Steib’s witnesses were so numerous they threatened to prolong on the trial for months. I refused his request to parade his entire network of family and friends before the assembled townsfolk as mere character witnesses. Still, he was able to find prominent merchants and respected traders who were grateful that the city's destruction had been avoided, at least in part, by Steib's tribute to the Tokuans. Finally, Steib himself was escorted to the centre of the stage.

'Gentleman Steib,' he declared when asked to state his name for the records.

'Gentleman Steib, would you please - concisely and succinctly - outline for us your version of events as they pertain to this trial?' I asked him.

It was all I could do remain polite after the tedious week he’d put me through. I had left Haelling Cove ten days ago, and too much of the time since had been spent in this seat. My mood was even blacker than normal, for I had discovered that the grass in my portal was dead. It was a mystery to me how the grass was sustained in the first place, but now the lack of nourishment from the sun had apparently rendered my portal realm barren. I had made the decision to cover my portal realm with sand, but one’s portal was an intimate thing and I was nevertheless affected by the loss of the grass nonetheless. The portal felt like a living, breathing extension of my body, and though I sought to master it and accessorise it as I would my own body, I did not like to see any part of it in less than perfect condition.

I turned my attention back to the trial. Steib was weeping his crocodile tears on the stage. He knew that he’d failed as a politician, so he was trying to win the hearts of his former subjects through compassion instead. While a few seemed to be swayed by his display, most were shaking their heads. I guessed that he had ruled too long and too thoroughly for him to convincingly backtrack now. He framed his escape from Trackford as a child's fear of authority, claiming that he’d simply panicked.

At the conclusion of his performance I had the city ledgers brought to the stage and read aloud some important figures. I spoke of the quantity of coin that had been gifted to the Tokuans, which I compared to the city's annual costs so that even the illiterate and uneducated masses could understand the extent of Steib's betrayal. After only a few minutes the crowd lost interest so I announced an adjournment, 'Following which will occur the sentencing.'

This set an excited murmur racing through the crowd, and when we resumed proceedings the market hall was more crowded than it had been all week. Before addressing them, I took Baron Urzo aside and asked his opinion.

'You are a native of Trackford and you are now the representative of its inhabitants. What would you have me do?' I asked him, my tone making it clear that I would not be bound by his suggestion.

Urzo shrugged indifferently, though his thoughtful response contradicted this affected mannerism. 'I'm sure whatever you decide will be the best for everyone concerned, my lady. But, as you ask, if it were up to me I would not punish him too harshly. He has been stripped of his title and paraded weeping before the townsfolk. He has not the ability to cause popular dissent.'

I was surprised by Urzo's response. A week ago, I was sure that he would support Steib's execution. I therefore gave his words some consideration. When Steib had been Mayor, Urzo would have profited from his execution by potentially becoming Baron himself. As I had made Steib's execution unnecessary for Urzo's ascension, perhaps Urzo had changed his tack out of a desire to avoid setting an expectation that barons could be put to death.

It put a chill through my bones that Urzo might be thinking of his own interests when he gave his recommendation,. I resolved to keep an eye on the situation in Trackford to ensure that Urzo was the man I had originally appraised him to be.

Privately, I made my own decision about Steib. I returned to the dais, followed into the hall by just about every citizen of Trackford if the lack of standing room was any indication. I stood at the centre of the stage and faced the audience.

'Citizens of Trackford, it is time for your former baron to be sentenced for his crime. There is no denying that had Cha not sent Count Timoth to take charge of Ebonreach after a two year absence, making the bold and dangerous decision to send all available soldiers to Trackford and to summon the militia, Trackford would have been ravaged, as Haelling Cove and Trent have been. Gentleman Steib could not have foreseen the Count’s intervention, and it is my belief that he paid tribute to the Tokuans not with the aim of delaying them until help could arrive, but in the hope of delaying them for long enough to gather his family and his funds and leave Trackford to its fate.

'But even setting matters of circumstance aside, Gentleman Steib deliberately took public funds raised for the benefit of the entire County, and he gave them to an enemy of the Crown. As such, I find him guilty of treason by the laws of Cha and of Ebonreach.'

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The crowd, having remained eerily silent during my speech, suddenly exploded in a cacophony of dischordant roaring. Most cheered, or shoute at the beleagured and closed-eyed former baron, but a small but not insignificant number expressed their discontent through jeers directed at me. I let them enjoy their catharsis as I feared that they would shout over me if I tried to continue. When they began quieten down I announced Steib's sentence.

'Gentleman Steib, your have made the case that your betrayal led to Trackford's survival, albeit on account of circumstances outside of your control, As such, I commute the traditional sentence of death to one of exile. Your holdings of land and possessions are henceforth the property of the Crown as partial restitution for the costs incurred by your tribute to the Tokuans. If Count Timoth sees fit, he may distribute some of your lands to your heirs.'

I added the last over the growing din of the crowd in order to dampen any agitation that may have arisen as a result of the conditions of Steib's exile. While exile in itself was a generoussentence, the confiscation of his lands would anger many who had stood to inherit upon his death.

My goal was simply to make Timoth tproud of me; to help him out however I could. Finally, I had something to show for my efforts. I could prove that his faith in me had not been misplaced. I had come to Trackford to find the Baron I sought already in flight, and I would leave it a richer city with a fairer ruler.

A rock flew past my head, pulling me back into the present.

'Come, my lady,' Urzo said, putting his arm around me and leading me up the stairs. Several city guards remained there to prevent anyone from following us. The placement of Urzo's arm was inappropriate, but I was too shocked by the projectile to say anything. I consoled myself that some people would have been upset no matter the content of my judgment. Still, I felt that my ruling was correct. All of those endless hours spent on Father's lap watching him dispense justice to the folk of Haelling Cove had paid off.

'How long do you think it’ll take the crowd to disperse?' I asked Urzo. It was just the two of us in the upper floors, its usual occupants having descended before the sentencing.

'Possibly hours. The tension for this trial has been building for for thirty years.'

'Thirty years!' I exclaimed. To think that Steib had been baron for so long! The position was deliberately non-hereditary so that the Merchant's Council could quickly adjust public policy to respond to shifts in in the market, a presupposition that required regular elections. 'How long are baronial terms?'

'Ten years,' Urzo responded casually. My eyes widened in surprise but I managed to restrain another outburst. I would have to have words with Timoth on this matter.

It was not yet safe for me downstairs, though as long as the city guards barred the stairs I saw no reason not to try to enjoy my time with Urzo. After all, we’d gotten along well before the trial.

'Tell me more about the art of logging,' I suggested.

A sly grin spread across Urzo's face, highlighting his youthful yet conservative visage. Perhaps Urzo would be a more compelling educator than Masters Robarin or Kane. More like Master Orjeik. 'What do you wish to know?'

I shrugged. 'Tell me about how the woodcutters control the forest.'

Urzo nodded in acquiescence and approval. 'Even that is an art of many facets. There are more concerns than merely leaving trees to the next generation. The forest is home not just to trees but also many plants and beasts. Paths must constantly be cleared through the forest to allow the woodcutters access to its innermost regions with the tools and carts necessary to carry out their task. Plants which have uses relating to cooking or healing are carefully cultivated. Useless undergrowth is usually burned, which is a most difficult and dangerous task. A careless burn can set the whole region ablaze. Yet once the bracken has been burned, the soil is fertilised with the subsequent ash and young shoots tempt the plant-eaters of the forest, freshly visible due to the disappearance of the undergrowth.'

I stopped him there, fearing that he would continue for hours if I didn’t interrupt. I wanted a conversation, not a lecture, though I was happy enough to discuss a topic which was clearly his passion. 'Surely the game is taken by hunters, and not woodcutters?' I asked.

'Of course. And the herbs by herbalists. The division of labour allows for a better allocation of resources. When my guild first sought to expand its membership beyond only woodcutters, we first turned to the herbalists and the hunters. Today, the three professions comprise the vast majority of members.'

'Interesting,' I replied. I realised I had nothing more to say. I tried to think back to our recent excursion to the Dreadwood Forest. 'Were the trees taller and thinner before the boundary?'

He eyed me oddly, as if regarding me for the first time. 'An astute observation, my lady. The explanation is this: when a woodcutter fells a tree, he often does it in such a way that the cut encourages the tree to grow to be taller and straighter. This is called coppicing, and without it the timbers used to make homes and fences would be much less pliable.'

'Coppicing. Interesting,' I repeated. 'Do the faeries leave you entirely alone? Or do the woodcutters have contact with them?'

'You speak of the faeries as if they are a reasonable people, open to negotiation, such as yourself and I.'

'Are they not? When I encountered them, they moved with purpose. Their culture may be alien, but they are certainly not animals.'

'You are, of course, correct, my lady. I merely take notice of the fact that your view differs from that of most folk, who regard the faerie folk as violent savages. They see no common ground between humans and faeries,' Urzo said. I detected a strong undercurrent of distaste in his words which set my mind wandering down unknown roads. Had Urzo had dealings with the faeries? Had his woodcutters?

Then a separate thought struck me. Could Urzo be part faerie?