"Where is she? Where is my little girl?"
I had not realised how much I had missed my mother's voice. Even before flipping the train, I had not been away from her for even half as long. Hearing her calling for me was too much. I had not even begun to process the sight of my parents in the room with me. Now, I could not process anything.
"Calm yourself, wife. You will see her in due time."
Hearing Father talking like that was a bucket of ice water to my feelings.
"Hey you! Remember me?"
On a different day I might have told Skids not to antagonise him. But I was long past caring. It probably wouldn't make any difference. To either of them.
"The bringer of darkness and death. Yes, I remember. Finally, you are properly caged."
"This is the gratitude I get for saving your sorry city from demons?"
I lost interest in the argument between Skids and my father. I was not the only one. My mother's attention drifted away until her eyes fell on my crate. "Charity? Is that you in there? Why have they caged you?"
I could only stare at her. She was dressed entirely in black, from painted brass hairpins to her polished leather shoes. Her subtle makeup already bore deep tear tracks. "Mother," I said, not really in control of my mouth. Or any part of me, really.
"Charity!" Her head snapped around to address the closest cleric. "You, let my daughter out at once!"
"Bellona." Somehow Father drove all the air out of the room with that one word. "Take a seat and be silent."
I saw then that the most junior clerics had set up an arc of folding chairs roughly facing our crates. A mid-level cleric — specifically a standard-bearer — had carried in the official banner. He slammed the bottom of the steel pole against the stone slabs of the floor.
We all waited for the ringing sound and its echoes to fully die.
"Cleri populusque fide!" the standard-bearer called.
"The clerics and the people of faith," almost all responded.
"This tribunal is in session."
The clerics took their seats in order of seniority. Once the most junior had seated himself, Father sat in a seat a little further back. Once he was comfortably seated, Mother was free to sit at his side. The standard-bearer remained standing, holding the banner upright. The banner was a pure white background spit in half both horizontally and vertically by golden lines. Each section bore a letter and a symbol representing one of the Great Maker's gifts to the Pure. C: the light, P: the window, Q: the mirror, and F: the lens.
The silence dragged on. I worried that Skids would be the one to break it.
At last, the most senior cleric rose from his chair. The junior to his right handed him a black briefcase. He unclasped it dramatically and withdrew a sheaf of white papers. Only the clerics had access to paper that white.
"Ahem. I am Chief Cleric Tungutalum. We meet today to condemn two users of forbidden, evil arts and ensure the purity of the Great Maker's people. The first case involves the previously captured individual 'Skids Dro' who was found guilty of destruction of railway infrastructure, destruction of rolling stock, using a proscribed device, unleashing dark forces on a Pure citizen, and possession of proscribed items. The sentenced handed down was summary purification."
He turned a page and continued. "New charges include escaping imprisonment, unleashing dark forces on additional Pure citizens, kidnapping, doctrinal corruption of a minor, rail fare jumping, fleeing arrest by use of a dark steed, conspiracy to use evil arts against a Pure settlement, conspiracy to use evil arts against clerics, murder, arson, nightwalking, demonic communication, grand theft of a locomotive, supplying proscribed devices, and providing instruction in the use of proscribed devices, evil arts and dark forces."
Chief Cleric Tungutalum paused to let his works sink in, and for breath. "Who can confirm that the previously condemned individual is now present?"
Father raised his hand and waited to be acknowledged.
"Mister Wilison, please rise and make your statement."
Father stood. "I can confirm." He pointed to Skids' cage. "That prisoner is the same one I arrested for the prior crimes. And all present here can attest to hearing the prisoner asking me, I quote, 'Remember me?'"
The chief cleric nodded. "Very good. You may be seated. I see no better course of action than to carry out the preceding sentence. The additional changes would not materially alter the outcome, and prosecuting them would be a waste of this tribunal's time. Are there any objections?"
"This is the thanks I get for helping to save your sorry city?" Skids objected very loudly.
The chief cleric leaned forward precipitously and peered down his nose at Skids, as if he had been interrupted by an annoying fly. "Shall we perhaps determine what additional punishments should be brought upon the prisoner's kin?"
Skids rushed out dro's reply almost as a single word. "I-retract-my-objection!"
"Very well."
I let out a silent sigh of relief. There had been a chance Skids might have tried to argue about some of the charges. That would have endangered our various accomplices in Exaltation and Deepbloom, along with their more lenient clerics. Of course, now that Skids' case was over, it was my turn.
Chief Cleric Tungutalum shuffled his papers. "The second case is against Charity Marion Wilison, a minor citizen of Forrester's Crossing. She was previously charged with..." He shuffled his pages some more. "Here it is. Consorting with users of evil arts, aiding a user of evil arts, entering or remaining in multiple Pure settlements after suspected exposure to the corruption of darkness, fleeing arrest by use of a dark steed, conspiracy to use evil arts against a Pure settlement, conspiracy to use evil arts against clerics, and accessory to murder, arson, and nightwalking. She is additionally charged with escaping imprisonment, demonic communication, accomplice to grand theft of a locomotive, receipt of proscribed devices, receipt of instruction in the use of proscribed devices, evil arts and dark forces, use of a proscribed device, destruction of railway infrastructure, destruction of a locomotive, possession of proscribed items, and rail fare jumping. The latter item has an attached note of censure against the cleric who failed to include it in the previous action."
As before, the chief cleric paused. This gave me ample time to consider the full weight of my crimes. These words had previously been screaming in my head. That had failed to prevent me from doing them. Hearing them spoken against me by a cleric felt very different. It highlighted how I had let down the entire community. Or rather, that was how the clerics saw it.
No Pure person should ever dare suggest that there was any way to see the situation beyond how the clerics saw it.
From my point of view, the worst of my crimes was the rail fair jumping. Everything else had been innocent, unwitting, necessary, or for a good purpose. Or was outright incorrect. I certainly had never stolen a locomotive. It was entirely possible that these clerics knew or suspected otherwise, but were not willing or ready to force an issue with the Deepbloom and Exaltation clerics. In any case, there was nothing to be gained by arguing the point, and possibly something to be lost.
There was a detail about which I was rather curious. How did they know that I was responsible for detonating the ABAM and flipping the train? Since we were found after Skids caught up to me, wouldn't they have assumed that the mage was responsible for that? Actually, I had another big question: what had become of the Deepbloom weapon?
"Are there any objections?" I heard the chief cleric say. I had completely missed what he was asking about. Probably the same thing as he'd said about Skids.
I did not expect any objections, except possibly a futile one from Skids. It was likely that dro would stay silent, given how the previous objection had turned out.
"Yes, I object."
Who would possibly dare object? My disbelief was so strong that my brain refused to recognise the voice.
"Mister Wilison, please rise and make your statement."
Father stood.
I stared.
What was he doing?
"As the honoured chief cleric stated, the accused is a minor, and her legal guardian must be present. It is for that reason that I am present as her father, and her mother is present also. However, neither of us were present when the previous sentence was pronounced against her. Therefore, it is invalid, and must be struck from the record."
Even though he was talking about me, he did not even glance in my direction. Mother could not seem to decide where to look. She looked at Father in confusion, then briefly met my eyes, then quickly looked away and faced the chief cleric, then returned to watching Father.
Each time I looked at the chief cleric, he appeared more furious. After a long internal deliberation, he spoke.
"Your objection cannot be overruled. You may be seated. I will consider the prior rulings overturned on procedural grounds. Therefore, the new charges will now be considered."
Had I really heard those words? I looked to my father, but his face was studiously neutral. Mother looked worried.
Chief Cleric Tungutalum turned to address me directly. "Are you in fact Charity Marion Wilison?"
A few dreadful seconds passed as I tried to remember how to speak and what to say. "Yes, sir."
"What do you have to say in your defense, regarding the new charges?"
"Uh..." What should I say? What could I say?" "I was acting only in the best interest of Forrester's Crossing. If I broke any laws, it was only to save the city from demonic destruction. Which I did not cause, or contribute to in any manner. And I did not at any time attempt or engage in demonic communication." This was all true, and did not implicate anyone else. Even so, I struggled to get all the words out properly. I was arguing with a chief cleric, with an audience of other clerics, and my parents. And I was arguing for my life.
"Did you use a device of magical origin and nature to aid or augment your vision?" the chief cleric asked.
"Yes. It was necessary to—"
"For how long, approximately?"
How approximate did he mean? "Um... More than two hours."
He made a note in the margin of one of his papers. "Did you intentionally use a device of magical origin which magically affected a wide area, damaging the railway and derailing a locomotive?"
"My intention was to disrupt the demons before they could enter Forrester's Crossing. The damage to the railway was incidental, and caused significant personal injury."
"But you did activate the device, knowing its magical nature?"
"Yes, sir. If I had not—"
"Are you not aware that demons cannot enter any Pure city?"
"Er... Yes, but—"
"So you used magic to prevent an event you knew was impossible."
"The demons were—"
"No further discussion is needed. Gentlemen, I believe I have established beyond doubt that the girl has broken the Great Maker's sacred laws as written in the Codex of Purity and interpreted by us, his clerics. The only just sentence is immediate purification."
"But I—"
"You may not speak, girl. Are there any objections?"
Father's hand shot up.
I was confused. Why was he fighting for me? Mother looked equally as confused, and strongly disapproving. That, I understood. Objecting to a chief cleric's ruling was extremely bad for anyone's reputation. This would almost certainly cost Father his position leading a city patrol.
"What is it now, Mister Wilison?" the chief cleric asked, audibly running low on patience.
"According to the patrol report — which you have before you — the demons in question were found between the rails, only a few paces from the city border. I believe that their imminent entry into the city was a reasonable conclusion."
"Perhaps. But 'reasonable' is not 'unassailable', and the accused does not have the authority to decide that the use of magic is warranted."
"Do you believe it was warranted, Chief Cleric Tungutalum?" Father asked. I could scarcely believe his boldness.
"The accused admitted to using a magical device for over two hours, long before such a consideration is relevant."
"I believe she had a good reason, if you would be so gracious as to allow her to present it."
"Hmph! Speak, girl."
Oh. I had not expected that, and wasn't at all ready. "I... The demons were..." What could I say? What could get me out of this situation? Was there anything the chief cleric would accept? He seemed set on ensuring I did not live. What was his agenda? What did he really want? Could I say something to force him to let me live?
I remembered then that I did have a way out, thanks to Sente. "A relic! I knew that the demons were acting contrary to their usual nature, because of a relic. A true relic, which I would now exchange for amnesty."
Mother gasped. Father's mouth fell open. The chief cleric creased his papers in his fist.
Something wooden snapped. Half of the chief cleric's pen clattered on the stone floor, scattering droplets of red ink.
"Bah! Relics are lies and nonsense. A tale told by weak-minded treasure seekers, and those who think they can escape justice."
"Look at my belongings in the crate! It's in there, right Skids?"
"Yeah, it's in there," Skids said. "Take a look, if you're not afraid."
"Enough disruptions!" Tungutalum violently wiped an inky hand on the back of his papers. "I will not take the word of such as you. This alleged relic is an obvious fabrication. You will not excuse your lawless deeds so easily! My fellow clerics, high noon approaches. Are there any objections to summary purification?"
The other clerics had been silent and still. That didn't change.
I tried to catch my father's eye, but he was glaring at Tungutalum. He looked like he desperately wanted to yell at the chief cleric, but knew that if he did he would be thrown out, or worse.
I'd failed. We had failed. I had no idea why Father had tried to defend me. It would have been far easier to say nothing, but instead he'd tried. He had believed that I had acted with good reason. That meant a lot to me. I didn't feel too bad about his failure though. The clerics still had me on fare jumping. I wasn't sure how they knew about that, but I knew my excuse wouldn't hold up.
Nearby motion prompted me to look out through the gaps in my cage. A team of six junior clerics had surrounded me. Together they lifted the cage and carried me to a distant corner of the massive room. I was placed gently in a large depression, like a giant bowl. The young men jogged away, heading for Skids' cage.
Father had stood up from his seat again. After a brief exchange with a mid-level cleric — or so I thought, it was hard to be sure from such a distance — he left the seating area and walked to the third copper cage. Mother stormed after him — as much as was possible while remaining ladylike — and joined him standing by the collection of combined personal and magical items.
I would have given anything to be able to hear what they were saying.