Knocking Halin’s offered cup of willow-bark tea aside with his elbow so the bitter liquid splashed across the floorboards, Assistant Examiner Reth Mal bared his blood-flecked teeth at Vaska Ren. His right arm hung useless and dead inside its canvas sling. His left wrist remained locked still in pine splints. But the gaze behind his narrow eyes was as fanatical as the day he had arrived at the Hollow Summit with inner council warrants.
In a hoarse shout, Reth accused Vaska of treason and cowardice. He insisted that the frost climbing his veins had been the final trial of sovereign bonding or at worst, that his sacrifice as a fixed human anchor would have bought the Aperture Court time to reinforce the province. That if Vaska had not shattered the outer bronze socket, Reth’s Early Jade certainty would have mastered the pale needle within two more breaths.
Seyun stood beside the treatment table with his Account Book tucked under his arm. He watched the crippled judge without surprise. In morality tales, being pierced by one’s own idol and rescued by one’s superior officer was supposed to melt a zealot’s heart. In the real world, pain didn’t automatically teach a man a lesson he was determined to refuse.
