The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(126)

“Miss Clara Hayes of the Glittering Court witnessed their indiscretion firsthand,” said Warren. “Several others saw the aftermath. You may question any of them for further clarification.”

“What did you do next, Mister Doyle?” asked Dillinger.

“What could I do?” Warren spread his hands wide. “I’d hardly push for a woman whose heart was with another. I felt sorry for them, really. So I decided to help.”

He detailed the arrangement he’d had with us in Hadisen, again painting himself as an exemplary—and charitable—man. Several spectators shook their heads in a mix of anger and sympathy, clearly showing they thought Warren had been taken advantage of.

“I gave Mister Thorn every opportunity to succeed,” Warren said. “Equipment, training. But it soon became clear that he’d taken on more than he was capable of. He’s a businessman—a scholar. Hardly suited to the kind of labor needed on the frontier. His ineptitude resulted in accidents, one fall in particular being especially bad. And he’d make grandiose claims of huge gold strikes but never actually unearth said gold, no matter how long we kept waiting for it.”

I didn’t realize I was starting to stand up until Aiana pushed me back down. “Wait,” she murmured.

The true atrocity came when Warren described that last day. “I wanted to believe his stories of gold on the claim—especially since Adelaide’s contract expiration was approaching. I brought several men out to the claim with the intent of excavating the gold, though things almost ended before they began when more of Mister Thorn’s inexperience nearly resulted in him blowing all of us up. It was clear he and Miss Bailey were growing desperate at this point. There was no way they were going to pay off their debt in time, and things grew worse when we discovered Alanzan artifacts in Mister Thorn’s possession.”

Scandalized murmurs slid around the room, and Dillinger called for silence.

“I needed to talk things out with them, clearly,” Warren continued. “I was certain there was a misunderstanding. I sent my men away for lunch and sat down to discuss how I might better help this couple—and that’s when the treachery started. With me alone, Mister Thorn attacked, intending to kill me and make it look as though claim raiders had done it—thus freeing him of the contract. Through the greatest stroke of luck, two of my men returned to retrieve something and were able to save me in time. They subdued Mister Thorn, but the danger wasn’t over. Miss Bailey took up her lover’s fight and then brazenly offered herself in an attempt to distract me. As I was refusing her, she stabbed me with a knife. I can’t imagine what would have happened if Silas Garrett of the McGraw Agency hadn’t arrived.”

The tribunal asked more clarifying questions, and I was amazed at how Warren had an answer for everything. Each event, each detail was twisted in a way that favored him and supported his lies. When he was dismissed, it was clear he had almost everyone on his side.

Cedric was called next. One of the magistrates held out a holy text of Uros. “Please swear to tell the truth . . . if you’re able.”

I was shocked at the insinuation from a group that claimed impartiality. More buzz stirred in the room, especially when Cedric placed his hand on the book without it bursting into flames or something equally absurd.

Normally, in cases with conflicting views, Cedric would be asked to retell the story from his point of view. Instead, Dillinger asked, “Mister Thorn, are you an Alanzan?”

Cedric blinked in surprise. I was sure he’d prepared for this question but hadn’t expected the irregular order. “I simply had Alanzan artifacts in my possession. But no one saw me worshipping with them.”

“Why, then, would you have such items in your possession?”

“Curiosity,” said Cedric, keeping his tone mild. “I knew Alanzans at the university in Osfro. They gave me the items, hoping to convert me.”

“And you didn’t report these deviants?” asked another tribunal member.

“They were young and rebellious. I thought it was a phase they’d outgrow before returning to Uros and the six glorious angels.”

Dillinger held up a piece of paper. “We have a signed testimony from a convicted Alanzan—one Thaddeus Brooks—who was caught in the act of worship. He swears you participated with him in some heathen rite called a ‘Star Advent.’ How do you respond to that?”

Cedric gave no sign of distress. “I think an imprisoned man would say anything to get himself freed.”

“Alanzan worship is illegal in both Denham and Hadisen,” Dillinger stated. “Illegal religions are punishable with execution if you have no protection from another colony or a royal exemption.”

“I am aware,” said Cedric.

“Is the young woman who calls herself Miss Bailey an Alanzan?” asked the tribunal member to Dillinger’s right.

“No,” Cedric replied swiftly. “Miss Bailey made it clear on many occasions that she believes they’re misguided pagans. I’ll swear to that as much as you like.”

The tribunal pushed the Alanzan angle a while longer, but Cedric remained firm on his defense: that no one had caught him worshipping. But Dillinger made it clear that he thought Thaddeus Brooks’s testimony was proof enough.

They finally let Cedric tell his side of the story. The tribunal questioned and commented in a way that made the details sound improbable and even silly. The members made no attempts to hide their derision, and the courtroom echoed that sentiment. And as I’d feared, the improvement of his injuries disguised just how excessively brutal his attack had been. One magistrate pointed out that a broken arm wasn’t out of line when two men tried to stop a murderer.