Berilo was standing to one side of them. Sabra stepped in next to him to make sure he didn’t run, but it didn’t seem likely. Berilo was shaking his head slowly. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Arico,” he said in a low voice.
“What, by saving these people?” Arico asked scornfully, though he also kept his voice low. The crowd was still assembling, but he didn’t want to air out his family’s dirty laundry here in front of everyone.
“No, that was very impressive, by you and your sister both. Unfortunately, by blurting out the truth to the people like that, you’ve given up any chance of becoming Lord Ascendant, even with my help. You could have ruled the city by my side, and even taken my place eventually. Instead you chose to tear it all down to rubble.”
He sounded as if he truly believed that. Apparently his recent ousting hadn’t dampened his ambition at all. He must have really thought he would be asked to resume his position eventually. Arico merely shrugged. “What can I say, father? I’d rather live in a pile of rubble than rule over a slaughterhouse.” Sabra pushed Berilo down to his knees on the grass, and Arico turned away dismissively.
The smoke was still rising from the ruined buildings south of them, and the gravity of what had just befallen them was still sinking in. Both sides were quiet at first, so Arico took the opportunity to stand tall between both sides.
“Listen up, everyone!” He called out loudly. “Any stra’tchi who wants to go home will be allowed to shortly. I’ll take you there personally, but we have a few things to settle first. Berilo Fisher’s fate, among other things,” he said disdainfully.
Lord Weaver pushed his way to the front of the Sustained group. “You have no authority to decide his fate, heretic. Not only are you his own son, but you are a condemned criminal yourself! You and your father will both face the Council’s justice.”
“The Council’s justice?” A man from the stra’tchi side cried out. “Arico and the Deathwatcher were right! Fisher did order the deaths of those children, didn’t he? You wouldn’t be protecting him if you hadn’t known about it too. I found my own son a few years ago, but how many others will never see their children again? How much blood is on your hands, sha’thra??”
Arico winced at that. Sha’thra was a grave insult: meaning one who worshiped the Shemra instead of Aquun. Behind him the other stra’tchi began speaking out with increasing anger, calling for Berilo’s punishment, and for the Council’s as well. “Please tell me you have more than one copy of those kids’ names,” he said aside to Endu, who nodded. That was good. The Council might be able to destroy her list easily enough, but if they could copy it, it would help a good deal in the days to come.
“You’re nothing but a mindless mob,” another Sustained lord put in scornfully. “You’ll believe anything you’re told. We certainly won’t let you tear a Sustained lord to pieces, no matter what his crimes are!”
Loud voices rose on both sides. Stra’tchi parents started shouting, demanding to know where their children were, while many Sustained responded that it was all lies. There were more on the stra’tchi side, and a few of the Sustained were circling around to join them, but the remaining Sustained seemed stubbornly resolute. Arico tried to call out and get everyone’s attention, but the shouting continued unabated. Both sides were unarmed for the most part, but it was only a matter of time before this escalated to violence.
He turned to Sabra, who was looking a little bewildered. At Arico’s nod, Sabra pulled himself up to his full height. “Everybody shut up!” He bellowed, and both sides took a step back from him, falling quiet again.
Arico gave him a grateful nod. “I propose a compromise here,” he said forcefully into the silence. “In ancient times the Vasiri had a remedy for leaders who broke their own laws. The public could see to it that justice was done, by means of a trial!”
People on both sides started murmuring at that, but Arico kept going to maintain his momentum. “Advocates would speak both for and against the leader in question, while an arbitrator would judge the truth and worthiness of their words. Finally when all the arguments had been made, all the testimony given, and all the proof provided, it was the people themselves who would make the decision of guilt or innocence.”
He paced around, trying to give both sides his attention. “If we don’t hold the accused up openly, and judge him guilty or innocent fairly, then nothing can follow but blood and death! I propose that we set up a trial for him, just as was done in the old days. Each patch will be able to send someone to listen to the arguments, and each patch will have a voice in what happens to him.”
“Preposterous,” Weaver responded angrily. “This city will not bow to mob rule!” He raised a hand, possibly to order his guards to take Berilo into custody again.
The stra’tchi crowd reacted immediately, and this time Sabra turned to join them. He gave one of his classic growls. Arico quickly moved forward to face Weaver. Weaver’s guards took aim at him, but only briefly. For once his disfigurement was a benefit to him.
“Think carefully about what you say next, my lord,” he urged the Councilor quietly, as soon as he was close enough. “If the fighting starts a lot of stra’tchi will die, but so will you. Under the circumstances, I suggest you consider my idea. You have several patches under your own control. That will give you more of a voice than most in this trial,” he reminded the older man.
Weaver still looked furious, but he did hesitate. The sheer numbers of stra’tchi here probably had something to do with it. Grudgingly, he lowered his arm. Thankfully it looked like the other Council members seemed just as reluctant to speak. They probably knew that a public trial like this would be bad for them: most likely leading to trials for them as well in the future. All the same, it looked like they were hesitant to start a Tumult right here and now.
“Your plan will take weeks, or maybe even months, Arico!” Drakos Bloodeye called out from behind him. “Are we supposed to just let the child-killer go until we’ve set up this… trial of yours? He’ll bolt the moment he has the chance—you know he will!” There were only three Deathwatchers in the whole crowd, but a bunch of others made noises of agreement with him.
Arico turned and shook his head. “He won’t be going anywhere. I’ve been planning something like this for a long time. I’ve set aside a place for him. A prison of sorts, made for one person only. I’ll keep him there, safe and secure, but also totally isolated from anyone who might try to free him. I’m the only one who knows where it is, and that is where he will stay until all the arrangements have been made.”
He smiled slightly at Drakos, who still looked unconvinced. “Besides. Even if he does escape, doing so would only prove that he’s guilty!”
Actually it had been Arico and the Hauld together, who had decided to dig out such a prison. He’d done some of the work himself, but the dwarves had done the lion’s share. Still, he was the only person left alive who knew its location. Bloodeye hesitated, and then nodded briefly.
After another few moments, Lord Calvert, the same man who’d questioned Tanner earlier, raised a hand. “Heretic—or Arico—whatever you prefer; it seems that finding people to speak both for and against your father won’t be difficult, but who will be the arbiter for this trial?” He gestured to both sides all around him. “Everyone seems to have made up their minds already.”
“I agree,” Weaver put in. “The Clarion is dead. Without him, I can’t think of anyone I’d trust to remain neutral and cool-headed in this. I certainly don’t trust any stra’tchi to do the job.”
“Nor would we trust any Sustained!” Aldwith rejoined, and the crowd echoed him. Arico blinked in surprise. He hadn’t seen the Mayor of Sakkath patch earlier. That led him to wonder just how many of the other potential rebel leaders aside from Aldwith and Drakos were here.
Arico had hoped the people might accept him in the Clarion’s place. He was the son of the accused, but he had also publicly opposed him for months now, and hopefully that fact would offset any apparent bias. As he looked at each side though, his hopes faded. He was hated by too many people to be a reliable neutral party for either side.
“I volunteer to arbitrate,” a woman’s voice rose up from the Sustained side. There was a rustle as whoever it was made their way forward, and eventually a familiar face pushed through the crowd. Arico smiled. Finally, some good news!
“I’m Lady Belaya Cartwright,” she said confidently and loudly. “My father is Lord Edon Cartwright. Some of you are familiar with his work, I’m sure,” she added wryly, and waited a few seconds for that to sink in.
“My father anticipated… some of what would happen here today. He wanted you all to know that if the Lord Ascendant is to be put through a trial, and if you choose me to arbitrate, he will advise me. He will make sure that all testimony given is accurate, and that all evidence presented is authentic.”
A hush fell over the closest people, and seemed to spread outward. Arico glanced over at Jaas, and saw her eyes were wide as well. Apparently she didn’t know any more about Cartwright’s intentions here than he did.
Cartwright’s full abilities weren’t known to everybody, and Jaas had agreed to keep them a secret for now. His many years of dealings had spread rumors far and wide, though. All around him, Arico could see the crowd nodding or making noises of approval.
“How do we know you’re not some kind of impostor?” Weaver asked accusingly. It seemed he wasn’t giving up any ground here, not without a fight. “You’re dressed like a Sustained Lady, but I don’t know you. You could be anyone!”
“He’s right,” Lord Grover put in to the side. “I can count on one hand the number of people I know who’ve ever seen Lady Cartwright in the flesh, and I doubt any of them are here today.”
“I can prove it, if you wish,” she countered mildly, smiling as she took a few steps towards Weaver. “Shall I tell everyone about the secret deal you made, with a supposed enemy of your family? A deal which is set to go into effect in precisely ten days, in a house on the north end of Borrgas patch?”
She turned slightly. “How about you, Lord Grover? Your wife knows about the last three of your mistresses, but she doesn’t know about the most recent one. A woman whose name ends with a ‘y’, and is at least twenty years your junior?” Weaver’s jaw dropped slightly, and Grover turned a noticeable shade of red, but neither responded audibly.
Belaya continued moving slowly, passing in front of the remaining Councilors before circling around to the rest. “My father knew I would face this kind of reception. The choice to appoint me as arbiter is yours, just as much as it is everyone else’s. However if any of you still have doubts about my identity, I can prove it to you in a similar fashion. I trust that won’t be necessary, though?”
Arico tried to keep his face passive, despite the sheer satisfaction of watching Belaya put these men in their place. He couldn’t think of anyone better for the job than her, if her father truly did plan on advising her. And he would, too. Cartwright never lied or misrepresented his intentions. That was part of his fame, in fact.
This was troubling as well, though. Most people assumed Cartwright’s abilities were exaggerated, or even mythical. He’d just proven they were real, to everyone. He’d taken a drastic step here. Arico hoped it would be worth it.
“If this new choice is acceptable to everyone, I will take Lord Fisher away now, and then come back to take the stra’tchi home,” Arico said into the silence. “He will be kept isolated from everyone until all the details are in place and the trial is ready to begin. I promise you all, he will answer for his actions before the people of Patchwork, and before Aquun herself.”
“Yes he will,” Endu said from behind him, and a gunshot rang out.
-.-
Arico spun as the crowd let out a collective gasp. Berilo had been on his knees already, and he slumped to the ground with a hole in the back of his head. Endu was standing over him and lowering her gun, while Sabra gaped at her. “That was for Satya, and for Alzhi,” she said quietly.
His first thought—or at least his first coherent one—was that she couldn’t be allowed to escape. For all he knew, Endu had navigator friends inside the nearby threads waiting to help her get away.
“Sabra, grab her!” He ordered quickly. Sabra did so hesitantly, pinning her arms against her sides and lifting her off the ground a little. Her gun thudded on the ground as Arico stepped around them and examined Berilo. His eyes were staring sightlessly across the ground, and he was still as a stone. It looked like he’d died instantly.
Arico took a deep breath and then looked up at Endu.
Everything he had planned. Everything Cartwright had risked. All of their efforts, and any chance for a lasting peace in Patchwork—all gone in an instant! Because of her.
“I’m sorry Arico,” Endu finally said, completely calm despite being held helplessly in midair. “The last thing I wanted was to make your life more difficult, but I had to do that. I couldn’t give him even a chance at escaping.”
“That’s precisely what he said about the Hauld!” Arico snapped, glancing back at his… father’s body. He couldn’t feel grief, not after everything the old man had done, but he could feel regret. And sorrow as well, that so many people would die now because of what Endu had done.
“What she did was justice!” A man in the stra’tchi crowd cried out. “Punishment for the children he slaughtered!”
“Justice?” Arico said loudly, standing up again. “Is that what this was? One person alone, executing an unarmed man who was about to stand trial for his actions? Sounds more like vengeance to me. That sounds like one person, deciding and acting alone, without any regard for what’s best for everyone else!”
“She did what she had to!” Another voice called, but Arico raised both arms to silence everyone. The voices continued to rise anyway, but Sabra gave a loud growl and everyone promptly shut up again.
“Where does it end?” Arico asked pointedly. “She lost people, and then killed people. And more will want vengeance on her for that. And more will want vengeance on them! How many more people will die? How much blood must be spilled to pay for our crimes—all of our crimes?”
Arico slowly realized that his voice had risen to a shout. “I don’t know if what she did was right or not,” he continued in a calmer tone, after a moment. “I admit I’m of two minds on it. But what I do know is that it wasn’t her decision to make!”
He sighed. “That choice belonged to all of us. It still does. I can’t think of any way to make this right except to put her on trial in Berilo’s place! Let everyone decide, in the exact same way they would have done for my father, whether what she did was right or not. Whether it was just… or unjust.”
“I’m sorry, Arico,” Endu repeated, and he hesitantly looked at her again. “I don’t have time for any trial. Berilo and Tenlor weren’t the only ones guilty of killing Satya and Alzhi, and I have more people to kill.” She didn’t look at them, but it was clear she meant the remaining Councilors.
“You deserve your trial, Arico,” she promised, giving him a faint smile, “and you will get one. After I finish what I’ve started.” Before his eyes, Endu vanished. Sabra’s hands clapped together where she’d just been, and he grunted with surprise.
