"Hush." Vari patted his arm. "We can amuse folk better than that lot."
Wotheng stood up, pulling his best cloak around him, and intoned a brief prayer to assorted gods. The crowd stayed respectfully silent until he sat down, glanced at a parchment list on the table before him, and summoned the first Accuser.
Nima stood, rustling in her starched best finery, and repeated—almost word for word—what she'd said the day before at Wotheng's gate. She would have sat down then, but Wotheng stopped her and insisted she tell her whole tale, as a witness, right then. Somewhat flustered, she related how she'd heard from the housemaid just the morning before how Pado—she flashed a veiled look at the landholder's smirking daughter—had been telling everyone that Losh had gone and bewitched Irga.
" . . . So I went to see her and asked what she meant by such, and we argued somewhat." The whole crowd snickered at that, which made Nima blush furiously but didn't stop her recital. "She told me how she'd found Losh's . . . school drawings . . . and brought them to your lordship, and how she saw . . ." a brief sniff. " . . . Irga's mother come report her daughter's bewitchment. So I went to talk to Losh, and . . ." Nima paused for a deep breath, then said the rest in a rush. "He hadn't known anything about it. He was terribly upset, he was; ran right out of the house, for all I called him to wait. So then I didn't know what to do, so I talked to, er, some neighbors, and they told me to write up a Bill of Accusation, m'lord, and bring it to you, which I did." She fell silent and looked around her, as if for support.
"I notice that you didn't come alone to bring your petition," Wotheng commented. "Why was that?"
"Er, well . . ." Nima glanced about her again. "I was fearful of witchcraft, m'lord, so I asked some, er, friends and neighbors to come with me. For protection, you'll know."
"Protection?" Wotheng's expression was bland, mildly curious. "Against whom? And why?"
"Why, against that Deese witch that corrupted my son!" Nima shrilled, voice cracking as she pointed to Eloti. "He said she'd told him it was all right to draw pictures, spreading evil magic about . . . Who knows what else she could do? I wasn't safe—none of us are safe—with that sort running about, doing whatever magic they please!"
She paused, gulping for air.
Eloti raised an elegant eyebrow, turned to the crowd, and spread her hands wide. "I'd never even met her before," she murmured, just audible in the moments near silence.
"Has the Accused any questions to ask of this witness?" said Wotheng.
"Just one." Eloti turned back to face Nima, who squirmed under her gaze. "Goodwife Nima, before you wrote your Bill of Accusation, while you were still asking neighbors for advice, did you not also ask advice of your personal priest?"
The crowd rumbled knowingly.
Nima paled. "I-I suppose so, among so many others . . ." she admitted.
Eloti leaned back in her chair and made a polite gesture of dismissal.
"You may sit down," said Wotheng. "Let the witness named Pado step forth and tell her tale."
Pado clasped her hands primly as she told of finding the three drawings, guessing whose they were, being disturbed by them, and taking them to Lord Wotheng.
"As for telling folk about what I saw and heard of Irga's mother," she finished, "well, why shouldn't I? I knew Losh had done wrong."
"What?" said Wotheng, looking most innocently confused. "You mean, in not marrying you?"
Now it was Pado's turn to blush furiously. "That was last year!" she snapped. "No, I meant in making drawings. That's forbidden by law, you know, no matter what Mistress Eloti said."
Wotheng turned to Eloti asked if she had any questions for this witness.
Again, Eloti had only one. "Precisely where and how did you find these three drawings?" she asked, a carrying note in her voice.
"Why . . ." Pado blinked, confused. "In truth, I didn't find them. One of the other students did. That clerk, Bubba? Duppa? He gave me them, said he'd found them in the courtyard, and did I know whose they were. I thought I did, so I took them."
"Lord Wotheng," said Eloti, turning toward the Judgment Seat, "I request that we summon the clerk Duppa and ask how he came by those drawings."
The crowd rumbled again; knowing laughter and -speculation.
"Quite a good idea." Wotheng got to his feet, rang a handbell, and announced to all and sundry, "Clerk Duppa, stand forth."
Nobody stood up.
The crowd rumbled louder.
Sulun, glancing over the small sea of faces, noticed a shuffling movement toward the rear, by the wall. Who was that? A scattering of figures, robed and hooded in nondescript dark cloth, faces muffled and shadowed: who could they be?
Yotha's priests, I'll wager!
Wotheng made the summons twice more, with no result except more noise of speculation from the audience. "Does anyone here know the whereabouts of Clerk Duppa?" he shouted.
"Try Yotha House!" shouted a brawny youth, one of Biddon's apprentices.
The crowd roared agreement, with some dissent.
Wotheng gave an odd, grim smile. "Be there anyone here from Yotha House?" he asked loudly.
At the back of the crowd there was a brief argument; someone grabbed at someone else's sleeve, which was roughly tugged free. A portly man cried, "Here!" and jostled his way to the front of the throng. "I am Oralro," he announced, "Second Priest of Yotha. I know of no clerk Duppa in Yotha House."
The assemblage muttered and hitched away from him.
"We shall make search for this Duppa," said Wotheng. "Meanwhile, let Ilna, mother of Irga, stand forth."
Irga's mother stood up among the rightside benches and duly gave her stark and pathetic account.
On the leftward benches, Yanados and Doshi conferred in whispers.
"That's done it. That's brought Yotha into it," said Yanados. "Now we'll start getting at the truth."
"Maybe good guesses, but nothing proved," Doshi said gloomily. "You can wager they blotted out their tracks. I'd say this Duppa is probably at the bottom of some well by now."
Ilna finished her tale, recounting how she'd taken her afflicted daughter to a neighbor wife and then come to ask help of Lord Wotheng. "The rest you know," she said, clasping her hands.
Wotheng scratched his chin and asked if the Accused had any questions.
"I do," said Eloti. "Goodwife, did you ask your daughter what she had eaten or drunk before this fit came upon her?"
The assemblage fell silent, surprised by that.
Ilna was clearly surprised too. "Why—why, no. I thought nothin' of that, but only of gettin' her safe. Why?"
"And did it occur to you, at any time, that there might be any other cause than magic for your daughter's fit?"
The crowd muttered, chewing that over.
"Nay, m'lady," Ilna answered. "She said she was bewitched. What else could it be?"
"Poison," said Eloti.
The whole audience gasped, then broke into raucous argument
Wotheng clanged his bell until the noise stopped, looking oddly satisfied.
"But who'd want t'poison my daughter?" Ilna cried. "What harm'd she ever done t'any?"
The crowd rumbled again, tossing up names like flotsam on an unquiet sea. Pado and Nima looked daggers at each other. Losh put his head in his hands. Only Oralro, standing with arms defiantly crossed in the forefront of the throng, seemed untroubled.
"Huh, he knows he didn't do it," Zeren muttered at Sulun's elbow. "Could be he doesn't know who did. I'll wager the high priest doesn't tell him everything."