“Have you stolen?”
“Only from Duun.”
There was another stirring in the seats.
“Have you lied?”
“Sometimes.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
“No, master Tangan.”
“Have you used your skill in a wrong way?”
He shut his eyes. And opened them. It was easy to count. “Three times, master Tangan. When I shouted at Sagot and when I hit another student and when I threatened him.”
“You’re very fast on that answer. Aren’t there more?”
Thorn thought again. “I’ve quarreled with Duun.”
“So have I, visitor.” A mild ripple of laughter went about the hall. Beside him Duun ducked his head. The master’s face never changed. “We have a case in the guild. One member claims a knife another claims. How will you resolve it?”
Thorn bit his lip. Panic rushed through him. (It’s a wrong question. There’s no answer. Dare I say that?) He found himself shivering in the chill. “Master Tangan, there aren’t any such hatani in the guild, who would quarrel over property.”
“We have another case. Two sisters marry a man for a one-year each in succession. But no sooner has the first marriage been consummated than the man divorces that wife and marries a third for a three-year. How will you judge?”
“Master Tangan, how do they make the question?”
“The first sister says: Judge between me and my sister and that woman.”
(Not the man.)
“That’s not a hatani matter, master Tangan. They ought to go to the magistrate.”
“They persist. They make the same request.”
“Where is their property?”
“They have a house and shop from their father and mother. The man is living and working with the new wife in a property he owns. The new wife is tanun-guild.”
“Let them go live in their own house and find a new husband.”
“Explain.”
“The women want this man more than he wants them and they hate the new wife. They could never share with her.”
Master Tangan lifted a hand. Beckoned to someone. Thorn resisted the impulse to turn, but he heard someone walking up. More than one.
“One more case,” Master Tangan said. “Look at this woman.”
Thorn turned and his heart jolted.
It was Betan. Betan, in a pale blue kilt, a dark blue cloak, with her hands folding before her and her ears laid flat. Her scent reached him on a waft of wind. It was still flowers.
(O Betan.) Exhaustion battered at him. (Hatani after all?)
Her face betrayed nothing.
“Look at me,” Master Tangan said. “This woman accuses you of assaulting her. Of using your persuasion to seduce her and when she saw you naked and knew your physical difference would harm her, she tried to get away, and you used your skill to restrain her until Duun no Lughn intervened. She asks a hatani judgment of me.”
(Was that what she thought? Was that what I did?)
“What do you say?”
“I-was in a room alone with her. Everything she says could be true.”
“Duun-hatani, you were a witness.”
“I came in and this woman ran out,” Duun said. “I ordered her to leave. I witnessed an embrace in which the woman struggled and broke free.”
“As you came in.”
“Yes, master Tangan.”
“What else did you observe?”
“Anger on my student’s part, toward me. He said: ‘I wish you had come later.’ The woman said nothing. Later my student said. ‘I wanted to love her.’ I explained the differences would have harmed her.”
“He had no knowledge of this?”
“It’s possible he didn’t understand.”
“Did you?”
“No. Yes.” Thorn struggled for his composure.
“I pushed her back, master Tangan. She smelled afraid and I pushed her back.”
“Away from you.”
“He’s lying,” Betan said, “He’s hatani and he’s lying with a straight face.”
“What do you ask for him?”
“Send him back to Dsonan. Don’t let him in the guild.”
“What do you ask for her, visitor?”
“I think it’s a trap,” Thorn said. “I think this is another test and she’s hatani.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She moves like one.”
“You’re wrong, young man. She’s not hatani, free or guilded.”
“She’s ghota,” Duun said. “Or I’m blind. And she’s a fool to come here.”
Betan stood there. (Ghota?) Thorn stared at her. He had expected men with guns. (Betan? Ghota?)