Isles of the Forsaken (9 page)

“What’s this?” Harg asked the marine at his side.

“Shut up,” the soldier explained.

The villagers had just noticed him, and turned to stare curiously at his filthy, bruised condition. It was so bitterly far from the homecoming Harg had dreamed
of that it triggered a familiar mental switch. It wasn’t himself the Innings were degrading; it was Captain Harg, and through him all Adainas who dared to rise above their stations. The thought gave him a burn of indignation that made it possible to seem defiant while his insides were withering with humiliation.

When the marine guard led Harg to a stool in the front of the assemblage, it dawned on him that perhaps he was going to be court-martialled—an unlikely thought, since he wasn’t even in the navy any more. When Harg was seated, the Inning rose to address the crowd of Yorans. “We have brought you here today to witness a demonstration of Inning justice,” he said. “We hope you will find it instructive. The purpose of this trial is to determine the guilt or innocence of this man—” he glanced down at a paper in his hand “—Harg Ismol, and to decide upon the penalties he should face. I am Justice Nathaway Talley, and my role here is—”

He embarked on a little speech about the role of a Justice of the Peace in trials where no attorneys had been retained. Harg heard it only vaguely. He was too busy wondering about the name, and whether there could be a connection. He knew for a fact that not all Innings were named Talley—very few of them, in fact. It was possible, he decided as he studied the young man. That blond hair and skinny build . . . if you took Corbin and ran the clock back fifteen or twenty years, then replaced his look of arctic control with one of bewildered self-consciousness, they could be brothers.

Harg’s attention returned when Justice Talley asked the captain to read the charges. The Torna stood, resplendent in his uniform, and read from a paper.

“The charges are as follows, to wit: that you did disobey the lawful order of an officer in the pursuance of his duty; that you did commit assault upon an officer of the law, causing grievous bodily harm; that you did use a deadly weapon in the commission of said assault; that you did resist arrest; that you did commit theft upon the person of an Inning officer. The penalties for which, if all found true, shall be sale into slavery for a period of fifteen years, or loss of a limb.” He looked up. “How do you plead?”

Harg was still trying to absorb the depth of the trouble he was in. And all from a brawl on the beach.

“You have to say whether you’re guilty or not,” Nathaway prompted.

“Not of
those
charges!” Harg declared. “I didn’t disobey an order because he didn’t give one; I didn’t cause him grievous bodily harm; I tried to use the weapon to stop the assault, not to commit it; and as for theft—where the rotting hell did you get that idea?”

The guard behind him struck him on the ear. “Respect your betters, brown boy,” he said.

The Inning rose to his feet in dismay. “You can’t hit the defendant,” he said. “Nobody hits anyone else in court, all right? And no one uses curses or racial slurs. You’ve all got to respect the venue, or this won’t work. Just try to pretend you don’t all hate each other till we’re out of here.” He turned to Harg. “You’ll have a chance to answer the charges. We’ve got to get through some preliminaries first.”

The first preliminary was selection of a jury. Justice Talley gave a speech extolling the practice of trial by jury, the crowning glory of Inning jurisprudence. “The jury system gives you the power to decide for yourselves about what constitutes justice,” he told them. “We don’t want to impose our ideas on you. We want to give you the tools to enact your own ideas.”

Harg wondered what the man thought he was doing at the moment, if not imposing Inning ideas. But Nathaway seemed unaware of the contradiction.

When the Inning called for someone to step forward to be empanelled, the Yorans all turned expectantly to the spot where the elders were gathered. Stiffly, Father Argen rose to his feet and came forward to face the Justice. It was astonishing how little he had changed in seven years: hair white as seafoam, face like weathered driftwood. And he looked as cantankerous as ever. The older the ginger the sharper the bite, Harg thought. He and Argen had never gotten along.

The Inning asked, “Do you know the defendant?”

“Oh, I know him all right, and I can tell you truly, he’s been a problem since the day he was born. He was a kmora child, you know.”

Harg winced, thinking that now the whole story was going to get paraded out.

“I beg your pardon?” the Inning said.

“A kmora child. In our custom, when a couple can’t conceive, they follow our ancient way and go to a dhotamar. If the Grey Man consents to become bandhota to them both, then it is like a three-way bond, and the dhotamar is a vessel or conduit in the creation of the child. Then it is like the child has three parents. The only risk is that the babe might be born Lashnura. But this one wasn’t.”

He turned to survey Harg, who was trying stoically to pretend he wasn’t there. “Five years later his natural parents both died in the same boating accident, and there was no one to take him in. It was then the trouble started. We tried to do our best, the powers know, but it was like trying to tame a raccoon; he just ran wild, and no one could do anything with him.”

“This is fascinating, but not really relevant,” the Justice said.

Irritated at the interruption, Argen said, “I’m getting to that part. It nearly broke Goth’s heart, you see, since he felt responsible, having given of himself to create the child. But the only cure in his power was dhota, and that the boy would never consent to. So when Harg’s heart turned so black and he lured Jory away to the war and all, why it nearly killed Goth. He brooded and wasted away for months. If he hadn’t made that girl to solace him, he wouldn’t be alive today.”

“Thank you, I think you can step down now,” Nathaway said to stop this recital.

“I’m just trying to tell you, the boy is bad, and whatever they say he did, he probably did it all right, and more to boot. And if Goth doesn’t come back, that’s probably his fault as well.”

“Thank you, that will be all. Please return to your seat.”

“I was to sit on the jury,” Argen reminded him.

“I’m sorry, but we are looking for people who are impartial.”

“I was there when it all happened,” Argen said with defensive pride. “I’m more partial than anyone here.”

“That’s the problem, you see,” Nathaway explained. “We need people who haven’t formed an opinion.”

“Well, you won’t find anyone on Yora who doesn’t have an opinion about
him
.”

It took several more minutes to get Argen to vacate his spot. Then Strobe the shipwright stood up. He was a stocky, powerfully built man with close-cropped grey hair. His immense chest and square shoulders belied the fact that he was gentle as a kitten.

“Do
you
know the defendant?” the Inning asked.

“Yes, and I’d like to say something. Argen is a wise man and has his opinions, but there is another side to the story. Goth bears a lot of responsibility. After all, it
was
his kmora-child, but he would never take the boy in, never care for him, so instead Harg grew up in half a dozen foster homes, traded from place to place whenever he became inconvenient. Just a little human kindness from Goth is all it would have taken. A lot of people thought they hated each other, but that wasn’t true. It was only because Harg and Goth loved each other so much that they were so good at hurting each other. And the most hurtful thing Harg could do, in the end, was to go away.”

He turned then to address the Yorans. “But you know, I think it was like Goth’s conscience left when Harg did. Harg was the only one who demanded more from the Grey Man, and wouldn’t forgive him for everything. It was living up to Harg’s expectations that drove Goth’s life for a long time. Then when Harg left, Goth just gave up. You all know it; there are things that we all wish hadn’t happened, and they happened because Harg
wasn’t
here, not because he was. It was like Goth felt there was no point any more, so he might as well see what he could get away with.”

Everyone was silent, shamed by the honesty of this testimony. No one ever said such things in public; but in a way, having strangers here made it possible.

The Inning cleared his throat. “Thank you, I think you may step down.” He rustled some papers in front of him, then changed tactics. “Let me ask this. Is there anyone here who
doesn’t
know the defendant?”

Harg scanned the group, hoping there was someone on Yora who was still neutral about him, but not a single hand went up. They all had formed opinions about who he was, or had been seven years ago.

“Well,” said Justice Talley, a little perturbed by this turn of events, “there are provisions in the law for everything. In the rare case that an impartial jury cannot be found, the trial may be conducted by a judge. Would that be acceptable to the defendant?”

It took Harg several seconds to realize he was actually being asked. “It’s your show, not mine,” he said.

“Please answer yes or no. You have rights, you know.”

“Yes. Go ahead. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” The Inning was clearly a little rattled by now. Harg would have enjoyed his discomfort more if the situation hadn’t seemed likely to result in some actual consequences for him.

Justice Talley called for some witnesses. When Mother Tish the herbwoman stood up, he asked her if she had seen the incident; she acknowledged that she had not. “But I can still witness,” she said stoutly. “I have something to say about Jory.”

“Look, everyone,” Justice Talley said. “We’re trying him on the charges. We’re not trying him for being born, or for leaving Yora, or any of the other things he’s been accused of. The question is only, did he assault a marine guard?”

Finally they began to understand. Gill stood up, and under some patient prompting from the Inning, managed to give a cogent account of what had happened. He finished, “Jory’s still having fits, and it’s because of what that soldier did to him. If anyone should be tried, it’s him.”

Bonn then testified, giving much the same story; then Overseer Crustup gave his version, and the marine guard his. At last it came Harg’s turn to speak. He rose to begin, but the Inning interrupted, “Please identify yourself to the court first.”

“You don’t know who I am?” Harg said.

“Just do as you’re told.”

“I’m Captain Harg Ismol, Native Navy.”

“That’s a lie,” the captain of the ship spoke up suddenly. He leaned forward, as if this were the moment he had been waiting for. “There are no Adaina captains in the navy.” He fairly radiated contempt.

“There aren’t now,” Harg said. “I’ve resigned.”

“You realize we can add a charge of impersonating an officer.”

“It’s no impersonation. I’ve got the commission, the discharge papers, the insignia. Or I had, until you threw me in the brig.”

“These insignia?” the captain said, holding up the wooden box Corbin Talley had given Harg. It had been sitting on the table in front of him. “How did you get these?”

“I earned them,” Harg said. “Fighting in the war.”
And I could have been your superior officer, you racist pig
, he wanted to say; but there was no point.

The captain looked smug. “You’re too ignorant to even know that this is an Inning Navy epaulette, not a Native Navy one. Only an Inning could have owned these. How did you get them?”

So this was the origin of the accusation of theft. Harg should have known to leave those insignia sitting on the table in Admiral Talley’s office. They were so far above his station, they would only bring him trouble. After seven years of beating the Tornas at their game, he was still no more to them than a brown boy.

“You wouldn’t believe the truth if I told it,” Harg said.

Nathaway Talley spoke up. “You have to tell the truth.”

“Well then, they were given to me by Admiral Corbin Talley himself.”

“Ha!” the Torna captain said, as if he had caught Harg in a transparent lie. He turned to Nathaway. “Is this true?”

“How the blazes should I know?” said Nathaway.

Watching Nathaway closely, Harg said, “He gave them to me on the night in Fluminos when there was a fireworks display in the harbour. The Chief Justice had sent a carriage to fetch him to a reception, but he made it wait till he had finished his business with me.”

Nathaway looked arrested by this account. Seriously, he turned to the captain. “He could be telling the truth. I remember the night he means.”

The captain looked unconvinced. Nathaway went on, “But regardless, if there is no one complaining of a theft, we can’t try him for it. There has to be a victim, or proof a crime has been committed. We can’t try him for what he might have done, or thought of doing, or anything but what we can prove. And the only objective fact in evidence is one bloody nose, for which he appears to have been amply penalized.”

“We can’t just dismiss the charge,” the captain said, fingering the box. “He needs to forfeit these to someone in authority.”

Nathaway appeared not to catch on, but Harg did. “Keep them, they’re yours,” he said to the captain. “All right?”

The captain gave an imperceptible nod. After a beat Nathaway realized that a bribe had just changed hands, and seemed about to object. Harg turned to him fiercely. “Don’t cause me more grief. They’re no good to me. They’ll only bring me trouble.” Like all the rest of my navy career, he thought bitterly.

Visibly grappling with his principles, Nathaway said, “If everyone is content, then . . .” He looked around for any objections, then stood. “The charge of theft is dismissed. As for the other charges, I sentence you to one month of probation, plus three days of community service working on the new dock, to be served within the next two weeks. This court is now adjourned.”

Everyone started milling around, waiting for the boats to take them all back on shore. Feeling some urgency to get away before anyone changed their mind, Harg found Strobe, who always brought his own boat. “Can I go back with you?” he said. Strobe nodded.