Part 2 Chapter 8 - Indictment

* * *
Katherine
* * *

Being inside the Court instead of up in the stands is a different experience altogether. I bet you think I mean that a lot more figuratively than I do. But no, part of why there's a Poet on the floor is so that it can be recorded firsthand just what happens down here on the floor with 'Sy. What the audience sees (with the exception of Daddy up there in his throne) is never reliable.

He looks just as grand as ever. Sometime in between breakfast and his entry into Court, he shifted his clothing. Justice hangs over him, a set of robes, belts, straps and buttons. His office as a clothier would depict it. It's a shame he doesn't wear this more often, it's damn sexy. On the other hand, I'm kind of grateful it's reserved for highly official occasions, because then I don't have to worry about stripping the whole complex mess off of him. It would probably take a pair of wirecutters and a crochet hook just to unlatch the first layer.

Have I mentioned I'm distracting myself from this whole mess? I'm distracting myself from this whole mess.

I'm almost expecting him to whip out the Trident and point it right in his son's face, just so the boy will piss his pants right then and there and never run off again. No, that's just one of 'Sy's passing whims, not something he'll actually do. ...Probably. I see Lyric jerk, all the same, as if he caught the thought as well.

Clever boy. Have you gotten perceptive during your time away? I wonder if you'll see what's coming next, then. I'm quite sure Elete would be interested in that as well.

* * *
Lyric
* * *

I've been told that each Judging is very personal, and no two persons have exactly the same one. It would be difficult for me to say. I managed to squirm out of ever seeing one before this, and after I don't think I'll be too keen on a repeat performance, even if it's from up in the stands.

I can hear the bullet's voices echoing in my ears, but I can't make out the words just yet. They're just background crowd noise, nothing I can focus on at all. The only thing I can focus on is Father.

'That's not Father, lad.'

'Aye. That's the Judge.'

'I can't tell the difference.' I shudder. I didn't mean to, but there's something about him right now. It's not just that the podium makes him however many feet taller, and its not how serious he looks, or how serious it is in here, either. 'And I don't want to, either.'

'Some say it won't make much difference if you do.' A steel voice sinks right between my ears and I go rigid, my posture straighter than it's ever been in my life. My eyes flick up to meet my Father's. Somehow this voice matches his eyes, even if it's not his voice. ...The Trident? 'Diyn. If you dare speak of me, you might as well be proper about it.'

I try to make a sound, but it doesn't really come out. There's just this prying, searching, hunting. As if an eye is looking through every part of me, even the parts that try to hide. ...Especially the parts that try to hide. Memories are stirred up that I thought I'd long buried.

Crying in a huddled ball in some windswept threshold, trying to convince myself this was better than being home. Spending the last of someone else's money on booze instead of a warm place to sleep. The girl I met that night, and the things she taught me about my body that I'd never discovered before. Her two sisters. The disease I caught from...one of them, probably the short one.

Judgment shouldn't be like this. I should feel wretched, not...embarrassed. Of course, the shaft of steel that's running through my brain just takes that as an invitation to dig for deeper dirt. It doesn't take long, but on the other hand, he finds so many stops to make along the way. So many things I didn't tell my Uncle, last night. I thought no one needed to know. I tricked a girl into becoming a slave, in some Court before I went to the Peacock King's. I didn't realize. I thought they were just playing games. I only learned afterward what the collars really meant. I didn't--

Further, further down, through those accidental injustices, through the petty thieving and sniping, and into the darkest things in my heart.

I liked him. No, no. It was a little more than that, what I did with the Peacock King. It hurt when I saw him dancing for Nul. It hurt because I loved him. Did I hold back because of that? Did I let people get hurt, because I'd fallen in love with Ebrellin-i?

'He seduced you. Does that make it different to you<?' The Trident sniffs at me like I'm so much meat.

'Sometimes I wonder if I seduced him.'

'Who are you to know what's in his heart? Who are you to Judge Ebrellin-i?'

I swear I can't think of an answer to that, but somehow it comes forth anyway. Something I'm learning is that you can't not answer the Trident. 'I was close to him. I should have known. I should have stopped him. I should have turned him around. And instead all I did was sit there and let him move me, and turn me, and make me his toy. If he's here at all, isn't at least some of the blame on me?'

'Are you choosing to accept the weight of his crimes?' That question sounds so official that I can't help but wonder what record the answer will be written on. ...Or even worse, what contract.

'No.' I take in a deep breath. 'Only the ones that I committed myself.'

'If you won't accept them then stop blaming yourself for them and wasting my time. Do you want to confess to something you've DONE?'

I let out that deep breath. I also have half a mind to check if my pants are still dry. I have my doubts. 'I touched the animism with a knife. I made sure I didn't draw blood, and the Peacock King's hand guided me through it. I tied him down after that. I was the one who stripped him of his furs, and I was given them as a trophy for my successes in training him.'

'Did you do as ordered?' I can feel its eyes staring straight down into my gut.

'Only when we were being watched by the Peacock King.'

'Then you are guilty of refusing to turn traitor in the King's sight rather than not defile the animism. You already know that.'

'Yes.'

'Why did you freely walk into this Court, Jhe Lyric Akribastes?'

I close my eyes, preparing myself for it. 'Because I knew in my heart that I was guilty.'

'Then that is your Judgment. Are you prepared for the penalty? It is swift.'

My heart forgets to beat for a few moments, and then I try breathing to resurrect it. Guilty? It feels like all the blood's been drained from my body, but I'm so exhilarated at the same time. I wonder how that's even possible. 'Perhaps. I've never really been in this position before.'

'Yes you have. It's referred to by your kind as 'fessing up.'

'Oh. Yes, then.' Giddy. Like all the wind's knocked out of me. Punch drunk. I hear the Trident kill the air as it arcs towards me. I feel it pass through me. I don't even notice. I don't even feel it.

'Well, you're still alive, it would seem.' It sounds a little disappointed.

"We were expecting that." Ah, my Father's voice. It's a little surreal to hear now. It's very surreal to hear anything right now. I should be dead, by all accounts. A big three-pronged hunk of metal just whooshed through my midsection. Maybe I'm just taking my time about falling over in several very neatly-sliced pieces. "Congratulations, Lyric Akribastes. You've been granted a pardon."

My spirits lift up and all the blood comes rushing back to my head at once. It's a miracle I didn't just fall over dead from shock.

Father--no, the Judge-- looks over to Jhe Katherine. She nods and stands, holding up a scroll of parchment. "It is decreed this day that Animism Faun has declared the crimes committed against him by Lyric Akribastes voided, and thus any Judgment called against Lyric Akribastes shall be overturned in favor of the Animism's terms, which shall be contracted in a separate, private hearing. The defendant is dismissed from this Court, may he go in peace and not find his way again to this floor." She bows to me, a short conveyance of decorum and dismissal.

Then she makes this courteous shooing gesture when I don't get the hint. I decide to turn and leave before Diyn decides to aid her. In fact, my steps take on a scampering quality when I realize that Trident is in far too close of a proximity to my butt.

* * *
Gerald
* * *

My brother almost walks right into me as he leaves the Court's floor. Which is just as well, since I immediately crush him against me in a bear-hug.

"Ouf frwm zrrsnk Gerrunk--" he mumbles something completely unintelligible into my shirt. I ignore it. I am reminding myself over and over that he's right there, and he's in my arms, and he's alive. My Guns are berating me for being an unobservant overemotional chickenshit, and you know what? That's okay. It just means I'm in touch with my feelings.

"I think he's gonna die of asphyxiation, bro." Lute pats my shoulder, his voice full of only slightly mirthful understanding. "Really, you need to let go and shake it off before you strangle him. I think you got more upset about his Judgment than he did." His grip tightens, helping cement me in reality. My mind's trying to rush everywhere at once. Wagner is telling me it's my stupid Poet's nature and Bruce says that if I don't focus on something soon he'll shoot me to give me something simple to concentrate on.

It still takes Lute prying at my arms a little to get me to stop squeezing Lyric to death. By that time Lyric's turning blue in the face and looks about ready to pass out.

"Wa-was that my punishment?" Lute snorts, then pulls Lyric close and gives him a much shorter, much less lethal hug. Then he holds Lyric by the shoulders and looks down into his twin's eyes.

"Don't worry me like that again or you'll end up having something to worry about." Lyric gives a prompt nod in response. "Okay. Good. You a'right for steps? You gonna be able to sit up through the next Trial? You don't want to miss the Peacock King getting Judged. That's kind of a one-time event."

Lyric gives a weak little nod, then leans on Lute's arm for support while we guide him up to where my seat was. Stevane's more to the side now, where she and the Jhe h'Logos are talking to...

"Sit, ya moron, these are made for butts, not feet." Lute pushes me down to sit. "You leave your brain in Sul?"

I shake my head and stare at Faun. He gives me a nod, then looks over to Lyric and does the same. "Well, I'm certainly glad to see that my plea was accepted. Are you feeling alive?"

Lyric shakes his head in reply, then leans against Lute.

"Should Lyric still be here?" Stevane's voice is rife with concern. She looks over to him. "You can always read one of the accounts after the Trial. There'll be quite a lot of them, considering." She gestures out to the seats. There are a whole lot of Poets watching the Court.

Lyric shakes his head, then looks out at the floor. "I should be here. I'm what got him here in the first place. It's stupid, but I do owe him that." Lute wraps an arm around him. Jhe h'Logos scoots down to where Lyric sits.

"If I may?"

It never ceases to amaze me how easily the Poet King can confer rest upon a person, or just give them a bit of peace.

Faun decides to sit next to me, of all people, his eyes focused very intently on Lyric. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I'll keep my distance. I am merely concerned for his well-being." He looks out over the floor. "Ah. The singular event commences."

I break away from scrutinizing the animism to watch as the Peacock King glides into the Court.