‘What about Othello?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Othello’s at Vocans. Atilla and a young dwarf girl, Cress, joined the academy this year. In fact, they are preparing for their first Tournament as we speak. Othello stayed on to make sure their transition went smoothly – he turned down his commission to do so. It means he will be able to lead the dwarven recruits, so in a way it is ideal.’
Arcturus looked over his shoulder as the judge returned to his seat, the green tinge gone from his face.
‘Othello misses you terribly. It is thanks to his family that we are having this trial at all. They petitioned the king to make sure you had a hearing and managed to secure you a judge that hadn’t taken a bribe from the Triumvirate. Trust me when I tell you that there weren’t many left.’
‘Wait … about the Triumvirate—’ Fletcher began to ask.
The judge rapped his desk with the gavel, turning the room silent once again.
Arcturus gave him a look that said, Later.
‘Captain, it is clear that there are some discrepancies in the story presented by the witnesses and the prosecution. Do you have any more evidence to present?’
‘I do, your honour,’ Arcturus said, striding back to the witness podium. ‘But first, I would like to ask the witnesses a few more questions. Please reply in turn – from Jakov, to Calista, to Lord Cavell. Is there anything you would like to change about your story?’
Jakov’s eyes flicked to Didric, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
‘No,’ Jakov said.
‘I can’t remember. No,’ Calista muttered, looking at her hands.
Didric stood, addressing the room in a loud, confident voice.
‘I would like to say that this orc scroll proves nothing. The memory is a fickle thing; your line of questioning simply led me to describe it in that way.’
‘Yes, that was because you had never seen the scroll before. It was not your memory I was leading, it was your lie,’ Arcturus replied, raising his voice so the crowd could hear. ‘Now answer my question.’
‘Obviously I did not see the scroll as well as I thought I did,’ Didric said in a bored voice. ‘But my story still stands. You cannot summon a demon without a pentacle made of, or inscribed on, organic material. He had a summoning leather. I saw it.’
Arcturus grinned, clapping his hands together with finality.
‘You’re half right, Lord Cavell. You do need a pentacle formed of organic material to summon a demon. Can you think of what Fletcher would have had on his person that matched that description?’
‘Wait …’ Didric stammered, his eyes flashing with recognition. But it was too late.
‘It was, in fact, the book itself!’ Arcturus announced, reaching into his pack and withdrawing the book cover with a flourish.
It was same one that had been removed from the journal Fletcher had left in his cell. The leather was dusty and wrapped around what must have been the copy of the original, but he recognised the pentacle on the front.
‘Another lie,’ Arcturus continued, shaking his head. ‘I can have witnesses flown in – Dame Fairhaven and Lord Scipio himself – to corroborate that Fletcher told them he used these two items to summon the demon. Will that be necessary, your honour?’
‘No, Captain, I believe you. Please give us the version of events as you see it.’
Arcturus turned his back on the crowd, this time directing his line of argument to the judge.
‘One night, prior to the night in question, Didric assaulted Fletcher and suffered an embarrassing defeat at his hands, losing much standing amongst his peers. The following evening, he or one of his companions spotted Fletcher going to the graveyard. Didric gathered his accomplices and followed, arriving after Fletcher summoned his demon. Seeking revenge, they attacked Fletcher, whose demon reacted instinctively in defence of his master. As the victim, rather than the aggressor, Fletcher ran away. If he had truly wished to murder Didric and his friends, he would have stayed to finish the job, once he had the upper hand.’ Arcturus paused, as if something had just occurred to him. ‘This was nothing more than a repeat of the previous night’s events. Didric attacks Fletcher and is defeated when Fletcher acts in self-defence. There is a pattern here. Consider that, your honour, when coming to your verdict.’
The judge blinked slowly at Arcturus, as if deep in thought. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his head with his gavel. The room was absolutely silent, every eye focused on the old man as he closed his eyes. The minutes ticked by, the silence weighing heavily on the room. For a moment, Fletcher thought the judge had fallen asleep, so he jumped with shock when he suddenly spoke, his eyes still closed.
‘I have come to a decision. Fletcher Wulf, you are accused of the attempted murder of Lord Didric Cavell. Please stand to receive your verdict.’