Councilor Vesk donned the black velvet court cap of the Civic Bench. In her hands, she held the heavy sheepskin judgment roll. She was bound with black silk ribbons and bearing the wax seals of all five town judges.
“Davin Sorell,” Councilor Vesk began, her voice ringing flat, formal, and devoid of rancor. “You have stood before this Senate under the provisions of the Twelfth Civic City law. You have heard the testimony of your fellow test judges, the physical survey of the town engineers, the records of the city archives. The depositions of the working citizens whose lives and homes were placed in mortal peril by your actions.”
She unrolled the sheepskin, the dry scraping of the thick parchment loud in the breathless silence.
“This bench finds you guilty on all counts,” Vesk declared. “Guilty of gross criminal fault in the construction and operation of the Hollow Crown. Guilty of fraudulent concealment of load-bearing defects from the Town Board. Guilty of unlawful diversion of public upkeep funds into unpermitted potion-made arrays. And guilty of the reckless endangerment of seven hundred lives in the Lowbank Ward through the secret opening of the backup bedrock bypass.”
Sorell’s eyelids fluttered once, but he didn’t speak.
