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Ibidio spat a torf into the sand of the pit and the Copper heard griff rattle.
“Err… the one in the middle, I think. The light wasn’t good.”
“The light wasn’t good,” NoSohoth repeated.
The next witness was an aged bat the Copper didn’t recognise, beyond his size and toothiness, thanks to being fed dragon blood.
NoSohoth’s questioning was brief. He spoke to the bat in a loud, stern voice and the bat crumbled.
“What would you be likin’ me to say, sir?” the bat cried.
“I think we’ve heard enough from him. Take the poor old sot away, he’s confused.”
Some of Ibidio’s allies hissed and clattered their griff at that.
“What does the Lavadome believe?” NoSohoth asked the assembled dragons. “Who will call Nilrasha a murderer?”
“Murderer!” Ibidio roared. A few other voices joined in, some loudly, some with half a voice. The number of voices grew.
NoSohoth looked at the Copper, alarmed.
Wistala muttered something about this process being subject to manipulation. The Copper thought it an immense improvement over the Tyr just passing judgement based on whether he liked the look on the accused’s face and the lay of his scale or no, but Nilrasha’s honorable name, and possibly his Tyrship, lay in the balance…
“Innocent!” shouted Wistala, which wasn’t according to tradition of trial by questioning.
“Innocent!” she roared again, also not according to tradition—if practice of such recent vintage could be called tradition—but the Firemaids joined in.
“Innocent! Innocent!”
Some of the poorer dragons from Nilrasha’s home hill took up the call. NoSohoth joined in. Soon, the shouts of “Murderer!” dwindled and fell off.
“Thank you, Wistala,” the Copper said.
“She blames herself, you know,” Wistala replied.
“For Halaflora’s death?”
“She told me she tried, but she was too late. I believe her.”
The Copper had long wondered about exactly what had happened that night. Sometimes he’d doubted Nilrasha’s version—privately, that is.
He couldn’t find words. Someday soon he’d have to ask Nilrasha to forgive his doubting her.
“Poor Halaflora,” the Copper finally said. “Well, my Queen-Consort, if you must chase the ghosts of the past, I give you leave. I hope DharSii finds what he’s looking for.”
Chapter 14
Wistala had forgotten how close the cave of their birth was to the gap in the Red Mountains that admitted the Falngese River. No wonder Father had had trouble with men and dwarfs. While the mountains themselves weren’t settled, trade routes at both the north-south and east-west routes passed nearby.
DharSii had heard the story of the attack on the egg cave and the murder of her parents with cool distaste. He’d undoubtedly heard other such stories about dragons hunted right to the egg shelf, but she’d hoped for a stronger reaction. Of course, he’d been withdrawn since the suggestion of mating in the twinkling depths of the Lavadome.
The cave smelled as though some bears had taken up residence in the upper chamber, but at this time of year they were out getting fat on berries, honeycombs, and fish. Which was just as well; she didn’t care to fight bears, as they contented themselves with their own needs and left even the smallest hatch-lings alone. Only bats bothered to venture deeper. The smell of their excretions felt like a welcome.
The cave moss still glowed green, and the bats were, if anything, more numerous. She’d forgotten how small natural bats were. The oversized dragon-blood-sucking monstrosities of the Lavadome needed a different name.
Luckily, scavengers—both hominid and on four legs—had long since cleared away the last scrap of bone and scale.
“What are we looking for?” Wistala asked.
