"You admitted your guilt to this Conclave, in your own words!"
"I admitted it at my first Conclave, too, Prosecutor.” Loras fought his rising anger. “It is not new evidence; no further liability pertains. What is new evidence is that I now disavow culpability in that admitted act, and I wish to call witnesses in my defence: witnesses who may be able to prove my assertions. I call upon the Conclave to consider evidence that may overturn my previous conviction."
"You and the other defendants attacked Lord Thorn, Prelate of Arnor House, and you sought to depose him, Questor Loras! Do you deny this?"
"I do not, Prosecutor Rithel. I wish to show that my erstwhile friend, Lord Thorn, was intimately involved in my former disgrace, and, therefore, guilty of a greater crime. My fellow defendants will present evidence attesting to this. It was for this reason-"
Bang-bang-bang!
"You may not speculate on the evidence of any other prisoner at this time,” Horin declared, “or of the defences that they may or may not offer, Questor Loras. Is that clear?"
Loras nodded and bowed. “That is quite clear, Lord Chairman. I apologise for my reckless words. However, I wish to state that I believe these men blameless of the crimes for which they are held."
Scratch-scratch…
"Your statement is noted,” Horin drawled. “May we hear the next charge, please, Prosecutor Rithel?"
"Thank you, Lord Chairman. Charge Two: that Loras Afelnor did, with malice aforethought, scheme and conspire to bring about the overthrow of the lawful Prelate of Arnor House; to wit, Thorn Virias, called ‘The Iron-willed'. This is an act of mutiny. How plead you to this charge, Questor Loras?"
The former mage knew he could offer once more the blanket defence that he was not a Guild man at the time of the alleged act. However, he knew that doing so would throw full blame onto Kargan, Crohn and Dalquist. And yet, to plead guilty would annul his defence to the first charge.
What to do? he wondered, his thoughts racing.
"I beg the Conclave's indulgence,” he said, choosing his words with care. “Is it in order to request clarification on a point of law?"
After an interlude of muted muttering between the members of the court, Horin said, “It is, Questor Loras. Ask your question. As arbiter of this Conclave, I will answer you as best I can."
Loras shuffled his feet and cudgelled his brain. “Thank you, Lord Chairman. Is it permitted to introduce a counter-claim against another defendant? In other words: may an accusation of mutiny be overturned by evidence that the act was justified? Or is a Guild Prelate immune to any charge levied by a lesser mage?"
He knew this might be a contentious issue; the Guild authorities would not wish to start a precedent to allow rank-and-file mages to depose their seniors. Nonetheless, the fury of the discussion between the members of the Conclave surprised him.
"Point of Order, Lord Chairman!"
"The presumptuous upstart!"
"Really, Lord Chairman!"
"This could provoke anarchy!"
The banging of Horin's gavel brought the frenzied arguments to an end in a moment.
"Such a defence would depend on many factors, Questor Loras.” The Dominie's voice was calm and measured. “The main factor would be the severity of the counter-charge. The defendant would need to prove beyond all reasonable doubt that the said Prelate had demonstrated either severe mental disturbance, so that he was incapable of fulfilling his duties; or that he had committed, or conspired in, acts of treason endangering the security and integrity of the Guild. What is your counter-charge?"
Loras hesitated. He knew Thorn was already being held on some charge or other, but he suspected that it would be little more than one of failing to maintain order in Arnor House. The penalty, he suspected, would be light. He drew a deep breath.
"I accuse Lord Thorn Virias, Prelate of Arnor House, of High Treason,” he said, to the accompaniment of a chorus of gasps and shouts.
The die is cast, thought Loras. Let us see how it lands.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 32: Accusations
Bang-bang!
"The Conclave shall come to order!” Horin shouted. “Can you substantiate this extraordinary charge, Questor Loras?"
"Lord Thorn colluded with one not of this Guild, to overthrow you, Lord Horin,” Loras said. “In addition to this, he cavilled with this person to use Geomancy against a fellow mage, to bring about his unjust dismissal from the Guild."
After a moment of stunned silence, Rithel demanded, “Do you have the least scrap of evidence to support such ludicrous charges?"
"Not by myself, Prosecutor Rithel,” Loras admitted. “However, I formally request that my fellow defendants be brought here to testify in our joint defence. Without this indulgence, justice may not be served.
"Lord Dominie, you stated during my prior session here that you had some knowledge of the witch in question. Did you know-"
Bang-bang-bang!
"Silence, prisoner!” Horin shouted. “Gentlemen of the Conclave, on a Point of Personal Privilege, I request your indulgence to hear this defendant's testimony in camera. The evidence may be prejudicial to Guild security, and I feel that only I am competent to judge it. May I prevail upon you all to adjourn to the antechamber?"
The Conclave erupted in furor. Some members argued that Loras should be required to testify in iron chains, at least, but Horin was obdurate.
"I am not defenceless,” he said. “This room is surrounded by a ward against the use of any but the most passive of Minor Magics. That is why the defendants are allowed to stand here unfettered, and it should suffice even against the most powerful Questor magic. I am armed with my Mage Staff, and the prisoner cannot summon his own. Kindly leave the room at once."
Despite a few final, grumbling words of dissent, Loras heard the fading rustle of robes and the decisive slam of a heavy door.
"We are alone, Questor Loras. Tell me what you know about Prioress Lizaveta."
Loras squinted into the darkness. “Lord Chairman, I would feel more at ease talking to you if I could see you. Unless my memory is playing tricks on me, I believe Guild Law permits an accused mage to face his accusers."
Horin chuckled. “You are facing me, Questor Loras, even though you cannot see me. However, if you wish…"
Loras heard a few muttered syllables, and the green mage globes disappeared in the blink of an eye. After another brief spell-chant, the blackness fell like a heavy curtain released from its rail, to reveal a splendid, wood-panelled chamber, with no windows, and only two sets of doors. The centrepiece of the room was a large table in the shape of a horseshoe, with the ends closest to him. Behind the centre of the arc sat a calm-faced, ancient-looking man amidst a wild profusion of scrolls and papers, many of which had spilled onto the floor around him.
The former Questor felt surprised at Lord Horin's apparent age; of course, most mages were old men by the time they reached the Seventh Rank, but Horin looked ancient. His forehead was deeply grooved, and the skin of his lower face hung in heavy jowls. Where most magic-users resorted to magic to hide the signs of advancing age, it seemed that the Dominie did not bother with spells of vanity.
Remembering protocol, Loras executed a deep bow, and he was pleased to find that his long-ago lessons in Courtly Graces had not deserted him.
"I do you honour, Lord Dominie,” he said, as he straightened up.
"Yes, yes, yes,” Horin said, waving his hands and donning a fussy pair of gold-rimmed, half-moon spectacles. “I think we can do away with the formalities for now, Questor Loras. Come, approach me; I want to see the fabled Oathbreaker, and my eyesight is not what it once was."
Loras stepped towards the older man with a measured pace, his eyes fixed on the black marble floor. He stopped a few steps away from the Dominie.