ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

‘I have changed my mind,’ said Rael, with a broad smile. ‘Do not think of Ammon as one of your blood, but as one of your flowers.’

‘Well, it’s true I’d like to see him planted in the earth,’ replied Viruk.

Questor Ro had been sitting in judgment for two hours and he was growing bored. In the main the cases brought before him were petty, and only two defendants had been sentenced to be crystal-drawn – and these would lose only five years each. He gazed down at the two lists before him. One detailed the cases, the other the needs of the Crystal Treasury. According to the latter they needed today twenty-two full sentences of death in order to meet the treasury requirements. Ro fully understood the need to maintain power, and he had little regard for Vagars. Yet the law was the law, and no amount of pressure would make Ro yield on any point of it. If a man stole bread – without use of violence – to feed his family it was a misdemeanour, punishable by a maximum of five years. Ro had rounded on the prosecutor who tried to claim that when the victim gave chase to the thief he fell and sprained his wrist, making this a crime of violence.

Questor Ro was not in a good mood. He did not like courtroom three in the eastern district. It was small and cramped, the magistrate’s dais raised only two feet from the floor, the magistrate being forced to enter from a side room, walking past and beneath the public seating. This alone left Vagars looking down on Ro, which he felt was not becoming. The magistrate should enter from behind the dais, as in all other courtrooms.

Ro tugged at his forked blue beard and fixed his gaze on the public gallery. There were no Avatars present, and the benches were only half full. Ro adjusted his royal blue robes, sipped water from a crystal cup and nodded to the guards to bring in the next defendant.

The case was one of rape. The victim, a rich fat Vagar woman of middle years, claimed her gardener had climbed into her room and subjected her to a horrifying ordeal -an ordeal that was only ended when her husband burst in. The prosecution called for the death sentence.

‘Were any weapons found on the scene?’ Ro asked the prosecutor.

‘No, Lord Questor. The man used his physical power to overwhelm the lady.’

Ro idly examined the evidence sheet, then looked up at the short skinny defendant. The man was blinking nervously and sweat was dripping into his eyes. ‘I see his clothes were found downstairs, along with the lady’s gown. How, pray, did he convince her to go upstairs with him?’ asked Ro.

The prosecutor – already aware of Ro’s growing irritation – visibly paled. ‘He threatened her life, Lord Questor.’

Ro read the evidence sheet once more. ‘According to this he has been employed by the lady and her husband for four years and lives, with four other workmen, in a small house on the estate. Is it your intention to try to convince this court that a man would risk his life and his livelihood, in the sure and certain knowledge of being caught, in order to bed his employer’s wife against her will? I do hope not, prosecutor. According to the evidence there was no bruising upon the alleged victim, nor any tearing of her clothes. Her gown, I understand, was neatly folded over a couch. Added to which two goblets of wine were found in the bedroom. Come forward.’

The man approached the dais. He was a young Avatar, the son of a minor Questor serving the eastern district. Ro leaned across the desk. ‘You are not – one supposes – a foolish man. So why has this ridiculous case been brought before me? It is obvious she was seducing her employee when her husband caught her. She has invented this tale. And a poor invention it is.’

‘Her husband is one of our staunchest supporters, Lord Questor. He is a man of some standing among the Vagars.’

Ro waved him back. The charges against this man are dismissed,’ he said. ‘Bring in the next defendant.’