Kharl.”
“That’s you,” murmured one of the armsmen. “Step firm.”
Escorted by the two armsmen, Kharl walked to the armless chair set in the open space forward of the rows of benches. Standing before the benches to the right were several armsman and the Watch captain who had ordered Kharl taken. Before the benches to the left were Charee, Father Jorum, and Mallamet, the cooper whose shop was on Eighth Cross and Cargo Road.
“Keep standing,” whispered the armsman.
“You, the cooper Kharl, have been charged with the murder of the blackstaffer Jenevra. What you say or believe is not a question. We are here to do justice, and that justice is to determine whether you killed that blackstaffer.” The justicer cleared his throat, then seated himself.
From behind Kharl came a rap of the staff. “All may sit.”
“Sit down,” hissed the armsman.
Kharl sat, arms still bound before him. He looked at the justicer, but the man never seemed to look back at him.
“Justice calls upon Egen, captain of the Watch,” called the justicer.
The captain stood and stepped forward until he was but four paces back from the dais. He bowed. “Lord Justicer Reynol.”
“You arrested the cooper. Please tell the Hall what happened.”
“Yes, Lord Justicer.” Egen bowed again before speaking. “It was last sixday. Someone rang the fire bells, and we proceeded up Crafters’ Lane. When we arrived at the fire—it was at the scriptorium—the crafters and the scrivener had quenched the fire, but someone was screaming. She said something like, ‘No! She’s dead. You cut her throat.’ That was what I heard.“
“That’s not—” Kharl started.
“Silence! You will be heard, cooper,” added the justicer. “Continue, if you will, Captain Egen.”
“We’d come because of the fire. Sometimes, thieves set them, and sometimes people try to loot shops. So, when I heard that, I went into the cooper’s shop and found the blackstaffer. She was on the floor, and her throat had been cut.” Egen inclined his head slightly. “There was a bloody knife next to the body. The cooper’s apprentice admitted that the knife belonged to the cooper, that it was a drawing knife. His consort had accused him in public. He tried to escape, and it took three armsmen to subdue him.”
Reynol nodded. “That will be all for the moment. Please remain here in the Hall.“
“Yes, Lord Justicer.” Egen bowed again, politely.
“Charee, consort of Kharl, please stand and come forward.”
Charee stood. Her steps toward the dais were unsteady. She did not look at Kharl, and her eyes were fixed on the floor stones before her.
“You are Charee, consort of Kharl. Is that correct?”
“Yes… Lord.”
“You understand that you must tell the truth, and that if you do not, you also will be punished?”
“Yes, Lord.” Charee’s voice trembled.
“How did the blackstaffer come to the cooperage?”
“Kharl carried her in. She’d been beaten, bad, ser, left in the ser-viceway to die. We couldn’t leave her on the street, but…” Charee looked down.
“Go on.”
“Um… blackstaffers… I’d heard tales… and I told Kharl she could stay, but only in the shop, not in our quarters up the stairs, and that she had to leave soon as she could.”
“What did he say?”
“He said we couldn’t throw her out on the street.”
“What happened after that?”
“We put her on the old apprentice’s pallet in the shop, and I cleaned her up, and got her some blankets. She slept some, then woke up, but she couldn’t see proper. Said she was seeing two instead of one—”
“How long was she in the shop?”
“Let’s see, ser. It was fourday when Kharl found her, and sixday when… when the fire happened.”
“Tell us what happened that morning.”
“I brought down some bread and cider, and the blackstaffer’s clothes. I’d mended them. I helped her dress. See… we were going to take her to Father Jorum so she wouldn’t be in the
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