"I didn't think ye'd be sleepin' tonight, lass. For what it's worth, I don't see how they can find ye guilty, not if Tyr's got any justice in 'im at all."
Khelgar's voice was not unexpected at the doorway leading out of the tavern and into the Flagon's living areas. Something about her plight seemed to have affected him, especially as the days wore on; his glances had been often and understanding, seeing her withdrawing from the banter among the others of the group. They had arrived back at The Sunken Flagon four days before the trial, and that just did not seem enough time to recuperate from their journey to Ember and all they had seen there. They had been required by law to leave the boy from the well in the safe-keeping of Haeromos at Port Llast, though Isaviel was loathe to agree with Sand's adamant verdict on this. It was all too evident that those in Port Llast had been bought off or intimidated by the Luskans.
"They might try to execute me tomorrow," the Moon Elf pointed out simply, her voice far steadier and stronger than she felt.
She did not look around as the Dwarf approached, his booted footsteps heavy on the wooden floor of the tavern, staring into the cold ashes and charred wood of the fireplace from the armchair. It was all but pitch-black in the room and as such she could see him in the shades of grey which were characteristic of her unusual nightvision.
"Sand has been working day an' night t' make sure he can avoid any o' them…loopholes the Luskans might try t' use on ye," Khelgar added as he sat in the chair by the mantelpiece. That was Bishop's habitual seat – but Bishop had not come back.
"Otherwise my last option will be trial by combat. They'll probably pitch me against a dragon."
"It's High Justice, lass. They wouldn't let 'em."
"You hold Tyr and Neverwinter's justice in high esteem," Isaviel noted, narrowing her eyes in his direction, but he just nodded, "Regardless, it only stays that way until I'm proven guilty, and if I do get a chance to fight – and I lose – then it's the same as an execution."
"We won't let that happen. Neverwinter won't," the Dwarf denied her words gruffly, and she could only smile ruefully at his conviction.
Over the last few days he had been the most available of her friends, and he probably had begun to fancy himself the most approachable as well, given the awkwardness that seemed an innate barrier between Casavir and Isaviel. Neeshka had gone to her hideout as soon as they returned, barely speaking a word to anyone. Sand had locked himself away in his house with piles of law tracts and tomes, scouring them for loopholes and anomalies. His light shone every hour of the night. Shandra spent her mornings and her afternoons practicing with her shortsword against any one of the martial companions who would take her on, and she had grown quiet and thoughtful in the evenings. The sight of Ember had affected her greatly, and although Isaviel found that she could empathise, she guiltily accepted that she could not sympathise. The woman's grief was too real and too clear. It unsettled her. And last of all, Duncan was far too anxious about the coming trial to be of much moral support – he had avoided her eyes lately, lest he blurt out some panicked sentiment or something equally embarrassing for a retired, battle-hardened adventurer.
"He'll come back," Khelgar added softly into the silence that had stretched between them, and Isaviel looked towards him curiously, "Ye ranger, I mean."
"He is not my ranger."
"Have it your way, but he'll come back all the same," Khelgar shrugged, "As much as I don't want 'im to, he will.
Isaviel had never felt so sick, waiting behind a portcullis-style doorway, a row of emotionless guards blocking her path back down that dim, bland corridor. Fidgeting with the long sleeves of her dress she felt strangely naked in all that material, liable to trip on the hem of her skirt, liable to choke from the button pressing against the base of her throat. No clothes for fighting, these – and no weapons to hand, either.
Beyond the grating of the black-painted doorway ahead she could make out the low slab upon which she was to stand, and the identical construction across the circular, roofless chamber which would be Torio's place. There were the three chairs raised on a podium to the left, looking down upon both platforms, the central one just that little bit more ornate, its cushions purple instead of blue: a throne.
Of course, all around the room, high up on a circular balcony, were the people of the nobility of Neverwinter. Some were leaning over the bars to try to get a look at her, and all of them were talking…all at once. Her ears were ringing from their ceaseless excited chatter. As well as this, there was one small stand by the door of each platform, and Isaviel could make out the surly, silent group gathered to back up Torio. They looked less like friends and more like lackeys, and one was a hulking brute of a man, heavily muscled and dressed plainly in black, his arms folded in front him as resolutely as a bar on a door. His big, nastily scarred face was set into a scrunched up glare, beady eyes blazing like hateful coals below bushy brows. He was balding, with more stubble on his jaw than hair on his head. He must have been almost seven feet tall standing, as she had observed when he entered, and his steps were unsettlingly quick and balanced. If there was anyone Isaviel never wanted to fight, it was him, and if there was ever anyone she knew Torio wanted her to fight, it was him. She had seen Sand tense when that massive beast entered and knew what had passed through his mind, though he had kept his expression blank.
Looking to her own stand, Isaviel saw most of her friends were present. Shandra was seated closest to her, Sand and Casavir next to her, and the Moon Elf somehow took some solace in the fact that the paladin remained in his armour. The wizard had donned a long green jacket over his plainer black clothes, his boots gleaming in the sunlight, and with the gift of his half-Elven life span he could have passed for a handsome man in his mid-thirties. Shandra kept looking around at her through the grating, trying to send her encourage smiles. The human woman had done as Sand suggested and dressed in her farmer's clothes; that greyish top and brown trousers, a little faded from hours in the sun. 'You look suitably rustic, my dear' he had told her just before the Neverwinter guards had come to the Flagon to collect Isaviel. He had not said much to the Moon Elf, but there had been a strange look in his eyes as she was leaving. It was…wistful.
Elanee's slight form was just visible past Casavir, and Khelgar beyond that. Duncan was at the far end of the stand, kicking a leg back and forth anxiously. She could only hope that he would not blurt out something in the middle of the trial. Qara was seated in the row behind him, looking about the room curiously and with an evident lack of concern for the events of the day. Grobnar was twitching by her side, and she kept elbowing him to quell his mutterings. Sir Grayson Corett was seated two chairs down from them, wearing a bland expression. Neeshka had not come, and there was still no Bishop. Had he truly abandoned them? He had not said when he would be back…
A trumpet sounded in the hall and silence fell as a deep voice proclaimed:
"Lord Nasher Alagondar, ruling Lord of Neverwinter, Chief Justiciar Oleff Uskar, Reverend Judge of Tyr, and Sir Nevalle, Leader of the Neverwinter Nine."
And so it begins. Isaviel breathed in deeply, watching the three men enter. Nasher entered first, dressed in a long black velvet cloak, trimmed in silver and gold threat, and a silver doublet with matching breeches. A ceremonial scabbard hung empty at his golden belt, and his crown glinted a matching shade upon his head. He took his seat with practiced pomposity as Nevalle, in his usual Neverwinter Nine attire, reached the chair to his right. Oleff came last, making his way behind the three chairs before standing in front of his own, to Nasher's left.
"Reverend Judge Oleff Uskar, you may proceed," Nasher stated his agreement, and the judge nodded a brief nod without looking around, just reaching his seat.
He did not sit, but rather took hold of the bronze bar in front of him and surveyed the room with a long, burning blue glance before his eyes settled upon the grating in front of Isaviel. His lined face was serene, his black clothes emblazoned across the chest with a thickly embroidered silver eye of Tyr. His voice was gentle when he spoke, barely loud enough to carry.
"We are gathered here in the sight of the Even-Handed God to determine justice for the town of Ember, burned almost to the last man, woman and child. Is the accuser present?"
The grate across the room opened and Torio stepped through, a serious expression plastered to her sharp face as she took her place, unguarded, upon the appropriate platform. She was dressed in a gaudy low-cut gown of blue silk that swept the floor, a rather superfluous length considering the wide slit running up the side of the skirt – heavily embroidered at either side with images of curling white waves, each tipped with a large pearl; it left her right leg effectively bare. A black hairnet had been pinned to the bun of her hair, a reminder that she should be mourning. She may have chosen the Neverwinter colours, but the symbol on her sash was telling; the plain sail and crossed cutlasses of Luskan.
"I am here, Reverend Judge," she said piously, but a quick look up around the balcony of the Neverwinter citizens showed that they were casting one another uncomfortable looks, muttering distrustfully, "I speak for those the accused slaughtered at Ember – and I am here to see that justice is carried out this day."
That made Isaviel's blood boil, and Sand looked back at her pleadingly as if he had read her mind. Be careful he mouthed to her, and she just gritted her teeth, and held on to the long, heavy skirts of her plain dress. She dreaded the glow in her eyes returning – it had not been an issue for many weeks, but the falsity of the peaceable atmosphere had created a lull in her focus. Her anger was growing, and it would not go away; her strange nature would be her downfall, she feared.
"Very well, then bring in the accused," Nasher commanded.
The gate in front of Isaviel screeched ominously on its hinges as it rose above her, the spikes that had linked it to the cracked concrete floor worryingly sharp as they retracted into the arch above. The guards formed up behind her, and she knew she had to step forward, making her way out into the cold air, thankfully still within the confines of this 'Hall of Justice' just outside Neverwinter's walls, yet still adjoined to the Temple of Tyr's northern side.
She kept her head bowed, as Sand had suggested, hoping that he was right about this act; if she dressed demurely, as a fragile, girlish figure in a long, high-buttoned grey dress, carefully plaited hair down her back, they might just think this was a ludicrous claim on sight. Without her weapons she was apparently defenceless; only Oleff knew of her training as a monk, and he was supposed to judge her fairly, on truth, and so appearances should not sway him either way. It took a great deal of concentration to make it to her platform without tripping on her skirts, as she had feared, but at last she stepped up, the guards forming ominously behind her, halberds crossed.
"Is the accused here? And her defence?" Oleff asked, looking directly past Isaviel, at Sand, who stepped forward out of the stand with confidence, and perhaps a little swagger. All show.
"We are, Reverend Judge," he agreed, coming to stand by Isaviel's side, albeit on the hall's floor. The platform was hers alone.
"And do you, Isaviel Farlong, sometimes known as Isaviel Eventyr, deny these claims against you? Ambassador Torio Claven speaks as the accuser, blaming you for the massacre of Ember."
"Yes, we do," Sand agreed firmly, his bright eyes flicking about the room as a quiet murmuring went up across the balconies.
"You are wasting your time, wizard. The proof has already solidly shown your…charge…to be a murderer. You are delaying the inevitable and adding to your own shame as well. And to think, you could have remained at the Hosttower and had some semblance of greatness," Torio scoffed.
"Ambassador, you speak out of turn. We must hear only of the accusations you bring, and the defence of the accused," Nevalle told her sharply, but she kept her eyes on Isaviel, knowing that the damage had already been done.
It took all of the Moon Elf's concentration not to turn to stare at Sand with accusations of her own as a hiss of whispers went up through the crowd. A wizard of the Hosttower? What was this? How – why – had he kept this a secret from her? She did not look, though she felt her rage growing worse, her fists tightening. He bristled beside her as well, but he did not rise to it. And Tyr's justice waited for none of them, apparently, for Oleff was speaking.
"…now we list the items presented by the accused in her defence; they will be shown to the people of the court, Lord Nasher, and held aloft for the eye of Tyr to see…"
As the ring and alteration powder they had found were brought out to the centre of the circular, roofless chamber, placed upon appropriately positioned pedestals by two of the Neverwinter Nine in full regalia, Sand leaned closer and spoke softly. He was permitted to confer with Isaviel as he chose in such intervals, as her defence, but the way his eyes flickered up to meet hers bespoke of a guilty conscience.
"A word of advice; Torio knows that the rabble here want to see someone punished for this crime – likely quite a few of those present knew of Ember, have relatives in the area in similar towns. If she can manipulate them to her advantage, then she will. It is their opinion which will sway the court, ultimately, as their majority vote can veto the decision of the council of three before you. If you cannot persuade them that you have been wronged – and grievously so – then it is an uphill struggle we fight."
"Alright, I see that," Isaviel agreed tersely, knowing she was failing miserably to keep her expression a mask of confused and horrified innocence, "But if I survive this day and night, and whatever the morning brings, then we need to talk. About Luskan."
"Very well," the wizard agreed, already looking away.
The two items were so small on their pedestals that Isaviel doubted anyone in the room could see them clearly – she certainly could not. She watched in silence as Sand was called up to explain the relevance and details of the ring and the powder. Torio balked, sneered and all but jeered at his words, but the Moon Elf saw fear in her eyes. It warmed her heart.
"The accuser may now call witnesses to the stand," Oleff declared as Sand returned to Isaviel's side. The look the half-Elf gave to his charge was dark, and just as there had been fear in Torio's eyes, there was fear in his. Isaviel wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but she could not, so she held his look, and saw the fear return to resolve.
"Thank you Reverend Judge," Torio inclined her head to Oleff before looking about the room, making eye contact with a prejudged number of spectators until she had the room in silent thrall, waving a hand towards the pedestals with a contemptuous gesture, "These pieces of 'evidence' can easily be explained away – they are circumstantial, irrelevant. How do we know they were found at Ember? Do you trust the word of the one who is accused of murder? She knows she is guilty and will try anything to worm her way out of it, even something as brazen as this, clearly," she paused until Oleff started to step forward, evidently wanting to speed her up, "I call up a witness who will tell a different story."
Torio's voice dripped with gleeful expectation, and the cold smile on her face as her eyes met Isaviel's made the Moon Elf's clenched fists ache to hit her. She imagined the hum of the psionic energy, the snapping of bone, the wild-eyed panic…it was all she could do to hold back a grin at the thought…
"Are you speculating on the truth of evidence? Am I guilty or not in your eyes? You seem a little over-eager to pass off what has been found as falsehood. If you were in my place, if you were as innocent as me, would you expect to have such assumptions made of you?"
Those words had rolled off Isaviel's tongue so easily, a little too fast, and she almost regretted it, but when Torio looked back around at her, her eyes were blazing. A great murmur had gone up across the balconies, but Isaviel dared not look up into the citizens' faces.
"I suggest you hold your tongue, murderer," Torio snapped, pointing at the entrance gates, of plain wood, which were slowly creaking open, "I think you will want to hear what my witness has to say."
"My, my, she's got a temper on 'er that one," Duncan murmured sardonically behind Isaviel. Perhaps he was warming to the drama – she wanted to send him a grin. Alas.
"Well done, I am impressed – she has shown herself up there," Sand purred.
Isaviel was no longer listening, watching the gates, seeing the bearded man stepping through the threshold, the glazed look in his eyes, the sweat on his brow. He was dressed respectably in a deep navy tunic and trousers, a new set of walking boots as well, and he never looked at Isaviel, not once. Elgun.
"I…understand that you wish to stall the witnesses, but you are only delaying the inevitable," Torio was attempting to recover herself, "Let me introduce my first witness to the chamber. Elgun, a resident of Port Llast and a witness to the slaughter at Ember."
Now the Luskan ambassador turned her attention to Elgun as he took his place in front of the pedestals of evidence, his back to the judges. That made Isaviel uncomfortable – a layout that leant itself well to hiding the twitches and fearful glances which he was already exhibiting. The look of one who had been bribed, or threatened? Or something else? She was sure Bishop had taken care of him…but Bishop was not here. How far could he be trusted?
"Welcome Elgun," Torio was saying, "You were brave to make the journey here, especially considering the danger in testifying." Her prompting words were staged. Isaviel bit back a snarl.
"Y-yes. I…I…"
"You need not fear the accused here, Elgun. Justice will be served soon," Torio was cooing…Isaviel imagined the woman's head on a spike, "Please, if you can, explain to the court what it is that you fear."
"Th-that g-girl and her ranger. They threatened to kill me if I came here to tell you the truth. 'If you testify against us, if you tell them what you saw, we will hunt you down and we will kill you', they said. They knew I'd seen them, and they tried to stop me from getting justice for Ember," his voice was high, and still he had not looked at Isaviel. Sweat was running from his brow, and he mopped at it with his sleeve, his hand evidently shaking. That was real fear. What had Bishop said?
Isaviel gritted her teeth again, and glanced over at Sand. His lips were pursed, but he seemed far more in control than she felt. Bishop may have intimidated the man in the way only he could, but there was also already a plethora of lies in Elgun's opening act.
"Thank you Elgun. Now, you said you saw the murder at Ember," Torio was saying, "You did, did you not?"
"Indeed," he took up a grand tone now to fill the hall as best he could in the silence that had fallen, "That I did! And a fierce, unfair battle against incredible odds it was. I tried to fight off the murderers…but one of them got a lucky blow against me, and down I went."
"So you can confirm that the accused was at Ember, and you saw the murder of those villagers?"
"Oh yes, I saw her there," his eyes flickered to hers, and then his voice went up an octave, "And I'd recognise that scarred face anywhere," oh, the rage, "Those poor, helpless farmers, cut down by that one there!" his hand came out to point at Isaviel accusingly, and she tasted blood, "I tried to save them, but I was only one man against many…and demons, as well. Demons were all about."
"Demons!" Isaviel cried, "This is ludicrous! How do you think I could summon demons to my bidding?" I'd rather rip your head off myself.
"Please, speak freely, Elgun" Torio prompted exultantly, "You have nothing to fear from the accused here. She cannot harm you."
"N-no need to defend me, Lady," a ripple of laughter went through the crowd at his words, but he did not seem to notice, "I can handle myself. If any bloodthirsty killer tried to come at me, they'd get more than they bargained for," and in case anyone doubted it, he made a parrying motion, and mimed stabbing an enemy. Well, that ruled him out as a fighting threat once and for all. More laughter swelled.
"Oh Gods," Sand sighed, "If he were touched with a pin he would pop like a balloon."
"I was actually just thinking about cutting his throat," Isaviel hissed, and Sand snorted at her tone.
"Oh, I doubt that would stop him from speaking, trust me. What in the Nine Hells did Bishop say to him? He has given that wretch a reason to lie."
"The witness has identified the accused as the one who killed the villagers. I have no more questions, Reverend Judge," Torio called out smugly, and Elgun made as if to head straight for the doors, but one of the guards by the pedestals caught him by the elbow. He paled substantially, swayed a little as though he might faint, and stood his ground.
"Does the accused have questions for this witness?" Oleff asked and Isaviel nodded firmly, as if that action might work free some of her rage.
"Yes, indeed," Sand sent her an encouraging look, and gestured to give her free reign over he questions.
"W-what did you want to know? I have g-given my testimony," Elgun all but begged, mopping at his brow again, and looking back at Torio helplessly. Her expression was blank, and his eyebrows raised in fear.
"What were you doing when you…came upon Ember?" Isaviel spoke the words softly, but once her glance had caught his, he could not look away and his chin trembled. He did not seem to have expected her to ask questions of him, and his eyes were wide and white with fear.
"I…" he paused, and Oleff stepped forward on the balcony above and behind him, a frown on his lined face.
"Speak, Elgun," the Reverend Judge urged into the silence.
"I was out hunting in the Duskwood!" Elgun managed to choke out, and Isaviel raised an eyebrow.
"What were you hunting?"
"…d-deer?" Elgun brought a hand to his mouth as he spoke; it was as if their conversation at Port Llast had left that as the only option for him, though it was obviously an impossibility.
"Reverend Judge," Torio broke in sharply, "I do not see how…"
"Silence, Torio," Nasher interrupted her angrily, "You had your turn."
"Now, that is interesting," Sand stepped in smoothly, "Because, as you well know, it is common knowledge that the Duskwood has no deer. And never has."
Elgun flushed; he had thrown himself headlong into that trap better than any of his imaginary deer could have. They had even mentioned his error to him in – slightly – less threatening circumstances.
"If there were no deer in the Duskwood to hunt, were you out there at all? Did you really come upon Ember? We spoke with a survivor; she told us that there were only a dozen or so attackers, and she never mentioned demons," Isaviel told him, unable to contain her smile as he twitched nervously in front of her.
"The witness has identified you, murderer, it is enough," Torio snapped, but Isaviel ignored her and kept her look towards Elgun.
"Yes," he was suddenly adamant, though his hands shook, "Yes, I saw you. I was out along the road, selling my wife's wares – I lied for shame of my own humble trade," he affected a sad tone, but Isaviel saw nothing of the sort in his look, "I saw the smoke and ran to Ember. There you were with your friends; all those monsters there," he waved a hand towards her stand, "And there were demons. Your wizard there, no doubt he summoned them."
Isaviel was taken aback. His words had come out with a storm of rage, nothing like his previous fear, though that emotion shone bright in his expression. But it made her want to laugh out loud. Nasher's eyebrows were raised high, and Nevalle was leaning his forehead against his palm.
"I am afraid, Elgun, that there are alibis for a number of at least three of those present at the accused's stand," Nasher put in coolly, "Nor was the wizard, Sand, present. He was, in fact, meeting with Sir Nevalle at the time. In Castle Never."
"Well. I-I meant it was her and that ranger. I definitely saw both of them."
It was then, just as the indignation was rising to its worst, that Isaviel heard a sound behind her, and upon turning saw Neeshka being ushered to her stand. The Tiefling wore a hairnet to hide her horns, and a long red dress which covered her tail. At a glance, she could have been human, but her pink eyes gave her true nature away, as did the reddish markings across her cheeks. She caught the Moon Elf's eye as she slipped onto the back row of the stands, and sent her a bright smile. And just like that, she had her friend back, and new conviction with which to turn around and glare at Elgun. Ironically, it did her no good.
"I know you are lying," she told the man coldly, "But…tell me. What did these 'demons', conjured by someone who was not there, look like?"
"They had…scales…and horns…"
"Did they? That's rather vague for someone who saw demons," Sand pointed out.
"This is pointless," Torio sighed, "A man in danger might remember many things a little awry."
"A 'little awry'," Isaviel hissed, "Your understatement will not fool the people in this room, Torio."
That went down well with the crowd, several members of which muttered audible assent, and when she looked up at them to see their nods, the shakes of their heads, she saw familiar dark eyes watching the spectacle. How had he snuck his way in amongst them? Bishop. Her heart lurched. He looked pale, and his travelling clothes were muddier than when last she had seen him – nor was he looking at her, but rather down at Elgun with pure hatred shining in his expression.
"…perhaps your memory of the events is…unclear?" Sand was prompting Elgun.
"Well. I was unconscious before the whole town had fallen. Perhaps I did not see all of the details," the man suggested, evidently grasping for an escape.
"Enough of this. He saw you kill the villagers," Torio said doggedly, but even as she spoke a new thought occurred to Isaviel.
"You said you fought them. Where are you cuts? Your bruises? If they knocked you out, why do you seem unhurt?"
"I…What? Oh, well…yes. I heal quickly," Elgun stumbled over all of those words, they came out in such a rush, "They must have hit me with a club on the back of the head or something."
All of a sudden, the crowd was jeering him, calling him a liar. It was evident that he was lying to them, at least about something. Torio looked furious, and Isaviel fought her grin.
"It's true! I say it is," Elgun demanded, going pale.
"We had his wounds healed when he returned. We needed him healthy for the trial," Torio offered eventually, but Sand almost choked at her words.
"What were you doing welcoming home a survivor of Ember as soon as he got back? Elgun lives in Port Llast, a ward of Neverwinter. To whom do you refer when you say 'we'?" the wizard asked smugly, and Torio grew pale.
"We are not here to accuse the accuser, Sand," Oleff pointed out, and the wizard inclined his head – enough had been implied.
"Did you see the leader?" Sand asked now of Elgun.
"Yes, it was her," and he pointed to Isaviel without looking her way.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. I remember her. That horrible look in her eyes…"
"I've heard enough of the liar," Isaviel whispered to Sand, and the half-Elf nodded.
"No more questions, Reverend Judge," he called.
"Very well," Oleff agreed, "Ambassador, do you have another witness?"
"Indeed, Reverend Judge. A most important witness. Unknown to many, the people of Ember were not slaughtered to the last woman and child. I call on Alaine, the last living resident of Ember, who can speak to us of what she saw on that fateful day."
Just like that, Elgun was led away, and Isaviel could breathe for a moment, though the idea of facing Alaine another time made her long for the feel of a kukri in her hand. Looking up to where Bishop had been standing, she could no longer see him. But it had been enough. He had returned.
"No! Alaine!" Shandra cried in horror when the girl from Ember identified Isaviel so unequivocally as Ember's destroyer, "Would I ever travel with someone who could do that to Ember?"
"Reverend Judge! This woman speaks out of turn," Torio pointed out sharply, but Oleff looked to Sand.
"I gladly relinquish some of my role to Shandra there," Sand smirked, but when he glanced towards Isaviel his expression was grim, "This is not good," he murmured, "We need to change the course of the river streaming from that girl's eyes or we might all die."
Alaine looked in confused anger towards Shandra, who had stood suddenly from her seat in Isaviel's stand. It did not look like the girl would listen – and she stood there, looking so youthful and sad, with tears streaking her face, all liable to sway the crowd to her side. And with them would go their deciding vote.
"I fear your friend there has been well cowed by the murderer," Torio sighed, looking towards Shandra with faked concern, "Young woman, you need not fear the accused anymore. You do not need to defend her because she threatens you; justice will be served soon."
"Silence, Torio. You speak out of turn," Nasher commanded, gesturing towards Isaviel to continue.
"Alright," the Moon Elf breathed in deeply before meeting Alaine's hateful eyes, "You know Shandra. You know that she is a good, honest woman who would not have harmed Ember."
"Of course," Alaine nodded, somehow making her words a curse, "She is a friend, who made stops at Ember every year after the harvest. It makes me hate you more to think you have threatened her."
"Alaine, that's not right," Shandra implored, "These people are using you now just like they deceived you before."
"Given that you can vouch for Shandra's character, would it surprise you to learn that she has been in Isaviel's company since before the attack on Ember?" Sand inquired shrewdly, and Alaine did a double take.
"I did not," her voice wavered a little now, and she glanced nervously back at Torio.
"I fail to see where this line of questioning is going," the Luskan ambassador sighed.
"Then let me spell it out; you have manipulated her feeble state of mind," Isaviel snapped automatically, sneering briefly at the girl before continuing, "As clearly whatever you say to her is truth in her eyes. You are quick to hate, girl, as quick to hate as you are to believe. That is not justice, that is stupidity. Shandra Jerro would not side with me on this if I were guilty, and you know that, Alaine; she is too good and too honest to let threats or anything of the sort affect the course of justice being done."
Her anger was rising now, and she could taste blood again. Sand was staring at her. Alaine had gone pale, her expression wavering as she looked back and forth between Shandra and Torio.
"Also, consider the evidence we have procured," Sand said, "Alteration powder; would that not be the obvious choice to disguise someone as your enemy and have them do your dirty work if you wanted to frame someone? Are you certain the one leading the attack you saw was Isaviel Farlong?"
"Well…I…it was someone who looked very much like her," Alaine responded quietly, wincing when Torio snorted in disgust.
"Enough of that. The witness is evidently too distraught to testify properly. I call on another witness; Shandra Jerro."
"What? No!" Shandra gasped, sitting back down suddenly as if that might stop the summons. But a pair of guards marched over to escort her, and a look at each of them was enough to make her realise things would go more smoothly if she just stepped onto the witness's spot.
"You need not fear this, Shandra," Torio simpered, "I only want justice for the people of Ember. And you were very close to them, weren't you?"
"I was but…"
"Then you surely have an obligation to speak only the truth on this matter."
"Of course but you're not…"
"Now, I would like to ask you a few questions regarding the accused's character," Torio could not help but send a brief smirk Isaviel's way as she spoke, and the Moon Elf clenched her fists so hard she was certain she must have drawn blood, "Would you say that the accused is the sort of person who could do something like this to Ember? Have they been involved in such events before?"
"No!" Shandra looked steadily to Isaviel now, shaking her head, her blue eyes wide and honest, "I know she wouldn't…it would just be so evil…"
"Are you sure? What about your home?"
"That was different. She was trying to save me, though I didn't know it at the time," the woman smiled firmly to the Moon Elf now.
"Oh, so she seemed threatening? Dangerous?"
"Yes, but…" Shandra's look was becoming more panicked, frustrated too.
"And would you vouch for her good character then? Is there anything amiss in your little travelling band? Do you trust all of them?"
"I…well…not everyone…" Isaviel's heart dropped at these words, and she shared a troubled looked with Sand. She is being too honest.
"Not everyone is so honest and kind as you? Could they not be deceiving you? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely!" Shandra exclaimed suddenly, "And what you're doing makes me angry!"
"Angry enough to attack? To kill? I see," Torio's eyes were gleaming with triumph, and Shandra was shaking. Isaviel had to breathe deeply to control herself. That great rage inside her was growing almost too strong to contain now. As soon as her unknown nature manifested itself she would lose, she knew.
"You did not let her speak!" Grobnar exclaimed from behind Isaviel, his voice plaintive and so full of innocence, something which set the crowd to muttering, forcing Oleff to call for silence again.
"That is all, Reverend Judge. I have heard enough," Torio declared at last, and Shandra was led, still shaking, back to her seat. She did not look at Isaviel as she went past.
"Very well. Does the accused have any witnesses?" Oleff asked, and Sand stepped forward again.
"Of course, Reverend Judge. I would like to call forth another survivor of Ember, a boy who saw much of the massacre, among other things," Sand declared, and the judge nodded once.
"Bring in the witness, identified by Alaine as Marcus."
The boy stepped forwards with an eerie sense of calm, not looking around the room or intimidated by the collectively loud mutterings of those in the balconies above. It was as if he had done this many times and was familiar with the Hall of Justice, though there was no way that this could have been possible. He had been given some new, clean clothes by his guardians in Port Llast and looked so young standing in the witness's position, the light of the morning sun streaming down all about them, bright enough to show that his eyes were violet and it was not a trick of the light. With his name newly revealed it made him seem even younger to Isaviel, for it placed him in reality in a way that his mysterious anonymity had not. His parents must surely have died in that fire. Why was he not more visibly unhappy? How could he stand there so calmly and smile over at her reassuringly as an older brother might have done? His expression was blank when he glanced at Torio, and he refused to be held by her threatening stare.
"The accused and her defence may commence their questioning. I would have silence in the hall, please," Oleff commanded, and a great hush fell.
"Your name is Marcus, is it not?" Sand asked carefully, and the boy gave a nod, "Good. Marcus, can you tell me exactly what you saw at Ember?"
"I saw a group of fifteen armoured men arriving in the night, carrying torches and swords. They set the houses alight as they went and killed anyone who came close to them. I saw their leader kill the quartermaster, though he was on his knees and begging for his life," Marcus paused, his voice as steady as if he had been asked about the weather, and looked around at Torio's stand, staring, "But their leader was not who he seemed to be. One moment he bore the appearance of Isaviel, though she was without her scar, and the next he looked just like him," he pointed towards the enormous man.
All at once the room erupted in sound, several of the Luskans in Torio's stand leaping to their feet and protesting loudly as the ambassador did herself. The accused man did not move, however, except to grip the barrier in front of him tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white, a murderous glare on his face.
"This is already a farce, Reverend Judge!" Torio exclaimed over the din, "How can we trust the word of a child?"
Her demands went unanswered, however, because Nasher called for silence and Marcus continued without prompting.
"I found that powder where I had expected to find it – I think it must have dropped from his belt as they went past. I found the ring in the belt pouch of one of the men attacking the town."
"So you are telling us with all certainty that Isaviel Farlong did not attack the village of Ember? She played no part in its destruction and killed none of its people?" Sand probed.
"Yes," Marcus nodded firmly, "It was all as I had foreseen."
"Then that is all that we need to know," Sand agreed turning to Oleff Uskar.
"Ambassador Torio? Do you have questions?" the judge enquired, and Torio raised a derisive eyebrow.
"Oh, I have many, Reverend Judge. Not least: how did you see so much of the attack, child? How did you survive?"
"I hid in the well at the centre of the village."
"And all this nonsense about foresight. What could you really be referring to? Is this a pre-planned lie? After all, they did find you, and all of that meagre evidence came from your hands. I think you have been deceived, child. They left this 'evidence' in a cunning plan to mislead you."
"No," he said it with absolute certainty, "Though the threats the men at Port Llast gave me are supposed to have made me says 'yes'."
Isaviel found herself grinning broadly at the boy's audacity, though her anger stirred again. So there it was, the proof that the Luskans had been trying to sway the words of the witnesses who were supposed to be under impartial protection.
"Preposterous! This street urchin is a liar and a fraud," Torio all but screeched, "Claiming to have foresight and throwing accusations wildly. I have no more questions for one such as him."
"Very well," Oleff spoke as calmly and steadily as Marcus had, though his deep voice rang throughout the hall, which was now humming with expectation. His expression was grave as the boy was led away.
The Moon Elf's heart was pounding in her chest as she looked up to Nasher, Nevalle and Oleff. It was almost time for the reckoning, and she could sense Sand's anxiety as he shifted behind her. She did not look round at the wizard, nor at any of her friends in the stand behind her. It would do no good to look weak, or feel weak now.
"Before we call for the votes, is there anything more the accuser wishes to say?" Oleff asked now, and Isaviel's heart sank when she saw Torio's expression. She did not need Marcus's foresight to know what was about to be said.
"Yes, Reverend Judge, if I may," Torio said sweetly, and turned fully towards the one she branded murderer, "Isaviel Farlong…of West Harbour. It is a known fact that you left your home town – after an unexpected return – on the night that it burned to the ground. Many men, women and children died that night. From what I have heard, the destruction of that town sounds remarkably similar to that of Ember. It seems no coincidence that where you go, death follows. West Harbour, Shandra's farm, Ember. Do you deny going to these places?"
"I do not," Isaviel growled. Sand's eyes were boring into her from the side, and she could feel him imploring her to keep calm. We are so close.
"Do you deny having fought and killed in these places?"
"I cannot, although I only killed Giths."
"Giths?" Torio scoffed, "Ha! A desperate claim. Its ludicrousness is plain for us all to see. I suggest that it was you who massacred and burned not only Ember but also your home town of West Harbour. When first you passed through Luskan lands we made it our business to know who you really are, being a caring city over its peaceable lands. The Mayor of West Harbour spoke angrily against you. He said it was your fault that West Harbour was all but destroyed, that you fled out of guilt. That you preyed on and almost killed his youngest nephew. That you are evil, always have been evil, and you are a monster."
The words rang with furious hate, as if Georg Redfell had been there himself to say the same. Isaviel tried to bring to mind the lessons Merring had given her, but all she could imagine was his head on a spike. She imagined all the slow deaths she could bring to Torio and suddenly her rage was a monster, just as the ambassador had claimed. It rose and spread within her, hot and seething. The scar along her chest ached, as did those of her wings. A red glow grew in her pupils and flashed brightly in the sunlight. No one who saw her failed to notice the change and a great communal gasp went up in the hall. Some people scrambled back in horror.
"Demon!"
"Devil!"
"Monster!"
Her rage only grew as the insults swelled, and she knew all hope was lost for a fair trial. With a bitter sneer she let her anger take a hold of her and leapt forward, but an arm caught her and attempted to drag her back. Turning around she fully expected to see an armoured guard, but instead she saw Sand, and easily yanked herself free of his grasp. He shook his head desperately.
"Isaviel, no! This is not lost. Not yet," he denied, taking her by the wrist again, and this time she paused, long enough for the guards to form up around her, cutting her off from the reeling ambassador. Torio had not expected this either, apparently.
"Order! Order! By Tyr's just judgement!" Oleff cried, staring down at Isaviel with disappointment but no shock, utterly unlike the expressions of Nevalle and Nasher.
"What is this madness?" the Lord of Neverwinter demanded furiously, and when he stood silence fell, "I suddenly find that there are too many lies and secrets between the pair of you; accuser and accused," he glanced wearily towards Nevalle before speaking again, "The crowd is against you, Isaviel Farlong, whether they believe you guilty or not. There can be no justice here, and the trial has run for its time. The witnesses have been called and the accusations have been laid out. But we here in Neverwinter cannot judge you. By the laws of the land of the Lords' Alliance we must pass that right on to Luskan and its Low Justice," he all but spat the words.
"Thank you, Lord Nasher. You have decided wis…," Torio exulted, but Sand interrupted.
"Lord Nasher! We call upon the right of trial by combat!" the wizard cried, and Nasher's expression stilled, as if he had expected as much.
The words hung in the air as Isaviel looked immediately to the large man to see him leering at her. As if her defendant were not pre-planned as clearly as Isaviel assumed, Torio laughed light-heartedly and looked around herself as if expecting others to join in her mirth. When no one did, she affected an air of amused confusion.
"Can they be serious? Who will the monster fight? I have no training in combat."
"Then you must choose a champion. The wizard speaks the truth; it is the right of the accused to demand trial by combat when no trial of words will do," Oleff put in.
"As you say," Torio shrugged, gesturing to her stand, "I name Lorne Starling as my champion," she turned to Isaviel with a slow smirk, "He is more than a match for you, monster or not."
"A champion has been declared," Nevalle spoke now, "Both the defendant and the accused are required by law to report to the main chamber of this Temple of Justice in Neverwinter to undergo the Rite of Tyr. They must cleanse themselves in a night of prayer and vigilance. Tomorrow morning the champions shall meet in combat so that justice may be done."
"So be it," Nasher agreed, "After the Rite is observed the trial shall be held upon the morrow at the tourney grounds. Arm yourself and be ready, squire – or choose a champion for justice to be decided in this final hour."
There was a ringing in Isaviel's ears as the guards allowed her down from the platform, and she pulled her wrist free from Sand's grip, which had grown so tight over the last few moments. Her look lingered upon the one who had stood to the name of Lorne: the massive man in Torio's stand, of course. When the Moon Elf turned towards the exit she did not look to any of her friends, and she did not much care for the jeers of the crowd above. A whole city hated her, and another wanted her dead. The fearful looks of her companions would do her no good. Only victory would do, in any way that she could get it.