“Lew, I—” the captain cut off as Kylar disappeared.
One by one the guards realized Kylar had vanished. There was dead silence for a moment. Then it was broken by the clang of manacles hitting the stone floor.
“Where the hell—”
“Sir! He’s gone!”
“Block the door! Block the—”
The cell door slammed closed with all the guards inside. The lock clicked.
Kylar reappeared outside. Grinning, he waved the captain’s keys at them.
“That didn’t just happen,” one of them said. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.” Another cursed under his breath. The rest still looked like they couldn’t believe it.
“Captain,” Kylar said, “will you please ask Lew not to strike me?”
The captain wet his lips. “Lew?”
“Yes, sir. Right, sir.” Lew met Kylar’s gaze and quickly looked away.
Kylar opened the cell door and the men shuffled out sheepishly.
“Should I, uh?” Lew asked, holding up the broken manacles.
The captain swallowed. “Uh, if you don’t mind, Master …um, Kagé?”
Kylar put his wrists together. They put the manacles on him and walked out of the dungeons. No one said a word. No one laid a hand on him, either.
52
The courtroom was a large, rectangular hall that could hold hundreds of people. It was overflowing, and the doors had been thrown open so more people could stand at the back and watch. At the raised table at one end of the room, Logan Gyre and Duke Wesseros sat side by side. There were supposed to be three judges, but Logan hadn’t wanted to impose the duty on the last surviving duke, Luc Graesin.
Facing the table was a small desk and chair inside an iron cage. The captain led Kylar to the cage and removed his manacles. The crowd watched, silently but with great anticipation, as though the wetboy was a monster on display who might gnaw the bars. Kylar stepped into the cage silently, glancing briefly at the gallery. Logan wondered if he was looking for friends. He wondered how many Kylar found.
The front two rows were made up of nobles. Lantano Garuwashi, silent but obviously wondering what Kylar was trying to accomplish, sat near Count Drake, whose jaw was set and eyes were grieved. Logan wondered how much Count Drake had known about his ward. Drake had been a model of integrity for as long as Logan had known him, and a Gyre banner man besides. The Stern family was in the second row, looking furious. The testimony had already established that they’d never known or seen Kylar, but they still felt their honor impugned. Aside from the usual nobles, there was a vast array of Cenarian humanity. The cream of the Warrens was here, men and women in fine clothes yet without titles. Logan wondered if all of those were Sa’kagé. He wondered how many were glad Kylar was here, and how many were grieved, or terrified for themselves that he might speak. Then there were a smattering of those drawn simply by the spectacle: a few Ladeshians, some Alitaeran merchants, and even a Ymmuri.
To Logan’s right hand sat the witnesses. There were eighteen guards, as well as the grasping woman who’d sat next to Kylar at the coronation. Kylar sat.
“State your name for this tribunal,” Duke Wesseros said.
“Kylar Stern.”
“Sit down, Baron Stern!” Duke Wesseros barked as the unhappy nobleman jumped to his feet. The nobleman scowled and sat. “This court has accepted testimony from nobles who said you saved them during the Khalidoran coup. They called you the Night Angel. We have heard, sometimes despite our best attempts, about how you saved King Gyre from the Hole. We have heard you called Kagé, the Shadow. We even heard one man who claimed your name was Azoth. But one certainty we’ve established is that you are not, nor ever were, a Stern. What is your real name?”
Kylar looked amused. “I am the Night Angel, but if you’d choke on that, you can call me Kagé.”
Duke Wesseros looked over to Logan. Logan had asked him to lead the proceedings. Logan nodded. “Kagé,” Duke Wesseros said, “you stand accused of high treason and murder. How do you answer these charges?”
“Of murder, guilty. Of treason, not guilty. Terah Graesin was not a lawful queen. By marriage and adoption, Logan Gyre has been king since the death of King Aleine Gunder IX.”
The courtroom erupted in whispers until Duke Wesseros raised his hands. He had threatened to clear the courtroom several times during the last week of testimony, and the crowd quieted quickly. “It is not your place to lecture your betters on Cenarian law.”
“Then you tell me, Your Grace, was or was not Duke Gyre formally made King Gunder’s heir and was or was not he married to Jenine Gunder, and did or did not that confer on him the right of succession?”
Duke Wesseros purpled, but said nothing. If he agreed, he would concede that Terah should never have been made queen and that he should have never sworn fealty to her. If he explained his decision was based on practicalities, he would sound like a weasel or a coward.
“I wouldn’t have killed Terah Graesin if my betters had followed the law rather than their cocks and their coin purses,” Kylar said.
This time, the whispers were forestalled by Logan’s raised hand. He wore a thin gold band around his brow, but otherwise little to denote his kingship. “There is some truth in what you say. On the eve of Pavvil’s Grove, some of us made regrettable compromises. In the end, however, Cenaria’s nobility delivered into Duchess Graesin’s hands the scepter and the sword, and we placed the crown upon her brow. It is not the prerogative of a commoner to shed blood to correct what he sees as the nobility’s errors. Therefore, Kagé, you stand convicted of murder and treason.”
A hush fell.
“This tribunal has further questions, which we ask you to answer for both your own sake and Cenaria’s. If you answer fully and forthrightly, you will be granted a merciful death. If not, you will be bound to the wheel.” Logan held his face impassive, but his stomach turned. The wheel was a cruel death, as bad as Alitaeran cruxing or Modaini drawing and quartering. It was the established punishment for treason. Only treasonous nobles were beheaded, and it had been established that Kylar was no noble. A merciful death for testimony was the most Logan could do for his friend.
“I will answer all I can without compromising my honor,” Kylar said.
“Are you a member of the Sa’kagé?” Logan asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you an assassin?”
Kylar sneered. “Assassins have targets. Wetboys have deaders. I was a wetboy.”
There was a sudden electricity in the room, like thunderheads were rolling by. The crowd had become an audience, and they were pleased with the show. They were getting a chance to peek behind the veil at the Sa’kagé, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“‘Was’?” Duke Wesseros interjected.
“I split with the Sa’kagé during the coup. I don’t kill for money now.”
“So you claim no one ordered you to kill the queen?” Logan asked.
“The Night Angel is the spirit of retribution. No one orders me to do anything, Your Highness, not even you.” A thrill ran through the crowd at the show of defiance.
“Strike him,” Duke Wesseros said.
One of the guards stepped up to the cage but hesitated.
“Strike him!” Duke Wesseros demanded.
The man hit Kylar across the jaw, not hard. Logan could swear the man looked scared.
“Who hired you to kill Terah Graesin?” Logan asked.
“I planned and carried it out alone.”
“Why?” Duke Wesseros asked. “A wetboy might have escaped.”
“If I wanted to, I could escape right now,” Kylar said.
There were titters in the courtroom.
“Well, I don’t know if you’re a wetboy, but you’re certainly an accomplished liar,” Duke Wesseros said.
Kylar glanced at the guards who’d accompanied him up from the Maw. The men looked positively ill. Logan felt a tingling on his right arm and for a moment, could swear he saw something moving from Kylar’s fingers like the shadow of a shadow. He looked around, but no one else seemed to notice anything. Then Kylar’s expression changed like he was deciding against an impulse. Logan had seen the expression enough to know it. “I am an accomplished liar,” Kylar admitted. “I guess it doesn’t matter. You’ve already established that I’m not a Stern, and that I killed the queen, so let’s finish this.”