After a glance, Demansk ignored him. He gave another glance at Willech himself. The Governor was standing up, having apparently risen from a richly-upholstered stool spilled over behind him. The small writing desk at which he’d been working was spilled the other way.
There was nothing “hard and tight” about Willech’s face now. The Governor’s usually pale complexion was flushed so heavily that he seemed on the verge of outright apoplexy. His small hands were clutched into fists, which he was waving in front of him like an Emerald-style bare-handed fighter—except no real pugilist would have done it so awkwardly. So far, at least, the words coming out of his mouth were too incoherent to make any sense of. More like an animal’s bay of fright and fury than a man’s cry of distress.
That’ll change, quick enough, thought Demansk. I’d better get the witnesses in, take advantage of that moment between pure fury and rational thought.
He turned and beckoned the two men standing in the corridor beyond. Both of them were elderly, with the stoop-shouldered appearance of scribes who had spent a lifetime hunched over state documents. The appearance was not far from the truth. The old men were actually magistrates of the city, not mere scribes. But Vanbert law, especially on a local and regional level, primarily involved the settlement of complex property claims. A magistrate on that level of the judicial pyramid spent most of his life consulting records and precedents.
Nervously, gingerly, the two entered the room. One of them gasped faintly, seeing the dying soldier on the floor. The other just looked away, his prim face contained and withdrawn. Neither of the men was there by choice. Demansk had selected them, in fact, precisely because they had the reputation for being among the few incorruptible judges in Solinga. That, and the fact that both of them were “First Twelve” by ancestry. He wanted no one claiming later that the witnesses were either bribed or, what was even worse, scatterbrained Emeralds.
The timing was perfect. Willech’s words finally stumbled into something approximating coherence. Of a very profane nature, of course.
“Demansk—you fucking idiot! What do you think you’re doing! I’ll have you drawn and quartered, you stinking shit! I’ll have you—”
He got no further. The giant soldier, whose mind was perfectly competent even if his body resembled that of a troll, strode forward and literally seized Willech by the scruff of the neck.
He even remembered his lines perfectly. “Outrageous! Public disrespect to the Triumvir!” He hauled the shrieking Willech into the center of the room and forced him to his knees, as easily as a man wrestling with a child.
“The penalty is clearly stated, sir,” boomed the giant. “Do you wish the punishment applied immediately, or should I take this malefactor before the magistrates?”
“Malefactor,” no less. Demansk made a note to talk to the giant in private afterward. He’d chosen the man simply for his size—he didn’t even know his name—but clearly the fellow had a brain to go with the bulk. Given the new realities of Demansk’s life, it could be handy having such a soldier as a personal bodyguard. The man was the sergeant of his squad, which also indicated some talent for leadership.
“No need to wait for the magistrates,” said Demansk loudly. “As it happens, two are present with us.” He turned slightly and gestured toward the two oldsters standing in the back of the room. “As you say, Sergeant, the penalty is clear and well known.”
He’d intended to use two of his men specially prepared for the task, but decided to test this interesting ogre a little further. The sergeant had been present at the briefing, so he knew what Demansk wanted.
“Do me the service yourself, if you would.”
“My pleasure, sir!” The huge soldier cast a glance at the upended writing table and made a little motion to one of his men. The squad member quickly turned the table right side up. In an instant, the giant relinquished his grip on the nape of Willech’s tunic and seized his left wrist. Then, again manhandling him with ease, forced the hand flat onto the table top.