Page 38 of Court of Shadows
“Yes, all right,” I muttered, putting the cup back on the table and turning quickly to Chijioke. “Wish me luck?”
“You won’t need it,” he said with a chuckle. “You have your wits.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. I felt completely disoriented, assaulted from every direction with strange images. It was like stumbling onto a foreign shore and being expected to know the language and customs within minutes. Could I not stand a moment and just breathe it all in? Get my bearings? No, I was being marched through the tent, all eyes trained directly on me.
There were no words of encouragement from Finch; he simply walked ahead of me and then motioned to the empty spot next to Mr. Morningside. Gradually the conversations behind us started up again, but now I knew they were all about me.
“Well, well, well.” I glanced up at Mr. Morningside, whose ever-changing eyes swept from the antlers on my head to the hem of my green silk gown. “Are you ready?” he asked. Even his voice was strange, reflecting the different faces that pulsed in and out, each word pronounced by a man younger or older.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.” He winked—or one of his faces did—and then cleared his throat, tucking his hands behind his back and beaming up at the shepherd. Three golden figures joined him by the throne, flanking him like a small army.
“Is that the third Adjudicator?” I whispered.
“Hm? Oh, no, that’s the dog,” Mr. Morningside said, rolling his eyes. He was not whispering back but bellowing all of this loudly enough for the room to hear. “Always found it ironic, making the voice of God masquerade as a mutt. Bark, bark, heed my word! Bark, bark, fire and brimstone!”
Could that thing really be Big Earl? The shimmering tall man to the shepherd’s right squared his shoulders. “Dogs are the noblest creatures in the kingdom. It is my privilege to take their form.”
“A privilege to piss on fence posts and sniff your own arse? Noted.”
“That’senough.” The shepherd put his hand up, and both of them were silent. The only difference I could divine, looking up at the bearded old man, was that his voice sounded richer and louder, like the thunder of horses charging.
He drew in a long breath and gave his speech not with force but with a kind of disappointed melancholy. “We are here to ascertain whether Henry Ingram Morningside is guilty of dereliction of his duties. Long ago, in an effort to create peace between our two sides, it was agreed that he would ferry on the souls of the wicked and damned, that doing so would suithis dark nature and prevent crueler urges from being indulged. For our part, we agreed to look to the souls of the good, and to intervene with the wicked only in extreme cases. These are simple terms and simple duties, but they carry unsimple weight. This balance we have achieved can be broken, Henry, and the consequences of such imbalance hurt us all.”
He turned his pale eyes on me from where he sat in his throne, his legs too short even to reach the floor. “Are you here willingly, my dear?”
Oh. It was my turn to speak. I felt small and frail under the pressure of so many expectant eyes, but I lifted my chin and tried to reply as loudly as I could. “I am, yes.”
“Finch tells me you have quite the story to tell,” the shepherd said. He smiled, smug. “Do you agree to tell your truth here, when instructed, and to speak with honesty and integrity? You may refuse, Louisa, if that is your preference.”
“N-no,” I said, cursing the stammer. “I agree.”
The shepherd leaned toward me, and at once that nasty, icy feeling in my bones returned, so acute and intense that I went rigid, then felt my knees threaten to fail. I struggled to keep my eyes open as he told me in clear, short bursts, “If we suspect you of lying, you will be submitted to Judgment to discern the truth. Is that clear? We will enforce our ancient agreements by any means necessary.”
“I... I...” The cold was so terrible I was half convinced I would see my breath puff out in white clouds as I hesitated.Judgment. I knew what that meant. I knew what a lie could do, the pain and death it could bring.
“That won’t be required.” Mr. Morningside spoke up. He held up the papers I had translated, flashing them high for everyone to see. “I am submitting my own evidence. Thanks to Louisa’s marvelous skills of translation, I will soon have the location of the long-lost third book.”
He handed the stack of parchment to the shepherd, who leaned back in the throne, shying away as if the papers might pinch. “That’s impossible.”
“This is ridiculous!” Sparrow exploded. She rushed forward to intercept the papers, but Mr. Morningside flicked them away. “Theatrics, pure theatrics! This is nothing more than a vulgar distraction!”
“On the contrary,” Mr. Morningside said smoothly. “It’s entirely relevant to the proceedings. We’re here to determine my fitness, yes? My competence? The missing book and the Lost Order are linked, and I will prove it to you.” He pivoted and addressed the shepherd directly. “You cannot call into question the competency of a man who has done what you have tried and failed to do for centuries!”
The shepherd stood up and the excited noise of the onlookers died at once. He leaned far out of his throne, and as he glared at Mr. Morningside, I saw not an old man but a warrior, aged, perhaps, weathered, but glowing with as much white-hot fury as the blazing figures around him. I shrank back, afraid,regretting that I had chosen this side, and that I had ever been asked to choose one at all.
Silence. Then the shepherd broke it like a clap of lightning and something in the room snapped. “Give those to me.”
The tension evaporated. Mr. Morningside handed over my work and then said nothing, offering no more insults or mockery.
“If what you say is true—” the shepherd began.
“No!” Sparrow was quick to interrupt. “You cannot possibly—”
“Ifwhat you say is true and these findings are authentic,” he continued, dismissing her with a look, “it will indeed alter the nature of this Court. I will study what you have here, Henry, and determine the best course of action. That is all.”
The Court erupted in outrage and excitement. The reactions were quite obviously split between two halves of the room, the loudest protests coming from Sparrow, who stormed back and forth across the dais, haranguing her brother for not warning her that this was coming. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Finch, who had no way of knowing what Mr. Morningside was up to. Perhaps she had expected him to pump me for information, but I had only offered him the mistake with Lee, a dry crumb compared to the far tastier morsel I had concealed.
