"If you have nothing else to ask, Thurbal, I think we've heard enough from this witness," Mourngrym said.
Lhaeo quietly left the stand and returned to his seat. Storm moved forward and called a burly guardsman with hazel eyes named Irak Dontaele.
"Your patrol was on duty the night of the attack against the Temple of Tymora. You were the first to enter the temple and discover the bodies of the worshipers and the desecration of the temple itself," Storm said.
"No," Irak growled. "Not true." Quickly he rushed past the other guards, grabbed Adon by his robes, and lifted the cleric up off his knees. "This one was there before any of us!"
"Put him down!" Mourngrym said, and the crossbows of the guards who stood behind the prisoners were suddenly leveled at the witness. Adon's dull eyes swam in their sockets as he was lowered reluctantly to the ground. "What is the meaning of this, Storm? Are you trying to show some connection between the attacks on the two temples?"
"There's the connection!" Storm cried, pointing at Adon. "This man was present both times. They say he is a cleric of Sune, the Goddess of Beauty, yet look at his face. Even without the ugliness of his scar, he is hardly what one would expect. I submit that Adon of Sune and Midnight of Deepingdale are allies of the Black Lord, and their true allegiance is to that evil god and the city of Zhentil Keep. That is why they murdered Elminster!"
A roar erupted from the crowd. "Kill them!" someone cried.
"Yes!" screamed a woman. "Death to the servants of Lord Bane!"
Mourngrym struggled to maintain his composure. "Enough!" he ordered.
"No!" Storm cried, turning to face Lord Mourngrym. "What names did the adventurers give to the guards when they first arrived in the dale?"
Kelemvor winced. When they had arrived in Shadowdale, they had used a false charter to gain admission to the town. The fighter had been certain that the matter would be forgotten in the chaos caused by Bane's attack.
"They used false names… a stolen charter. If my words are untrue," Storm shouted, "why hasn't the cleric said anything in his own defense?" Storm now stood directly over Adon. "Speak, murderer! Tell us what you've done!"
Adon didn't look up to meet the bard's fiery gaze. He simply looked straight ahead and whimpered. "Sune," he said simply, and then he was silent once more.
"Thurbal, have you any witnesses to call?" Mourngrym inquired.
"I call Kelemvor Lyonsbane," Thurbal said, and the fighter was escorted forward from the crowd. "You led the eastern defenses near Krag Pool, where Bane's army suffered the greatest number of casualties and the decisive victory against our enemies was won. Yet you entered Shadowdale at the same time as the prisoners, and in their company. Tell us briefly how you know the accused."
"Midnight and Adon are of stout heart, and their loyalty to the Dales and to the Realms should not be questioned," Kelemvor said confidently.
"Tell him to answer the question," Storm snapped, turning to Mourngrym.
Kelemvor examined the striking, silver-haired woman. His gaze locked on her blue-gray eyes as he told the tale of his first meeting with Midnight in Arabel and the quest that eventually led them to the Dales.
"So this was a business arrangement," Thurbal stated. "You didn't know her before you met in Arabel."
"No, I didn't," Kelemvor said. "But I've come to know her very well since then."
"He's a consummate mercenary," Storm said. "He does nothing without some form of reward."
Passing his fingers over his mouth, Mourngrym spoke. "If you had not been called, Kelemvor Lyonsbane, if you had been forced to volunteer to testify on Midnight's behalf, would you have spoken for her?"
The fighter shook, his face growing dark. To lie in Midnight's favor would be an unselfish act he had not been paid for. And that would trigger the curse.
"Answer the question," Mourngrym said.
Kelemvor glanced at Midnight, and her eyes were wide with fear. With a heavy heart, Kelemvor turned back to Mourngrym. "I could not," he said.
"No further questions," Thurbal snapped, turning away from the fighter in disgust. Storm simply smiled and dismissed Kelemvor.
The fighter said nothing as he was led back to the crowd. Cyric stared at Kelemvor as he walked past. The thief saw the look of defeat in his friend's eyes. For some reason, it made Cyric feel a little better to know that Kelemvor now realized he was right about the dalesmen.
"This day grows long, Thurbal." Mourngrym folded his hands upon the lectern. "Have you any other witnesses?"
"Only you, milord," Thurbal said softly.
Mourngrym stared at the older man. "Are you well? Have you taken leave — "
"I call Mourngrym Amcathra," Thurbal pronounced distinctly. "By the laws of the Dales, you cannot refuse to testify unless you wish to declare this trial at an end and release the prisoners."
The eyes of the dalelord turned wild with anger, but Mourngrym nodded and said in an even voice, "Very well. Ask me what you will."
"Where was Lord Bane throughout the battle for Shadowdale?" Thurbal asked.
Mourngrym cocked his head slightly. "I don't understand."
"Bane led the attack through the forest from Voonlar. Our scouts can verify this. I will summon them if you wish." Thurbal leaned against the lectern as a coughing fit overcame him.
"That won't be necessary," Mourngrym said. "Bane led the attack."
"At Krag Pool, before the defenders of the dale toppled the trees upon Bane's army, the Black Lord vanished," Thurbal stated calmly. "There are dozens of witnesses I can present to verify this as well."
"Go on," Mourngrym said impatiently.
"The next time Bane was sighted, it was at the crossroads, near the farm of Jhaele Silvermane. The Black Lord appeared before you, Mourngrym Amcathra, and attempted to slay you. Mayheir Hawksguard pushed you aside and was fatally wounded in your stead. Is that correct?"
"Aye," Mourngrym replied. "Hawksguard died nobly in the defense of the Dales."
"Where did Lord Bane go after that?" Thurbal asked. "Weren't you quite vulnerable? Could he have not slain you then and there, despite Hawksguard's sacrifice?"
"I don't know," Mourngrym mumbled uncomfortably. "Perhaps."
"But he didn't. He vanished again," Thurbal said. "Bane's attentions must have been drawn elsewhere." The captain was seized by another coughing fit. Mourngrym drummed his fingers nervously on the lectern.
"I'm all right," Thurbal said, and he drew a breath before continuing. "Now, where was Elminster throughout the battle for Shadowdale?"
"At the Temple of Lathander," Mourngrym replied.
"Why?" Thurbal asked. "Why was he not at the front lines using his magic to help repel Bane?"
Mourngrym shook his head. He had no answer.
"Didn't Elminster tell you repeatedly that the true battle would take place in the Temple of Lathander?" Thurbal asked.
"Aye, but he never explained what he meant by that statement," Mourngrym said. "Perhaps he had foreseen the danger to the prisoners and wished to draw them away from the true battle — "
Thurbal held up his hand. "I suggest that the true battle was at the temple, that Bane went there, and it was he who murdered Elminster the sage."
Storm stood up and threw her arms over her head. "All this is complete speculation. There isn't a bit of evidence to suggest Bane was at the Temple of Lathander."
Thurbal grimaced and turned to Mourngrym. "Before you can convict the prisoners, you must show a motive for their actions. Storm Silverhand claims they were agents of Bane. Yet there is no proof to support such allegations. I spoke to the prisoner, Midnight, before the trial, and she claims — "