[Mkguild] Justice in Vengeance Refrain (8)

[Ryx]

            Tathim was seated in a large chair, not quite a throne but certainly 
more ornate than any other in the room, upon the dais.  To his left was another 
similarly ornate chair in which the Lady Ganet, a thin but matronly looking 
woman in her late fifties, sat.  The Lady was conversing to her handmaiden while 
Tathim’s senechal simply stood slightly behind and to the right of his chair.  
Tathim was conversing with two men on his right seated in less ornate chairs.  
Both were richly clad, clearly the two nobles the house guard had spoken of 
earlier.  One of them was familiar, the same man who had challenged Malger at 
the caravan, while the second was an unknown.  He looked bored with the 
situation and frowned at something the visiting Earl said, with much 
gesticulation, to Earl Tathim.  A long-haired golden dog, some breed of collie, 
sat beside his chair and while he waited he stroked its head.  The visiting Earl 
was clearly agitated at something but there was a general susurrus of 
conversation filling the room that prevented either Murikeer or Elvmere from 
hearing his argument.
            Glancing up Tathim saw that they had arrived and, with a slight 
staying motion of one hand toward his guest, sat up in his throne.  “I see that 
all have arrived, so let us proceed without undue delay.  Our visitors are Earl 
Motense of Fendshill who will stand in witness, and Baron Vareshad of Harington 
who will bear witness of these proceedings for Duke Thargood and see that the 
justice we arrive upon this day is upheld.” He nodded to each of the men in 
turn.  “Will the accused stand and present himself to the tribunal.”
            It was not a request.  Laboriously Malger levered himself up from 
his chair, the minstrel’s once proud shoulders slumped in exhaustion.  His rich 
garments hung from him loosely.  In the past few days he had lost a considerable 
amount of weight that Murikeer had discovered only once he was dressed.  “I am 
Malger son of Fendil, traveling minstrel, your grace.”
            “Very well.  You have been accused of the crime of murder, what 
state you?”
            “Justice, your grace, is my argument.  The slain were rapists, 
slavers, and murderers.  One close to me suffered their depredations many years 
ago.  It is in her memory I exercised justice long delayed.  I do not deny that 
I killed, or sought to kill, them.”  Murikeer noted that the injured survivors 
had been brought in and slumped in two chairs, both still suffering the wounds 
he had inflicted upon them.  Neither of them looked to be fit enough to have 
been brought from their hospice and Murikeer felt pleasure at their suffering.
            “Who witnesses the crimes for which the slain are accused?”
            “I do.” Malger muttered.  
Murikeer stood and Tathim’s gaze shifted toward him. “I do, your grace.”
            “And you are?”
            “Murikeer Khunnas, son of Justin, mage of Metamor Keep and 
apprentice to the accused.  The woman in whose memory my master acted was to 
have been my wife.”
            Tathim merely nodded and Murikeer sat back down.
            “Let it be known that the accused gives reason of justice, with one 
witness.  The crimes for which he acted are not for this tribunal to decide, 
other than to understand his actions.  We will now bring forward witness to the 
actions which he took to slay, and maim, people otherwise innocent of crimes 
within my demesne, from least to greatest rank.  Will those who witnessed, 
directly, those acts please stand?”
            Murikeer and Elvmere stood.  A few chairs down from them two others 
stood; the guards from the caravan as did Earl Motense and to one side of the 
dais the Lothanasa stood.  Her burly guards, the same four who had attended her 
divan, did not need to stand for they had not been seated.  There had been many 
peasants among the caravan when Malger went on his rampage but none appeared to 
be in attendance.
“Thank you, sirs and Lightbringer, please be seated.”  Murikeer watched Malger 
slump back into his chair and rest his forearms on the table in front of him.  A 
clay mug sat in front of him and he took a moment to sip whatever it contained.  
There were cups at every table, and ewers of watery wine, but neither Murikeer 
nor Elvmere had any taste for it.  Tathim directed his attention toward their 
side of the room and held up one hand toward the two guards.  “Stand and come 
forward, gentlemen.  You are soldiers working for the caravan’s guard company?”
Diffidently the two stood and made their way out in front of the table at which 
they sat.  They did not move fully into the center of the room as that would put 
them nearer the focus of the Earl’s justice.  “Yes, your grace.” One of them, 
the youth that Sideshow had shoved at Malger during the fight, spoke.  “I am 
Laroth, son of Grimmam, master of the company.  This is March, son of Mikket.”
“Speak freely, lads.  What did you witness?”
“Well, sire, we saw that man,” Laroth nodded toward Malger, “attack Maxamillian 
and his men.  They were not part of our company and attended only to Max, 
apparently associates for some years.”
“You did not attempt to stop him?”  Tathim’s raised one brow curiously.
“No, sire, we did, as is our duty.”
“And how many of your company fell during this battle?”
Laroth looked to his companion who had a muslin swatch over his nose and secured 
by a string that tied behind his head giving him an altogether ridiculous 
appearance.  “None that I know of, your grace.”
“None?”
“Aye.” Laroth nodded slowly, “That man took pains not to attack us directly, and 
evaded us rather than fight.  When we got close enough he disarmed us.  March 
got the closest to him, and the man bit his nose rather than strike him with his 
swords.”
“So you would say that this man, Malger, strove only to attack the men he 
believes wronged a woman some years ago, and not you or the men of your 
company?”
“Exactly so, sire, yes.  When the caravan master pushed me at his swords he took 
a stroke from my spear to get past me, rather than cut his way through me.”
“Very well, I thank you, Laroth son of Grimmam.  March, what have you to say to 
this tribunal before you are dismissed?”
March, who had been studiously looking at the floor throughout Lothar’s 
testimony, looked up fearfully when he was addressed.  “’E could’a kilt me, 
sire, no jus’ bit me node.” He managed to force out in a constrained honk due to 
his bandaged nose.  “He jes want t’ pass me bah, fer t’ get aft dem as ‘e did.” 
He nodded shortly toward the two injured men.
“How did you two know this minstrel?”
“We didn’t sire.” Lothar offered, “He and his apprentices came to our caravan 
only just that afternoon and we offered space in our camp for them.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.  You are dismissed and may return to your master when 
convenient for you.”
Bowing profusely both backed up and then returned around the table to sit down.  
Tathim then turned his attention toward the two injured men slouching in the 
chairs provided for them.  The man who had lost his lower leg seemed barely 
conscious while the man who had lost his hand to mid forearm seemed more alert.  
Throughout the testimony of the caravan guards he had glared balefully at 
Malger.
“You, sir, stand if you would, and tell us who you and your companion are.” The 
Earl said toward the more alert of the pair.  The man jerked to his feet and 
stalked around his table, crossing half way into the hall between his table and 
Malger’s seat.
“I am Lessan, Maxamillian’s retainer, and a Master of Steel from Whitestone 
Tower.  My companion is Boqu, also of Whitestone.  We know nothing of that 
madman’s accusations; we are merely hired guards just as those two lickboots 
are.” He thrust his foreshortened arm toward Grimmam’s guards.  “Hired out by 
Maxamillian eight years agone, and innocent of whatever crimes that filth seeks 
to blind you with.”
“Lessan the Fist, who pummeled her bloody before he had his.” Malger growled 
flatly, but clearly, from where he sat.  Tathim leveled a swift glare at him but 
Malger did not notice, his wrathful gaze was directed toward Lessan.
“He is mad, Earl, mad as a root smoking swamp witch!”
“Tell me, Fist, did you have at them after the curse took them, too?” Malger 
challenged, never raising his voice above a hard growl, but in the general 
quietude of the room he could be heard as clearly as if he had shouted.  “How 
many, hmmm?  Ten, a hundred?”  Murikeer laid a staying hand on his arm.
“Be silent, minstrel.” Tathim snapped irritably.  Lessan took a stride closer to 
Malger as if to strike him with his good hand but stopped when Murikeer stood to 
face him.  One of Tathim’s guards stepped forward to grasp his uninjured arm 
firmly.  The guard was considerably smaller than Lessan’s muscular bulk but the 
warning was clear.  Tathim’s men at arms held sway in the tribunal and brooked 
no violence among its attendants.  Murikeer slowly settled back into his chair.
Lessan fell back a couple of paces and glared down at the guard before glaring 
back at Tathim, “He came at us spouting madness and poor Boqu never had a 
chance.  The man had his swords loosed and cut his leg from under him before he 
could even draw steel to defend himself.”  Murikeer twitched an eyebrow at the 
lie and would have stood to refute it but Elvmere touched his forearm lightly.  
When he looked down Elvmere only shook his head slightly.  Interrupting the 
tribunal, even to clarify a simple point, would reflect poorly upon their case.
Tathim glanced again at Grimmam’s men, “Was that so?”
Laroth stood hastily and swallowed, looking toward Lessan fearfully, “Aye, your 
grace, but the man did have his sword free.  The minstrel’s attack was 
unexpected, and too swift for him to parry.”
“Thank you.” Thathim’s gaze flicked back across to Lessan, “Be seated, both of 
you.”  Laroth dropped back into his chair while Lessan clenched his fist 
angrily.  He looked ready to continue his rant but the guard hauling on his arm 
finally brought him around.  Staggering under the pain of his injuries, 
suppressed only by indomitable force of will, he returned to his chair and 
slumped with a mulish glare.
Once order was restored again Tathim sighed heavily.  “You, Murikeer, bearing in 
mind that the matters of this tribunal are only concerning the deaths your 
master caused, stand and tell us of those events.”
Giving Malger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze Murikeer stood.  Before he spoke 
he looked to the Earl, the other nobles seated beside him, then the Lothanasa 
seated off the dais, and lastly the archivist Thomas who stood on the opposite 
flank of the dais before returning his gaze to Tathim.  The visiting Earl only 
glared and met his gaze challengingly while the baron’s regard was curious but 
bored.  The Lothanasa’s gaze was inscrutable and Thomas favored him with a sage 
nod.
“Your grace,” he said levelly, “if that is the limit of this gathering then 
further discourse is fruitless.  For all action must have a causative initiator, 
as a mage this is one of the basic precepts of natural law.  What, then, were 
you to find those who attacked your vassalage in a decade’s time, far from here 
in some other kingdom.  Would you not act to bring th-“
“Damnit, boy!” barked the visiting Earl of Fendshill exploded from his chair 
furiously, “That raid has no bearing on the cold blooded slaughter caused by 
that man!”  Murikeer twitched and fell silent at the angry explosion and tilted 
his head slightly to bring his good eye to bear on the man.
Earl Tathim quirked an eyebrow toward his peer and waited until his ire hissed 
to a halt.  “Your grace, if you would, you are a party to this tribunal and not 
its justicar.  If you would, please allow me to continue.” He asked politely 
without altering the level of his voice.  “He is correct, however, young man.  
It is already established that your master acted out of a sense of justice, or 
vengeance.  It is that he acted that concerns us.”
“Then yes, your grace, he did act.” Murikeer conceded with a slow nod.  “I will, 
then, bring to your attention the fate of the prisoners that those who were 
slain kept in their train.  Save for one or two hapless exhibits each and every 
one of them were once as human as any here.  They were once free peoples, 
captured and enslaved through torture and brutality, to be ensorcelled into the 
form of animals without any free choice of their own.”
“Also a fact not –“
“Your grace?” this time an interruption from the Lothanasa.  Tathim let out a 
short huff of breath and turned his gaze toward her.  With an exasperated wave 
of one hand he surrendered the floor.  “I do apologize, your grace, but the lad 
is correct insofar as those I saw in the wagon cages were bespelled in some 
manner or another.  I did not have the time to give that magic any thorough 
examination, but they were indeed fully enwraped by magery.”
Tathim looked toward Earl Motense, “Is this what you saw?”
“I saw beasts.” The man acceded with a surly nod, “Foul monstrosities that 
walked as men walked.  Some even spoke the tongue of man.  Caricatures they 
were, but beasts all the same.  I saw nothing of true men among them.”
Tathim mulled that over for a few moments, “Be that as it may, thus was the 
reason I allowed the train no closer to my demesne than it was, and even that 
was by slim tolerance.” He glanced at the Lothanasa to see if she had anything 
further to add but she only shook her head with a slight nodding bow.  “Say on, 
lad, within only what you saw.”
“Upon recognizing the men he challenged them for their crimes.  Those two,” he 
waved a hand toward the injured mercenaries, “stepped forward to brace him with 
their own steel bared, whereupon my master sought to fulfill his justice.”  When 
Murikeer offered nothing further he was allowed to resume his seat.
“And you, master Elvmere?”
Elvmere stood and squared his shoulders, “I bear witness that this man, master 
of my musical tutelage, attacked the mercenaries and person of Maxamillian, 
master of that caravan.  He struck them down with as little injuries to others 
as he was capable, which is considerable as he was able to withstand five highly 
trained mercenaries without killing those with less training.  Beyond that I can 
say little.”
“And of those in the wagons?”
“I am no mage, sire, I lack the ability to see or grasp any understanding of 
magic.  That they may have once been people I would have to say that yes, they 
were once human.  They suffered a curse known to me that changed them into 
beasts.  None, I suspect, sought that curse willingly.”
Tathim nodded, “Such is the nature of curses.  You may be seated.” Once Elvmere 
had settled once more he turned his gaze to the side of his dais.  “Lothanasa 
hin Caris?”
Slowly the woman levered herself up from her chair, towering to eye level with 
those on the dais as she stood.  “I thank you, sire.  I speak neither in defense 
nor persecution of the accused, and bear witness only to the acts for which he 
is being held accountable.” She nodded her large head toward the trio occupying 
the center of the fast hall.  “I was returning with my retinue from recent 
travels and came upon the caravan of Maxamillian early in the afternoon four 
days past.  The caravan master supped me and we talked of his travels, simple 
inconsequentialities that bare no mention here.  As the afternoon waxed toward 
evening the showman promised to exhibit his menagerie and I lingered to see what 
manner of creatures he had assembled.
“Shortly after he had commenced his show that man,” one large hand waved toward 
Malger, “approached me and begged an indulgence.  He invoked the geas of 
witness, which may be known to many here who follow the path of Light.  He bade 
me not interfere with the acts that he would soon partake and, under that geas, 
I was not to interf-“ She stopped when the great double doors of the feast hall 
opened a crack, letting a shaft of bright sunlight slash across the dimly lit 
room.  That splash of light fell across Malger, almost blinding in its intensity 
to those used to the feast hall’s shuttered light.  A shadow briefly bisected 
the light as someone entered and, moving around the periphery of the room, 
approached the dais.
It was one of Earl Tathim’s soldiers.  The man seemed agitated and was breathing 
heavy from some exertion.  Reaching the front of the dais he dropped to one knee 
and bowed, “I beg your indulgence, your grace, for interrupting the solemnity of 
these proceedings but something has come up that demands I come to you.”
“Say on, Amsobere, be at ease.” Tathim nodded indulgently and waved for him to 
rise with one hand.  The Duke’s witness leaned forward curiously while Earl 
Motense scowled at the interruption by a mere peon.  The guard, Amsobere, stood 
quickly.
“Your grace, there is a bear at the gates!” he gasped hastily, quite loud enough 
to be heard by everyone in the hall.  A mumble of discontent rippled through the 
assemblage but Tathim ignored it.
“A bear?” Tathim grumbled, annoyed at such a trivial matter interrupting his 
tribunal, “Drive it away.”
“Sire,” Amsobere continued, “it demands to treat with you.”
“What?” Tathim leaned forward with a scowl, “Who does?”
“The bear, sire.” Amsobere gasped, “The bear demands to treat with you.  And 
others come with it.”
Tathim’s gaze shot to Malger’s small coterie and then across toward Lessan 
before turning to the Lothanasa who merely shrugged her huge shoulders and 
remained standing.  “A bear demands to speak with me?  And who does this bear 
bring in train?”
“Many other beasts, sire.  Some who walk upright and even wear clothing.  The 
bear wears the habit of a Follower priest, sire.”
Heaving a long suffering sigh Tathim leaned back into his seat, “Open the gates 
to them, Amsobere, and conduct them into the hall.  Let no one raise weapon to 
them.”  Knuckling his brow Amsobere bowed and then retreated hastily, his 
leather armor and weapons creating a racket in the quietude of the hall.
“Tathim!” Earl Motense snarled furiously, “Why do you suffer this ill graced 
rabble come into your hall and befoul these proceedings!?”
“Our ranks may be similar, your grace, but I bear no one speak with disrespect 
in my house.  I suffer what I wish to suffer in mine own house.” Tathim snapped 
back at him harshly, “These beasts bear witness to the events for which this 
tribunal has been called and, as such, are as free to speak as any now present.”
“Speak,” Mortense snorted derisively but said nothing further as he slouched 
back in his chair and crossed his arms petulantly over his breast.
Some moments later the slice of bright sunlight illuminating Malger was widened 
to encompass both Murikeer and Elvmere as well and a hulking shadow filled the 
door flanked by many lesser forms.  A clatter of weapons and armor accompanied 
the shuffling of unshod feet as the unlikely troupe made its way into the hall 
accompanied by a good dozen of Tathim’s guards.  The bear, Sho, ambled toward 
the center table on two thick legs much too short for the torso that they 
supported.  Moving around the table she approached the dais prompting Tathim’s 
house guards to step forward protectively.  Tathim held up a hand to stay them 
but otherwise did not move.  The visiting Baron had leaned forward in his chair 
with a stunned look on his face, jaw hanging.  His golden dog stood and stepped 
forward a pace before retreating to press itself against his legs.
Sho leaned forward and then cumbersomely dropped onto all four stout limbs 
before bowing deeply before the dais, until her chin touched the floor.  “Your 
grace, Earl Tathim of Asthill, I beg forgiveness for this unexpected intrusion 
upon your court.” She growled in a basso rumble that was almost felt as clearly 
as heard.  Murikeer was surprised that she did not bear the same stench that had 
accompanied her in the wagon; she had taken some pains to bathe sufficiently to 
satisfy etiquette and garbed herself in a roughspun nun’s habit.  “I am sister 
Sho Rosewain, once of Midtown in the Northern Midlands, under the protection of 
his grace, the horse lord Thomas of Metamor.”
“You are well come to my home, sister Rosewain.  Might I ask the nature of your 
calling upon me today?”
Sho rose slowly and settled back on her haunches, “I come to speak in defense of 
this man, the minstrel who calls himself Malger.”  Murikeer felt a presence 
close at his side and looked over to see the vixen, Misanthe, standing behind 
Malger’s chair.  A few paces away was the hyena that swore she would eat the 
vixen stood, dressed in a rather spectacular noblewoman’s gown carefully altered 
to fit her.  A deer stood further away with the oddly striped horse creature 
beside it.  On his opposite side he found a slender gazelle in simple peasant 
attire holding the ropes securing a bound otter that had shuffled in with them.  
The otter was gagged, his body sagging where he stood, and looked as if he had 
been quite thoroughly beaten.  Beside her, and towering over her almost as much 
as Sho towered over everyone, stood the female saber-toothed cat in a pose that 
bespoke a militaristic lifestyle.  It was rather easy to understand from where 
the otter had received his beating.
“And your companions?”  The tension in the hall was almost palpable.  Murikeer 
fancied that he could smell the fear of the attendees who had never before seen 
most of the beasts now crowding the hall among them.  To encounter such things 
as bears and saber-toothed felines upright and talking only furthered their 
distress.
“They, and I, beg a boon if justice from you as well.” Turning her head slowly 
she peered over toward the two injured men, who had drawn back into their chairs 
as if seeking refuge from the new arrivals.  “We seek your indulgence to 
surrender those men to us, that they might answer for their crimes.”
“Those crimes being?” Tathim seemed less annoyed and more interested at that 
request.
“Murder, your grace.” Sho’s attention returned to the Earl.  “Murder, torture, 
rape, and slavery.”  Shifting her weight back she stood once more, easily 
topping the already tall Lothanasa by a foot.  “I was captured, your grace, from 
my home.  I was imprisoned by those two men, and this one here.” One huge paw 
swept back toward the bound otter, “And I was… raped, sire.” She heaved an 
angry, choked sigh at having to give voice to her humiliation.  “Beaten, and 
raped, by these three, until I lost all will to fight them.  Throughout I was 
kept in chains until the curse of Metamor took me, and I became this.” Massive 
paw-like hands swept down the front of her habit.  “It, alone, protected me from 
their depredations.  They left me in that cage, where I have been imprisoned 
with naught but the occasional foray from the wagon only to be the center of a 
bear baiting ring.”  Her huge hands flexed into monstrous fists but she kept her 
temper in check.  “I am a woman of Eli, sire, given to his service.  Imagine, 
then, the humiliation of becoming their … entertainment for so little as a day, 
not so much as the five years I have endured.”  Slowly she turned, raising both 
arms to wave at those who had come with her.
“The cat, Lilith, once of a southern Pyralian farming village!” she bellowed 
furiously, shaking the rafters with her vehemence.  “The hyena, Mylere of 
Caralore, gifted to the man Sideshow as a toy by her own liege lord.  Mare 
Ebseth and buck Crombe, both fishers from Whales, taken by pirates and sold as 
slaves!  The doe Pintathe from the heart of Sondeshara, sold as common cattle on 
the wharves of the continent!  The vixen Sheyiin, from so far away her homeland 
is on no maps of the land!”  Continuing to turn she came about to face the 
Earl’s dais once more, “And more, names forgotten and bodies left to rot where 
they were cut down by the men that he,” her hand thrust back toward Malger, 
“That he, that man, brought finally to justice after so many years destroying 
the innocent.” She dropped forward onto her legs once again and tilted her head 
to one side as she gazed up at the men upon the dais.
“A moving speech, sister Rosewain, that I will bear considering once the more 
immediate tribunal is concluded.”  He intoned levelly with a nod, “If you would 
find someplace to seat yourselves, I would continue where I left off.”
“With pleasure, your grace, but for one last point.”  Sho rumbled.
“That being?”
“The man, the monster, who imprisoned us and forced this change upon us did so 
for one goal.  It was his practice to sell his prisoners, specimens of his 
blasphemous menagerie, to those with a desire for the unique and exotic.”  
Shifting onto her haunches she waved a thick foreleg and thrust her hand-paw 
toward Earl Motense, “That man, there, knew our master well and attended his 
menagerie for that very end.”
Motense surged to his feet, “What lies are these?” he bellowed in fury, spittle 
dotting his lips.  “She speaks blatant lies!  I knew not the nature of that 
freak show!”
“It would hardly have been mysterious, owing to the décor on the wagons.” Sho 
retorted laconically, “And it was the innocent doe Pintathe that caught your 
eye, is that not so, your grace.” The appellation dripped venomous sarcasm as 
the bear growled heavily.  “I am a sister of Eli’s house, masters, and He does 
not suffer those who spread untruth.”
“Enough,” Thathim snapped shortly.  “That may have been the case, but it is not 
at issue.  Whatever dealings were to be had are no longer valid, my good 
sister.  The master of your caravan is dead, and most of his close lackeys, so 
whatever deal he was entering into with Earl Motense are moot.”
“I was not –“ Motense argued again but stuttered to silence under Tathim’s 
withering glare.  Muttering darkly he returned to his ornate seat.  The Duke’s 
witness leaned forward to whisper quietly to him.
“Lothanasa, you were saying?”
Smiling strangely the Lothanasa only shook her head, “I was asked to bear 
witness, and I did.  He slew the men it is claimed that he slew, that is all 
that I witnessed.  I have nothing further to offer, your grace.”
“Sister Rosewain, concerning the events leading to the demise of the man 
Maxamillian and two of his guards, and the maiming of these other two, what have 
you to offer as a witness to these events?”
“It is just as the Lightbringer said, your grace.  This man challenged our 
captors for past crimes.  His men drew steel and he attacked, sending two of 
them and the monster who commanded them to their deserved Hell.” The bear 
offered with a bow of her huge head.
“I thank you.” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts he turned a slow look 
toward his fellow Earl, “Earl Motense, as the witness of greatest rank, I would 
ask you to tell us of your recollection of these events to close the 
inquisition.”
Glowering Earl Motense did not stand as he turned to address Tathim, “It is as I 
said, your grace.” His voice was icy and his utterance of the Earl’s honorific 
dripped venom.  “Without any provocation by the caravan master or his men that 
man drew his weapons and attacked.  Those two,” he jerked his head toward Lessan 
and Boqu, who still stared at the assembled menagerie as a mouse might stare at 
a roomful of cats it found itself in the middle of.  “Were unable to offer even 
token defense and he cut them down, leaving them to die a slow death by loss of 
blood.  The others fought more valiantly but were slain for their efforts.”
“Of the caravan’s hired guards?”
“He ignored them, for the most part.” Motense agreed with earlier testimony only 
grudgingly.  “Inept as they were he need not have expended any effort to evade 
them.”
“Evade, you say, and not engage when they challenged him?”
“Yes, your grace.  He cast them aside like inept charlatans.”
“Even that one, whom it has been said was thrown at the swords of the accused?” 
Tathim waved one hand languidly toward Laroth.
“As already made clear, your grace.” Backed into a corner by Tathim’s questions 
Motense had no recourse but to agree, albeit with ill grace.  He looked as if he 
had unexpectedly bitten a lemon and sought someplace to dispose of it 
discreetly.
“So, would you characterize his assault to have been one of cold blooded murder, 
as you attested?”


      

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