The Unseen Hand

Ch 16: Testament

Ristor, Ninth of Sund'im, 445 A'A'diel

"Brath Barathac, I understand that you have formally confessed to your guilt in the robbery and subsequent murder of Tan'os Ensther, the Vise of Reyza. And that you continue to defend your innocence in the matter of Mejtress Avaren Ensther's disappearance. According to this transcript, you claim that you tried to rescue her? Would you have me believe that you are both a villain and a hero in this tragedy?"

When the prisoner failed to respond, the prison guard rapped the back of his head with his fist. "Answer him, you murdering piece of dung."

The battered, naked young man nodded weakly without raising his head. In the guttering torchlight of the interrogation cell, Brath's hair shone like spun gold. The boy's body was marked with bruises and dried blood; evidence of previous interrogations. Any lingering resistance appeared to have been whipped, burned, and torn from him.

"That will be enough of that, Sergeant Kethen." Deneven was no stranger to the cruelties of Reyza's prison, nor was he unsympathetic to the prisoners' suffering. He turned to the boy. "Accept my apologies for having forgotten my manners. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Chief Justiciar Deneven D'Neir. I have been retained by the nation of Thromm to enquire into the matter of the Vise's murder and his daughter's kidnapping. Do not expect clemency; your fate is sealed." Deneven tapped the parchment. "I only have questions and attentive ears to offer you. However, you need not fear any further mistreatment."

Brath lifted his head to examine the man seated across the table for the first time. Both of his eyes were blackened and swollen. "If you please, sir, might I have some water? My throat is parched."

"Certainly," Deneven's response was aloof but not unkind. He was mindful that Brath would soon be the paying the harshest of prices for the crimes against his employer. "Sergeant Kethen, please bring the lad a mug of water from the guards' rain barrel, not the prisoners'. Also, a bowl of soup. He wasn't sentenced to be starved to death."

The guard grumbled an acknowledgment at Deneven and approached Brath. With a grimace, Kethen leaned over and yanked the chains attached to Brath's manacles. Brath winced as the iron bands cut into his chafed, bloody wrists but refused to cry out.

"He is still quite secure, as you can see." Deneven snapped. "I will be quite safe for the few minutes you are away."

The guard didn't enjoy being toyed with by the former Lord Justiciar. "Believe me; I am not worried about your sorry hide—sir."

"Make me wait for that water any longer than necessary, and you will have cause to worry about your continued employment." Deneven reached for his valise and proceeded to take out a worn leather notebook, quills, and ink. He paused after dipping the tip of the feather pen in the dark liquid. "And Kethen, no extra flavoring, please."

Kethen spat on the floor before he opened the cell door and stepped into the dungeon hall. The heavy oak door banged shut and was barred with a slam. "Don't go anywhere."

Deneven waited until he heard Kethen complaining to one of the other guards before he returned his attention to the young man.

"I am aware that you have already provided your version of the events, but I would prefer to hear it from your lips rather than trust the dubious objectivity of the scribe's pen. We can wait for Kethen to return if you wish. However, I expect he will tarry in his errands."

"No, sir, it is all right. I will speak." Brath spoke with shallow breaths.

"Please begin with when you first learned of the plot."