The Trial at Litus Albus I

Dawn broke over the trees, pushing into the side of a south wind, promising a warm day. The night's clouds chased the Mar ancestors ahead of a blue sky that threatened nothing more sinister than beautiful weather. In all respects but one, today would be an entirely uneventful day. Swind and Her saw to that.

Sophi thought the clouds should have stayed and gotten larger, a sign of Marrish. The day should be dark or rainy, Seruvus there for all to see. She sighed and shook her head. If the gods had any sense of irony, though, here it was.

The herbalist's daughter stood on the steps of her father's house in the morning stillness. She had not slept the previous night, and her tormented musings had brought her to the garden to watch the dew form on the leaves of the basil and coriander. Her mind was a blank, now. She had run the black road: from her father being ostracized in the way of the Kalkorae to the excitement of his proof. And it made her sad that even though she had seen it, every day for the past week, she did not believe the panel would see it.

It all felt like a dream. The Perkonen and her, trapped in the cramped log home, smoking weed and drinking tea that made everything else wash out except for these strange, floating motes. Surreal. They sat at the table, her, Rin, Aussie, Schafft and Weard, and his voice would repeat over and over again, concentrate on the green motes. The motes would move, slightly. Two would go near each other. Reach for a third ... and the other two would part. Frustration. Calm voice. Try again. No. The best success of the week had been when they had watched Schafft propel a red mote across the room until it passed through the wall.

Now the dream was ending. Today, the waiting was complete. Sophi stared at a drop of dew, clean fresh water condensed in the night, as it slid to the end of a perfectly shaped basil leaf, poised in a glint of sunlight, then fell to the earth: Seruvus' promise becoming Dinah's Curse. She sighed, and went back inside to rouse the men.

********

For Tharv the morning began a little later, with a rough shake by his son.

"Get up, pa," Ulof said. "It's time to get you to the panel so you can judge Weard."

Tharv sat up and rubbed his face, smoothing out his beard. He looked at his son, a thin, gangly man in a shirt and coveralls, with a thick beard with dried leaves in it. Tharv reached up to tug on the bright green strip of cloth tied around his arm.

"It's to show I support the cause," the lad said.

Tharv nodded and coughed, forcing himself to get out of bed and put on a shirt.

"Not that one. Ma says you got to wear the nice stuff. And I brought you an armband."

"I can't wear the armband," Tharv said, finding his nice clothes, the ones he wore the day Weard performed his miracle. "I have to look like I'm considering the situation."

The boy frowned, his gaze going stern. "Everyone saw you hand Weard the candle. Are you saying Weard lied?"

"No." Tharv drew on the strings around his throat and wrists, briefly wishing he had the strength to choke himself to death to get out of this mess. A voice inside him rallied, though, telling him this was for Weard. This was for Schafft and Aussie and the true believers. This was for Sophi.

Why is this such a big problem? he thought, running his fingers through his hair and staring at a knot in the wall. Why is everyone stressed out about this? But it was magic. It was something the Mar have waited for. For hundreds of years. And there it was.

It was a little clearer, then, the way his son said Weard's name. Not so much as a person but as a god. Because to the zealots who slept on mats outside the herbalist's home, the gods had touched Weard. They, including Ulof, wanted to be touched as well. Tharv could not help but think that four days ago, he wouldn't have lifted a finger to help the herbalist. The cooper knew, in that gut-wrenching way that could not be denied, that he had slipped through life doing the bare minimum, never putting himself forward, always using the least necessary effort, and here, today, he would need to act. Tharv would have to speak, or Weard would be ostracized.

Sighing, he touched his son briefly on the shoulder.

"Let me have the armband," he said, thinking of Sophi. "I know someone who'll want it."

Carrying the bright green strip, he left the house, Ulof in tow.

"Where's your mother?" he asked suddenly, aware she had not even jumped into his thoughts when his son had said her name.

"She left early," he said, sulkily. The rift between mother and son was sharp. Tharv should have been surprised his son had been in the house. "She said to tell you she couldn't stand to see you take part in such a thing, and she would be in Geflo's line."

When they reached the place where the panel was to meet, Tharv couldn't blame her. He wanted to disappear in that massive crowd chanting prayers to Marrish and shouting derisively at the smaller crowd some distance away, green armbands shining.

"No need to prove it!" the greens shouted. "The Mar have magic!"

"The gift cannot be stolen!" the mudrakers yelled back. "The charlatan will be punished!"

Then they saw Tharv, with the green band in his hand. He couldn't put it away fast enough as the two mobs rushed him, one with intent to harm, the other with intent to protect by dragging him away by force.

By all the gods, he thought, what will happen when Weard gets here?

The crowd swallowed them, shouting and reaching for Tharv. He warded off their hands, questions and exclamations with silence and elbows, trying to move forward. The entire thing made him angry enough to burst. He wanted to throw a punch back at the person who kneed him. He wanted to rip the cloak off the back of the man who jerked the strings at his throat like he was some kind of animal. Finally he saw Rin and the town's warriors making a path toward him by shoving people back with their spears.

"What are you going to do when Weard comes?" Tharv exploded at them, his voice nearly silencing the crowd now making room for them. "What kind of farce will this become if these people lynch the man before he gets a chance to prove himself?"

"We've sent a delegation to help him," Rin said. Concern flashed across his features. "Calm down, Tharv. Are you well?"

"No, I'm not well, look at me," Tharv said, feeling the heat rise from his face. But the rage was dying as the crowd settled back into some kind of sullen silence. Tharv met Ulof's eyes and saw the sternness was gone in place of something else. Oh, Marrish, he thought. They listened to me. He saw Aussie, Yarpelt and Sophi standing to one side. Sophi had her hands clasped as if to hold them still and stared at Tharv intently, knuckles white.

Tharv felt in his pocket for the band, then saw the one on her arm. Aussie and Yarpelt each had one as well. He felt a fool. They had all seen and heard his outburst. He pushed past everyone and into the house, barrelling into Lauf at the door.

The big diplomat grasped him by the shoulders in greeting.

"Well met, Tharv. You look a little torn up. Don't worry, you're not the only one," he laughed easily, his warm open face somehow only making the cooper feel more embarassed. "Here, here, but you are the last one. So get in and get ready. Weard has been spotted coming down the street."

"With the guard Rin said he would have?" Tharv could barely keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Lauf's eyebrows raised. "The battlemaster himself is protecting him."

Tharv's ears burned. From his toes to his ears! Oh, what will become of me? he thought, ducking a small bow and running into the main room. I should just keep my mouth shut. He found an empty seat and hunched into it, trying to hide underneath himself.

"Tharv," Geflo said, "you have a seat at this side of the table." There was a small chuckle from the men in the room, even Schafft, at the opposite end of the table, suspiciously quiet.

The cooper looked up just enough so he could see where he was, then slouched over to the end chair of the long table serving as bench for the panel. He took a deep breath, pulled up his hood and gently laid his forehead to rest on the table. He could feel the eyes on him of the men in the room.

Shortly thereafter, the door banged open and Lauf's heavy footsteps returned, echoing off the wood floor. Hard footsteps came by, then a pair of softer ones. Tharv found his hands clenching the green cloth in one pocket and the broken candle in the other.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up at Lauf's big round face.

"Are you ready, Tharv?" the diplomat said, and Tharv saw Weard sitting facing them, the battlemaster and Rin by the door. The cooper sat up straighter and nodded, still feeling strongly that everyone's eyes were on him.

Copyright 2005-2007 Eric Zawadzki and Matthew Schick. All Rights Reserved.
This site has features best viewed in Mozilla Firefox. Download today!