Baroness Arteris Penhaligon rose, and immediately four dozen trumpets sounded. They continued until the crowd fell silent in the great hall. All eyes turned to the baroness, who spread her hands and spoke before the huge audience.
“My people!” she called loudly, and the words, amplified either by architecture or magic, carried to the farthest comers. “A most extraordinary case is about to be presented to us.”
Brisbois cast a vaguely bored expression at the baroness. “He still doesn’t know I’m here,” Flinn muttered under his breath. Just wait, thought Flinn, that expression of yours will soon change. Flinn turned his attention toward Maldrake, who nodded cordially in response.
“Fain Flinn,” the baroness was saying, and the crowd began to murmur at the name, “a man formerly dear to the heart of Penhaligon, is here today to seek justice. Step forward, Master Flinn.” Arteris sat down.
As Flinn strode forward, Jo behind him, someone called out, “Look! It’s Flinn the Fool!” Others took up the shout, and in less than a minute more than half the people inside the great hall were shouting, “Flinn the Fool! Flinn the Fallen!” The warrior clenched his teeth and entered the cordoned area with Graybow and Johauna.
Arteris let the chant continue for a few minutes more, and Flinn endured it as patiently as he could. He tried to ignore the awful and relentless chant, but could not. Instead he focused on a point just past the baroness, who sat less than twenty feet away. Arteris had a streak of something less than kindness in her, and it was evident now. Only after Flinn’s expression had grown dark with anger did she signal the trumpeters to silence the crowd. The mob had become so raucous by this time that the trumpeters played long minutes before the crowd quieted.
The baroness rose again. “Fain Flinn, you stand before us. What justice do you seek resolved?”
“I seek retribution for an injustice committed seven years ago,” Flinn called out. The audience quieted still more, straining to hear every word. Grimy peasant faces and clean freemen faces alike shone with hungry interest.
“And what injustice, pray tell, is that?” Arteris asked. Her voice was cool and civil. He wouldn’t receive any quarter from her.
“That of my being falsely accused of dishonor on the battlefield, Your Ladyship,” Flinn’s voice rang out clearly. He pointed to Sir Brisbois. “That man did maliciously and falsely accuse me of denying an enemy mercy!”
“Sir Brisbois!” Baroness Arteris cried, and Flinn saw his enemy’s face blanche. “You have been named in this case. Please stand before Master Flinn!” Brisbois slowly stood and walked with measured paces until he stood between Flinn and the council table. Brisbois turned to face Flinn. “And did anyone else accuse you of such a heinous crime, Master Flinn? You have the right to face all your accusers,” the baroness continued.
Flinn had been about to point out Lord Maldrake, but he remembered that the man hadn’t actually accused him of dishonor. Maldrake had only upheld Brisbois’ position-an understandable mistake. But someone else had directly accused him of dishonor. He paused, then said heavily, “The Lady Yvaughan, Your Ladyship.”
“Bring the Lady Yvaughan to the hall at once!” the baroness cried. Not more than a minute passed before Flinn’s former wife was brought in by a side door and led to stand near Brisbois in front of the council table.
Flinn was saddened at the sight of Yvaughan, for she was obviously ailing. She’s given birth to her child, he thought, but she hasn’t recovered yet. I should have thought of that and not named Yvaughan in my suit. The woman stumbled a little in her walk, and she cradled a white bird in her arms. Refusing to look at Flinn, Yvaughan nervously petted her bird and mumbled beneath her breath.
The man leading Flinn’s former wife was particularly short and particularly nervous. His features were plain- so plain as to be indistinct-save for his eyes, which were a brilliant blue. His hair was a medium brown and modestly cut. His chin was weak, though covered with a tiny goatee, and the flesh beneath it wobbled as the man jerked his head about, which was often. He was dressed in a gray tunic, dark breeches, and a brown cape. Flinn had never seen the man before.
Lord Maldrake stood and addressed the baroness, “Permission to attend my wife, Your Ladyship?”
The baroness said icily, “Permission granted.” The blond knight walked over to his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. Yvaughan momentarily cringed away, then leaned against Maldrake. The young lord gestured for the man who had brought Yvaughan into the council area to leave. The gesture awoke in Flinn a memory: sometime before Flinn’s fall, Lord Maldrake and Yvaughan had stood in the same stance, and Maldrake had made the same dismissing gesture toward Flinn. How could I have been so blind? Flinn thought.
“You may state your case, Fain Flinn, and none may gainsay you until you are through. Speak you now, or the former judgment on you shall stand!” Arteris cried in a voice that carried to the rafters. The people in the great hall rumbled in return, and Flinn fancied he heard some shouts of support.
“I charge you, Sir Brisbois, with falsely accusing me, intending to stain my honor and discredit my reputation as a knight!” Flinn’s voice rang out sternly. He turned to his former wife and his voice trembled. “And I charge you, Lady Yvaughan, with falsely accusing me, intending to divorce me and claim a new husband!” Flinn didn’t want to believe that Yvaughan had been a willing partner in his scene of shame, but the indications seemed irrefutable.
“How say you, Sir Brisbois?” the baroness cried, and all eyes in the hall turned on the knight. “How say you? Are you innocent of this deed-or are you guilty?”
Sir Brisbois took a step toward the people, addressing them instead of Flinn or the council. “I am-” he said solidly, then paused. Flinn clenched his jaw, resenting the man’s dramatic pause. Brisbois repeated, “I am-” The words broke off and doubt edged the man’s voice. Flinn looked at the knight closely and saw that he was staring at Maldrake. Brisbois’ face worked, and he clenched and unclenched his hands.
The knight tore his gaze from Maldrake and hurried toward the edge of the blue cordon. “I am- guilty!” he shouted to the great hall. The people erupted into a frenzy of emotion. They stomped their feet where they stood, slapped fists into palms, and shouted. The roar was almost unbearable. Brisbois held up his hands and shouted again, though the words were barely audible, “I am guilty-and he is responsible for that!” Brisbois whirled and pointed at Maldrake.
The lord hissed, “Fool!” Maldrake ripped the white bird from his wife’s arms and threw it at Flinn’s feet. The bird dissolved into a viscous white substance that slowly began to reshape. Jo’s words echoed in Flinn’s mind, “…if the baroness unknowingly invited a magical beast into the cordon…” Flinn drew Wyrmblight and rushed Maldrake.
“Draw your sword, Maldrake! I will avenge my honor!” Flinn shouted.
“I think not, Fool!” Maldrake cried. His hand jerked once, and Yvaughan whimpered in pain. Her eyes glazed over and Maldrake pulled a knife out of her back. The young lord pushed Yvaughan toward Flinn, who caught her. Maldrake backed slowly away, brandishing the dagger as Flinn cradled his one-time wife.
“Yvaughan,” he murmured. For an instant, her pallid form seemed to transform again into the lively and vibrant woman he had once fallen in love with.
“Fain-” she gasped and then grew still. Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids closed. Flinn smoothed the silken hair on her brow once, then laid Yvaughan on the floor. He advanced on her murderer. Maldrake was slowly backing toward the mass of people in the great hall. He swung his bloody knife at a guard who came near.
“Stand still, Maldrake!” Flinn called out, rage pulsing through him. “Your game is up!” He stepped forward.
Maldrake leaped the blue cordons, and as he did a transformation took place. His neck, arms, and legs sprouted horribly, growing to the size of trees. A great tearing noise filled the hall as his torso lengthened and broadened, stretching into a scaly, reptilian body. Gossamer wings unfurled along his back, then solidified into thin membranes of leather. His head warped horribly, bulging and reshaping into a vast skull lined with spearlike teeth. All this transpired in a heartbeat, and then the wyrm’s scream erupted through the hall.
“Verdilith!” Flinn shouted, a thin film of red filling his eyes.
The crowd beneath the dragon broke into shrieks of panic, and the people fell back. Those near the door flooded out in terror, while those trapped within pushed mercilessly to escape.
“Verdilith!” bellowed Flinn again, leaping forward with Wyrmblight overhead. “Turn and face me, wyrm!”
“Another day, Flinn! Face me alone, not with a score of knights at your back!” The dragon shimmered suddenly and then winked out of the air.
“I’ll hunt you to your death!” Flinn roared, shaking his clenched fist at the vaulted ceiling. He charged to the spot where the dragon had been. “Come back! Murderer!”
“Flinn!” Jo shouted. “Behind y-”
A snarl interrupted her voice. Flinn wheeled. A humanlike creature with scaly brown skin and wiry hair
