Five
The following morning, against Mervale’s objection, Korrogly recalled Mirielle to the stand. She had on a brown dress with a modest neckline – a schoolteacher’s dress – and her hair was done up primly like that of a young spinster. She had, it appeared, passed beyond mourning, and he wondered why she had not worn black; it might signal, he thought, some indecision on her part, some change of heart as related to her father. But whether or not that was so was unimportant. Looking at her, he had no emotional reaction; she seemed familiar yet distant, like someone he had known briefly years before. He knew that he could break down that distance and dredge up his feelings for her, but he was not moved to do so, for while he knew they were still strong, he was not sure whether they would manifest as love or hate. She had used him, had confused him with her sexuality, had undermined his concentration, and nearly succeeded in killing her father, who was very likely innocent. She had told him that she could have been a good actress, and she had been unsurpassable in her counterfeit of love, so perfect in the role that he believed she had won a piece of his heart for all time. But she was a perjurer and probably worse, and he was duty-bound to make her true colors known to the court, no matter what the cost.
‘Good morning, Miss Lemos,’ he said.
She gave him a quizzical look and returned the greeting.
‘Did you sleep well last night?’ he asked.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Mervale. ‘Is the counsel for the defense next going to inquire about the lady’s breakfast, or perhaps her dreams?’
Judge Wymer stared glumly at Korrogly.
‘I was simply trying to make the witness feel comfortable,’ Korrogly said. ‘I’m concerned for her welfare. She’s had a terrible weight on her conscience.’
‘Mister Korrogly,’ said the judge in tone of warning.
Korrogly waved his hand as if both to accede to the caution and dismiss its importance. He rested both hands on the witness box, leaning toward Mirielle, and said, ‘What is the great work?’
‘The witness has already answered that question,’ said Mervale, and at the same time, Mirielle said, ‘I don’t know what more I can tell you, I . . .’
‘The truth would be refreshing,’ said Korrogly. ‘You see, I know for a fact you haven’t been candid with this court.’
‘If the counselor has facts to present,’ said Mervale, ‘I suggest that he present them and stop badgering the witness.’
‘I will,’ said Korrogly, addressing the bench. ‘In due course. But it’s important to my presentation that I show exactly to what extent and to what end the facts have been covered up.’
Wymer heaved a forlorn sigh. ‘Proceed.’
‘I ask you again,’ said Korrogly to Mirielle, ‘what is the great work? And I warn you, be truthful, for you will not escape prosecution for any lie you may tell from this point on.’
Doubt surfaced in Mirielle’s face, but she only said, ‘I’ve told you all I know.’
Korrogly took a turn around the witness box and stopped facing the jury. ‘What was the purpose of the ceremony in progress on the night that Zemaille was killed?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it part of the great work?’
‘No . . . I mean I don’t think so.’
‘For someone who was Zemaille’s intimate you appear to know very little about him.’
‘Mardo was a secretive man.’
‘Was he, now? Did he ever discuss his parents with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So he was not secretive concerning his origins?’
‘No.’
‘Did he ever discuss his grandparents?’
‘I’m not sure. I believe he may have mentioned them once or twice.’
‘Other relatives . . . did he ever discuss them?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Did he ever make mention of a remote ancestor, a man who – like himself – was involved in the occult?’
Her face tightened. ‘No.’
‘You seem quite certain of that, yet a moment ago you claimed that you couldn’t recall if he had ever talked about other relatives.’
‘I would have remembered something like that.’
‘Indeed, I believe you would.’ Korrogly crossed to the defense table. ‘Does the name Archiochus strike a chord in your memory?’
Mirielle sat motionless, her eyes widened slightly.
‘Should I repeat the question?’
‘No, I heard it . . . I was trying to think.’
‘And have you finished thinking?’
‘Yes, I’ve heard the name.’
‘And who might this Archiochus be?’
‘A wizard, I believe.’
‘A wizard of some accomplishment, was he not? One who lived some time ago . . . thousands of years?’
‘I think so.’ Mirielle seemed to be mulling something over. ‘Yes, I remember now. Mardo considered him his spiritual father. He wasn’t an actual relation . . . at least I don’t think he was.’
‘And that is the extent of your knowledge concerning him?’
‘It’s all I can remember.’
‘Odd,’ said Korrogly, toying with the lid of his briefcase. ‘Let’s return to the ceremony on the night Zemaille was killed. Did this have anything to do with Archiochus?’
‘It may have.’
‘But you’re not sure?’
‘No.’
‘Your father has testified that Zemaille cried out to his father at one point, saying, “Soon you will be free!” Might he not have been referring at that moment to his spiritual father?’
‘Yes.’ Mirielle sat up straight, adopting an earnest expression as if she wanted to be helpful. ‘Now that you mention it, it’s possible he was trying to contact Archiochus. Mardo believed in the spirit world. He would often hold seances.’
‘Then you’re suggesting that the ceremony in question was something on the order of a seance?’
‘It could have been.’
‘To contact the soul of Archiochus?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Are you certain, Miss Lemos, that you know nothing more about this Archiochus? For instance, did he have anything to do with Griaule?’
‘I . . . maybe.’
‘Maybe,’ said Korrogly bemusedly. ‘Maybe. I believe he had quite a bit to do with Griaule. As a matter of fact, was it not the wizard Archiochus, the man with whom Zemaille felt a spiritual – if not an actual – kinship, who thousands of years ago did battle with the dragon Griaule?’
Babble erupted from the onlookers, and Wymer gaveled them to silence.
Korrogly said to Mirielle, ‘Well?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I believe it was he. I’d forgotten.’
‘Of course,’ said Korrogly. ‘Your flawed memory again.’ He engaged the jury’s eyes and smiled. ‘According to legend, just as Griaule lies dormant, so that same fate struck the wizard who stilled him . . . have you ever heard that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Had Mardo?’
‘I believe so.’
‘So then Mardo believed that this powerful wizard was yet alive? Moribund, but alive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s talk about the work for a moment. Not the great work, just the ordinary run-of-the-mill work. Is it true that you took part in sexual rituals with Zemaille in that same room where he died?’
The vein in her temple pulsed.
‘Yes.’
‘And these rituals involved intercourse with Zemaille?’
‘Yes!’
‘And others?’
Mervale stood at the prosecution table. ‘Your Honor, I see no point in this line.’
‘Nor do I,’ said Wymer.
‘But there is a point,’ said Korrogly, ‘one I will shortly make plain.’
‘Very well,’ said Wymer impatiently. ‘But be succinct. The witness will answer.’