Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (36 page)

‘Profits?’ the senator said. ‘Oh no, I didn’t make any profit. In fact I ended the year about fifty thousand crowns down.’

Firehand raised a bushy black eyebrow. ‘Really? And why is that?’

‘Because of
the rake
,’ Grins said. ‘The Snake Pit takes a ten per cent cut of every pot.’

Kal heard Zeb growl beside her, and she instantly understood Firehand’s line of attack. Firehand, though, in a state of mock outrage, proceeded to lay it out for the benefit of the court:

‘So you are saying, Grins, that a skilled card player still finds it almost impossible to turn a profit at the Snake Pit, because his or her winnings are skimmed by the gambling den to the sum of
a hundred thousand crowns
?! This sounds like legalised robbery to me!’

Zeb stood up and shouted furiously across the court room: ‘Grins Whitebane is
not
a skilled card player. Kal is a skilled card player.
She
can beat the rake
and
turn a profit!’

‘Kal?’ Firehand smirked. ‘Do you mean Kalina Moonheart? Your closest friend and member of your defence team? The woman you were seen talking to on the night of the robbery? Forgive me for asking, but do you have any
other
examples of successful gamblers at your establishment?’

Ben had now risen to his feet. ‘Objection!’ he called. ‘This is not relevant to the robbery.’

‘No, it is not,’ Firehand agreed. ‘But then, who said this case was anything to do with the robbery? I came here today to prove that Zeb Zing swindles the people of this city, and I put it to this court that she takes money from under the noses of our most respected citizens at night, while they relax after working hard all day for the good of this city!’

‘That’s not fair,’ Zeb fumed. ‘I work hard, too, and I benefit the city; I pay my taxes.’

Firehand looked up at Greatbear. ‘Perhaps now would be a good opportunity for me to cross-examine the defendant?’

Greatbear shrugged. ‘It may as well be now as any other time.’

Kal slumped on the bench. She felt sick inside. She didn’t doubt that Zeb would put up a spirited defence, but Firehand was an experienced prosecutor, and Kal knew that he was unlikely to ask Zeb any questions he did not already know the answer to.

Kal glanced up at the sun dial. If she concentrated she could see the shadow slowly move across the wall.
They were running out of time!

* * *

Firehand’s opening remark was innocent enough: ‘You have a well-appointed house on Arcus Hill, Miss Zing.’

‘So do you,’ Zeb shot back.

‘Well, yes,’ Firehand admitted. ‘But my property was a gift, awarded to an ancestor of mine some years back by the grateful people of the city after some heroic act of public service. These days, the neighbourhood is affluent and exclusive.’

Zeb shrugged. ‘I got a big discount,’ she said. ‘There is a local rat problem.’ This generated a few laughs from the public gallery.

But Firehand was not deterred from his line of inquiry. ‘I only mention your large home, Miss Zing, because city law requires that all property purchases must be vetted to ensure that they are not bought with the proceeds of crime. Are you a criminal, Miss Zing?’

Zeb shook her head. ‘I do not have a criminal record—’ She paused for a moment, and Kal thought she detected a shadow pass across her friend’s face. ‘… in Amaranthium,’ she amended quietly.

‘In Amaranthium, yes,’ Firehand echoed, a predatory glint flashing in his dark eyes. ‘You know, I did wonder why a woman like you, facing such heinous charges, yet spared from prison by the wily tricks of your friends, didn’t up and run home when you had the chance. Perhaps it is because the fate that awaits you back on the Winter Steppe is a worse one than you face here …’

Zeb’s head had hung in shame. The court room was silent, hanging on to Firehand’s every word. Kal could only do the same, not knowing what the man was going to come out with next. Whatever Zeb’s secret was, she had hidden it well, even from her friends.

‘You do not deny then,’ Firehand continued, ‘that if you returned to your tribe on the Winter Steppe, then you would be arrested, charged, and most likely executed—in a far more savage manner than the mere hanging you face here—for the
murder of your husband
!’

Kal was stunned. Beside her, Ben groaned as the fight visibly left his body. Zeb, though, found her voice: ‘Yes, I killed a man once, a long time ago: a violent and cruel man!’

Zeb had hinted once that she fled an abusive relationship, but Kal had never pressed the issue. Firehand, however, had probably gone as far as sending spies out to the steppe to dig up a scandal.

‘Well,’ Firehand said. ‘I do not doubt that your husband was a monster. But if crimes of violence and cruelty were punishable by death, Miss Zing, then I would have my days taken up pushing for the death sentence for almost every person in this room … including your friend, Kalina Moonheart!’

Ben stood up. ‘Objection!’ he shouted. ‘All of this is beside the point; the law out in the Wild has no bearing on the law of this city—’

Firehand turned on him, a vicious rage distorting his features. ‘Oh, let’s not debate legal technicalities, Godsword,’ he spat. ‘There are some crimes where guilt is self-evident. Never mind the harsh laws of the Wild, or the refined laws of the city; the crime of murder is an anathema to humanity and to the very gods themselves!’ He turned and addressed the jury. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I put it to you that Amaranthium has been infiltrated by this murderous, venomous snake, who is poisoning this city by slowly, but surely, bleeding it dry of your hard-earned wealth. Zeb Zing must hang for her sins!’

The crowd were yelling and shouting, whether in agreement or opposition to Firehand, Kal could not tell, but the noise was so loud that even Greatbear could not bring the court to order with his heavy-handed claps. Firehand was standing triumphant, basking in the drama he had invoked, and Kal had a horrible violent urge to reach for the knife hidden in her boot and send it flying across the court room. In her mind’s eye, she could visualise the expression on his face as the blade stuck in his skull between his eyes.

Then her fantasies were shattered as the doors at the back of the court flew open, and the low afternoon sunlight streamed in. Firehand flinched as the sun hit his eyes. The court room fell silent, everyone’s attention arrested by an awful stench that suddenly seemed to permeate the whole building. Whatever had just entered the court house smelled of death and decay.

When Kal turned around to look, her mouth fell open at the sight of the monster standing in the doorway.

IV.vi

Judgement

The creature just stood there, lingering on the threshold of the court house, drinking in all the attention. Then behind it, Captain Dogwood (who had been stationed outside, guarding the court house doors) gave the thing a kick up the backside to get it moving so he could close the doors again.

Kal stared in horrified fascination as the strange being stumped up to the front of court. People on both sides of the central aisle gagged and spluttered as the stinking thing passed by. Finally, it stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to Greatbear’s seat. The two lictors stepped into position to prevent it from going any further. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ the magistrate asked.

Kal noticed Nim hand Ben a note. It seemed that
somebody
, at least, knew who this newcomer was. Ben looked at the note, blinked in confusion, then stood up. ‘This is my witness,’ he explained, in the tone of voice that suggested he couldn’t quite believe it himself. ‘His name is Drub Drogger. He
is
on the court schedule; his identity
has
been confirmed.’

The thing called Drub Drogger let out a hacking cough. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he croaked. ‘I had to get cleaned up.’

Firehand was holding a silk handkerchief to his nose. ‘Well, ask the man your questions, Godsword,’ he snapped. ‘Then get him out of here, before I am sick!’

Ben shrugged and turned to Drogger. The filthy, hunched-up man was leering expectantly at him. Some brown, syrupy liquid dripped from his grime-soaked clothes and onto the spotless slabs of the court room floor.

‘So, Drub,’ Ben said, glancing down at his note, ‘I see that you are a farmer. Have you … had a good crop this year?’

Drogger cackled. ‘Aye!’ he said. ‘I’m a
gong farmer
. I harvest the
night soil
. There’s plenty o’ that to wade through ’round about election time. And this heatwave has made it ten times as bad!’

Kal heard low moans and polite coughing noises from around the court. She guessed the court room was probably the cleanest place that Drub had ever entered. Usually, his job would take him to the cesspits of homes not connected to the city’s sewerage system.

‘And you were at the Snake Pit on the night of the robbery, then?’ Ben queried.

Drub shook his head. ‘No, I’m the one who brought you all those papers, remember?’

Nim handed Ben a sheaf of documents. He flicked through them with interest. ‘These are court records of all the buildings that Firehand has put out of business in the past year: Bobbin’s Brewery, Karnog’s Burlesque, Amazot’s House of Mirrors, The Grapevine … The senator has been busier than I thought, stamping out vice and dissolution in the city!’

Nim handed Ben another pile, and his eyes widened when he saw them. ‘And
these
,’ he said, ‘are purchase and planning permission documents for the building of temples to Phanto around the city, on the sites of … Bobbin’s Brewery, Karnog’s Burlesque …’

There was a murmur of discontent passing among the senators in the jury and in the gallery. Nobody loved a religious maniac, not least one as powerful and influential as Firehand. Some of Amaranthium’s bloodiest tyrants in the past had been fueled by divine zeal.

‘And you just
found
these documents?’ Ben asked Drub incredulously. ‘Where?’

The gong farmer treated the court to a crooked gap-toothed grin. ‘In the shit pit outside Senator Firehand’s estate, as if he had just flushed them away! Couldn’t read ’em myself of course, but I have a nose that can sniff out things of value, so that’s why I brought ’em to you, Mister Godsword!’

‘This is an outrageous lie!’ Firehand interrupted. ‘This …
person
… couldn’t possibly have happened across these papers!’

Then, with his next words, Firehand condemned himself: ‘I would never have just thrown them away!’

* * *

When the jury voted, they acquitted Zeb Zing by an overwhelming majority. Their verdict, though, was more of a judgement on Felix Firehand, whose consular ambitions they ended that day. Although he was one of their own, the aristocracy of Amaranthium evidently now considered Felix to be akin to the mad, embarrassing relative—someone to be quietly pushed to one side, rather than to be held up as a shining example of their ilk.

Firehand kept his fury in check as he shook hands with Greatbear and Ben in front of the public gallery; the game of politics was a long one, and Firehand had to show a graceful acceptance of defeat. But Kal noticed that while Ben and Zeb celebrated with hugs and spontaneous kisses, Firehand yanked Gwyn by the hand and dragged him out of court with unconcealed fury in his eyes. The child looked back at Kal imploringly, and her heart went out to him.

Greatbear was full of praise for Ben’s handling of the case. ‘Your star is on the rise, Ben,’ he boomed. ‘Perhaps next year it will be you standing for election as consul!’

Ben shook his head modestly, still clinging on to Zeb. ‘Oh no, I can guarantee you that there is no chance whatsoever of me standing for consul next year.’

Kal left them to it. She would catch up with Zeb later. Right now, she slipped out of the court house with the crowds and, after pausing to sniff the air, headed down an alley at the side of the building. Drub Drogger was leaning against the wall smoking a fragrant roll-up that only barely concealed his stench. Kal went straight up to him, grabbed his matted hair, and kissed him forcefully on the mouth.

‘I think I love you,’ she said to him.

Will laughed and tried to push Kal away as he pulled off his grotty wig and spat out his false teeth. ‘I was worried I wasn’t going to make it in time,’ he said. ‘Firehand’s town house was as clean as a whistle—I had to ride to his estate outside the wall to dig up the real dirt.’

‘You did good,’ Kal told him. ‘For a change!’

‘I did it for
you
, Kal,’ Will said. He reached into the pocket of his dirty overcoat and produced a fist-sized pouch. ‘But here’s something to help Zeb get the Snake Pit back up and running: a gift from me. Well, from Felix actually … I wish I’d had time to root around his villa a bit more; there were a lot of interesting locked doors in that place!’

‘First, you need to get to the bath house,’ Kal said. ‘And burn these awful clothes! Where did you find them?’

There was the trill of a bell from down the alley, and Nim came scooting towards them on her two-wheeled
velocipede
. ‘I soaked the clothes in skunk spray I filched from the biology department,’ she said as she squealed to a halt next to them. ‘Did the nose stay on, Will?’

‘I can’t actually get it off,’ he said, tugging at the fake proboscis glued to his face.

‘Nim,’ Kal said suddenly. ‘Does the university have many books on
Feron
Firehand, the ancient general?’

‘A few,’ Nim said. ‘We even have some books written by him when he was Lord Protector. They’re on loan from the Firehand archive.’

‘Which is where? The Forum library?’

‘No, it’s a private collection, I think. It’s on the Firehand estate.’

Kal looked up at the sun, then at Nim’s wheels.

‘What are you thinking?’ Will asked.

‘There’s something I need to check,’ she said. ‘Something to do with the murders. Nim, I need to borrow your contraption. I can try and beat Firehand back to his estate.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Will said.