Part 2 Chapter 9 - The Scales of Judgement

* * *
Katherine
* * *

I don't recognize him. That terrible man with the sick dark circles under his eyes and hatred riding him like a hood can't be my Father.

'Sy's voice cuts across my thoughts as if it were Diyn. 'Katherine! This is not the time for that.' As deadly serious as his tone is, his thoughts are like a cushion behind me, supporting my own and giving me strength.

'I'm sorry. I forgot my position in that moment.' I bow my head and set my quill to paper. It's so much easier, this way. What I am, and what I do. Words and ink and paper. So simple.

'Just record.' I've never heard him like that in Court. Soft and reassuring. It only sets this event apart even more so.

Ebrellin-i is resplendent in his robes and finery, the chains swaying down heavily in the same motions that his sashes and cords make. The lack of his crown only makes his nose and chin jut out and upward even more prominently. His hair whispers behind him, a raven cloak that shimmers with the green of deep forests. I've never been afraid of him like this.

No, Katherine is afraid. The Advocate watches on with the same relaxed gaze she gives every other defendant. Just as Lyric's Father isn't the Judge, when I become the Advocate, I am no longer Katherine. I watch as Ebrellin-i halts in the center of the floor, the chains clinking and then settling. He jumps as they snake and then bolt to the floor seamlessly. He cranes his neck down to stare at what's been done to him, and then glares up at the Judge.

The Judge returns his glare with a look that could burn stone into glass. The Trident is already in his hand, and his arm is ready, wrist cocked.

I'm almost afraid that Ebrellin-i will be sentenced right here and now.

* * *
'Sy
* * *

There is something that must be done with filth.

First, you must inspect that which has just dragged itself across your threshold. Diyn is ready to destroy him, and there's no reason to hold back that is in the Law in its most literal interpretation. I wonder, then, if a soft hand is a betrayal of myself. No, I don't wonder. But from time to time I must become introspective, before the Advocate does so for me.

A heavy hand is always an option, and it lends a short thrill, but it prevents further learning and growth. It is not caution that stays me in these cases, but the knowledge that Justice is something that must sometimes be excavated rather than dealt. Call it parenting that makes me plunge the Trident into his forehead, then, and spear his Third Eye to see inside of that wretched mind.

The Father in me doesn't want to look, but what Father ever really does? Still, some part of myself that is Lyric's Father takes note of what I see. The rest is sad simply for what Ebrellin-i has done to himself. There are so many crimes in his memory. Were my Poet to record every one, she would be here for days. I've no wish to inflict that on Katherine. Instead, I dig through Ebrellin-i's memory as if it were so much wet earth. The metaphor is accurate down to the worms and their branching tunnels.

I suppose he never noticed that, did he? If his words tell of his deterioration, his mind gives even more testimony to it. I feel him squirm around me, around Diyn. I feel him try to struggle up and grab Diyn's shaft and pull it out of himself. Diyn only bites in harder, even though the chains binding Ebrellin-i are more than enough to bind the King's struggles.

'Avoiding the Truth, are you? Is it that you don't want me to see?' I grin at him. His multi-hued eyes, shot through with blood and pain, can't even manage a proper glare in reply. There's only the pleas that his mouth can't even choke forth. 'Or...is it that you don't want to see for yourself the things you've done?'

'Deserved it, every one of you...' After that, a different part of his mind pipes up in reply, or counterpoint. 'Never even committed a crime. All just a conspiracy. They want to take Katherine and my Kingdom away from me and soil my pure Rocsui-ehellenae.' Some squirming part of his mind only chitters for awhile, before demanding a blood toll from me and the sport of my son, and the rest of my children besides. Diyn reaches out for me and strangles that one before pulling it forward.

"You're so filthy I can barely recognize you, Ebrellin-i."

The creature that is Ebrellin-i grins as if there is no Trident impaling him. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, garbling his speech. "And would you care to guess, Wielder of Destruction's Arm, just what tricks I'd have turned with your son against your country? Your precious Armed and your Poets?" He wriggles, trying to jerk the Trident further into himself.

Trying to destroy himself.

"I can see all of that already."

"The animism would have been beautiful as an assassin. Why didn't you kill the boy for attempting to train him into one? At least trade the beauty for blood. At least give me that much, my King Unkind. I've served you so well. Why do you lay waste to the faithful now?"

Diyn agrees with me. Neither of us can make much sense of what he's saying.

The Advocate's voice nudges my mind. 'He's according you the same respect that he would his own Master.'

I pause, digesting that particular statement. 'How decorous of him. I do wonder what I should respond with.'

'He would prefer you killed him in response, as he's been ordered to suicide rather than expose secrets. Please retry him after you've cleaned that thing out of him. I can barely touch upon the accused's true voice, buried under all that filth. I don't recognize him.' I can hear where her heart would fill those words with emotion, but she says it all in perfect calm. The Advocate's Judgment, then. Given in compliance with Truth.

My eyes narrow, and I slowly draw the Trident out of Ebrellin-i's head. Diyn bickers with me, but doesn't fight, of course. His matters of opinion don't weigh as heavily as the Advocate's.

Ebrellin-i slumps onto the floor in a broken heap. The chains look more alive than he is. Later, I am told that most witnesses in the stands assumed I'd dealt him the death penalty then.

The Advocate walks closer to him, looking down at the pile of hair and elbows and silks that is Ebrellin-i. She's still scrutinizing. She looks up to me. Her eyes blaze a color that I've not seen in quite some time - irises a white-gold so primordial and otherworldly that I shiver, pupils a deep, piercing blue. Many Trials have passed since the last time she's stepped in. I'd almost forgotten those eyes - or possibly tried to, knowing how I often clash with the Advocate's stance.

'Bring him to my Court.' She turns, walking towards the exit. I follow suit, the chains binding around Ebrellin-i's form, one leading from his collar to Diyn. He gets up and walks in front of me, still unconscious, his movements ghostly and puppetlike.

After that we depart to a much different room, our departure's only fanfare the many questions and rumors drifting through the audience.

* * *
Gerald
* * *

Lyric goes white when the Peacock King collapses. I think he's going to collapse right on the spot as well. Lute manages to shake him out of it. Lyric watches on, then, as they lead the Peacock King out of the Court.

I look around to see the reactions in the stands. Most people don't know what to make of it. Most of them thought, as my brother did, that Ebrellin-i had been sentenced to death. So there's quite a lot of talking, and even a few arguments breaking out. I'm on guard against fights starting up here in Court. Hell, it wouldn't be the first or last time. And I don't miss the fact that glares are being cast my brother's way. Of course, with no official explanation thus far of my brother's connection to the Peacock King...rumors have no way of being stopped. I stand up to start to counter some of what happened, and then get drawn into an argument myself.

That's why I miss what happens to Jhe h'Logos. The next thing I know, my sister's yanking on my hand so hard that my elbow almost gets pulled out of its socket.

"Gerald. Could you clear the way for us? I already called for some assistance but he needs to get out of here now."

The Poet King leans against my sister. His hand on her shoulder looks consoling, but he's really holding himself up. He's as pale as bone china, but at least that looks natural on a Xaillyndesse. "I am fine. I just need air."

"Then there's fine air where your bed is. Come on." She starts to walk him down, then thinks better of it. She looks over to the throne at the same time that Uncle Lui looks over to her. He stands and beckons her towards his throne. I lean in to prop the King up, but Stevane elbows me away. "He doesn't want to look sick. ...Bring Lyric. The audience in this courtroom's being less kind to him than Diyn was."

The Courtroom begins to empty, but we don't have to worry about the hectic crowd - Uncle Lui's private exit bypasses all of that. We shuffle into his suites right before Jhe h'Logos goes into shock.

* * *
Stevane
* * *

I brace Jhe h'Lete more as his legs start to fail him. I don't ask for help because I know it would embarrass him. With him leaning against me like this, I'm especially aware of his feelings and thoughts. It's painful. In a way wish I could distance myself from him. I manage to get him to the couch before someone does need to help me.

"Here, it's long enough for you to lay down and you won't be cramped."

My King looks up at me, his blue eyes stubborn and his chin held primly. "I'll just sit, Stevane, thank you."

I square my shoulders for an argument, but then there's my Uncle's voice over my shoulder. "Eleth-travente a'Radia. Do as your Poet tells you." I rarely hear Unkie's voice so ironclad. Strangely, I recognize the tone from when he's spoken to his children around me. Jhe h'Lete pales one more shade, then lies down as ordered.

...Wow, I'm going to have to figure out how to pull that trick. I drop to my knees and put my hand on my King's forehead. He sees that frown on my face, sighs, then takes off his crown and hands it to me. I put it in my lap, then put my hand against his forehead again.

My King closes his eyes to hide the fact that he's wincing. He sucks a breath into his chest. I feel the wave of dizziness hit him as if it were my own. I have to catch myself from falling over. ...Correction. Unkie has to catch me from falling over. He then gives me a nudge.

"Let me."

I stand back and let my Uncle see my King. Jhe h'Lete's nerves immediately rise. He even edges away from my Uncle a little. The edge of fear bleeds off of him, over our connection, and onto me. My fingers clench around his crown and my knuckles tint white.

Unkie tsks at Elete. "You..." he sighs. "It's always something, isn't it? Let me look before it gets any worse. ...Stevane?"

I jump a little, then ease my grip on the crown before Elete's scalp begins to itch out of sympathy. I need to be useful, not a mess. "I'll make tea and coffee." I look around the room. Lute's dear enough (and sneaky enough) to have ducked into the shadows and made himself not so much of a nuisance, but Gerald and Lyric are just standing around and gawking like idiots. I push Gerald into a chair and grab Lyric's wrist.

"Give me a hand in here." I pull him into the coffee bar without too much protest on his part. I need someone in the room with me so I won't start worrying about things. I'm pretty sure Lyric could use the same thing. "You know how Unkie liked his coffee? That hasn't changed any. I'll handle the tea. I'm certified."

He snorts as he readies a coffee press. "Does that come with the Poet training?" He can't suppress a little smile as he grinds down the beans.

I giggle. "It's more of a prerequisite. Here, give me a hand, the cups are behind you."

The work keeps us busy, and it's something we can do instead of just worry about. We ready two services. Before we carry them back into the room, I surprise-attack my brother with a bear hug.

"Urp. Stevane, are you okay?"

"Don't make me miss you again." I sigh into his shoulder. "I keep telling people that. Dad and Gerald and Edward and Elric. It never works. Still." I look back up and stare hard into his eyes. "...Don't make me miss you again. Promise?"

"I promise." He kisses me on the cheek. "Let's get tea to your King." He collects the coffee service and hoists it up over his head on one hand. "...And a coffee transfusion to Uncle Lui."

"Hey, I forget. Were you here when he tried injecting it directly into himself?"

My brother almost drops the platter.