Ison of the Isles (35 page)

“What’s appeal?” Harg said.

Bartelso groaned. “Dear boy, this is why you ought to let professionals handle your affairs.”

One of the guards finally said to Bartelso, “Sir, are you authorized to talk to the prisoner?”

“Of course I am,” Bartelso said. “Don’t be absurd.”

“If I’m doing so badly,” Harg said, “why are you sitting across from me looking like the cat that got the bird?”

“There are always two courts to consider: the legal one, and the court of public opinion. You’re condemning yourself in the first, but you’re doing all right in the second. I couldn’t have played to the crowd so well, because I would have had a small professional obligation to save your life.”

They were nearing the guardroom door, and he knew they wouldn’t let Bartelso in. He said, “Can Talley shut me up?”

“Certainly, if you cross the line. You were risking it, there at the end. He’s leaning over to obey the forms, because of the Innings in the audience. He’s facing a lot of criticism.”

They were at the door then, and the other ninety-nine questions he had for Bartelso stayed unasked. When they shoved him back into his cell, there was no sign of Spaeth anywhere in the cell block. He spent the time alone eating the sparse lunch they brought him and thinking feverishly about strategy.

When the court reconvened, word had apparently spread that the trial was not the tedious, perfunctory ritual everyone had assumed. The room was packed now. Some people had even climbed up to the struts supporting the rafters. It was noisier than before. In the stir that met his entrance, Harg even heard a muffled shout of “Ison!” When Talley entered, he stood for a long time regarding them coldly. When he took his seat he gestured for a bailiff, and gave some whispered instructions.

The prosecutor’s star witness was the first one called into the court. When Harg saw him enter in a spotless Inning uniform, he thought that this was how Joffrey should have looked all along. When he identified himself as Governor Joffrey, Harg realized that he had taken Tiarch’s place as the Innings’ puppet ruler in the Forsakens.

Joffrey’s testimony was lengthy, detailed, and scrupulously accurate. It was also exquisitely damning. He could cite dates and specifics. From time to time he referred to a little notebook to give the exact words Harg had spoken. The courtroom had fallen totally silent, listening to his meticulous story. When he finished, there was something like a collective sigh as people turned to look at Harg, wondering how he could hope to refute this.

“Vice-Admiral Joffrey,” Harg started.

“Governor,” Joffrey corrected. His black eyes gleamed with the old animosity, but only Harg could see it.

“Congratulations,” Harg said.

“Thank you,” Joffrey replied.

“Tell me, who were you working for at the time you made all these observations?”

With a slight hesitation, Joffrey said, “For Admiral Talley.”

I knew it
, Harg thought. “Was Governor Tiarch aware of that fact?”

“I cannot speculate as to what Governor Tiarch was aware of,” Joffrey said.

He was a slippery one, more intelligent than all of the Innings and their pedigrees combined. “What was the nature of your work for Admiral Talley?”

“I provided him with information.”

“Is that the same as spying?”

Talley interrupted, “Stop badgering the witness and get to the point.”

“Yes, sir,” Harg said. “Governor, would you say that your job required you to be an expert at deceit?”

Before Talley could interrupt again, Joffrey replied smoothly, “Every job that involves the management of people requires a certain amount of judicious deceit.”

“So you could, for example, deceive these people?” Harg gestured to the audience.

“Not in court,” Joffrey answered. “I have far too much respect for the sanctity of the law.”

This was going nowhere. Joffrey was too clever.

Harg abruptly changed the subject. “What is the definition of treason?”

Joffrey looked wary. “I am not a lawyer; I couldn’t give you a legal definition.”

“Can you give us your definition as the Governor of the Forsakens, sworn to enforce the laws of Inning?”

Flushing slightly, Joffrey said, “I believe it refers to illegal actions aimed at overthrowing one’s government.”

“Could a Rothur be charged with treason against Inning?” Harg was genuinely fishing for information now, and it wasn’t Joffrey he wanted it from. He glanced at Bartelso, who had understood, and was subtly shaking his head.

“I don’t believe so,” Joffrey said. “Rothurs are not subjects of Inning.”

Talley said, “Mr. Bartelso, is something troubling you?”

Bartelso stood and said, “It’s a tic, your honour. Very troubling. Affects my head.” There was a ripple of laughter through the audience as he sat down.

“Keep it under control,” Talley said.

Harg turned back to Joffrey. “Are you a citizen of Inning, Governor?”

“No,” Joffrey replied, “but I hope to achieve that honour someday soon.”

“How is it that, despite such faithful service, you are not a citizen?”

“Citizenship is granted to non-natives only by the High Court.”

Feigning surprise, Harg gestured to the audience. “Then what are all these people?”

Joffrey shifted in his seat. “Technically, wards of the court.” There was a buzz of comment from the audience.

“And if one of them disagrees with an Inning citizen in authority, what recourse does he have?”

“He can sue in regional court.”

“Represented, as I am, by an Inning lawyer?” Harg gestured to his inert advocate. There was a wry laugh from the audience.

Coldly, Joffrey replied, “That would be to his advantage.”

“And the Adaina of the South Chain? What rights do they have?”

“The same, until they achieve a level of civilization consistent with citizenship.”

“So I am not a citizen of Inning?”

“No, not technically.”

“If I’m not a citizen, how can I be accused of treason? Isn’t that like accusing a Rothur of treason?”

Talley interrupted impatiently, “The appropriateness of the charges is to be decided by the judges, who are learned in the law.”

“Oh, so the law need not make common sense?” Harg shot back. There was an audible gasp from the audience.

“That is an insubordinate question,” Talley snapped.

“Then I withdraw it,” Harg said mildly. “I am just a savage trying to understand the subtleties of Inning civilization.” A nervous laugh bubbled up around the room. Harg could tell the audience was his now.

Talley said tensely, “I am tolerating you, prisoner, in hopes of demonstrating our fairness. Your questions are irrelevant and are wasting this court’s time. Only matters of fact are being judged here. Please confine your questions to them.”

“Yes, sir. I have no more questions.”

As Joffrey left the room, over the animated hum of conversation, there was a loud hiss from the back of the audience. Talley heard it and rose to his feet, trying to locate the perpetrator.
He has lost them
, Harg thought,
and he knows it
. For a moment Talley looked down at Harg, a virulence in his eyes that almost shook Harg’s nerve. Then Talley announced loudly, “This court is adjourned. We will reconvene at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

A strategic retreat, Harg thought. Then the guards were hustling him away before any more ground could be lost.

That evening, from the window of his cell, Harg could see firelight reflected on the low undersides of the clouds. When the guard came to give him dinner, he asked, “There’s no rioting in the city, is there?”

The guards’ discipline must have relaxed a little, because the young man actually answered, “No. Those are just bonfires in the Gallowmarket. People are camping out for good seats tomorrow.”

For the first time in weeks, Harg slept soundly that night.

*

If the courtroom had seemed full the first day, it was nothing compared to the second. People were not only packed into every inch of space; they were on the window ledges and massed in the square outside. Talley had increased security, but not enough to match the increase in the crowd. Harg felt a volatile tang in the air.

The day started with more testimony, this time from Minicleer, covering the attack on Tornabay. The substance of it was incriminating enough, but the Inning spoke in a condescending sneer that set Harg’s teeth on edge. Scanning the audience, he saw he was not the only one.

When it came his turn to speak, Harg paused a long time, looking out at the audience, trying to catch as many eyes as he could.
They must feel like participants
, he thought.
They cannot feel this is someone else’s business, someone else’s responsibility
.

“Provost, before you were appointed to your present position, what was your profession?” Harg asked Minicleer.

“I was an officer of the Inning Navy,” Minicleer said, as if it irked him to have to answer.

“Tell me, have you ever been responsible for men being killed in battle?”

Minicleer glared at him. “Yes.”

“Are you concerned that you will be tried in court for it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

With an air of surprise, Harg said, “Oh, is it not a crime in Inning law to kill a man in combat?”

“No.”

“Is it a crime to fire a gun on the enemy?”

“No.”

“Is it a crime to liberate a city occupied by the enemy?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why do you think I am standing here, and you are not?”

At last Minicleer saw where Harg’s questions had been leading. He flushed angrily and looked to Talley for support. Impatiently, the Admiral said, “Prisoner, there is a difference between war and insurrection. You owed allegiance to Inning, both as an officer and as a subject. We were your rightful and legally constituted rulers.”

“Pardon my confusion, Admiral,” Harg said. “No one has ever explained that to me clearly before.”

He turned back to Minicleer. “Tell me, Provost, by what right did Inning assume rule over the Forsaken Islands?”

Minicleer said in a venomous voice, “By right of conquest.”

“Did the people of the Isles give their consent?”

“I don’t know how we could have found that out. You can’t visit every flea-ridden hovel.”

There was a stir in the audience. Harg wondered why Talley wasn’t breaking in. It came to him in a flash, that Talley was giving them both enough rope to hang themselves. Well, best to sail while the wind was blowing.

“Did your authorities ever consult the existing government of the Forsakens?” Harg pressed on.

With a slight laugh, Minicleer said, “There was none.”

“Have you ever heard the word ‘Ison’?”

“I heard it when you started going by that name.”

“Have you ever heard of the Heir of Gilgen?”

“I’ve heard some myths and legends.”

Raising his voice, Harg said, “Is it possible these offices constitute a government you did not consult before invading and waging war on us? Is it possible we were a nation with a right to our own sovereignty?”

The courtroom had been buzzing, and this question threw it into a tumult. Talley rose and gestured the guards to restore order. In a red and black line they passed into the crowd and began to wrestle some of the louder members out the door. Harg heard clubs come down on flesh.

Talley’s voice rang out over the hubbub, “Prisoner, you are perverting the privilege of question which we have generously granted you. You are using this court as a forum for sedition and rebellion. You only make the blackness of your guilt more apparent.”

Harg shouted, “What’s apparent is the sham you call ‘justice.’”

“Put him on the block,” Talley ordered. The guards seized Harg’s arms and nearly dragged him off his feet as they hurried him roughly to the centre of the floor. They forced him down on the block, face up, and wrenched his arms back to chain him down.

New shouts of protest went up.
At last
, Harg thought,
they see that I am them
. Shouts of “Ison! Ison!” had started up at the back of the room, where the Adaina were. The guard clamped a metal collar around Harg’s neck, choking tight. He struggled to breathe.

The noise did not die down. There was a sound of scuffling, and a woman’s angry cry. Harg heard Talley giving some hasty orders, then suddenly the guards were releasing him again. Before he could look around, they were dragging him at a near-run from the courtroom. Two more guards followed; Harg saw that they had guns.

They rushed him down the corridor, past some soldiers running the other way, and down the stairs into his basement cell again. Outside the tiny window, in the Gallowmarket, there was shouting and the sound of marching troops. Harg tried to climb on the cot to see out, but the window was too high. He sat there listening, half excited, half terrified by what he had done.

Not the Mundua nor all the lawyers in the world could save him now.

*

A bird was singing in the garden outside Spaeth’s window. The sound ripped through her brain like a saw, its teeth shredding nerve fibres as if they were so much soft wood.

After they had taken Harg away, the guards had come back to move her to a new room, plainly furnished but above ground. For the first few hours she had paced restlessly, as if by moving she could stay ahead of the pain. By noon her eye had swollen shut and the whole side of her face was purple-bruised. A knife was stabbing her side with every breath. At last her joints became so painful she could no longer move, though the bed felt uncomfortable as a rocky beach, every crease in the fabric digging into her flesh.

By the next morning she was drifting deliriously in and out of this circle, in and out of the past. She kept seeing Harg asleep in the bed beside her, newly cured. His skin was warm and dry against her body, gently shifting with his breath.

How whole he was! She felt intensely proud. It was as if she had reknit him with her own tendons, filled him with her blood, created him anew. He was perfect now, a masterpiece; and yet, the instant he went out into the world something new would harm him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life as they had spent the one night, trying to get closer than the barriers of skin would permit—one person, and yet miraculously two. But in the intervals when she came awake, and found herself alone, she knew she had seen him for the last time.