Page 100 of Turncloak

Judge Nercan smoothed down the front of his robe. “A positive facial identification, despite the invisibility elixir?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Nissa said easily, so easily. “By the time dawn came and we’d infiltrated the captain’s office, it was wearing off. Just as Levan Celadon was about to leap from the windowsill, his face flickered into view. I’d know it anywhere.”

She might as well have dropped a blackpowder bomb on the hearing. Detectives and high-ranking officials erupted into chatter in the pews.

Nissa had lied under oath. Perjured herself.

Of course, she hadn’t told Auria she planned to do it—not only would Auria have tried to talk her out of it, but Nissa would also have made her ethically complicit in the lie, despite her privilege. Nissa had been trying to protect her.

And now Auria faced yet another moral dilemma.

Should she approach the bench? Tell the judge, in a low, troubled voice, that she knew her client was lying? Which was worse to violate: attorney-client privilege, or duty of candor?

Lawyers could not allow false evidence or testimony to stand uncorrected. Yet rather than going straight to the judge, they were usually obligated to try to take remedial measures first. To convince their client to rectify the lie, or recuse themselves from the case entirely.

But Nissa had never been persuaded to do anything against her will, and a correction now would reveal her perjury—and for that, she would almost certainly be tried as a criminal, not just as a breacher of administrative codes.

How could Auria recuse herself? That would essentially confirm to the judge and the court that she knew Nissa was lying and did not want to associate herself with it. The whole hearing would be cast into a new light. Auria would be tarnished with the same brush, all her airtight evidence called into question. She could lose everything.

For several long moments, as the courtroom descended into chaos, she stood frozen.

Judge Nercan cleared his throat, waving his hands irritably. “The implication of Levan Celadon in this case is certainly a significant one, but it is also a matter for another court. We are here to discuss the acts of detectives Naszi and Marriosan, and I would like to reach a decision today. Marriosan, continue, if you please.”

And then Auria was continuing, leaving Nissa’s lie unchecked, nausea rolling through her. “I have never denied my actions, but I hope this recording of the altercation provides ample context. I was willing to die for that letter. It still wasn’t enough. Everything I did, I did to save a colleague. Nissa Naszi too risked her life to protect mine—if she hadn’t walked in when she did, I would be dead.

“We aided a Bloodmoon in stealing a personal letter. As ever, I am willing to live and die by the law that forbids such a thing. I only ask that in considering our punishments, you consider our fear, our desire to do the right thing no matter the personal cost. Before we close, I’d like to bring forth a character statement for each of us. Detective Tenébo Jebat will offer mine, and Detective Harou Qubayan will offer Naszi’s.”

Jebat and Qubayan took to the stand and talked at great length about the defendants’ characters—Auria’s love of the law, her meticulousness, her unwavering faith in the institutions that uphold Vallish civilization, and Nissa’s courage, her fortitude, her desire to do good in all its forms.

Auria barely heard either statement over the roar in her ears.

Nissa had perjured herself. Auria had let her.

Twice in seven days she had broken laws—both times because of the dragonesque Wielder standing behind her. The self-loathing ossified into anger, into rage. All Auria had ever wanted was to live in service of the law, but her colleagues, both former and current, were making it borderline impossible. First Saffron, now Nissa, trampling all over Auria’s respect for the rules. Forcing her into corners she could only escape by playing low and dirty.

Only when the judge cleared his throat did she realize Qubayan had finished his testimony and left the stand, leaving the courtroom hanging silent.

“Thank you, Detectives,” Auria said roughly, her voice distant. “Your Honor, I am ready to move on to closing state—”

But Nissa was on her feet in the front row pew, and the judge was looking questioningly at her. For the briefest of moments, Auria hoped she’d had a change of heart, that she planned to confess her own false evidence and free Auria of the ethical obligation.

“I would like to offer a character statement for Detective Marriosan.”

What?

Nercan nodded. “Very well. You may retake the stand.”

As Nissa glided to the bench in her blood-orange cloak, Auria’s stomach somersaulted.

When Nissa spoke, her tone was ardent, alive. “Auria Marriosan is one of the most infuriating mages I have ever had the misfortune of knowing. Everyone in the Academy knew we were forever locking horns—precisely because of her turgid moral code, her unwillingness to brush up against a rule, let alone dance over it. Two weeks ago, I asked her whether she would rather do what is right or what is lawful. She said ‘what is lawful’ with her whole chest. I told her to fuck herself, or similar, and I stand by it. She would have died to protect that letter, not because of its contents, not because it was right, but because it was fucking lawful.”

The judge bristled. “Detective Naszi, your language, please—”

“I have to admire that level of conviction,” Nissa went on, as though Nercan had not spoken. “That unwavering faith in your own belief system, in the laws that govern our world. She only faltered when it was my life on the line, and I cannot even fathom the agony of the mental calculations she had to perform to make the choice she did. It was possibly the first rule she’d ever broken, and it has been eating her up ever since. She could have let me die in the name of her moral code, but she saw the pain and fear in my eyes and she chose what was right.

“That’s the most important thing you need to know about Auria Marriosan—she may sometimes hesitate between right and lawful when the two do not necessarily overlap, but she will never entertain the idea of wrong. So while I find the mage before me preachy and judgmental, sanctimonious and supercilious and smug, inflexible and infuriating and quite frankly dull, there is no denying that she is good. That is all.”

Detective Jebat looked between Nissa and Auria and then, for no clear reason, burst out laughing. “Seconded.”