The Warlock Wandering (16 page)

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Rod shrugged. "Okay, so there are a few kvetchers out beyond the Wall. Why let it bother you? There are always a few malcontents."

But Yorick looked doubtful now, and Cholly shook his head. "Malcontents stay in their own villages, but Ms. Chornoi's seen several of 'em wandering about." Chomoi nodded. "All different tribes, too." Cholly shook his head again. "That smacks of organization."

"Plus a lot of body-paint," Rod added. "Could be the same agents, just changing their colors each time."

"Like enough." Cholly shook his head. "I'll have to apprise the General of it."

"If you have to." Chomoi was suddenly as tight as a wire. "Just don't tell him who did the noticing, okay?"

"Be easy," Cholly assured her. "I've only to refer to 'my sources,' and he never questions."

"Of course." Chomoi relaxed. "All those traders. What difference would it make which one brought the news?"

"None, to him." Cholly frowned. "Some, to me." He turned to Rod and Gwen. "But I take her point. It's worth talking, fer yerselves."

"Why?" Rod looked up. "Because it gives us a way to have a body, where there isn't a Wolman missing?" Chomoi shook her head. "That body was a real Wolman." Rod frowned. "How can they tell? Tattoos?"

"That, and other tribal marks."

Cholly nodded in agreement. "Yer wouldn't notice 'em in the usual course of action. However, fer yerselves, yer might be able to use 'em to win a stay of execution, by demanding that Hwun prove none of his own people was responsible fer the murder, nor that it wasn't committed by no impersonator, neither."

Rod smiled slowly, and Gwen said, "They're as likely to demand that we prove there were no false Wolmen had a blade into this, either."

"True," Rod agreed, "but no one could expect us to have evidence about real Wolmen, could they?" He grinned at Choraoi. "Thanks, lady. That might win us time."

"I'm not a lady," Chomoi snapped.

Before Rod could say it, they heard the tavern door open upstairs, and a dozen pairs of boots tramped across the floor above their heads.

"Ah!" Cholly looked upward. "Yer escort's come, I dare say."

The troop didn't lead them to Shacklar's office. Instead, it took them to a giant log cabin between the tavern and the administrative compound.

"What is this?" Rod asked the lieutenant. "Town Hall?"

"Close enough," the man growled, and he threw the door open. Rod and Gwen marched in, shoulders square and chins high. Their escort followed.

Rod took a quick look around. Inside, you couldn't have told it was built of logs. The walls were paneled and plastered, and the furniture was so smoothly finished that, at first glance, it looked like plastic.

There was a beautifully finished desk, too, squarely in front of Rod, and at least six feet high. Shacklar would've been dwarfed behind it, if his chair hadn't been so huge and ornate. Real leather upholstery. Rod noted. Well, colonists had to make do with what they could find. The side desks were just as sumptuous, but a foot shorter. The one at the left had five Wolmen behind it, and the one at the right had five soldiers, each of whom had officer's insignia gleaming on his collar tabs.

Rod scanned the scene and saw the basis for a constitution. A sergeant stepped out in front of Shacklar's bench, thumped the floor with an oaken pole tipped with chalk, and bellowed, "Order in the court!"

Rod bit back the traditional rejoinder, but Gwen caught his thought, and had to suppress a smile.

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"Accused, please present yourselves," Shacklar said quietly. Rod looked at Gwen. Gwen looked at Rod. They

shrugged, and took a joint step forward.

"How do you plead?" Shacklar inquired.

"Guilty, or not guilty?" the sergeant prompted.

"Not guilty," Rod said firmly.

"Proof!" Hwun was on his feet behind the Wolmen's bench. "What proof them show? Must give evidence that them not do murder!"

"Come to that, I don't believe I'd mentioned that a murder had been committed," Shacklar mused. "Horrible oversight. But really, old chap, I must request that if you intend to prosecute the case, you remove yourself from the bench." Hwun stared at him, then slowly nodded. "It is sensible." Rod stared in amazement as the Wolman came down

from the bench and around in front of it. The move seemed completely at odds with what he knew of the intractable, hostile Wolman chief. Why had he been so quick to agree?

There was a slight stirring at the back of the room, near the outer door. Out of the comer of his eye. Rod noticed Yorick and Chomoi slide in quietly. He bit his lip in vexation—he hadn't wanted them to get pulled in so openly. The soldiers might assume guilt by association.

But it was nice to feel their support.

Hwun strode up to glower at Rod and Gwen. "You say you not guilty. Give proof!"

Rod suddenly realized that he and Hwun were going to determine, right here and now, whether Wolmar's legal code would be basically Napoleonic, or basically English. If it were basically Napoleonic, it would assume that the accused was guilty, and had to prove his innocence, which meant that the rights of the individual wouldn't be the most important element in the constitution about to be bom.

"No," Rod said softly. "It's not our job to prove we're innocent. You have to prove we're guilty!"

Hwun just stared at him, and his gaze was so cold that

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Rod could have sworn it was giving him frostbite.

"That's so."

The Chief Chief spun around to look at the colonists'

bench. A slender officer was on his feet. With a shock. Rod recognized the officer who had been so courteous to them on the Wall the morning before.

"Lieutenant Corrigan," Shacklar acknowledged. "On what basis do you state agreement with the accused?"

"Why not?" Corrigan answered, with an easy smile. "Still, it's common sense, sir. We know nothing of these two people, except that a Wolman patrol chased them to us. If anything, that would indicate a Wolman bias against them. No, really, in all fairness, we must ask that some reason be given for believing them guilty of a capital crime."

"The point is well-taken." Shacklar turned to the Wolmen's bench. "Those of us present at the hearing yesterday morning have heard such reasons, but the majority of the individuals making up this court have not. We will hear it stated anew."

Rod breathed a sigh of relief—the English concept had won out. The laws ofWolmar would assume that the accused was innocent, and the state would have to prove his guilt, which meant that the rights of the individual would be the most important element in the embryonic constitution. All of a sudden, the term "founding fathers" gained a whole new meaning.

Shacklar turned back to Corrigan. "However, Lieutenant, I must ask that if you intend to take the part of the accused, you also step down from your bench."

Thereby preserving an equal number on each side. Rod noted, as well as establishing the functions of prosecutor and defense. He hoped Shacklar would be as careful in his judgment as he was in his establishing of precedents. Corrigan stared blankly for a moment, then heaved a sigh and stepped down to the floor.

Shacklar turned back to Hwun. "Please present your proofs. Chief Chief, your reasons why we should believe 124

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these two people murdered a Wolman."

Hwun only stared at him.

Shacklar leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, totally at ease.

Finally, Hwun said, "They were there." Rod breathed a sigh of relief. The English concept had triumphed.

"Yester morning," Hwun went on, "them outside Wall. Outside, in middle of plain. Who know where before that?"

"Precisely," Corrigan agreed. "Who does know?" Hwun didn't even acknowledge him. "Wolman found dead. Dead, at Sun-Greeting Place. Me found body! Who would kill him? Only colonist!" His finger stabbed out at Rod and Gwen. "Only them outside Wall—no reason! So!" He folded his arms across his chest. "Them kill Wolman."

"Oh, come now!" Corrigan scoffed. "There were traders outside the Wall, too, and Wolmen from other tribes. Even if you assume that no member of his own tribe would kill him..." He spun to the General, stabbing a forefinger.

"Which point has not been established, sir!" Then back to Hwun. "Even if, if, no member of his own tribe slew him, there's no reason to think a member of another tribe didn't!" Hwun kept his face turned toward Shacklar. "Wolmen not bloodthirsty."

Shacklar sat very still, and the faces of the other officers froze. Rod could almost hear the laughter they were holding back, and really could hear them thinking. That's not how it looked!

"Wolmen not slay other Wolmen!" Hwun thundered. The officers' faces stayed frozen. Just what the blinking hell do you think you were doing when we came here—

holding community picnics?

Shacklar managed to sublimate his feelings into a huge sigh, and leaned forward. "Be that as it may... Accused!"

"Uh, yes?" Rod looked up.

"Were you, or your wife, at the Sun-Greeting Place yesterday morning?" Rod shook his head. "Never saw it till we went to look for evidence last night."

Hwun's head snapped around to stare at Rod, but Shacklar said, "And no one was slain last night." He turned to the panel of Wolman chiefs. "Would any of you happen to know where these two were first sighted?"

"In middle of Horse Plain," answered the Purple chief.

"On foot?" Corrigan asked.

"On foot," the chief confirmed.

"And that's a good ten kilometers from the Sun-Greeting Place. At what time did your warriors sight the accused, Chief?"

The chief shrugged. "Sun not up long."

"Soon after dawn," Corrigan translated. "Was the sun completely above the horizon?"

The chief nodded.

"How far above?"

The chief demonstrated with his hands. "Two fingers'

width."

"Two fingers' width, at arm's length." Corrigan held his own fingers out, squinting at them. "Perhaps a half an hour after dawn." He dropped his hand, and was looking at Hwun.

"I submit that it would have been rather difficult for the defendants to kill a man at the Sun-Greeting Place, and be in middle of the Horse Plain, ten kilometers away, half an hour later."

Hwun stared for a moment, then said, "Could have killed earlier."

"Indeed, they could have," Corrigan countered, "but did they? Have you the slightest shred of evidence that indicates they so much as met the deceased, let alone slew him?" Hwun gave him a long, cold stare. Then, turning to his fellow Wolmen with frigid dignity, he drew himself up and stated, "Soldiers stalling." His forefinger jabbed oat at Rod and Gwen again. "These two did murder! Plain for all to see!" He turned back to Shacklar. "And all can see soldiers not deal fairly with Wolmen! Oh, with goods, cash, pipe-726

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weed, soldiers deal fair—but not life! Then, no soldier deal fairly!"

The other chiefs glared, then began to mutter to one another, darting hostile glances at Shacklar and the officers'

panel. The officers stiffened, their faces turning to wood.

"Give!" Hwun thundered, holding out a hand, palm up.

"Give these two to Wolmen! Give murderer of brother into our hands, to slay in justice here, now!"

"Justice! Why, you pious prig!" Chornoi was on her feet, raging. "You're not looking for justice; you're looking for a scapegoat! You know damn well that if you can't satisfy your fellow chiefs, they'll kick you out of office! And you can't satisfy them all, if it turns out it was a Wolman who murdered a Wolman! Because if it was, the murderer's tribe will defend him, and the victim's tribe will charge out for revenge! And that'll be the end of your nice little Confederation!"

"Not so!" "Wolman law!" "All tribes heed!" The chiefs were on their feet, shouting.

But Hwun drowned them all out. "Justice! Seek only justice!"

"Justice!" Chomoi sneered, pacing up to him. "How can a tyrant seek justice? Because that's what you really want to be, isn't it? King of all the Wolmen! Tyrant! Dictator!

That's all you are—just a power-driven machine!" Rod stiffened, feeling as though his spine had turned into a hot wire. Facts suddenly connected in his head, and sparked into fusion.

"Machine!" Chomoi spat.

Hwun's hand lashed out so fast it seemed to blur, cracking backhanded against Chornoi's jaw. She shot back, crashing into the colonists' bench.

Rod bellowed, rage erupting as he whirled toward Hwun, which brought him just far enough to the side so that the Chief Chief's fist hissed past his ear. An icicle stabbed Rod as he realized the blow would have killed him. He was fighting for his life!

The hell with fighting fair!

He came out of his crouch in a whirl, knee driving up into Hwun's groin. It struck—

With a hollow crack.

Rod howled as his knee burst into fire.

Everyone in the courtroom stood frozen, galvanized by the sound.

Hwun's hand reached for Rod's throat—but Rod's leg gave way, and crashed to the floor. Hwun's hand clawed through empty air. Fear sizzled through Rod, opening a channel for the scarlet wrath that boiled through him in a raging torrent. Rod focused it on his hand, shoving himself back up onto one knee, concentrating on the hand's edge, willing it into a sword, a battle-ax, slamming out in a chop so fast that no one noticed it had turned into the shiny gray of tungsten steel. It crashed up into Hwun's jaw. The Wolman shot into the air and crashed down to the floor, right in front of the Wolman bench.

Rod knelt, arm falling limp, panting, wild-eyed, amazed and terrified by his own action. / couldn't have hit him that hard!

Aye, thou couldst.

Rod looked up, and saw the steel of his hand reflected in his wife's eyes.

But Hwun was rolling to his feet...

... and a searing, ruby ray skewered his head.

For a frozen moment. Rod could see the line of light joining the Wolman chieftain to the blaster in the General's hand, seeming as much a part of him as his uniform. Then the moment thawed, the beam of light winked out, and Hwun crashed to the ground.