Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 31 - The Trial Farce
🕑 Added 2024-07-10 16:00:10 +0000 UTCThe carriage jolted as it turned corners, the sudden movement throwing me off balance.
Normally I’d be able to tell it was coming and brace myself, even at the speeds we were traveling. Normally.
My head hit the wood of the carriage’s side, cushioned only by the burlap sack that had been shoved over my head. Dull pain, matched by the duller pain still throbbing in my empty eye socket. The mixtures they’d given me to mitigate the pain were fading fast, as was their nature. Anything with longer-lasting effects had side effects I didn’t want to deal with.
It was the only thing making the burlap bearable. I didn’t want to think about the time rounding a corner had pushed burlap into my now empty eye socket.
“Was the bag really necessary?” I asked as I barely kept myself from falling to the coach’s floor.
“Oh, not really in the sense of does this serve a purpose, but both Lady Karsin and Lord Montague insisted on it. I think they’ve read quite a few too many of the cheaper novels currently flooding the market.”
The burlap sack muffled Voltar’s voice as I got myself back in the middle of my seat, only with great difficulty. They’d bound my hands behind my back and chained my damn feet together, and had done both before trying to get the burlap sack over my head.
“At least in those books, there’s a reason,” I muttered. Like when Red Barret was abducting Lisa Hollowitz, it was because she didn’t know where his base of operations was.
“Sorry, you’ll need to speak louder,” Voltar sound with a cheekiness that made it all too clear he had heard me clearly. “Would you mind repeating that?”
No, they’re pretty empty of reasons. You just tend to ignore that while getting to the steamy parts. Unless your tastes have changed in the last five years.
Now I was very grateful for the burlap sack, if only so no one asked why my cheeks were burning.
I was not spending the minutes leading up to this trying to argue on behalf of the average street thriller’s quality, so I stayed quiet. Instead, I tried to find a more comfortable place to sit as the carriage continued to race through the streets.
“I do wish they had gone into some more detail about the logistics of it, otherwise we wouldn’t have wasted so much time with the sack. Apparently, no one bothers to think of the horns.”
“Perhaps if someone hadn’t insisted on pulling this damn thing so far down, that wouldn’t have been a problem,” I replied. One of my horns was currently poking through the burlap, which was the only relief from the muffling effect of the sack. “Where are we even going?”
“Lady Karsin’s estate,” Voltar said, followed by a quiet sigh from Dawes. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like that will matter too much by the end of this.”
Well, that sounded ominous.
“That makes the bag even more of an imposition,” I muttered. “I’ve been to her estate twice. And I doubt I’m getting released right after this, so not knowing where I’m going is even more pointless.”
“Oh, it’s not for that. They don’t want people to know they’ve abducted you, although I’m sure the both of them would prefer the term ‘taken into custody’.”
Silence reigned in the carriage, mounting until I broke it.
“I’ve been there several times before. My tail and hooves are visible, as is one of my horns. My skin is a shade of red. How is anyone who sees me being dragged into that tower not going to guess who I am?”
“Do not question the minds of nobles. I think we are close enough. We need to make sure everything is ready.”
Someone grasped the burlap sack, trying to lift it off my head. It caught on my stuck-through horn.
“The hells do you think you are doing? Tell me before you do something like that!”
Eventually, they got the sack off of my head.
“One second, we must complete the illusion,” Voltar said, producing a length of rope.
“The illusion of what?” I asked, eyeing the rope. I hadn’t received an answer to that question in the warehouse, only the prodding necessary to make me come along for this.
“That we haven’t been talking,” was all the answer I received, and soon I was dealing with rope fibers stuck in my mouth as they fit the burlap sack back over my head. They’d tied a second rope around my chest, leaving maybe a half foot of my tail wriggling in protest. They’d tied it tight too, so I could feel it cutting off my circulation.
It would not be a pleasant carriage ride.
***
By the time the carriage came to a halt, I was tempted to lash out with a hoof and hope I hit Voltar instead of his more innocent partner.
I couldn’t see out of this sack, and I couldn’t hear too well out of it, or smell. I did know how long it took to reach Lady Kersin’s estate from Garretsville. We’d taken half an hour longer than the trip should take.
I was escorted by the two of them out and guided along the stone walkways of Lady Karsin’s garden, as I could feel the stares of the people serving Lady Karsin.
At least Voltar and Dawes were gentle about guiding me through. No deliberate tripping to send me head first into anything, like some in the Watch favored. Soon I found myself being forced down to sit in a room, pressed forward far enough against a table that the edge pressed into my ribs.
The silence continued for a bit, only the sounds of breathing after the door closed. Ten people counting myself, Dawes, and Voltar. Finally, a familiar voice spoke up.
“Why does she have a bag on?” Lady Karsin asked.
“Precautions on my part, my lady. I assumed you would want no one to recognize her, since this is your estate where you are holding this little mock trial.”
Mock trial? Also, he’d decided?
“She has a horn sticking out of the bag, and you came in through the back gate, Voltar,” another familiar voice noted in exasperation. Lord Montague was here as well.
“Lady Karsin’s servants have already seen the Foulhorn twice, thrice now? Between that, the tail, the hooves, and everything else, I think they are capable of adding two and two together.”
And now I was stuck agreeing with Bartholemew Montague as well.
“They won’t talk,” Lady Karsin said. “I weeded out the last ones who would thanks to our young poisoner here.”
Well, now I knew what they’d been sold as my crime.
“Take it off,” another familiar voice commented. “Unless you’ve found out she can strangle people with her gaze, Mr. Voltar. I’m pretty certain she can’t, otherwise, I’d be dead myself.”
Gregory Montague was here. Interesting.
Someone grabbed the bag much more roughly than Voltar had, yanking it off of my head.
The room I was in was the same I’d had tea with Gregory Montague and Lady Karsin, only now much more claustrophobic from the number of people in here. I was sat down at a table across from a scowling Lord Montague. He was flanked by a smiling Lady Karsin and Gregory Montague, who was busy eating a pastry of some kind.
Turning my head, I could see four in the colors of either Montague or Karsin flanking me or just behind me. None of them were biosculpted, or at least not to the extent of Montague’s bodyguard, perhaps because there wouldn’t be room to fit someone of that size in here.
Straining my neck, I could see Voltar and Dawes behind me, and just by coincidence closest to the doors in case something went wrong. Well, I couldn’t fault them for that. Hells knew Montague looked like he was considering biting my face off here and now.
At least like some people I’d seen look at me like that, he couldn’t do that. Well, he couldn’t do that as easily as they could without as many pointy teeth.
Voltar cleared his throat behind me.
“Miss Falara, you already know Lord Montague, Lady Karsin, and Lord Montague. The four behind you are two members each of their household guards, and that appears to be all who will be here. Planning on this being kept private, My lords and lady?”
Montague’s sour expression turned even more dour as he glared at Lady Karsin. “I will repeat that you never should have involved him in all of this. And while I’m willing to tolerate him, I’m not having his sidekick stay around. The fewer witnesses, the better.”
Voltar’s grin turned glacial. “I hope you are not implying you are going to involve me in a crime, Lord Montague, or that Doctor Dawes is not worthy of respect.”
“It’s exactly what he implies,” Gregory said. “He’s just being less subtle about it than normal.”
“Be quiet Gregory,” Lord Montague snapped.
“I am not in your employ, Lord Montague,” Voltar said. “Neither me nor Doctor Dawes take orders from you in this matter.”
All eyes turned onto Lady Karsin, including my own. She looked at me, gaze blank. My own mask was a polite, disinterested smile.
“I think Lord Montague has a point. No offense to you, Doctor Dawes, but unless you have some insight that Mr. Voltar does not?”
Dawes shook his head. “Nothing of interest, I would think. Would you prefer by the door or out of earshot?”
“There are muffling enchantments on the door. You can stay right by it.”
And like that, the group of ten was down to nine, although it felt only more crowded to me.
Voltar was here to provide testimony in this mockery of a court, so if they ushered him out of the room after would make clear if this was to be an execution or not.
Not that holding an execution wouldn’t be a gamble at this point for Montague and Karsin. They’d be wagering neither Voltar nor Dawes would make a fuss over it, something that depended on how much Voltar knew.
Not that I expected Voltar to be upset if I died, outside of moral objections. He had those, to Versalicci’s eternal frustrations when they’d first set their paths to collide, but enough to overcome two nobles wanting me dead?
Either way, putting this off would only delay the inevitable, since everyone had gone quiet since Dawes had left.
“What am I being accused of?” I asked. “I’ve not been having the most pleasant of days, as it might be clear. Fights with rats and fops and a most unpleasant visit with my uncle.”
“Did you not hear Lady Karsin?” Gregory asked. “You’re accused of poisoning us all. Father’s been tearing apart whole chickens searching for your vile venoms you have been trying to feed us.”
Lord Montague’s dour expression turned thunderous as he glared at his son, who gave the innocent look only the most guilty could manage.
We kill this one first, The Imp said in my head. There is no greater crime than wasting food.
“Are you going to deny having poor Mitchell tearing that one chicken apart and having each piece tested after Elise said she felt ill?”
Devour him slowly.
“I would ask you to take this more seriously, considering your brother’s condition, Gregory, but I see you are incapable of doing so.”
And he is incapable of considering the seriousness of his offense.
“Considering we’ve already had a second alchemist come in and confirm her cure works? As far as I know, this is the same paranoia that ended with my favorite tailor having to move across the entire breadth of the country.”
Montague ignored him, turning his attention to me. I happily seized the opportunity to ignore the Imp, who at least had not tried to force me into launching a desperate attempt at devouring Lord Montague.
“If you admit what you did now and save all of us some time and effort, I might forget your part in this,” Lord Montague informed me. His tone and expression remained as stormy as ever, so he meant nothing of the sort. Just tossing out meat, hoping for a rat to chew on it, and saving himself the effort of shoving poison down the rat’s gullet.
I wouldn’t be accommodating.
I sighed as if considering all of my options, then spoke.
“First, I must confess to an incident where after spending an entire afternoon running messages for pennies, after Daniel Merkavan stole all my fifty pence I bit him on the ear and kicked him in the dick so hard he walked funny for four days. Made it awkward when we had a fling six years later. After that, I got into pick-pocketing as a superior method of making money over messenger running or Hells forbid chimney sweeping. My first victim was-”
A rifle butt rammed into the back of my skull, sending me reeling as my vision wavered, pain cracking through my skull.
“Foulhorn,” Lord Montague said. “You do not understand the situation you are in if you think jokes are going to help you.”
“I understand the situation perfectly, your lordship. You, or Lady Karsin, hired the city’s greatest detective for some task that has resulted in me being dragged here, in a mockery of a trial in front of a small group of people who will know to keep their mouths shut if I am to be killed at the end of this.”
Even odds on Voltar and Dawes actually, but he hadn’t hired them in the first place, and their presence here was a concession to the strangely quiet Lady Karsin.
“Besides, I am insulted by your assertion that I poisoned your son. If anyone ever employed me for such a goal, your son would have either choked on his bile days ago or would currently be fighting a battle he could not win.”
That got me dark looks from all three of them. Perhaps I should dial it back a little.
“I confess to providing both of you excellent service for the matters you consulted on,” I said. “One patient cured, another sure to be. I think my identity should have very little to do with that.”
“Unless you are associated with the poisoners,” Lord Montague states. “Unless this is all some scheme to drain our pockets of wealth to the benefit of you or, more accurately, your masters.”
I rolled my eyes. “And who are they? I agree with your son. This sounds like someone’s paranoia run rampant.”
“The Black Flame,” Gregory said, tone gone deadly serious.
I let my mask slip a little. Not exposing what lay underneath, of course, but just a moment of panic quickly covered up. You wouldn’t know to catch the tiny change in expression unless you knew how to look for it.
Four people here knew how and caught it.
I fired off a quick retort as half-constructed as a panicking caught thief would. If they were a complete novice.
“That’s what you have to go on? Someone informed you I belonged to the Black Flame? And you believed them based on what?”
Both Montagues turned to face Lady Karsin, whose smile faltered just a little.
“I’ll admit my suspicions early on were based on little more than an anonymous tip,” she said. “I didn’t pay it any mind at first. But after a while, it preyed on my mind how the moment I needed someone to cure my son’s poisoning, an alchemist showed up who just had not just a cure for me but enough for, say, three to four other people. The fact I couldn’t find any ulterior motive only made me more suspicious.”
I could point out that coincidence happened or the series of events that led to my discovery of the wyvern’s corpse, but I could tell the path of the argument she was making. Neither would ease the intended blow against me, so I kept quiet.
“I knew Mr. Voltar from when he solved the incident with Lady Villein’s necklace four months back, and I also knew he had some kind of history with the Black Flame. I approached him about this, and he assured me I’d hear back within a month or two and to contact him again if any more poisonings occurred. When you came to me asking about how my son had been cured, I reached out to him right after giving you Katheryn’s name. Mr. Voltar?”
Clearing his throat, Voltar moved to one side of the table, the only place where all of us could face him and he could actually stand up straight.
“Aren’t you going to ask him to take the stand?” I asked, only to get the butt of a rifle to the back of my skull again. This time, my head nearly rammed the table from the force of the blow.
Gregory’s lips quirked. “She is right, father, it is only proper-”
“This is not a courtroom!” Lord Montague bellowed. “Gregory, if you continue engaging in banter with the creature that poisoned your brother, I will have you disowned!”
Father and son stared at each other, and in the end, it was the son who blinked first. He looked at me apologetically, then kept his silence.
“Voltar, what did you find out?” Montague asked.
Lady Karsin remained quiet, and I tried to catch her gaze. Her quietness was…strange to put it mildly. Her house. Yet Lord Montague was calling the shots?
“Lady Karsin asked me to look into Miss Falara, a task I considered something to take up a lazy afternoon, but I did not take any real interest in. Until members of the City Watch approached me, who informed me of the recent demise of one Mr. Golvar, one of the trusted lieutenants of Giovanni Versalicci, head of the criminal gang of Infernals known as the Black Flame. I’m assuming you both are familiar with his and his group’s exploits.”
A nod from Lady Karsin and a grunt of affirmation from Lord Montague.
“The main one at least,” Lord Montague said. “I do not know what other things he’s been up to.”
I kept a grin off my face. All his records and he didn’t know? Perhaps a little ass-covering on his end, depending on what records he kept and he could have discovered Understreet.
“The Watch asked me to examine the crime scene and also to interrogate the only survivor of the incident, one Katheryn Falara. Needless to say, the same name turning up twice in a few days piqued my interest. I went to the crime scene first, where I observed that-”
“We do not need the details, Voltar, abbreviate your account if you must,” Montague said.
“Would you prefer just the conclusions, then? No? I interviewed Miss Falara at several points, and my suspicion only grew. A quick canvass of associates who I could find indicated that Miss Falara came to town four years ago, a year after the Understreet incident, and records of her existence before then in the city did not exist. I could have pursued records of her in the town she apparently claims she was born in, but with time on my mind, I decided to simply search her apartment while she was out.”
He wouldn’t have found anything that would stand up to any scrutiny at Sussen-on-Fyre. Records of Katheryn Falara but no one who knew her.
“I and Mr. Dawes examined her apartment and soon found a hidden spaced underneath her floorboards, where we discovered several boxes containing personal posessions, various tools for magic, and a few other items. Not wanting to tip her off, we put them all back under the floorboards and left her apartment.”
“So you weren’t the ones who ripped it apart?” Lord Montague asked.
“We would never conduct a search in such a way,” Voltar said. “There are various reasons one could have to conduct their search that way, some of which I could theorize on, but unless it’s immediately pertinent?”
“It isn’t,” Lord Montague said, and I resisted the urge to protest. It wouldn’t do any good, but his single-minded focus would be infuriating even if I wasn’t the one being targeted.
“Yes, well, from it I can say without a doubt that Miss Falara has been, and probably still is a member of the Black Flame, and I have even ascertained her true identity.”
My breath caught. There was an unanswered question between us three, and even if he had agreed, I probably would still worry if he only said it to avoid a fight. Now was the test.
“I can attest after examining the contents of the boxes that the Infernal sitting here is Alice Skall, a member the Black Flame long suspected to be dead. While she has a new form, I put this down to the services of a sculptor who used to be part of the Flame I consulted on this matter, who has admitted to arranging the treatment before they parted ways. Malvia Harrow sends her regards, Miss Skall.”
Author's Note: This chapter came so close to being called Lord Montague, Ruiner of Chicken Dinners
Comments
Neil Stevens
True, but nothing can stop Malvia Harrow from dropping veiled hints about how horrible her day is to attempt needling an irritating noble. There are just some laws of the universe that cannot be averted.
gostsamo
what if they hear that she has been in the hospital and learn that she has met someone there, then they can make the connection even without any help. a bit complex, but still she might benefit from keeping her mouth shut.
Neil Stevens
From her point of view, if Voltar is revealing she’s actually Lily Xang she is screwed over anyway. If he doesn’t reveal that connection, the nobles can’t exactly know who she is talking about. And that’s if they even think she’s telling the truth.
gostsamo
> and a most unpleasant visit with my uncle.” should she talk aloud about this? > where we discovered several boxes containing personal posessions, possessions
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