Indeed it was not,' said Ghorr. 'You had been stripped of your rights and privileges the previous day, and therefore every order you had made was void.'
'Perquisitor Fyn-Mah cannot have known that,' Flydd said, and so my orders still held.'
'The law has been changed,' Ghorr said hastily. 'Ignorance is no longer an excuse-'
'When was the law changed?' Flydd thundered. 'Show us the chapter, the page, the line.'
'How dare you, a non-citizen, question me! It is as I have said. Besides, Fyn-Mah had been told of your fall and still disobeyed the representative of Jal-Nish, and subsequently Scrutator Klarm, who was in command of the air-floater she ordered to be shot down. Was that not so, Perquisitor Fyn-Mah?'
After a hesitation, she said, 'It was so.'
'I cannot-' Flydd began.
Ghorr cut him off. 'You've had your say, more than you were entitled to. Be silent or I'll have you silenced.'
Flydd met Flangers's eyes. Flangers gave a single shake of the head. Flydd bowed his own. He could do no more.
Ghorr motioned to the master of the executions to get on with it.
'Witnesses,' yelled the master of the executions, 'you have heard arguments for the defence by General Galliman, and the chief scrutator's telling rebuttal. You have heard Flydd's appeal dismissed. Raise your right hand if you disagree with the chief scrutator, and therefore deny the verdict:
A considerable number of hands rose. 'The clerk of the executions will tally those who disagree,' said the master of the executions. Out of the corner of his mouth he added, 'Clerk, get their names.'
Once the clerk had done, the master said, 'Witnesses, raise your right hand if you agree with the chief scrutator and therefore confirm the verdict.'
A forest of hands rose. The clerk tallied them and handed his slate to the master of the executions.
He scanned the list, then said, 'The verdict is confirmed. three hundred and eighty-one votes to two hundred and forty-four. Sergeant Flangers has been found guilty of treason. Take him to the place of execution to await his fate.'
An impassive Flangers bowed to the master of the executions, to the recorders and the witnesses, and finally to Flydd, before being led away by a group of soldiers who strode beside him like an honour guard.
In short order the remaining twenty-eight prisoners, including Yggur's guards and servants, an expressionless Fyn-Mah, a furiously struggling Gilhaelith and a coldly remote Yggur, were condemned and sent to the execution pen. Some wept, some cursed, some pleaded for their lives or invoked the names of beloved wives, aged mothers or little children. The witnesses were unmoved. Flydd attempted to speak for each of his people, but was denied every time, on the grounds that a prisoner could not be advocate for his fellows. No one spoke in their defence.
The only prisoners not on trial were Malien and Tiaan, but both were tightly bound, and Malien had been gagged as well, lest she use the undoubted power of her voice to attempt an escape.
Finally it was Irisis's turn for trial. For some reason, she clung to the fantasy that her sentence would be set aside.
It was not to be. Not a single witness came forward to defend her.
'I beg leave to defend Crafter Irisis Stirm,' said Flydd.
'Denied,' Ghorr replied. 'For the reasons already stated.'
The master of the executions raised his voice. 'Since no witness has spoken up to oppose the verdict, the sentence is confirmed. Crafter Irisis Stirm has been found guilty of treason. Take her to the place of execution to await her fate.'
The guards dragged her away. To her left a burly executioner was honing the blades of his flensing tools, so sharp and fine that they could, in the hands of a master such as he, remove the skin of a living human without nicking the flesh. Beside him, the master disemboweller polished the edges of his scalpels, gougers, slitters, reamers, renders, crushers, grinders and pluckers.
Last in the line, the master dismemberer rubbed at a speck of rust on one of his bone saws and frowned. Irisis was so struck by the sight – the men and the tools that would undo flesh and organs and part her sinews from their bones – that she did not even hear the sentence confirmed on Flydd.
Fyn-Mah cried out in anguish. Flydd looked up at her and the light finally dawned. He gave her a look of infinite ten-derness, then made a sign to her with his left hand. Irisis could not read it but Fyn-Mah forced a smile. The scrutator bore an ethereal expression as they dragged him across to join the others. Xervish Flydd had come to terms with his fate.
'Master Flenser,' he said, nodding to the first of the executioners, I trust you've a keen blade on those knives of yours. I'm a sensitive man and my skin is particularly thin, after the work your father did on me some decades back.'
'Never fear, old fellow,' said the master flenser. 'I'm an artist of rare skill, if I say so myself. I'll have the hide off you so quick you'll never know it's gone.'
'Oh, I'll know all right,' chuckled Flydd. 'Just don't let them make a handbag out of my backside. My dignity couldn't stand the strain.'
'Don't worry, surr,' said the master flenser. 'I'll treat you with the respect you deserve.' Irisis thought he was being ironic, until he added quietly, 'I'm sorry, surr. I'd rather peel anyone in the world than you, but your conviction is a legitimate one.' He spread his hairy hands as if to say, what's an honourable man to do?
'Of course you must do your duty, Master Flenser,' said Flydd. 'I would not ask anything else of you.'
Flydd was having similar jocular words with the master dis-emboweller and the master dismemberer when the master of the executions shouted, 'Quiet, if you please. The executions will now begin.' He consulted his list, saying, 'We will take them in order of the trial. The first will be Pilot Inouye.'
Two soldiers lifted Inouye under the arms. She was such a frail little figure that either of them could have carried her in one hand. They propelled her forwards, her feet skipping across the canvas. It appeared that she was going willingly to her death, though had they stood her up she would have fallen down again.
The master flenser was selecting his initiating knife when the master of the executions spun around, looking confused. Fusshte was shouting and waving at him. The master of the executions ran across, conferring with the scrutator, then called out to the soldiers, 'No, bring her back, lads.' 1b the witnesses he said, 'The scrutators bid me to execute the greatest criminal and traitor first, in case the enemy should attack. 'Ex-Scrutator Xervish Flydd,' he went on, politely, 'if you would be so kind as to step into theflensing trough.'
For a fleeting moment Flydd looked shocked, as though not expecting his end to come quite so soon. He nodded, raised his right hand in salute to the other prisoners, and then to Irisis, and stepped over the side. The flensing trough was like a long metal bathtub with a broad platform on either side. A pipe ran from below the plughole down through the hole in the centre of the canvas platform.
'Would you care to disrobe and take your place on the right-hand platform?' said the master flenser. 'On your back, if you please, with your legs spread. Take your time. Make yourself comfortable.'
Again that muffled wail from Fyn-Mah. Flydd's hand was shaking and his knees would scarcely hold him. He dropped the sheet, settled his scrawny backside on the platform and swung his legs up. Looking around, he caught Irisis's eye. Flydd attempted a smile, but not even he could pull it off at this moment.
Irisis's heart went out to the man, though her own end would come soon enough. 'Take heart, Xervish,' she said. 'It'll be over more quickly than you think.'
He gave a stifled, mirthless laugh. 'Somehow, that's not nearly as comforting as when I said it to you.'
'Begin, Master Flenser!' roared Ghorr, striking a pose for the artists and the chroniclers. 'I'll double your fee if you can take this scoundrel's skin off in one piece – I've a special use for it.'