The inquiry was held in a small conference room on the first floor of the Ministry of Justice. In addition to ourselves, several others were present: Lt. Shrike, Magister Carignan Carel, an Inquisitor Militant I didn’t know, and Ministry Director Ban Jaspin, with Justice Adina Gramont presiding. Two of the king’s soldiers stood watch, one inside the room and the other outside.
“Nobilis Aronson, you and the two members of the Watch may wait outside,” Gramont directed as we entered the room. The guard at the door inspected my crutch, then handed it back. I limped to a chair and sat, rubbing my leg and wishing we’d had time to stop by a pharmacy for some laudanum. Cookie’s special medicine had been potent but short-lived.
“Your honor, these officers have information relevant to the charges against Axton,” Aronson said, bowing.
Gramont eyed Droit and Lorencz, who nodded. “Very well. Be seated.” They took seats next to me, Lorencz greeting Shrike with a curt nod. “And you, Nobilis? Do you intend to sit in on this inquiry?”
Aronson gave Carel a measuring look, his mistrust obvious, and then shook his head.
“No. I have nothing to say to the court, your honor, except to testify to Axton’s character.” He bowed again and left. I was surprised and disappointed. I knew I’d let him down, but I thought he’d offer his support, anyway. Maybe I’d finally, truly offended him. The thought made my stomach churn.
Gramont turned to the inquisitor, a muscular woman who wore a sword and a scowl.
“Reverend Pyke, would you please swear in Mister Axton?”
“Your honor,” Pyke said, glancing at me, “if this is the same Axton who’s now working as the city coroner, he’s excommunicate.”
“Does that mean you won’t swear him in?”
“He’s turned his back on the Reverence’s teachings. The oath wouldn’t have any meaning.”
“That’s not true,” I protested. “I never chose to leave the Reverence. I still believe in Kyrchye’s justice. I’ll take the oath.”
“Reverend?”
“Your honor,” Pyke said carefully, “the purpose of the holy oath is to bind the oathtaker to Kyrchye’s Law. An excommunicate has already turned his back on that Law. Of course he’s willing to take the oath — why not? — but we can’t assume that he would consider it binding. For an excommunicate to even lay a hand on the Codex would be to show disrespect.”
“Did you take any oath when you were appointed coroner, Mister Axton?” the judge asked, irritably.
“No … it wasn’t necessary, your honor. It’s a political appointment.”
“Bring Nobilis Aronson back in here!”
The guard stepped outside, then quickly returned.
“He’s gone, your honor.”
Gramont muttered something that sounded suspiciously like an oath, itself, then turned to me.
“I had intended to have your patron take the oath for you, in the hope that if holy law doesn’t bind you, personal loyalty might. He would share any penalty you suffered if you perjured yourself. Should I have him called back?”
“Well, hell,” Droit muttered. “If that’s the case….”
“Do you have something to say to the court, constable?” Gramont gave him a sharp look.
“I’d volunteer to take the oath for Axton,” he said, glancing at the reverend, “but I expect the Reverence abjured me a long time ago.”
“Yes, we did, and I would like to say for the record that the Reverence finds it shocking that the city is granting excommunicates positions of public trust.” Pyke gave Jaspin a dark look. “It speaks poorly of the morals of our civic officials.”
“Sovereign Lament gave him permission to join the Watch, not me,” Jaspin said easily. “Although I appreciate the irony of having the Butcher defending our laws.”
“Silence,” Gramont snapped, before Pyke or Droit could respond. “Mister Axton, my notes indicate that you also work as an alienist in Blackstone Hospital.”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Are there professional responsibilities associated with that position that you respect?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Then that will be the basis of your oath to the court.”
After some discussion, a satisfactory wording was determined, and I swore to tell the truth to the board. I would have, anyway.
“Mister Axton,“ Gramont asked without any further preliminaries, “in reviewing your files, I see that you have only one name recorded. Do you have a surname?”
“No, your honor.” Not legally, anyway.
“No mother? No father? I see you were put in an orphanage, but not until you were nine. Who raised you?”
“‘Axton’ is the entirety of my legal name, your honor.”
“Answer the question, please.”
I squirmed, looking for a way out. “I’m a bastard, your honor. My mother raised me.”
“Well? Why don’t you use her surname, then?”
“She went insane, your honor. Sentinel’s madness. For several years, before she died, we kept moving from place to place, using assumed names and hiding from the people she thought were hunting her. The only name I’ve ever used consistently is Axton.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t remember her surname?”
I lowered my eyes. “No, your honor. I remember it. At least, I think it was her real name. I’m not sure.”
“And it was…?”
She’d finally cornered me, but at least I’d distracted her from the more important question. I squeezed my hands together under the table.
“Her name was Cecily Payne, your honor.”
Gramont gave me a baleful look.
“Are you going to be this difficult throughout the entire inquiry, Mister Payne? Because if you are, I guarantee that this proceeding will not go smoothly for you.”
“I understand, your honor. I’ll do all I can to cooperate.” I hesitated. “But my name isn’t Payne. It’s Axton.”
Droit kicked me under the table. He didn’t hit my injured leg, for which I was grateful.
Gramont’s voice was chilly.
“How would you like me to legally change your name right now, Mister Payne?”
I quickly shook my head.
“Then I suggest you agree to use ‘Axton Payne’ for the duration of this interaction without further protest.”
“Yes, your honor,” I said, dropping my gaze to the tabletop. I should have told her that my name was ‘Ratsie.’ I wasn’t especially proud of it, but at least it felt like my own.
Gramont sighed.
“Twenty minutes into the inquiry and all we’ve done is administer an oath and settle on a name,” she said irritably. “I hope nobody had any other plans for this afternoon. Lieutenant Shrike, would you please read the charges against Mister Payne?”
Shrike rose.
“Your honor, a search of Mister Axton’s — excuse me, of Mister Payne’s rooms revealed that he owns four illegal books.” She picked up a bundle and laid it on the table, unwrapping it for the group. One by one, she laid the books on the table.
The Veil of Flesh. To Walk the Line. The Song Without Words. Of Transience. They were small, old, brittle books, printed in Candor because the originals had been taken there by sentinels fleeing Sovereign Mihangel Lament’s persecution. They smelled like dust and incense, the peculiar odor that was carried by all of the books I received from Professor Inscouth. I had promised to return the books as soon as I could. I had a dreadful feeling I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.
“Huh. So that’s what a forbidden book looks like.” Lorencz reached out and picked one up. “I was expecting locks and balewards or something.”
“Me, too,” Shrike agreed, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. “Disappointing, isn’t it?”
“Captain!” Gramont’s tone was sharp. Lorencz dropped the book and pushed it back to the middle of the table. Droit stifled a snicker.
“After the arrest,” Shrike continued, shooting Lorencz an amused look, “we searched Mister Ax — Mister Payne’s clothing and found three more items of interest.” She set out the three rings and the sheet I’d taken from the coroner’s report. “The rings are identical to those that signify members of the Banishat. The sheet of paper describes similarities between a corpse recently found in Dockside and deaths associated with Banishat rituals.”
“Magister Carel, do you recognize these items?”
Carel drew her gaze away from the books.
“Yes, your honor. The books and the rings are both associated with the Banishat. I’ll have more to say about them when you’re ready.”
Lorencz spoke up.
“Your honor, may I ask the lieutenant a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Ta — Lieutenant, on what grounds did you search Axton’s rooms?”
“An informant told us that he had seen the books in Axton’s possession.” Shrike gave Lorencz an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid the informant’s identity is classified.”
It was Arlin, of course. He’d searched my rooms and been alone with my satchel and waistcoat while I was changing clothes. It hadn’t been for very long, but it would have been long enough for Domenico’s chief spy. I closed my eyes. So, I have to know: Do you have anything else to tell me, before it’s too late? I should have guessed that his question wasn’t casual.
“Mister Payne, are these your books?”
I opened my eyes.
“No, your honor. I have them on loan.”
“Were you aware that owning these books is illegal in Cislunar?”
“Yes, your honor. But I don’t own them. I’m only borrowing them.”
Droit kicked me again. I was starting to get a bruise. Droit’s boots were steel-toed.
“Are you a member of the Banishat?”
“No, your honor.”
“Were you keeping these books or these rings on behalf of a member of the Banishat?”
I hesitated. That was a tricky question. Too tricky to try to answer with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Time to deflect.
“I requested the books from Candor so I could learn more about the Banishat. It’s part of an ongoing investigation into their activities in Cislunar. I’d hoped that if I could understand their goals, I could predict their actions or otherwise assist in their apprehension.”
“But you’re not a member of the Cislunar Watch.”
“No, your honor. But now that I’m a coroner, I work with the Watch regularly. And I was involved when we first learned about the Banishat’s presence in the city.”
“I brought the relevant case files,” Jaspin said, sliding them across the table with his good hand. “Axton has been actively assisting Captain Lorencz.”
“Captain, did you know that Mister Payne was in possession of illegal books?” Gramont asked, flipping open the files and glancing through them.
Lorencz hesitated a split second and then shook her head. I could tell from her expression that she’d considered lying for me and felt bad about not doing so. I was glad she hadn’t, though. Lorencz was an essentially honest women, despite her rough spots.
“No, your honor,” she said. “Not until he was arrested.”
“You?” The judge looked at Jaspin. He shook his head.
“I knew about them, your honor,” said Carel, reaching out and picking up one of the books. Droit and Lorencz traded speculative looks as she opened Of Transience and flipped through it. I stared at her, trying to figure out what she was doing. Other than lying. “Mister Axton came to me when he started his research to see if we had any of the books in the Vigilance’s library. Of course we didn’t, but I suggested he write to Candor to obtain copies. All I asked was that he promise to keep them out of any sentinel’s hands, report his insights to me, and return the books as soon as his research was complete.” She closed the book and set it back on the table. “I confess that I was thinking in terms of Vigilance security, not civil law. My demand for secrecy is no doubt why he failed to inform Captain Lorencz of his actions — as you know, the captain is a sentinel, as well. I apologize, Your Honor, and of course I’ll pay any fine you may want to levy against me for negligence concerning the letter of the law.”
I looked at Gramont, wondering what she’d say. I was uneasy at the thought of letting Carel prevaricate on my behalf, but my pangs of conscience were overridden by my deep dread of returning to prison. I have never claimed to be anything other than a coward.
“And the rings?” Gramont pressed.
“He showed me the rings about two days ago. He found them in the course of his investigations.” Carel gave the judge a steady look. “Axton’s been a consultant for the Vigilance since we first discovered a group of kidnapped and drugged young sentinels in Dockside last fall. He provides the children with counseling and support and stays in contact with me and Nobilis Aronson regarding their wellbeing. I consider him a great asset to the city and to our work.”
Gramont leaned back in her chair, looking over steepled fingers.
“What about this sheet of paper?” she asked.
“It’s a page from my coroner’s report,” I said. “I found an image that corresponded with the corpse’s appearance in this book.” I picked up The Veil of Flesh and turned to the engraving, laying the book flat on the table. Everyone looked, drawn not only by curiosity about the corpse but by the allure of peeking at the forbidden.
“Yeah, that looks a little like our pal, all right,” Lorencz said, pulling out her cigar case.
“Captain, you may not smoke during the inquiry,” Gramont ordered.
“Sorry.” She slid the case back into her pocket, looking sheepish.
“Mister Payne,” the judge began, and then stopped as the guard outside the door shouted an alarm.
The door flew open and Nobilis Aronson strode in, stepping over the outside guard, who was sprawled on the floor. The nobilis’s long black hair whirled like a cloud as he turned and threw a balewall in front of the second guard, who was lunging for him. The guard hit the wall and staggered back, dazed.
“Carel!” Aronson bellowed, brown eyes blazing with outrage. “Where are they?”
“What?” The guildmistress stood, looking confused. “Who?”
“Nobilis Aronson!” Gramont leaned forward in her chair. “What’s the meaning of this?”
He ignored her, striding toward Carel.
“I’m not letting you steal them away again,” he thundered. “Hand them over or I’m dragging you and every other member of the Banishat across the Line, even if it means destroying the whole damn Vigilance in the process!”
“Michael, what’s going on?” Lt. Shrike threw herself between Aronson and Carel, her glasses flashing. “Don’t be stupid!”
“The children? I haven’t done anything with the children,” Carel said, staring over Shrike’s shoulder at Aronson. “What happened? Have you called them?”
“Of course I’ve called them,” he growled, “and I can’t reach them, which means they’re behind balewalls. And the only person who can call a wall strong enough to keep me out is you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you discern any calls from me?”
All the sentinels’ eyes unfocused as they checked the Line.
“She’s clean, Aronson,” Lorencz said dubiously. “I don’t — oh, shite!” Three pairs of eyes widened at the same time. “Incoming!”
A razor-edged line of white light crossed the corner of the room closest to me. The deep toll of a sanctum bell echoed through the chamber.
Pain tore through my head and dug a sharp hook into my gut. It yanked, and I staggered to my feet, irresistibly drawn toward the crack in reality. The bell tolled a second time.
The line widened and a rush of foul, warm balewind rushed from it, stirring the long black coat of the figure silhouetted against the light. It was Far, holding Milka’s hand. The two of them were surrounded by our five young sentinels, each encased in armored carapaces, claws, horns, and spikes.
The transient’s eyes fell on me and the call stopped. I gasped, collapsing in front of his heavy hobnail boots. Fresh pain shot through my wounded leg. The bell tolled a third time.
Far reached out, grabbed me by the collar, and yanked me across the Line. Droit spat a curse and tackled me as the Line snapped shut behind us.