Watcher's Web (33 page)

She introduced
the others of the committee, and they took their places at the
table one by one.

She then
called the first witness.

Jessica had
never seen the brown-haired man who took his position behind the
lectern-like table. His hands trembled, and he stumbled over words,
repeatedly wiping his face as if he was so tired he had trouble
remembering what to say.

Jessica closed
her eyes and sent out a tendril of energy. Images oozed from him.
Three people bent over long lists of data on a screen. Despair
etched their faces and hung thick in the room. Rain lashed the
window. It was dark outside.

“He’s the head
of the Damaru family, the bunch of incompetents who own the
Exchange,” Iztho grumbled and went on to translate the man’s
declaration: that the Exchange records held no evidence of a
wayward translocation and that this implied the translocation had
been doctored.

“Rubbish,”
Iztho added. “They’re drowning in their own mess.”

But
he
did
believe she had caused the
accident and the man’s memories confirmed it: they hadn’t been able
to pinpoint the cause of the plane’s translocation.

The woman at
the table asked a few questions, in response to which a woman came
onto the floor to deposit a stack of documents on the table.

“What’s
that?”

“Proof of his
word, according to him,” Iztho said. “Proof of his incompetence
more like.”

The man
continued to plead to the committee, his eyes wide as a zombie’s.
Every second sentence, he repeated the words
elish kamoraa o gamaru,
which probably meant something
like
please believe
me,
but Iztho
peppered his translation with lots of disparaging remarks about the
Barresh Exchange.

Iztho might
not think much of the man, but his tone sent chills through Jessica
and she was glad when he finally sat down.

This is
wrong. He gets the blame for something I’ve done.

The mediator
raised her voice, and a translator repeated her words in Mirani.
“If what this man says is true, we should ask the only person who
can answer this question. In this hall is a surviving passenger of
the craft. Stand up, young lady, come here.” Her eyes met
Jessica’s.

Jessica gulped
and threw Iztho a panicked glance.

He stroked her
side with a gentle hand. “Answer the questions as I said. You know
nothing.”

Too
right she didn’t, and then she wondered if, as fellow passenger, he
would get a turn in being questioned. He had told her,
Tell no one that I was
there. It would only complicate the investigation.
She didn’t like it.

Jessica
stumbled from the bench. A wave of heat hit her as she stepped into
the light. Her voice uncertain, she asked in Mirani, “I will need a
translator.”

The mediator
threw her a suspicious glance, but continued in Mirani. “You were
travelling in this craft?”

“Yes.”

“We are
talking here about a local flight, where none of the passengers or
pilot had knowledge of the Union?”

“Yes.”
Cringe.

“How did your
craft end up here?”

“I was flying
home. There was a flash and all of a sudden, we were in a
rainforest. At night—”

“Good. Sit
down.”

“But . . .” What about the killings?

“I’ve heard
enough.” Her face was hard. “You have rehearsed this. Your Mirani
is far too good to be believable. I discount you as a witness.”

A councillor
at the bench yelled out, “This is unfair, Delegate! Let her speak.
The Pengali say that she—”

The mediator
hit the table. “Enough, Chief Councillor Semisu. We will proceed in
an orderly fashion.”

The councillor
puffed out his chest. In his heavyset frame, this rather looked
like his belly increased in size. He stuffed be-ringed hands in his
pockets, scowled, but said nothing. Didn’t go back to his seat
either.

Jessica sat
down on the bench, trembling from head to foot. Iztho put a warm
hand on her knee. “You did well, Lady.”

“I did?” That
was news to her.

“You did. She
doesn’t believe a word you said. That’s good.”

With all the
will in the world, Jessica couldn’t see how that was good, but she
sat back down, glancing in Daya’s direction, but Iztho leaned
forward and she couldn’t see him.

The councillor
argued with the mediator, then someone on the other side of the
hall shouted something in keihu that caused a sharp intake of
breath of many in the audience.

Jessica leaned
forward. “What? What did he say?”

Before Iztho
could translate, a new voice spoke, in Mirani. “You accuse Miran of
what?” A man in Mirani uniform strode onto the floor. Grey hair
cropped close to his head, he was thin and fairly short. His
uniform glittered with silver dots.

Jessica
whispered to Iztho, “Who is that?”

But a
chill took hold of her. She
recognised
him from somewhere.

“Commander
Nemedor Satarin, of the Mirani army,” Iztho’s voice rumbled next to
her.

The man walked
across the floor in a regal glide. He stopped before the table and
inclined his head. “Delegates.”

The mediator
returned his polite gesture and spoke a few words.

The Commander
smiled. “Thank you for the opportunity to conduct this hearing in
Coldi. I, however, prefer the local language.”

The
mediator’s hand wave cut off a roar of protest from the floor;
Mirani
wasn’t
the
local language. Commander Satarin copied his gesture, but directed
it at the applause from the soldiers at the other end of the hall.
“Calm down, calm down. Let us remember we are guests in this city,
here on the invitation of the Barresh council. An orderly solution
to this problem benefits us all. It was my intention to just
observe this meeting as a show of solidarity with the city of
Barresh. However, I’m surprised by the seriousness of the
allegations against our nation of Miran. If such . . .
murderers dwell amongst us, they must be punished. Chief Councillor
Semisu, could you please bring forward the proof for your
allegations.”

The councillor
stood there, mouth open. Whatever solidarity Commander Satarin had
hinted at obviously didn’t include informing the Barresh council.
And what had he said? That the army was here at the invitation of
the council? Why?

To
control the Pengali.

“What are they
talking about?” she asked Iztho.

“Someone made
the suggestion that the murderers were Mirani.”

“They
weren’t!” Jessica half-rose.

Iztho pulled
her back down. “Sit down, Lady, You don’t want any more attention
drawn to yourself.”

“
But
it’s not true. I
saw
the
murderers. They were Pengali.”

“I know, Lady.
No one is going to believe this allegation anyway.”

Shouts and
whistles died down. The councillor was still standing, fiddling
with his robe. “I trust the Barresh council has evidence for this
statement?” the commander asked.

“Witnesses saw
Mirani soldiers come out of the forest.” The councillor’s dark eyes
glinted defiantly.

“Can you
present these witnesses?”

“No. They’re
Pengali and your soldiers wouldn’t allow them in the building.”

“If you can’t
produce the witnesses, please be seated.”

A bout of
laughter went up almost drowning out the voice of the mediator.
“Excuse me, I determine if the witness can be seated.”

Commander
Satarin smiled at her and bowed. “Of course, Lady, my respect.
Apologies for my interjection. Before I return the meeting to your
capable hands, let me tell you that we must ensure that this
situation is resolved and those guilty punished. We must also
ensure that this young lady, caught up in this matter, is returned
to her place of origin.”

His eyes met
Jessica’s.

“Meanwhile, my
theory is one of incompetence.” He waved at the bench in a
rhetorical gesture, ignoring the sharp look from the mediator.
“Look at these men here. When you arrived, honoured delegates, you
saw the state of this city. Crumbling buildings, naked people
performing beastly acts in the streets. You only need look at the
state of the Exchange building to know it can’t function properly.
The city of Barresh needs an injection of investment. Miran has
offered that. Remember that in your judgment.” He turned around in
a theatrical gesture and made to go back to his seat. A roar went
up from the audience.

Jessica
shivered. There
had
been at
least two groups of people in the forest: the Pengali, who had
found them and might have been in the pay of the council, or, more
likely, might simply have been tribespeople defending their
territory. And there had been the rescue party Iztho had met up
with at the top of the escarpment, people she hadn’t seen. Were
they Mirani soldiers?

There was a
loud crash and shouts from the back of the hall. A beam of wan
daylight pierced the darkness showing a great mass of people
flowing in, small people, smelling of mint and fish and the
flowered wreaths some wore on their heads. The tide of striped and
spotted bodies washed down the stairs, pushing aside the guards who
attempted to stop them.

At that
moment, all the lights went out.

Chapter
27

P
EOPLE
SHOUTED
,
rose from their
seats and scrambled for the door.

Iztho grabbed
Jessica’s hand, his palm moist with sweat. “Come, Lady. Stay close
to me. If I’m right, that was the last of the council’s recharged
pearls. The council doesn’t even have enough light to keep their
meetings going. That’s how well they control their people.”

Men in white
uniforms moved in the grey beam of light that streamed in from the
door. Crossbows glittered. Soldiers shouted orders, pushing fleeing
members of the audience back into the stands.

Then, amidst
the chaos, a small light flickered on halfway down the stairs. A
mind light. Not Daya’s, but Ikay’s. Within a few moments, another
light followed.

People stopped
their mad stumble for the doors and stared at the centre of the
hall, where the lights converged above the mediator’s table,
lighting her face with a ghostly glow. Most of the council members
stood next to their seats.

A gust of
warmth flooded Jessica and a pinprick bright as sunlight rose into
the air. Daya.

Come,
help us. We need to have this meeting. These people need to hear
the truth.

In the eerie
light, the ring of white uniforms surrounding the floor stood out
clearly. Jessica eased herself out of Iztho’s grip and pressed her
hands together. The flow of energy came easily now. Several people
around her gasped with the brightness of her light. She let it
float up, hovering over the heads of the audience. The closer it
came to Daya’s light, the stronger the radiance of his energy
became. Warm, steady. She let the light circle Daya’s, like a pair
of courting dancers, twirling and teasing. Jessica thought of
soaring through the clouds.

“Don’t
encourage him, my Lady.” Iztho’s face looked wary.

Jessica
bristled. Encourage what? Didn’t he want the hearing to be
concluded, so that he was free to take her out of the city?

At least fifty
other lights had floated up, joining those already in the centre of
the hall. Most of them were little more than weak glowing spots,
but all of them combined cast a steady, even glow over the table.
Not a single noise disturbed the silence.

Her eyes on the
conglomerate of lights, the mediator sat back down, her face
ghostly pale. “It seems we can continue now that the, um, problem
with the lighting has been solved.”

Thumbs hooked
in his belt, Commander Satarin glided across the floor. The heels
of his boots clacked on the wood and with each footstep he came
closer to Ikay, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You know
this state of undress is illegal in the city, as are any
appendages?”

Ikay faced
him, her expression defiant. She snapped her tail.

“After the
hearing, I will make sure that you and all those who have come in
here to disturb a civilised meeting are charged with public nudity
and flauting of this city’s laws.”

His face
was a mask of hatred. All of a sudden, Jessica remembered where she
had seen him before: in a vision. This man had been in the lab,
ordering Daya to be tortured, collecting the energy from him.
And
he
was the man who supported her
being brought to Miran. She heard his reedy voice
What if I brought you a
girl?

And the
medico said,
She
could be made to have two, maybe four children a
year . . .

She breathed
deeply, trying to dispel the black spots that danced before her
eyes. Her light came rushing back to her and jumped into her
skin.

Iztho’s voice
rumbled. “My Lady, are you all right?”

Dark
images flashed before her eyes. The snarling face of a Mirani
soldier, running footsteps through the snow, the firing of a
crossbow, an explosion, the voice of a Mirani soldier
He’s still
alive.

Jessica
pressed her fingers against her temples.
Stop! Stop it!

A man strapped
against a cold metal wall, wearing a thin tunic while the ground
was covered in snow, a blast of iced water over his head, pain
burning down his back. He struggled, but his hands were tied.