“Yes, thank you.” He stepped forward, approaching the spot where Advocate Leda had stood for most of his speech. Made one more attempt to swallow and alleviate the dryness in his throat. “I was sent to this city by my order,” he started, grimacing at how strained his voice sounded. “I was sent to this city by my order to serve as nestor. That is, to train some of your own people how to serve the souls of the dead and usher them into the Everlands. Upon my arrival, I was beset by a crowd and threatened with death.

  “The next day, Miss Crane visited me to inform me the crowd had dispersed due to her influence. She said there were… uhm, there were orphans she wanted to leave in my care, and I had to allow her to train them how she wanted. See, there’s a schism in my order between priests who still believe in the teachings of Mirao and…”

  He trailed off, shaking his head in hopes of clearing out the fog that surrounded him. “But that doesn’t matter. All you need to know is she threatened my life if I didn’t act as she wanted. To my great shame, I agreed. There were three orphans in total – Ponto, Padme, and Heck – that were in training. Ponto was the first; the others came later.

  “What next? Oh, right, the bakery fire. I don’t know how it came to pass. All I know is I didn’t start it. If there was a barrel of oil used to douse the store, someone else must have done it. When the bells began ringing I was in the temple, teaching the orphans I just mentioned. As I had been from the start of the day.”

  Itan attempted to clear his throat; he could see several of those in the crowd straining to hear him. If he could only make his voice louder, he was sure they’d be able to listen and understand. “The orphans and I joined a group forming at the nearest well. We gathered water in anything we could to douse the fire. In the end, we were able to save the buildings on either side of the bakery, but not the bakery itself.

  “We saw… we saw a man, a little bit after we got in place. He was walking through the bakery. I couldn’t hear him screaming but I knew he had to be. How could you be burning like that and not scream? I don’t remember much of what happened then, only that I tried to help him escape; we both got free of the flames, but unfortunately it was too late for him.”

  He worked at the sleeve of the ragged tunic with his hand, pushing it up to show the burnt skin of his left arm, which he raised so all could see. “I earned this for my efforts. Tell me, if I meant to kill the baker, would I have so injured myself in attempting to save him?”

  “This is not the time for sharing of evidence,” Magistrate Nur chastised.

  “Okay. Apologies. So, what happened next?” Itan paused, taking a moment to regain his bearings. “I found out around that time that Miss Crane was corrupting the orphans, teaching them necromancy behind my back.”

  Those at the front of the crowd leaped to their feet, shouting curses at Itan. He did his best to ignore them, continuing, “When it came time to send them back to the Synod for further training, I couldn’t do it. Necromancers who’ve figured out on their own how to manipulate the souls of the dead are bad enough. But with the training of a full member of the order? There’s no telling what damage they could do.

  “And so, yes. I visited her home and spoke with her. I told her I would find new students and she would not be allowed near them. The next day, her husband showed up and grabbed Ponto, tossing him from the second-floor window. It…” His voice cracked, and he had to look away from all those watching him. “It broke my heart, to think he’d died because of me. I’m glad he’s still alive, even if I disagree with how it was accomplished.”

  When he looked at Magistrate Nur, he could see the other man’s eyes starting to glaze over. Wrap it up, he thought. “I thought Ox was going to kill me next, and so I grabbed the knife Ponto had dropped. And I stabbed him. In self-defense. Only self-defense.”

  The magistrate waited a moment, as if to make sure he was finished. “Thank you,” he said. Itan returned to his seat, unsteady as a one-legged fencer. Standing for the whole speech had made him realize how truly tired he was; he collapsed on top of the stool, wishing he had some cover from the heat.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Advocate Leda called witness after witness from the crowd that had gathered the day Ox had thrown Ponto from the second-floor of the temple; Itan did his best to question them, but it felt perfunctory in light of the coordinated story they shared. The accounts all matched each other neatly – too neatly for Magistrate Nur to find credible, Itan hoped.

  By the time the magistrate called for a recess, Itan’s vision had begun to blur. He sat with his head buried in his hands, his breathing deep as he struggled to stay on the stool.

  “You’re a fascinating man.” Elysa’s voice, brimming with pride. He considered ignoring her, but doubted she would care.

  Instead, he forced himself to look up at her hateful face. “Fascinating? In what way?”

  She smiled serenely. “You could have been granted the mercy of a quick death. I figured you deserved that at least, as a worthy opponent. And yet you have chosen the means of your execution to include embarrassment before the entirety of the city. Do you truly believe you have a chance here?”

  “I don’t know.” An exhausted tone crept into Itan’s voice. “I have to believe there’s justice in the world. Somewhere.”

  Elysa laughed. “Spoken like a child. Did you not notice the difference in our accommodations?”

  “What do you want, Elysa? Why do you darken my vision with your fell presence?”

  “I figured you could use the shade.” Elysa’s grin fell when she saw he didn’t find the joke amusing. “Truly, I wanted you to know what will happen after this trial. The magistrate will sentence you to death by poison. After which, I will place the soul of Goran into your body. He will pen the letters of recommendation you neglected to finish, and our protégés will join the order of Mirao. The followers of Solus have placed all but the final pieces for a rebellion that will result in our taking over the power of Death himself. I wanted you to know that. Your death will be the sacrifice upon which this world is renewed. Take heart in that, if nothing else.”

  Itan’s teeth grated against each other. He glared at the woman, wishing he had a knife in his hand. Even if they would execute him for it, he was willing to die if it meant ridding the world of the likes of her.

  “No need to pout,” Elysa said. “The way things are going, I expect this to be a speedy trial. With any luck, the magistrate will pronounce the sentence before the end of the day.” She shoved his forehead away from her playfully, sauntering off to rejoin the other advocates in the shade.

  He thought of the words spoken by Esme a hundred years prior: Let this farce end the only way it can. Anger sharpened his mind, giving him a renewed sense of purpose.

  The trial reconvened a quarter-hour after, with Heck being called to sit at the magistrate’s right hand as the next witness. Itan’s eyes followed the boy’s every motion – the pompous thrust of his chin as he took a seat in the ebony chair, the subtle smirk directed toward Elysa.

  Itan was surprised to see Elysa rise from her seat rather than the advocates beside her, who had taken the lead with other witnesses. “I will be the first to admit this is not my forte,” she said. “I have little experience with trials, and I take no pleasure in the thought that a man’s fate hangs in the balance of what we discuss today.

  “So, with all of that said, I have but one question for you, Heck: what do you remember of the day Matsu Shino’s bakery burned down?”

  The boy nodded as if he’d expected the question. “It was a normal-enough day at the start. The death priest woke us up to do chores and prepare his breakfast. After that, Padme and I started studying while Ponto did some errands – I think the death priest had given them to him.”

  Heck’s eyes sought out the magistrate. “You have to understand, Ponto was his favorite. He gave him special lessons all the time, even when it meant ignoring the two of us. But anyway, Ponto came back all excited. I remember he was gloating about getting to go play while Padme and I were stuck inside studying, and then he had one of his… attacks.

  “Elysa was there, and she helped heal him. I don’t know if he would’ve survived without her. She really is the kindest, best person I know. She –”

  “Yes, yes,” the magistrate interrupted. “I think your opinion on Co-Advocate Crane is clear, but she’s not the one on trial. What happened next?”

  “The death priest went away, saying he had to do something. And then we heard the bells, and we ran toward them. There was a fire in the bakery that we tried to fight, and we won. You know, I heard what he said about saving that man, and it’s not true – he was just being dumb and got too close to the flames. That’s why his arm’s all messed up like that.”

  Itan’s foot tapped impatiently against the stool; for the first time in the trial, he felt like he might have a chance to score some points in his favor. He was so lost in his thoughts the magistrate had to prompt him several times before he realized Elysa had sat down.

  He schooled his beating heart as he came forward. His hands were shaking, although he wasn’t sure why. “Heck, I was with you and the others when we heard the bells announcing a fire, correct?”

  “Maybe.” His eyes flicked to Elysa, who shook her head. “No, I don’t think you were.”

  Itan would have smiled if he hadn’t been worried about how the magistrate would interpret it. “Okay, so you claim I wasn’t with you when we heard the bells. Where did I come from, then? I’m still somewhat unfamiliar with the streets of this city. What street would I have taken to bypass Kazu’s Row so you could see me get burned? What direction could I have approached from?”

  The boy frowned. “The north, I think. Yeah, you must have come from the north and slipped past the fire.”

  “Okay. And where do you claim I met up with you? Was it at the well?”

  “Yeah, at the well. I remember seeing you there.”

  “So,” Itan said. “Let’s picture the scene. There’s a fire blazing in the bakery. By the time the bells started ringing it was already blocking the street. And according to you, I came in from the north. But instead of joining those who fought the fire from that direction, I ran through it – I would have had to, since unless I’m mistaken there isn’t another street that would have allowed me to meet up with you – and joined you and the other orphans at the well. Why? And more importantly, how did I avoid being burned?”

  Recognition flashed in the boy’s eyes, as if he had figured out how to place the last piece of a puzzle. “Your arm! You were burned! That must have been how!”

  Itan closed his eyes. He felt as if he should have been happy, but instead he simply felt empty. “I showed my burnt arm to the crowd earlier. Do you remember which arm it was?”

  “Yeah. Your left arm.”

  “And which side of Kazu’s row is Mister Shino’s bakery on?”

  “Uhm,” Heck said, hesitating. “The west side, right? Yeah, it’s the west side of Kazu’s Row.”

  “Then can you please explain how my left arm was burned running south past the bakery, when my right side would have been the one facing the fire? If I approached the fire with you and the other orphans – which I did, since I was with you that entire day – then I would have been on the south side, and my left arm would have been most exposed when I approached the baker. Correct?”

  Heck swallowed, fear evident on his face. “Yeah.”

  “And the flames jumped from Mister Shino to me as I pulled him clear, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that was how I really got burned, correct?”

  “I don’t know how you really got burned! I don’t know!” The ebony chair toppled as the boy stood to face Itan. “All I know is you’re going to get what you deserve! You’d best start praying now, ‘cause you’re gonna need all the help you can get. We’re going to bury you!”

  Itan faced the magistrate, noting the displeased look on his face; blessedly, it was directed toward Heck instead of him. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope he might have a chance of proving his innocence.

  “Magistrate,” he said. “Will my other protégés have a chance to give their accounts as well?”

  Magistrate Nur frowned, looking down to a sheaf of papers on the table before him. He scanned the top page, flipping it over to read the back. “No, it would appear not. You should have been provided with an opportunity to provide a list of witnesses that might speak in your favor. Did you neglect to do so?”

  A dark laugh escaped Itan. “Sir, no one approached me to ask about witnesses. Aside from the man who brought me my meals I’ve been alone in my cell for the past… however long it’s been. If it’s not too late, I would like the other orphans – Ponto and Padme – to be brought for questioning as well.”

  “Very well.”

  The magistrate looked over at Advocate Leda. “I believe you have one more witness to call in the meantime?”

  “Yes, we do.” Advocate Leda glanced toward the arena entrance. “Can Ximena Ita please come forward?”

  Itan returned to his stool as a woman approached the seat at the side of the magistrate’s table. Her hard gaze focused on him, a look that betrayed nothing but cold hatred.

  Advocate Leda cleared his throat as she settled in. “Miss Ita, you were on the street below the mortuary temple on the day Ox Ughra was murdered, correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I was.”

  “What do you recall occurring in the moments before the orphan child was thrown from the second-floor?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she thought. “I was walking along, minding my own business. All the sudden I heard a shout, a deep man’s voice. He said ‘Stop! Don’t do it!’ And then there was some kind of struggling. The boy’s body landed on the street – immortals, I can still hear the snap of his neck. He was staring up at me some kind of unnatural way, like his body knew it was about to die but his soul hadn’t caught up yet. And then…” she trailed off as Advocate Leda raised a hand.

  “Before we go on, can you clarify something for me?” he asked. “Presumably you’ve heard the voice of the death priest throughout this trial, correct?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Do you believe he was the one shouting?”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, sir. As I said, the voice was deep. Distinctively so. There’s no way it belonged to him.”

  Advocate Leda cracked an ethereal smile Itan doubted anyone else noticed. “So someone – who was not the death priest – shouted at someone else inside the temple: ‘Stop! Don’t do it!’ Do you know if there was anyone else inside the temple at the time?”

  “No. That is, I know there wasn’t.”

  “Very good. And what else did you see?”

  The woman shrugged. “Just what everyone else said this morning. Elysa ran up from another street and managed to save the boy from dying. The death priest showed up a short time later at the temple doors by himself. I didn’t realize what had happened to Miss Elysa’s husband until… until…” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked over to Elysa.

  “I think that’s everything,” Advocate Leda said.

  A runner approached the magistrate, whispering into his ear as Itan rose from his stool. The heat of the day had worn him down, turning his mind to jelly. He felt as if there had to be something to say – some way to prove all of the lies for those watching – but he came up empty.

  The runner stepped away from the magistrate, who addressed Itan in a voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. “The girl, Padme, has not been found. It seems she may have left the city. We have found the boy, and he’s agreed to testify on your behalf.”

  A sigh of relief escaped Itan. A single orphan’s testimony might not be enough, but it was a shred of hope to hold onto. The anticipation filled him with fire, like an antidote to the poison of fatigue that had been clouding his mind.

  “Thank you, Magistrate,” he said. To Ximena, “You said you were on the street when Ponto was thrown from the window, right?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Why were you there? On that particular street?”

  “I was on my way to see someone.”

  He paused, considering the next few questions carefully. Knowing as little as he did, it was difficult to know what might bring the truth to light. “You look fairly well-off, if you don’t mind my saying. Where do you live?”

  “The Emerald District.”

  “Isn’t that near the keep?”

  Ximena rolled her eyes at his ignorance. “Yes, immediately past the moat on the west side.”

  “Hmm.” Itan blinked, and it took more might than he expected to force his eyes open again. “Whose home were you visiting that would have taken you all the way from the Emerald District to the mortuary temple? It’s almost on the complete opposite side of the city, isn’t it?”

  He’d hoped the question would trip her up – the same way his similar line of questioning had caught Heck – but the woman didn’t seem shaken. She leaned forward in her chair. “If you must know, I was seeking out Elysa herself. My child was sick, and I had need of her services to ensure he would make it through the day.”

  Itan cursed himself. He placed a hand on the stool at his side, using it to support himself. After several seconds, he decided it was best to admit defeat. “I have nothing else to ask.” He settled onto the stool, head in his hands as he waited for the next witness.

  Ponto arrived, flanked by two city guardsmen bearing poleaxes. They walked with him all the way to the magistrate’s table, standing aside as the last advocate on Elysa’s side prepared himself. The advocate was tall and slender, with a close-cut beard that bespoke a decadent lifestyle.

  “Advocate Falan,” the magistrate said. “Will you be questioning the witness?”

  The slender man nodded. “Yes, I will.”

  “I must admit, I’m surprised to see you and Advocate Leda in the same pit. Glad, but surprised.”