Page 75 of Crucible of Chaos

‘Venia, obviously,’ Brother Agneta replied. ‘He played the Hounds for fools– he played all of us for fools, apparently.’

Mother Leogado had other concerns. ‘What good does ascribing guilt do us now? We need to be thinking strategically. Two years ago, the man calling himself the Blacksmith slaughtered the entire pantheon of gods. Surely there’s a means by which we can kill a single god not yet fully formed?’

‘The Blacksmith had already stolen the power of murdered saints, and he took the old gods unawares. I doubt Venia–or whatever he’ll soon be demanding we call him–will be quite so easy to sneak up on.’

Estevar closed his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply to prepare himself. He winced at the sharp pain below his ribs, which felt so much like a smirking bully poking at him over and over that he almost felt like reminding the stab wound that the longer it irritated him, the more likely the two of them were to be parted– permanently.

‘I believe there is a way to prevent Venia’s ascension,’ he said at last.

‘How?’ Caeda asked.

‘His silly “trial”, of course,’ Brother Agneta replied. She held up her pistol and peered down the barrel at him. ‘The Trattari’s idiotic sense of justice prevents him from eventryingto do what must be done until first he’s debated every fine point of the law, and whether we have the right to kill Venia before he or his demons get to us first.’

‘Whereas you Cogneri are content to dispense with the law entirely,’ Estevar countered. ‘But that isnotwhy we must hold this particular trial.’

‘Then why?’ Strigan asked. ‘What’s the point of all this’– he waved his hands in the air– ‘silly ritual?’

‘I believe we have all come to see,’ Estevar began, as patiently as he could manage, ‘that there are some times’– he gestured to the walls inscribed with symbols of the old gods– ‘and someplaceswhere ritual holds more power than some of us might wish.’

‘What then?’ Mother Leogado asked, suddenly more attentive. ‘You propose to perform some sort of occult ritual? Cast some sort of magic spell?’

Estevar laughed, which proved a mistake as it awoke a number of his previously slumbering aches. ‘I am neither priest nor sorcerer. I am a magistrate.’

‘Well, too bad we don’t have one of those,’ Strigan began, ‘because that would be a hell of a lot more use—’

‘Enough,’ Estevar said, cutting him off. ‘A trial is about more than judgment. The laws that Brother Agneta scorns so casually weren’t meant solely to punish the guilty. A trial is a crucible in which facts are separated from lies so that the truth can be discerned, and from that truth, a path towards justice.’

‘Which truth would that be?’ Malezias asked. He was sitting on his haunches in the shadows, glaring with vengeful malice at them all,even Caeda. ‘What justice is left for a girl whose life was—?’

Estevar held a finger to his lips, and his eyes conveyed the promise that should Malezias tamper with what now had to unfold, he would be made to regret his presumption.

‘Okay, enough of this nonsense,’ Strigan said, striding to the door and heaving some nearby rocks in front to block it. ‘I say we hole up here for the night and hope that whatever’s happening in the courtyard will somehow draw the attention of any of the old gods who are left. Didn’t your legendary First Cantor claim that at least three had returned?’

‘Falcio val Mond did encounter beings whom he believed to be the embodiments of Love, Death and Valour.’

‘Great,’ Strigan said, clasping his hands together. ‘I’ll be praying for Death to come and save us, because I’m pretty sure Love and Valour are going to do shit for us at this point.’

Mother Leogado crossed the chamber and shoved Strigan out of the way. ‘I’ll not sit here while my flock are turned one by one into the slavish abominations yours were.’

‘Nor will I submit myself to the legal whims of a Trattari,’ Brother Agneta said, although it was the yellow-robed woman upon whom her pistol was now trained.

Even now they bicker, Estevar thought.With a demonic god on one side and a margrave’s army on the other, still they prefer to wage war against each other.

A vicious, gleeful howl echoed from above, soon joined by another. It wouldn’t be long now before the creatures overcame whatever uncertainty was keeping them from the caves and entered the depths in search of their prey.

Agneta spun on Estevar. ‘You hear that, Trattari? You hear the living blasphemy that’s been spawned on these once sacred grounds? What better “testimony” to prove that we are all of us condemned for the sins of this corrupted nation? Would you dare to place your judgment above the gods themselves?’

‘As to that,’ he said calmly, reaching into his coat to remove his notebook, ‘I have no intention of presiding over the trial. My role is to present the case against all of you.’

‘Then who do you intend to have pass judgment on us? Your mule?’

Estevar ran a hand down Imperious’ neck. ‘Alas, he has shown little interest in the finer points of the law, despite my many attempts to instruct him. No, as Brother Agneta rightly said, this case cannot be judged by mere mortals.’

‘Then who?’ Caeda asked, her voice unusually quiet as she stood against one of the rough stone walls in her thin white gown, red curls draped down her shoulders as she hugged herself like a nervous schoolgirl. ‘Who has the right to judge the fate of Isola Sombra?’

Estevar tried his best to summon a smile for her. ‘You, Piccolo. You must pass judgment on us all.’

‘Her?’ Strigan demanded. Laughing, he strutted towards her. ‘Wasn’t I going to bed you once?’ He reached out to play with a lock of her hair. ‘Since we’re probably all going to die here anyway, maybe I should—’ He shut up when he felt something sharp at the nape of his neck.

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