Pitt followed the Mayor into town. Some of the citizens still milled around. They whispered loudly when they saw Paul Ihorn being pushed along by the stranger. The faun stood at the back of the group, watching everything with nervous eyes.

“Temple?,” asked Pitt.

The Mayor pointed at a preserved building next to his office. He tried to step away from the group. A tug on his arm prevented that.

“I want you to meet your judge in person,” said Pitt. He smiled. “It will make you feel better about things.”

“I don't think anything will make me feel better again,” said the Mayor. “And I will still have to deal with his father while you move on down the road.”

“If he shows up before I leave, I will deal with him,” said Pitt. “I don't have a problem with that.”

“I'll hold you to that,” said the Mayor.

“Here he comes,” said Ihorn. “You'll have your chance sooner than you think.”

“Maybe so,” said Pitt. “I think we should allow you to meet your judge before he gets you killed.”

“I have the door,” said Roland. He trotted forward on his hoofed feet and opened the temple doors. The plain wood squeaked when he pushed on it.

“Unhand my boy,” shouted the elder Ihorn. He rode up on his horse, trying to kick Pitt out of his way. He fell to the dirt road instead.

“You can come in too if you want,” said Pitt. “Your son is a murderer and he is getting the fair trial he deserves.”

“I won't let you,” said the father, struggling to his feet.

Pitt slapped him. Ihorn fell over from the impact. The monster hunter pushed Ihorn toward the temple, gesturing at the Mayor to go ahead. Pitt grabbed the farmer by the scruff of his neck and dragged him along.

As soon as the adventurer crossed the threshold, the temple changed around the five of them. White brick floor with a mosaic of scales appeared as the original wooden floor flipped out of the way. Two guards made of lightning took station on either side of the wider door. A huge desk emerged from the floor at the other end of the room.

“Hello, Sparky,” said Pitt. He addressed one of the faceless bailiffs. “I would like to talk to your boss if you don't mind.”

Sparky inclined his head but didn't move from his post. The judge came when the judge wanted. Applicants at the court had to wait for the privilege of talking to the lord of order.

Light and darkness appeared behind the desk. Golden lights for eyes regarded the visitors in front of him as he hunched over the stone rampart.

“Approach, Roland,” said a solemn voice that stitched the air instead of making sounds.

The faun started forward, but Pitt grabbed his arm and shook his head. He walked up to the desk, looking up at his adopted father.

“What have we here?,” said Pantalus. “This is borderline abuse of the privilege.”

“I think this guy committed a murder and I need an impartial judge to clear the faun's name,” said Pitt. “You're the only impartial judge I know.”

“I suppose it is in my domain,” said Pantalus. “But you know better than this. Human problems have to be solved with human methods. You can't just call on the gods any time you want. That will cause a variety of problems for humanity.”

“I'm doing the best I can with what I have,” said Pitt.

“Do better,” said the judge of the dead. “Step back.”

Pitt did so.

“Step forward, Paul Ihorn,” said the god. “The charge is murder. How do you plea?”

“Not guilty,” said Ihorn. He looked at his father, then the others. “I told this knot head I did nothing wrong.”

“Is there any proof that he did it?,” asked the judge.

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“His boots fled the scene with the blood of the victim on them, and his knife matches the wounds on the victim that I examined,” said Pitt.

“How did you make this comparison?,” asked Pantalus.

“With my eyes,” said Pitt. “I haven't had time to put the knife in one of the wounds to make sure.”

“Do you have an explanation for why your boots were covered with the victim's blood?,” asked Pantalus, turning his gold eyes on the accused.

“He's lying,” said Ihorn. “He's jealous of me and wants what my family has.”

“I see,” said Pantalus. “I'm afraid that isn't a good explanation for the blood on your boots. I would have expected a lie on your part, or a partial truth. You do know I can see the blood, don't you?”

“I don't care what you say,” said Ihorn. “This is some parlor trick. There isn't any power here.”

“Paul, stop!,” said the elder Ihorn. He reached for the shoulder of his son. The younger man shrugged him off.

“No, Pa,” said Paul. “This is some kind of trick. This faun is some kind of magician. No one could have tracked me through the woods like that.”

Pantalus eased back in his chair, his silhouette suggesting he was putting hands under his chin at what he had just heard. The Mayor and Roland stepped back at the sudden chill in the room.

“How did you know where the girl was left to die?,” Pitt asked.

“What do you mean?,” asked Ihorn.

“We saw you and your friends on the bridge,” said Pitt. “How do you know we came through the woods instead of using the road to your place?”

“I saw you before you stepped on the bridge,” said Ihorn. “I guessed that was where you came from because of where you were walking.”

“I don't think so,” said Pitt. “And I think you killed someone else before this.”

“Other crimes are not what we are judging right now,” said Pantalus. “Please stick to this crime that you haven't quite proven before you try to bring up something out of the purview of this proceeding.”

“I think it's a pattern, Your Honor,” said Pitt. “I think he killed the other girl that was blamed on the traveling show.”

“Were you there when that happened?,” asked the judge.

“No,” said Pitt.

“Then stay in the confines of this case,” said Pantalus. “Don't be greedy.”

“I don't see how he has proven anything,” said the older Ihorn. “I don't understand any of this.”

“Your son became enraged when Isadora Clay wouldn't have sex with him,” said Pantalus. “He drew his hunting knife out and killed her. He washed most of the blood that spilled on him off in the nearby water. He went home and pretended to not know what happened. The murder weapon is here, and the blood is still on his boots. Isadora Clay can be called as a witness to confirm what happened.”

“You can call Isadora Clay to prove all this?,” asked the Mayor.

“I have already spoken with her before sending her off,” said Pantalus. “I can call her back to let her speak for herself at any time.”

“There's no way,” said Paul. He looked at the room again. “You're not real.”

“I'm the most real thing in this room,” said Pantalus. “Do you know what the cost of perjury is in my court?”

“You can take your perjury and shove it,” said Paul. “I don't think this is real and I'm alive. You're the god of the dead. You don't have any power over the living.”

“I am also the god of the law,” said Pantalus. “Unless they changed the law about murder, you are guilty. Ordinarily I would send you back to the living world and let your peers take care of you as they should. But I think a lesson is needed.”

Pantalus waved his hand.

Paul Ihorn came apart in front of the group as if a thousand razors were working on him. He screamed until pieces of him were left and that fell to the floor. His father and the Mayor almost started screaming at the sight. Roland the faun looked away from the raining gore.

“I think the three of you can leave,” said Pantalus. “You each have things on your hands you should work at making yourselves better.”

“What about my son?,” asked Ihorn.

“He is where he was fated to be a little earlier than when he would have been if Pitt hadn't come along,” said Pantalus. “If you don't start fixing yourself, you will be right beside him in a few years.”

“You don't scare me,” said Ihorn. He raised his hand at the god in front of him.

“Then what I say won't matter to you,” said Pantalus. “I'll be seeing you.”

One of the bailiffs stepped forward. A sword of lightning appeared in his hands to point at the door leading back to the temple. Roland pulled on the Mayor to get his feet moving back to the world of the living. Ihorn kept looking back as he stumbled from the bench.

“Mortal solutions for mortal problems, Roland,” said Pantalus. “I can't cast judgment on every criminal you bring into a temple. You know better than this.”

“I needed someone who was beyond reproach and the town would not doubt,” said Pitt. “If I had just killed the Ihorns, people would always think the faun did it, and I intimidated the Mayor into saying the same story.”

“I am going to let this slide, but don't do it again,” said Pantalus. “There are lines that the gods shouldn't cross. I stepped closer than I should have to see things through, but I can't do it again.”

“I understand,” said Pitt. “Thanks for the hand with this.”

“The law is not always justice, but in this case I think you did a good job of things,” said Pantalus. He gestured at the opened door in the back of the courtroom. “You still have a long walk ahead of you. You best get started.”

“I'll call you when I get home like I promised,” said Pitt.

“I'll be seeing you again,” said Pantalus. He came apart and started taking the courtroom with him.

Pitt walked past the bailiff, waving as he went. The faceless bolt of lightning nodded back. The demigod stepped out of the temple. When he looked back, the place was its original rundown shell with the scales at the altar at the head of the room.

Pitt started down the road. He still had miles before he reached home.