The transformation that turned Perran from traveling companion to circuit judge never ceased to amaze Levron, though he’d witnessed it many times. Seated a few paces away from the table Perran sat behind, Levron could see why people could become awed. Clad in his dark robes, the heavy gold chain of his office glittering on his chest, Perran exemplified the authority of the justiciary and, as every citizen of Karse knew, stood as the legal hand of the Son of the Sun.
After speaking with Haivel, Levron had related their conversation to Perran in exacting detail, his expected duty as Perran’s assistant. He had watched Perran’s face go still as all the legal ramifications of the two stories swirled about in his mind. And now, today, those thoughts would be turned into action.
Barro and Haivel had taken chairs before the judge’s table, neither meeting the other man’s eyes. From his vantage point at the front of the room, Levron had a good view of the people who had come to watch the trial. A few latecomers had arrived and, much to Levron’s dismay, Trika had entered the room accompanied by her father.
The years had been kind to her. She still possessed a breathtaking beauty, but Levron sensed something else immediately. The hint of coldness lurked in her eyes, a calculating expression she tried to hide by keeping her gaze modestly lowered. Ah, yes . . . Trika the Tease. Levron could imagine what had driven Barro and Haivel to their crimes. Trika was the source of those misdeeds. He was certain of it.
Perran rapped the table three times, and the room grew silent.
“This court is now in session,” Perran said, his face solemn. “What is said before me is seen and heard by myself as representative of the Son of the Sun and Vkandis Sun Lord. Every word spoken to me is given under oath. State falsehood at your peril.”
Unwillingly, Levron turned his attention to Trika again. Though she maintained her modest demeanor, she looked first to Haivel and then to Barro. In a flash, he knew what motivated her and felt a little sickened by the knowledge. His faith in Perran’s abilities as a judge was absolute: the truth behind Barro and Haivel’s quarrel would be brought to light.
And not a moment too soon, for the sake of everyone involved.
Perran studied the two men seated before him. Neither looked away, both seemingly assured their testimony would win the day. That, in itself, spoke volumes. He cleared his throat.
“I’ll question you first, Barro, since you brought the original accusation against Haivel. From what you’ve told the authorities of Streamwood, Haivel ruined a bolt of expensive cloth by dumping a bucket of paint on it. Now, tell me what you think could have caused a productive and respected citizen of Streamwood to do such a thing.”
Barro stood, bowed his head briefly in Perran’s direction.
“Jealousy, your lordship,” he said.
Perran leaned back in his chair, steepled his hands, and listened to Barro’s account of the vandalism of his fabric and the perceived reason for Haivel’s jealousy. He glanced once at Levron, lifted an eyebrow, to be rewarded by Levron’s nod toward a beautiful woman seated next to an older man, most likely her father. So that was Trika. The source of the trouble that had escalated to vandalism. He continued to listen to Barro’s tale, but he kept watching Trika as the man spoke. He could see how her eyes sparkled, how her face grew animated as Barro set forth his case against Haivel.
“And you saw Haivel throw the paint on your bolt of cloth?” Perran asked.
“Yes, your lordship.”
“Was there anyone else in the shop that night?”
“No, your lordship.”
“Did he say anything after ruining your fabric?”
“No, your lordship. He merely laughed and ran out of the shop.”
“I see.” Perran looked down at a piece of paper on the table. “You’ve tendered the court a receipt setting out the value of the cloth. It bears the stamp of Tabot House of Sunhame. Is this the merchant you deal with?”
“Yes, your lordship.”
“And the value of the bolt of cloth is set out here at ten silver soleri. And you say it’s ruined.”
“It is. The paint soaked through it since it’s an intricate weave.”
Perran motioned Barro to sit, then turned his attention to Haivel.
“And you, Haivel.” Perran motioned for the man to stand. “You’ve brought a claim against Barro for destruction of a shipment of paper to be used in your profession as scribe, is that correct?”
“It is, your lordship.”
“Now explain to me why you think Barro would do such a thing.”
Haivel shrugged. “I don’t know. I can only guess it’s revenge for what he thinks I did to his cloth. But I have a witness who will testify I couldn’t have been to his shop that night.”
“But he claims he saw you, and you laughed in his face.”
“Impossible, your lordship.”
“And where is this witness who can give proof you weren’t at Barro’s shop that night?”
For the first time, Haivel’s eyes wandered. “I’m not sure.”
Perran leaned back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”
“He left town shortly after the incident, your lordship.”
“Then why do you claim you have a witness who can assure me you weren’t at Barro’s shop?”
“Because it’s true! I wasn’t! And my witness would testify to that!”
Perran allowed a smile to touch his lips. “A witness who isn’t here can’t help you. Do you know where this person is?”
“No. He’s another scribe who travels in the area, serving those who can’t read or write.” Haivel’s face reddened. “If I knew where he was, he’d be in court today.”
“You didn’t think to find him when you knew you were coming to court?”
“I tried, but he doesn’t always take the same route.”
Perran lifted another sheet of paper. “You’ve given this court a receipt for the paper you claim Barro ruined by slashing it with a knife.”
Haivel nodded. “It’s from a traveling paper merchant. I get a shipment from him whenever he passes through town.”
Perran studied the receipt. “It says here the amount you paid the merchant for the paper was ten silver soleri. Is that correct?”
“Yes, your lordship. It was a large order. I have to stock paper because I’m never sure when the merchant will be passing through town again.”
“You may be seated.” Perran studied the two men. They returned his stare, faces set in expressions of total belief in what they recounted. But somewhere, in Haivel’s recounting, he sensed a lie. He straightened. “This court will adjourn for two candlemarks while I review the cases. I want you both back here then.” He looked across the room, briefly focusing his attention on Trika. “Please bear in mind that everything you’ve said I have taken into consideration. And I am, as you well know, an enforcer of the laws of Karse. My judgment here today is final, and your cases cannot be tried again.”
Levron stood outside the inn, well aware his next duty to Perran might be one of the hardest he had ever performed. Nonetheless, any information he could find would aid Perran’s decision in this case. Glancing up at the passing clouds, he made an effort to appear relaxed and calm, one more man enjoying the springtime sun.
He heard his name called, turned, and saw Trika coming his way, accompanied by her father.
“Levron,” she said, her smile such that any man would immediately feel flattered to be addressed by her. “You remember my father?”
“I do. Good day to you, sir.”