Rudolfo looked at the man who had once commanded a nation. Despite being fed well under his care, Sethbert had shed most of his fat. His hair had been shorn for the physician’s work. His flesh had been cut, forming the holy lattice of a Whymer Maze upon his skin.
Scars of the Whymer knife, Rudolfo thought.
Rudolfo felt a stab of shame, and turned his eyes away.
The crowd went to their feet; the thousand indrawn breaths were audible. But Petronus noted that Rudolfo and Jin Li Tam remained seated.
Petronus looked at the broken man before him. “Sethbert, former Overseer of the Entrolusian City States, once kin-clave of the Androfrancine Order, do you understand why you are here today?”
Sethbert’s lower lip quivered. “I do.”
The work of those damnable physicians. Petronus felt a stab of anger, but suppressed it. But in the truest sense this trial was not for Sethbert’s benefit, it was for his own and for tomorrow. No more backward dreaming
Petronus looked at Isaak and nodded. The metal man stood as Petronus continued. “Did you, of your own free will and with forethought of malice, order this mechoservitor’s script altered in secret?”
Sethbert hung his head. “I did, Father.”
“And what was the nature of this alteration?”
Sethbert looked up briefly, his eyes red and hollow. He opened his mouth and closed it. “I… I had it altered, yes.”
Petronus’s jaw went firm. “How did you alter it?”
Rudolfo looked at Isaak, and found himself squeezing Jin’s hand harder than he realized. The metal man stood alone among his kind, his eye-shutters flickering and his bellows pumping. A low whine came from his exhaust grate.
Petronus studied the man. Sethbert looked around the room, first glancing at the metal man, then taking in the others. He saw Rudolfo, and their eyes met. He saw Jin Li Tam, and she looked away. Finally Sethbert saw Neb, and Petronus heard him gasp at the look of controlled rage upon the young man’s face.
Sethbert’s voice shook and for a moment, Petronus thought his eyes offered an imploring look, not for release but for forgiveness. “I altered it so that he would recite Xhum Y’zir’s Seven Cacophonic Deaths in the central square of Windwir.”
Petronus leaned on his podium. “You did this thing?”
“I paid someone to do it,?›€to do it1; Sethbert said. “I did it. Yes.” And suddenly an odd thing happened. Sethbert’s eyes became bright and hard.
“Why?”
Sethbert said nothing.
Petronus scowled. “Surely you had a reason.”
Sethbert looked around the room again, possibly for a sympathetic face. There were none. And he had no way of knowing that his own family had been excluded from the proceedings at Petronus’s command. The Gypsy King had actually protested this the night before, but had left the matter alone when Petronus raised his voice and reminded Rudolfo that though the trial was held on his soil, it was entirely an Androfrancine affair.
Sethbert drew himself up, broken no more. “My reasons were my own.”
Petronus saw the line of his jaw, and realized that Sethbert would never tell. Not even the physicians had broken that part of him. It made him wonder what-other than a profound sense of rightness-could create that kind of resolve. Regardless, this matter was not about Sethbert. It was about a perception of justice and about a better future. He continued. “But you acknowledge guilt?”
“I do.”
Petronus looked out over the crowd, scanning the room. Now his own eyes went to Rudolfo and Jin Li Tam, then to Isaak and finally to Neb, though the young man looked away quickly. It broke his heart to see it, but he’d known he had to protect the boy.
Then he saw another familiar face far up and to the right, partially hidden behind the hood of a low-level archeologist’s robes.
Vlad Li Tam nodded to Petronus, a grim smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Petronus forced his eyes away and looked back to Sethbert. “Then as Patriarch and King, I find you guilty.” Petronus moved around the platform. “Does any here dispute my finding?”
No one spoke. No one moved.
Petronus continued his slow walk, his eyes narrow and studying the faces around him. He stopped in front of the new bishop who had challenged him on the matter of the mechoservitors. He stared at him and the bishop stared back. “What sentence does this crime merit?”
At first, the bishop didn’t answer. Slowly, he worked his mouth open. “He should be put to death, Father.”
Petronus nodded. “I agree that he should._›€ he shou221; He walked slowly to another bishop, one Rudolfo knew to have been an archeologist working in the Churning Waste until recently. “Do you agree?”
The archeologist nodded. “I do, Father.”
Petronus whipped a fishing knife from his robes. He held the short blade aloft, watching as Rudolfo signed and gestured his rushing Gypsy Scouts to stand down.
Alarm spread over Rudolfo’s face, and his hands moved quickly. What do you play at, old man?
Petronus ignored him. “Sethbert dies today. Who will carry out his sentence?”
Someone nodded to the band of Gypsy Scouts. “Have them do it.”
Petronus chuckled. “Too long we’ve invited others to our unpleasant tasks. This one we will do ourselves.”
Sethbert now was shaking. His bladder cut loose, wetting the front of his tunic and breeches. But he did not speak.
Now Petronus turned to Isaak. “You. What of you?” Isaak took a tentative step forward. “Of all of us here, he wronged you the most. He bent you against your will and turned you into a weapon beyond our wildest imaginings. He gave you the words to level a city and kill every man, woman, child and beast within.”
The metal man took another step forward. “I want to,” Isaak said now. “I truly do.” He hung his head. “I cannot.” When he looked up, his eyes went dark and his voice took on a tone of profound sadness. “Life is sacred.”
Petronus nodded. “And that makes taking it so much harder. Any time we do so, we take something from the light.” He turned away from the metal man, facing the crowd. “A wise Gray Guard once told me that being willing to die for the light was easy, that being willing to kill for it was a harder matter. Not everyone’s shoulders were meant to bear such a burden.” He looked at Rudolfo. “It is no secret that I do not wish to be Pope. I made that statement plain enough thirty years ago. You have asked me for a new Pope. I will give you one.” He waited, letting the words settle in. “Whichever of you Androfrancines gathered here will come, take this knife and execute this condemned man, may have my Patriarchal blessing and bear the signet of the Gospel of P’andro Whym. Kill this man and be our Pope.”
No one moved. The room became silent.
Then, slowly, Neb stood up.
Vlad Li Tam
Vlad Li Tam wat›€lad Li Tched the fisherman move the pieces on his board and saw his father’s handiwork. He had not expected Sethbert’s sudden resolve. His threat had been unnecessary. Now he saw the young man standing, and he saw the look of grief flash for just a moment across Petronus’s face.
But Petronus would have anticipated this. Because they had taught each other as boys during that summer long ago, he knew how to read him. Petronus had taught him to fish, how to cast the net and pull it and how to cast the rod and drop the hook where trout were rising. In turn, Vlad Li Tam had taught him to play queen’s war, and he had been adequate but awkward.
Now, he played this game as a master.