The stage, that had been dismantled after the previous day’s proceedings was hastily re-erected and the people of Quarre gathered in the shadowed corners, whispering to each other, unwilling to enter the main square any further than to lay eyes on the survivor, the only survivor, of Lord LeMewn’s justice system.

The city was held in tension, everyone distracted by the sight of the dark skinned man, still alive, shackled to the well, kneeling on the ground. Not even the workers who would normally be at the quarry at daybreak made it all the way to their occupation. They stopped and stared at the man before retreating, unsure as to how to proceed.

“It’s as though no one knows what to do.” Verne murmured.

“No one has ever survived the night like this.” Judd’s voice ached with sorrow.

“I wonder what Lord LeMewn will say.” Giordi drank a cup of warmed goat’s milk and yawned.

“How can you be tired?” Verne demanded. “You slept!”

Giordi yawned again, shrugging at the same time.

“Surely he will at least give the man a fair trial.” Aalis drank her milk as well, deep shadows beneath her eyes. Judd wasn’t sure she had slept at all. She looked at him. “He will…will he not?”

“We’re about to find out.” Verne jerked his head. “The Lord doth descend.”

“He doth, doth he?” Giordi yawned for a third time and stood up. “Right, well…let’s hear what he has to say.”

The bell tolled and if that was not enough of a summoning, guards began to shoo people into the main square, driving them out of the streets to form a congregation before Lord LeMewn whose previously rehearsed expression was lost in doubt and nervousness.

“Deacon Clariet doesn’t seem all that bothered.” Verne observed.

“Caste does.” Judd sighed. “I’m not sure if that pleases or disturbs me.”

“Straight laced,” Aalis recited, “but not heartless.”

“Right.” Judd licked his lips. “Have you noticed they haven’t unshackled Suvau yet?”

“Hopefully just a formality.”

“People of Quarre,” Lord LeMewn spoke and the rustling whispers died out, all eyes on him, “before you is a man who, with irrefutable evidence of his guilt, has survived the full moon. You may be asking yourselves, how is this possible? Could he be innocent? Could the wheels of justice of Quarre be so mistaken?” He held his hands out to the people with a sorrowful expression. “No, of course not. For today, you bear witness to the manipulation of Maul, the way in which those of the south commune.”

“What?” Judd nearly exploded but Giordi clapped his hand over his mouth. Thankfully chatter in the crowd was beginning to rise, covering any exclamation with their collected murmurings.

“This man,” Lord LeMewn cried, regaining their attention, “if he can be called such a thing, spoke with the darkness and begged for his life. Ancient covenants, dark and deadly…of this there can be no doubt.”

“He’s not going to let this go, is he?” Judd closed his eyes as Lord LeMewn continued to speak and support of his words grew in the gathering. “Aalis, I’m not sure there’s anything else…where in Maul is she?”

“There.” Verne pointed as the hooded figure of Aalis pushed through the crowd.

“Not again.” Judd swore, getting down. “We’ve got to stop her!”

“…and in doing so, in eliminating this threat to Quarre, you can know without a doubt, that I am doing the will of King Rocheveron,” Lord LeMewn expressed with grandeur, “the will of Astaril.”

“Liar!”

The crowd jolted, startled by the accusation. Caste saw the hooded figure tear her way into the open path between the well and the stage, her lavender eyes growing darker by the second.

“Oh no…” Caste felt the blood drain so fast from his face, he was sure he would faint.

“How dare you stand there and proclaim to do the will of the King when you pervert his justice to your own ends!” Aalis screeched, Lord LeMewn staring at her, astonished that anyone, let alone a woman, would defy him so. “King Rocheveron would never condone this mockery of justice!”

“I am his will!” Lord LeMewn snapped back at her.

Stolen story; please report.

“You are a hypocrite!” Aalis returned without fear, shaking with fury. “You said that this man, if he survived the night, would be judged. A trial is the true and unshakable will of Astaril! Instead, you offer only execution! You intimidate and you condemn! There is no justice here!” She pointed her finger at Lord LeMewn who recoiled from it. “You are not worthy to judge!”

Lord LeMewn looked at Clariet, his expression reminiscent of someone who was about five seconds away from running. Clariet, on the other hand, was a pinnacle of calm, having been speaking with a guard before taking the steps to the stage. He stood in front of Aalis, gazing at her without fear.

“You approached the condemned,” he said in a cold, still voice and Aalis’ finger drew back, the heat of her anger diminishing, “the guard has confirmed it. You…what are you?”

Aalis jolted, taking a step in retreat but a guard grabbed her from behind. She struggled in vain as he held her tight, Clariet walking up to her, his hand reaching out.

“No!” She cried, Clariet tearing the hood from her head, exposing her dreadlocks.

He stepped back with a contented smile. “Witch.” Clariet turned to Lord LeMewn. “We have discovered the reason the judgement was unsuccessful. This witch,” he gestured to her, “protected the man from Maul.”

“What do you decree, Deacon Clariet?” Lord LeMewn asked.

“That she share his fate.” Clariet turned and smiled at Aalis and she could almost see her blood in his teeth. “I assure you, judgement will not fail twice…not now that it knows the face of deception.”

Aalis was hauled to the well, her knees becoming useless, unable to hold herself up. She was half dropped at the base of the well, attempting to crawl away as one of the guards unlocked a single shackle from Suvau. He grabbed her gown and dragged her back, locking the second shackle into place around her wrist.

“You may commune with him all you want now, witch.” He threw her towards the dark man.

Aalis fell to her hands and knees, looking up in horror as the man from Maul stood over her. Terror overrode her senses and she stood and ran, the shackle chain joined to his wrist, looped around the well bar. She jerked backwards and turned, unable to move more than two feet from the well.

“Deacon Clariet has spoken wisely and has exposed a witch hiding among us.” Lord LeMewn decreed. “Let no one approach and when the bell tolls for curfew, all are to abide by it or suffer the same fate.”

Ten minutes later...

“Lord LeMewn, I must protest this act of judgement and beg for mercy for this woman you have condemned!”

“Now try it in a less demanding tone.” Giordi advised, trying to keep up with Judd as they climbed the ascent to the manor house. “Judd…Judd! You have to wait!”

“Wait…wait…if you hadn’t made me wait, I could have protected Aalis!” Judd snapped at him.

“She was already beyond your reach, bound to cause a scene no matter what happened!” Giordi protested. “If I hadn’t stopped you, you’d be chained there with her!”

“He’s right, Judd.” Verne jogged beside them, the house coming closer and closer. “If we’re going to have any hope of saving Aalis, you have to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Judd’s head snapped back and he clutched at his jaw, Verne’s fist having connected with his face. “What was that for?”

“For being a fool!” Verne snarled. “You’re not the only one desperately worried about Aalis! So stop charging in, listen to Giordi and for the love of Astaril, use your head!”

Judd gazed at Verne, seeing how he was shaking. He dropped his hand from his jaw. “You’re right.” His voice was hollow and broken. “I…I know it. I just…can’t imagine how frightened she must be.”

“So let’s try to fix this with as little violence as possible.” Verne said sternly.

Judd nodded, swallowed and turned back to the house, his stride calmer and restrained.

Giordi looked at Verne who finally let pain show on his face, shaking his hand.

“Nicely done.”

“He’s got a jaw like iron.” Verne muttered.

Giordi chuckled and they hurried after Judd, joining him at the door. They were admitted into the foyer then, after a wait, welcomed into Lord LeMewn’s study, although welcome was too warm a word for the icy reception. Lord LeMewn sat behind a large, cherry wood desk in a highbacked chair, his hands clasped together with his elbows on the leather writing mat. Deacon Clariet stood to one side while Caste was in a corner, watching the proceedings.

“Judd LaMogre, Clariet was right in predicting you would make an appearance before me today.”

“Lord LeMewn,” Judd paused to breathe, “I have come to beg for the life of Aalis.”

“Aalis?”

“The woman your deacon condemned as a witch.”

LeMewn studied Judd. “And why would I do that when King Rocheveron decreed that all witches must be put to death.”

“That decree was based upon the determination of Bishop Peele and the Order of the Grail,” Judd licked his lips, willing himself to be calm, “but I am not here to debate doctrine. Aalis is a member of my entourage, a valuable addition amongst my companions as we travel Terra.”

“You freely admit you travel with a witch?” Clariet asked in an almost bored voice.

“She is not a witch,” Judd heard Giordi breathe the word ‘calm’ behind him, “she is a healer, a recluse who was convinced to travel by me because her skills are considerable.”

“A witch’s skills may also be considerable…that does not make her any less a witch.” Clariet argued lightly as though they were having a lively debate, not a life and death word duel.

“Can I ask, My Lord,” Giordi interjected, “what are the qualifications of Aalis being named a witch? If it was just her hair…”

“She approached the man of Maul.”

“Out of curiosity.” Judd insisted. “Do you not see how terrified she is of him?”

“The same expression is on all the faces of those who are caught in wrongdoing and condemned.”

“That’s because they’re facing a merciless judgement with no trial to determine guilt!”

“And what would we find if we hosted a trial?” Clariet fired up and Judd was hard pressed not to recoil from his sinister savagery. “What would we discover if we peeled back the layers and truly…examined this woman?” The way he said ‘examined’ had Judd lunging forward to strike Clariet. He was only dragged back in time by Verne and Giordi, the deacon smiling at him without fear. “Your protestations are noted but the process will go ahead as planned.”

“Why you…”

“Remove LaMogre from Lord LeMewn’s home at once,” Clariet glanced over his shoulder as he walked past the trio, opening the door and speaking with the guards outside, “and inform the soldiers that should he or any of his entourage approach the well and the condemned, they are to be shackled to the well for interfering with the wheels of justice.”