11 Roalis, 2711
Lesser Arcane Court, Akuxut Hall
Lesser Arcane Court, Akuxut Hall
Truth,” the magistrate said, white amel’iwe draped over his shoulders, ha fine before and behind, “is a precious gem, fine and many-splendored. So too, like a gem, must it be polished; not because it is not always there, but to heighten it’s color and clarity.”
“That is the role of the court today,” he went on, his low, even voice washing down from the stand, “to uncover the truth of the matter which stands before us, the use of magic by an arata student against an imbala.”
There were hushed whispers through the chamber.
Efreet huffed, quietly, next to him, her nose ring quivering with it. “As if the very word is profane,” she whispered, leaning over, her headwrap a vivid violet flash of color.
Aremu glanced at her, quiet, his hands tight in the fabric of his pants. “I don’t want to miss anything,” he said, quietly.
“Misunderstandings,” the Magistrate went on, “may cloud the face of truth. Today we seek to wash them away through the use of careful questioning and solemn contemplation; this, the uncovering of truth and the administering of justice accordingly, is our highest purpose.”
Aremu watched; he leaned forward once more, over the edge of the balcony, to look at the familiar white-clad figure below. He sat back again.
“You don’t have to stay for the whole thing,” Aremu said to Efreet, quietly, some time later.
Efreet shot him a sideways look; her eyebrows went up, and she grinned. “Did you think I came only for your company?” She whispered back.
Yes, Aremu wanted to say; he didn’t bother. She was laughing at him already; he thought he could see it in her eyes. He turned forward once more.
“We call as witness Ada’xa Uzoji pez Okorie,” the magistrate called.
Aremu leaned forward. Uzoji rose, and walked forward, and took his seat at the stand. He swore the oaths, his voice clear and ringing.
“Ada’xa Uzoji,” the advocate began. “Please introduce yourself.”
Uzoji inclined his head. “I am Uzoji pez Okorie,” Uzoji said with a smile. “I study the static and physical conversations at Brunnhold in their pilot’s program; until 2709, I was a student at Ire’dzosat.”
The faintest whisper flickered through the room. Aremu grinned, for just a moment, before a frown tightened his face once more.
“Would you describe for us the incident which brings us here today?” The man went on.
Uzoji lifted his head, looking out over the room. You don’t need to look up, Aremu wanted to say; you don’t -
Uzoji’s eyes lifted; nothing showed on his face, but he held Aremu’s gaze, just long enough.
“Of course, sir,” Uzoji was smiling. “I believe that is why we are gathered here.” A faint, hushed wash of laughter swept the room.
“On Ophus 27, last year, I was walking to meet a friend near Fe’tseru,” Uzoji said, clearly. “I heard raised voices from up ahead, and, wishing to leave the two men their privacy, stopped before I should encounter them on the path. It sounded to me as if they were in the midst of an argument.”
Uzoji glanced around the room. “I did not wish to intervene, but at the same time it felt unseemly to me that they should not know I was present. I went forward, in time to see one of them, who I knew to be Preet pez Kafez, strike the other across the face with an open hand. The second man, who was not known to me, dropped to his knees. Preet then began to cast,”
There was a swell of voices in the room.
“Silence!” The magistrate yelled. “Silence!”
“When you are ready, Ada’xa Uzoji,” the advocate said.
“Thank you, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said. “I am ready at any time, in the service of truth, and honor. Preet cast a pain spell on the other man; I came forward to stop him, but was too late to do anything. He curled the spell, and the man on the ground began to scream.”
“One question, Ada’xa,” the advocate said. “Did you know the second man at this time?”
“No,” Uzoji said. “He was unfamiliar to me then; it was not until I grew closer that I knew him for an imbala.”
The story went on. Aremu’s hands were fisted tight in his pants; he leaned forward, watching. Efreet sat next to him; he wasn’t sure when it was that her hand settled over his.
“Yes, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said evenly. “Though I am no living conversationalist, I say here that it was a pain spell, cast on the man lying on the ground before Ada’xa Preet.”
“Odasa,” Efreet murmured. She glanced sideways at Aremu. “Of course, they won’t call him to speak.” Her lips twisted.
“Efreet, please,” Aremu said, quietly.
The advocate was sitting; the other was rising up.
“Ada’xa Uzoji, you are no longer a student of Ire’dzosat; is that correct?” The man asked.
“It is, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said, smiling politely.
The lawyer inclined his head. “Is it not the case that there was a disciplinary hearing against you in Dentis of 2709, shortly before you left Thul’Amat?”
“There was,” Uzoji said, cheerfully, “though it was unrelated to my leaving. I played an ill-advised prank on my favorite professor, causing him to mix hot pepper into his kofi.”
There was a loud bark of laughter from the audience. “Favorite indeed, my boy!” Said a white-haired man.
“Silence!” The magistrate said. “All members of the audience who cannot maintain their decorum will be escorted out.”
Efreet’s hand had slid off his; she was sitting back.
“Don’t you care?” Aremu whispered, easing back in his seat.
Efreet shrugged. “They believe him. What else matters?”
Aremu leaned forward once more, and watched. He matters, he wanted to say, to me. Efreet watched through lowered lashes.
On the stand, Uzoji never lost his smile; he never faltered in his truth, and never hesitated to speak direct. When they sent him down, Aremu shuddered out a long breath. Efreet’s glance flicked, sideways, to him, her mouth set.
“A fine,” Efreet said, disgustedly, hours later, as they made their way into the courtyard. “A fine! And he’s still a student at Are’dur. It’s disgusting.”
“At least there was a punishment at all,” Aremu said. “Uzoji was brave to speak up.”
“Brave!” Efreet laughed, and there was no humor in it. “I know you knew him as a boy, Aremu, but brave! Now I have to accord an arata gratitude for telling the truth?”
“Many wouldn’t have said anything,” Aremu said, watching her.
Efreet pursed her lips. “Exactly; and they they claim to know truth and honor both.“
“Now there’s a note in Preet’s file,” Aremu said, evenly, “a record, in case he does it again.”
Efreet laughed. “I guess we’ll just have to hope your Uzoji is there again. You’re so naive, Aremu. Can’t you see -“
“Aremu,” Uzoji came out of the crowd, smiling; he bowed to each of them.
Aremu bowed back, and Efreet as well, her lips tight.
“Uzoji,” Aremu grinned. “You did well! It’s good to have you back in Thul Ka; it‘s not the same city without you.”
“I’m here the whole of Roalis,” Uzoji said, rueful. “Juela and Anoze have me busy, but there’s always time for you.” He grinned. “Will you introduce me, or must I guess?”
“This is Efreet pezre Fara,” Aremu said. He hesitated, glancing at her, “Efreet, I’m glad for you to finally meet Uzoji.”
Efreet smiled. “A pleasure,” she said.
There’s no need to lie, Aremu wanted to say, tasting it bitter on his tongue. You know perfectly well how to get around such comments, Efreet; you’re doing it on purpose.
“Uzoji,” Rayowa called, waving an elegant, fabric draped arm.
“Good to see you, Aremu,” Uzoji grinned. “There’s something I’ve really got to talk to you about, and soon. It was nice to meet you, Efreet.” He bowed again, and was gone.
They walked away from the courtyard in silence.
“Why lie?” Aremu asked. “I know it wasn’t a pleasure for you.”
“Why not?” Efreet said. She spat on the ground beside them; she looked up at Aremu, her brows fierce. “We are what we are, Aremu. What are you hiding from?”
They walked in silence a little while.
In time, Efreet’s hand curled into his. “I’m hungry,” she said, smiling softly up at him. “Can I buy you some food, hollow back?”
Aremu glanced down at her. He squeezed her hand, lightly. “Sure,” he said, quietly. “Thanks.”
Efreet leaned her head on his shoulder, gently, and they walked on.
“That is the role of the court today,” he went on, his low, even voice washing down from the stand, “to uncover the truth of the matter which stands before us, the use of magic by an arata student against an imbala.”
There were hushed whispers through the chamber.
Efreet huffed, quietly, next to him, her nose ring quivering with it. “As if the very word is profane,” she whispered, leaning over, her headwrap a vivid violet flash of color.
Aremu glanced at her, quiet, his hands tight in the fabric of his pants. “I don’t want to miss anything,” he said, quietly.
“Misunderstandings,” the Magistrate went on, “may cloud the face of truth. Today we seek to wash them away through the use of careful questioning and solemn contemplation; this, the uncovering of truth and the administering of justice accordingly, is our highest purpose.”
Aremu watched; he leaned forward once more, over the edge of the balcony, to look at the familiar white-clad figure below. He sat back again.
“You don’t have to stay for the whole thing,” Aremu said to Efreet, quietly, some time later.
Efreet shot him a sideways look; her eyebrows went up, and she grinned. “Did you think I came only for your company?” She whispered back.
Yes, Aremu wanted to say; he didn’t bother. She was laughing at him already; he thought he could see it in her eyes. He turned forward once more.
“We call as witness Ada’xa Uzoji pez Okorie,” the magistrate called.
Aremu leaned forward. Uzoji rose, and walked forward, and took his seat at the stand. He swore the oaths, his voice clear and ringing.
“Ada’xa Uzoji,” the advocate began. “Please introduce yourself.”
Uzoji inclined his head. “I am Uzoji pez Okorie,” Uzoji said with a smile. “I study the static and physical conversations at Brunnhold in their pilot’s program; until 2709, I was a student at Ire’dzosat.”
The faintest whisper flickered through the room. Aremu grinned, for just a moment, before a frown tightened his face once more.
“Would you describe for us the incident which brings us here today?” The man went on.
Uzoji lifted his head, looking out over the room. You don’t need to look up, Aremu wanted to say; you don’t -
Uzoji’s eyes lifted; nothing showed on his face, but he held Aremu’s gaze, just long enough.
“Of course, sir,” Uzoji was smiling. “I believe that is why we are gathered here.” A faint, hushed wash of laughter swept the room.
“On Ophus 27, last year, I was walking to meet a friend near Fe’tseru,” Uzoji said, clearly. “I heard raised voices from up ahead, and, wishing to leave the two men their privacy, stopped before I should encounter them on the path. It sounded to me as if they were in the midst of an argument.”
Uzoji glanced around the room. “I did not wish to intervene, but at the same time it felt unseemly to me that they should not know I was present. I went forward, in time to see one of them, who I knew to be Preet pez Kafez, strike the other across the face with an open hand. The second man, who was not known to me, dropped to his knees. Preet then began to cast,”
There was a swell of voices in the room.
“Silence!” The magistrate yelled. “Silence!”
“When you are ready, Ada’xa Uzoji,” the advocate said.
“Thank you, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said. “I am ready at any time, in the service of truth, and honor. Preet cast a pain spell on the other man; I came forward to stop him, but was too late to do anything. He curled the spell, and the man on the ground began to scream.”
“One question, Ada’xa,” the advocate said. “Did you know the second man at this time?”
“No,” Uzoji said. “He was unfamiliar to me then; it was not until I grew closer that I knew him for an imbala.”
The story went on. Aremu’s hands were fisted tight in his pants; he leaned forward, watching. Efreet sat next to him; he wasn’t sure when it was that her hand settled over his.
“Yes, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said evenly. “Though I am no living conversationalist, I say here that it was a pain spell, cast on the man lying on the ground before Ada’xa Preet.”
“Odasa,” Efreet murmured. She glanced sideways at Aremu. “Of course, they won’t call him to speak.” Her lips twisted.
“Efreet, please,” Aremu said, quietly.
The advocate was sitting; the other was rising up.
“Ada’xa Uzoji, you are no longer a student of Ire’dzosat; is that correct?” The man asked.
“It is, Ada’xa,” Uzoji said, smiling politely.
The lawyer inclined his head. “Is it not the case that there was a disciplinary hearing against you in Dentis of 2709, shortly before you left Thul’Amat?”
“There was,” Uzoji said, cheerfully, “though it was unrelated to my leaving. I played an ill-advised prank on my favorite professor, causing him to mix hot pepper into his kofi.”
There was a loud bark of laughter from the audience. “Favorite indeed, my boy!” Said a white-haired man.
“Silence!” The magistrate said. “All members of the audience who cannot maintain their decorum will be escorted out.”
Efreet’s hand had slid off his; she was sitting back.
“Don’t you care?” Aremu whispered, easing back in his seat.
Efreet shrugged. “They believe him. What else matters?”
Aremu leaned forward once more, and watched. He matters, he wanted to say, to me. Efreet watched through lowered lashes.
On the stand, Uzoji never lost his smile; he never faltered in his truth, and never hesitated to speak direct. When they sent him down, Aremu shuddered out a long breath. Efreet’s glance flicked, sideways, to him, her mouth set.
“A fine,” Efreet said, disgustedly, hours later, as they made their way into the courtyard. “A fine! And he’s still a student at Are’dur. It’s disgusting.”
“At least there was a punishment at all,” Aremu said. “Uzoji was brave to speak up.”
“Brave!” Efreet laughed, and there was no humor in it. “I know you knew him as a boy, Aremu, but brave! Now I have to accord an arata gratitude for telling the truth?”
“Many wouldn’t have said anything,” Aremu said, watching her.
Efreet pursed her lips. “Exactly; and they they claim to know truth and honor both.“
“Now there’s a note in Preet’s file,” Aremu said, evenly, “a record, in case he does it again.”
Efreet laughed. “I guess we’ll just have to hope your Uzoji is there again. You’re so naive, Aremu. Can’t you see -“
“Aremu,” Uzoji came out of the crowd, smiling; he bowed to each of them.
Aremu bowed back, and Efreet as well, her lips tight.
“Uzoji,” Aremu grinned. “You did well! It’s good to have you back in Thul Ka; it‘s not the same city without you.”
“I’m here the whole of Roalis,” Uzoji said, rueful. “Juela and Anoze have me busy, but there’s always time for you.” He grinned. “Will you introduce me, or must I guess?”
“This is Efreet pezre Fara,” Aremu said. He hesitated, glancing at her, “Efreet, I’m glad for you to finally meet Uzoji.”
Efreet smiled. “A pleasure,” she said.
There’s no need to lie, Aremu wanted to say, tasting it bitter on his tongue. You know perfectly well how to get around such comments, Efreet; you’re doing it on purpose.
“Uzoji,” Rayowa called, waving an elegant, fabric draped arm.
“Good to see you, Aremu,” Uzoji grinned. “There’s something I’ve really got to talk to you about, and soon. It was nice to meet you, Efreet.” He bowed again, and was gone.
They walked away from the courtyard in silence.
“Why lie?” Aremu asked. “I know it wasn’t a pleasure for you.”
“Why not?” Efreet said. She spat on the ground beside them; she looked up at Aremu, her brows fierce. “We are what we are, Aremu. What are you hiding from?”
They walked in silence a little while.
In time, Efreet’s hand curled into his. “I’m hungry,” she said, smiling softly up at him. “Can I buy you some food, hollow back?”
Aremu glanced down at her. He squeezed her hand, lightly. “Sure,” he said, quietly. “Thanks.”
Efreet leaned her head on his shoulder, gently, and they walked on.
