One of the Valmieran guards who came in pointed a stick at his face. “Get moving,” he snapped.
Lurcanio got moving. He moved slowly and carefully, always keeping his hands in plain sight. The guards had made it very clear that they wanted him dead. He didn’t care to give them any excuse to get what they wanted. “May I ask where we are going?” he inquired.
He got a nasty grin from that guard. Another one replied, “The judges have your verdict.”
“Very well.” Lurcanio did his best not to show the fear he felt. The judges could do whatever they pleased with him, and he had no chance of stopping them. He’d sung like a nightingale for his interrogators. Maybe that would count enough to keep him breathing. Of course, maybe it wouldn’t, too.
Bright sunlight outside the gaol made him blink. His eyes watered. Not much light leaked into his cell. The guards hustled him into a carriage that carried more iron than a behemoth. A four-horse team had to draw it. Locks clicked and snapped on the doors after he got in.
In the passenger compartment, an iron grill separated him from the guard who rode with him. As the Valmieran locked it, Lurcanio asked, “What if I were a wizard? Could I conjure my way out of here?”
“Go ahead and try,” the blond answered. “This here carriage is warded against anything a first-rank mage can do.”
Lurcanio didn’t believe him. Sorcerers were often more inventive than those who tried to stop them gave them credit for being. So were other people, come to that. Gaolers would have had an easier time were that not so. But Lurcanio himself was no wizard. He remained a captive. They hadn’t even let him clean up before hauling him off to court. He didn’t take that for a good sign.
He went into the courtroom through a hallway reserved for the accused- and even more lined with guards than usual today. When he entered, he found the place packed. Excitement filled the air. It was almost as palpable as sorcerous energy just before a major spell. The three judges, two in civilian costume, the third in uniform, strode in and took their places at the head of the courtroom. Everyone rose respectfully. Lurcanio bowed to them, as he would have done in an Algarvian lawcourt.
“Be seated,” the bailiff intoned.
The chief judge, the soldier, sat in the center. He rapped loudly for order. “We have reached a verdict in the case of the Kingdom of Valmiera against Colonel Lurcanio of Algarve,” he declared. “Is the accused present?”
“No, your Excellency. I am not here,” Lurcanio declared. The scribe recording his words gave him a reproachful look. A few people giggled. Lurcanio thought he heard Krasta’s voice. He looked around. Aye, there she was.
“Will you do worse to me for making a bad joke than for any of the other things you claim I did while I served my kingdom?” Lurcanio asked.
“By no means, Colonel,” the judge replied. “But we will bind and gag you. If that is what you want, you have but to say the word.” He waited. Lurcanio said nothing. The judge nodded. “All right, then. Are you ready to hear the verdict of this court?”
“We have rejected that argument for others, and we reject it for you as well.” The chief judge shuffled papers, then looked up at Lurcanio. “This court, Colonel, finds you guilty of facilitating the transportation of Kaunians through the Kingdom of Valmiera for the purpose of sacrifice. It also finds you guilty of facilitating the program known as Night and Fog, which seized Valmierans for the purpose of sacrifice. This court further finds that these programs constitute murder, not warfare. Accordingly, you are hereby sentenced to be blazed to death.”
Lurcanio had been braced for it. It still came like a punch in the belly. So did the baying applause from the crowd in the courtroom. “I appeal this false verdict,” he said, as steadily as he could.
“No.” The chief judge shook his head. “This court was set up to deal with cases of this kind. There is no court to which to appeal our verdict.”