Chapter 2: To Understand

No trials were in session. The courthouse was empty. Barnham stepped into the courtroom and walked over to his old place at the Inquisition's bench.

Constantine barked and danced around his feet before hopping up to sit on the bench and stare at him. It brought a smile to his face despite his misery, and perhaps that was the dog's intention. The little knight had remained by his side from the moment he left the bakery, as if aware he needed reassurance.

"You can forgive me for all my past crimes, can't you?" he asked Constantine, who barked and attacked his gauntleted hand.

They play-wrestled for a moment, but then he pried himself free of his companion's clutches and turned his stare to the iron cage which once held witches during their trials.

It still hung from the ceiling. One of many things that had to be changed, with Labyrinthia's shadows lifted. But until then, it remained as a grim testament to what their Story led them to do. Though it was empty, he could see Laura in it—and Espella, and Kira, and Maya, and all the others who took their places as defendants over the years.

Do you even know how it feels to be put in this cage?

He jumped at the remembered accusation and looked around, but he was still alone save for Constantine.

No, he didn't know. He couldn't. He was an Inquisitor, not a witch. At the time, there was no point in questioning it. It didn't matter what a witch felt. But he'd barely even concerned himself with the feelings of the accused, not yet proven as witches, until the strangers came to Labyrinthia and filled his mind with doubts.

He left the bench and approached the cage. He could climb inside and try to understand. Claustrophobia was not something he suffered, though and he would not be able to do anything but sit inside the unmoving cage. If he could but get someone to help him, and lower the cage into the flames, perhaps he could at last understand what he'd put those women through.

Who would help him?

Constantine barked and ran over. He looked at the mechanism that controlled the cage and growled.

Barnham knelt beside him. "I see even you have learned distaste for this. 'Tis a pity you're too small to operate it, my friend."

Before, in such a matter of importance, he would have considered it imperative to go to his superior. Lady Darklaw—Miss Eve—however, would merely order him to man up and join the efforts to integrate the Shades back into Labyrinthian society, if he was so disturbed by his past actions. He'd tried to help before, but when the former witches fixed him with those haunted stares, he couldn't remain even to aid them.

Ms. Eclaire would be horrified that he suffered from such guilt, and would undoubtedly encourage him to eat fresh bread straight from the oven.

The Storyteller was, in a way, his superior above either of them, but Mr. Cantabella seemed content to leave the past a memory. He would tell Barnham that since no one actually died, there was no reason to even think of it any longer.

Miss Espella was out of the question, as she would tell him it wasn't his fault and that everyone would forgive him in time. More to the point, she was too kind-hearted to even pretend to consign someone to the fires. Likewise, none of the knights in his command would lift a finger to harm him in any way, at his request or not.

If only Sir Blue Knight were still in Labyrinthia—not that he would do it, but 'twould take only minor coaxing to convince Maya Fey to pull levers and play with machinery, and perhaps she would also enjoy sending him into the flames as she herself had gone.

A witch was the obvious solution, but many of them were so spooked they would flee any conversation with him, let alone an extended interaction. Still, there had to be someone who wouldn't react in such a manner.

He snapped his fingers. Greyerl.

Miss Jean Greyerl would see the logical workings behind his desire to understand and aid him in his task.

He marched to the courtroom doors with Constantine by his side. "I shall understand my actions."

#

Voices reached him as he neared the alchemist's residence, and he slowed down. It sounded as though Miss Greyerl was having some sort of lesson about the science of the outside world. He paused. His request would take little of her time, and yet . . .

He remembered the look on the young woman's face as he insisted she be executed for the crime of being a witch though she'd not succeeded in her murder attempt—an attempt made only because she was terrified of being betrayed. Barnham shook his head. He'd taken too much from her already. Let her find happiness in her studies, undisturbed by the Inquisition.

He returned to the city streets. He'd sent Constantine back to the bakery, in case he did not understand what would later happen in the courtroom, but it seemed it was a failed venture overall.

Perhaps he could find another witch who was not afraid of him, yet not overflowing with forgiveness, either. Someone who deemed it important that he understand.

Lost in his thoughts, he collided with a young woman and sent her tumbling to the ground.

"My apologies." He held out his hand to help her up.

Kira ignored his outstretched hand, got to her feet, and dusted herself off before she picked up her fallen basket of flowers. "Excuse me," she said, with a sweet smile that screamed, I hate you.

Barnham blinked as she continued past him. Of course, why hadn't he thought of her before? He chased her. "Miss Kira!"

She stopped and plucked all of the petals from one of her flowers. "If you don't mind, I really need to sell these, or my boss will be angry with me."

"I require your assistance."

She put her hand over her heart. "Why, however could a horrible little witch like me help the great Inquisitor Zacharias Barnham?"

Perfect. Open hostility and defiance—she was exactly the sort of person he needed. "I—"

Mr. Cantabella's voice interrupted him. "Now, now, Miss Kira, that time is long past." The older man walked over to them and shook his head. "We're all friends now."

Kira gave him an even sweeter smile and shredded the flower in her hands.

"'Tis of no concern," Barnham said. "She meant no harm by it."

The Storyteller lifted his eyebrows, no doubt because Kira snorted and let out a small laugh at his statement, but shrugged. "Well, I'm pleased to see you've put your differences behind you."

She laughed again.

"We have," Barnham said, "Thank you for your concern, sir."

As soon as the Storyteller was on his way, Kira said, "You're battier than he is."

He folded his hands in front of him. "'Twas the easiest way to get rid of him. As I said, I require your assistance with a matter of great importance."

She destroyed another flower. "Inquisitor, unless it involves sending you screaming into a pit of fire, I want nothing to do with you." She smiled and continued down the street.

He raced after her. "As a matter of fact . . ."

#

"For the last time, how could this possibly be a trick?"

Kira folded her arms. "If someone comes in here and finds me lowering you into the fire, what are they going to think?"

He looked around the courtroom, which no one was likely to visit anyway, and then stepped close enough to force her to look up in order to meet his gaze. "Even the daftest of witnesses would find it difficult to insist you overpowered me." He closed his eyes. "And I swear to you upon my honor as a knight, I shall not lie about our activities here."

She looked at him for a moment, and then satisfaction glinted in her gaze. "You really want to know what it's like?"

"If I could visit the past and erase my actions, I would. Without that as an option, my only hope is to achieve understanding."

"All right." She smiled and set her flowers down on the witness stand. "You can't have the full experience if you aren't forced in by knights, but we'll work with what we have. Shut yourself in the cage, and I'll go start the fires."

"Very well."

He wheeled over the stairs that led up to the cage, a difficult task to do on his own, but within his strength. Even in an empty room, it felt strange to climb those steps, stranger still to open the cage and step inside. He shook his head. Kira had nothing to fear. If anyone stumbled upon this scene, they would believe the poor Inquisitor had gone mad.

He stepped inside and closed the door.

Flames roared to life in the pit below, and he jumped in spite of himself. He would never admit to anyone the shakiness in his legs or the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Kira returned a moment later and smirked. "I like seeing you up there for a change."

"'Tis . . . unsettling."

"Unsettling?" She offered him another murderous smile. "What a pleasant way to put it. It was a lot more than unsettling for me, I assure you."

Part of his mind shouted he understood enough and it was time to open the cage and get out, but he silenced it. He was no coward. He would face his actions and their reality with the courage befitting a knight. "I suppose it was. You believed you were going to die. Without that fear, I suppose I cannot truly understand."

She didn't answer. Instead, she strained to push the stairs away with little luck. He let out a small sigh of relief. Contemptible though his fear was, 'twas a comfort to know he could force open the door and climb back down if he had to.

Kira walked over to the lever that controlled the cage. He closed his eyes and braced himself. The descent, the heat, the loss of control—these were all things he'd subjected countless innocents to.

The cage lurched up.

He opened his eyes and looked over the empty courtroom, and the stairs he couldn't safely reach even if he lost his nerve.

Kira grinned. "Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Zacharias Barnham."