On the opposite side of the room, the stone floor had been marked with two intricate circles, painted with a brush made from three braided hairs from a minotaur's tail. Each maze-circle was perhaps two paces wide, and inside each stood a woman with a proud, narrow face and long red hair. One woman had pulled her hair back with a gold cord and dusted her lips and eyelids with powdered ruby and was dressed in a silver-gray gown dotted with tiny flecks of black that whorled across its surface like shifting smoke. The other wore her hair loose over her shoulders and was dressed in gray tights, a loose gray shirt, and thigh-high boots that were scuffed at the heel and knee.
Though the two women had chosen dramatically different clothes in which to appear before the court-one looking as though she were ready for a celebration at Lord Karsus's tower, the other as if she were about to set out on an adventure-their faces were as identical as those of twins. Even their expressions were the same. Each stood rigidly, glaring haughtily out at the other through the shimmering circle of latent magic that would cause her to become lost inside the maze-circle were she to try to cross it, either bodily or with magic. The two women even expressed their tension in the same way: a narrowing of her pale green eyes and the occasional restless drumming of the fingers of her right hand against her thigh.
One of the women, according to the testimony, was a shadow double-but so cunning was the magic that had brought it into being that it was impossible to tell which was the arcanist and which the magical construct. High Justice Wentar had already tried all of the standard tests, but none had shed any light on the question. Each of the women had a heavy aura of magical dweomer surrounding her-but it was well known that Blamira, like most arcanists, had prolonged her life span using powerful magic. Wentar had exhausted himself trying to determine precisely which spells had created this aura, and he failed. Blamira's magic was too powerful.
He had next ordered the women stripped of all clothing and possessions and had analyzed each of these objects for any traces of nonfunctionality. Had they been created at the same time as the double, as part of Blamira's spell, that magic should have been unable to fully sustain them, once they were no longer in contact with the double. But all of the objects proved to be completely devoid of dweomer-mundane items acquired by the shadow double after its creation.
In his final test, Wentar had teleported one of the women briefly to another plane, in the hope that the other would dissipate-something that normally happened when the magical bind between alchemist and construct was severed by such a distance. Like the other tests, it hadn't worked.
Staring at the women now, Andoris noted that each of them moved independently of the other and appeared to be fully in control of her own actions. There were none of the usual signs of a shadow double being commanded by its creator: no hesitancy of speech, no mirroring of movement.
The magic that was sustaining the shadow double was durable. Wentar had already spent the better part of a day hearing testimony, and the shadow double had not faded in the slightest. Its creator appeared to have cast a permanency spell upon it.
Prom Andoris's bedchamber-where the homunculus was safely locked away-came a nervous, worried voice.
We don't like this case, it said, wringing its hands. It reminds us of The similarities are superficial, Andoris told it. Be quiet.
He stared expressionlessly at the arcanist who was giving testimony. Algar Ptack, a man with a high forehead and thinning blond hair that hung to his shoulders, was pacing back and forth in front of the chairs in which the two judges sat. He wore an alchemist's leather apron over his trousers and a loose white shirt. The cuffs of his sleeves were dusted with yellow, and the smell of burned sulfur clung to his clothes, suggesting he'd come straight from his laboratory to give testimony. His eyes were enormous behind clear glass lenses that floated just in front of his face. As he gave his testimony, he peered nervously at the two women held inside the magic circles.
Every now and then he glanced to the judges, as if for encouragement, but failed to find it in Wentar's blank mask or Andoris's emotionless expression. The mantle Ptack had been ordered to wear while giving testimony- a cape of fine-spun gold-billowed out behind him as he paced, humming like the strings of a melodious harp with each word he spoke.
"You know I can't lie-not with this thing on," Ptack groused. "I'm telling you the truth. Shiris Blamira is the thief. I'd engaged her as a consultant for my, ah… my latest research. I needed her expertise on magic that reaches into other planes and demiplanes. She guessed what my research notes contained and figured out how I'd… where I'd hidden them." He grimaced. "To think I trusted her! I'll never work with another wizard again- especially one from the Shadow Consortium."
From the walls above came a rustle of subdued voices as Ptack's words spiraled up the ivory inlay. The crowd of spectators had been growing throughout the day, as whispers spread that a disciple of Shadow was on trial for stealing state secrets.
Into Andoris's head came a malicious giggle: Shadow had better tread carefully! If his disciple is found guilty, Karsus may withdraw his favor.
Andoris ignored the homunculus's tittering. "This is a j serious matter," he cautioned Ptack. "You're accusing a fellow arcanist-a member of the Shadow Consortium- of a capital offence, and yet you have provided no proof, other than your own testimony, that magical research was stolen from you late yesterday afternoon, or that it was Shiris Blamira who committed the theft."
Ptack's eyes gleamed behind the floating lenses of his spectacles. "There was a witness," he said. "One of my servants. It saw the whole thing-but High Justice Wentar refused to hear its testimony."
Wentar, who had been listening quietly, sat up sharply. His blank white mask hid his expression, but the tone of his voice gave away his irritation.
"He wanted to summon an elemental!" Wentar protested. "It's too dangerous. This court doesn't have the proper magical containment to-"
Andoris motioned his fellow judge to silence and said, "If there is a witness, its testimony must be heard."
"If Ptack loses control of it, the elemental could kill us all!" Wentar sputtered.
Back in Andoris's bedchamber, the homunculus rocked back and forth nervously, chewing one of its finger talons.
What if it does get free? What if it kills someone? We could be blamed. Are we sure we want to risk "This court will hear the testimony," Andoris announced.
Above him, the crowd began to thin as the spectators looked at one another, shook then* heads, and teleported away.
Andoris turned to Ptack and said, "Summon your witness."
Nodding, Ptack reached into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a lump of wet clay. Dropping to his knees, he used it to smear thick gray lines on the floor. When he was done, he rubbed the remainder of the clay on his palms, then stepped back and curled his hands over the patterns on the floor, making digging motions as he chanted.
After a moment, the stone at his feet began to bulge. A moment more, and the bulges took on the shape of a face. Eyes slowly turned in Ptack's direction with a sound like boulders being dragged across hard ground, and a crack formed and ruptured into a mouth, emitting a dank, earthen smell. The floor trembled underfoot as the lips slowly began to move.
When the words at last came they were as heavy and slow as a grindstone. "Maaasterrr."
A ripple of relief came from the walls as those spectators who had been brave enough to remain realized the elemental had indeed successfully been held in thrall. Some of them teleported out to spread the news, and the hall gradually began to fill again. An excited buzz of voices grew as they realized what they were seeing.