into a sneer.
'Tell me, Lord High Justice Derathar, what's it like to be right all the time? Are you going to enjoy watching your own son d-'
Nooooo!
Andoris clung to the silver chair, breathing heavily. For the first time in decades an unfamiliar emotion filled him: pain. He shoved most of it away, and shuddered with relief as it was forced into the homunculus, but a tiny shard of the emotion remained. It felt like an icy sliver in his heart.
Back in his chamber, the homunculus sat on the floor with its knees drawn up against its bony chest, and its wings folded tightly against its back. It rocked back and forth like a wounded child, alternately moaning and sobbing, fresh tears sliding from its eyes each time it squeezed them shut.
Jelal was telling the truth-the mantle said so.
I know, Andoris replied.
The sentence wasn't fair.
I know, but it was… the law.
But he's dead!
The homunculus flailed out of its fetal position, seizing a portrait of Jelal from the wall and hurling it onto the floor. When this gave it no satisfaction, it smashed an inkwell on top of the picture. Black ink exploded in all directions, obliterating Jelal's smiling face.
How could we have murdered our favorite son? We hate ourselves!
A part of Andoris's mind held onto the here and now. He was standing in the Spiral Court, hearing but not really hearing the murmurs of the crowd and the anxious questions High Justice Wentar was softly asking him. Another part of him was staring through the homunculus’s eyes at the destruction that had just been wrought-at the spreading pool of black ink, surrounded by a fine spray of dots.
Staring at them, Andoris was struck by how tiny they were, how small a space they occupied. A realization came to him then-one so startling that he didn't even notice he was sharing the homunculus's pain when it slammed its hands down onto the broken glass of the inkwell, cutting them in several places.
His realization was that an ordinary mythallar was absolutely enormous-it had to be, because of the material that went into its construction: long strands of the Weave itself-but a mythallar made of shadowstuff, made from the spaces between the Weave didn't need to be so large. It could be compressed, tiny. Small enough to place inside a shadow double.
This would explain why Blamira found herself unable to command or dispel the double after erasing her own memories. Fueled by a self-contained source of magic that came directly from the Shadow Weave, the shadow double was independent of her. It had been all along. Incapable of being under her control from the start, it had to be innocent-created solely to provide her with an alibi, probably after the crime itself.
For the briefest of moments, Andoris felt his lips twitch. In any other man, it would have been a smile, but Andoris pushed the emotion securely back into place- back into the homunculus.
Only to have it shoved back at him again.
Your hypothesis is very clever, said a mocking voice, but what makes you so sure you're right?
Seizing a piece of glass off the floor, the homunculus held it above its arm.
Were you right about me?
The shard slashed down, and bright red blood joined the black ink on the floor. Andoris tried to force the homunculus to stop but found he could not.
'Of course I'm right!' he shouted. 'I can prove-'
In mid-sentence, he realized that he'd spoken aloud, and not only spoken but shouted, his voice loud with anger.
Wentar gaped at him through the eyes of his mask.
'Andoris,' he said softly. 'You look so… strange. Are you unwell? Should we adjourn?'
For the first time in many years, Andoris felt uncertain, like a man who suddenly finds that the solid ground beneath his feet has turned to thin river ice. He glanced wildly around the Spiral Court. It wasn't just Wentar who was staring at him.
Sometimes it isn't good to be right all the time, a small voice whispered as the homunculus lay down on the floor in a spreading pool of blood. Sometimes doubt brings… justice.
Then it was gone.
With a soft sob, Andoris lurched forward and found himself plunging down into the icy waters of guilt. As he struggled to surface, he realized something. The finer points of law and being right didn't matter. Justice did.
Had the first trial by ordeal been successful, he would have been condemning an innocent creature to die. Just as he had condemned his own son. Still shaking, he raised a hand and waited until the Spiral Court was quiet. Then, with a confidence he had not truly felt in many years, he gave his verdict.
'On the charge of espionage, I find Shiris Blamira guilty, and sentence her to death without possibility of resurrection. I find the shadow double she created innocent. I also find it to be entitled to all of the rights and privileges enjoyed by a 'person or creature' even though it is sustained by a mythallar. I realize that this sets a precedent, but it is my prerogative, as Lord High Justice of Karsus Enclave, to do so.
'Finally, I am taking the unusual step of choosing the means by which Shiris Blamira will be executed. There will be a second trial by ordeal. Each of the accused shall be taken to the Shadow Consortium, where she will place her hand upon a shadow mythallar. The shadow double, since it is already in contact with a mythallar, will be immune. The arcanist Blamira will not. By touching it, she will be utterly destroyed.'
As the two Blamiras braced themselves for this second ordeal, the crowd above broke into an excited tumult. Ignoring it, Andoris pulled his mask from his head and stared at it. Tears poured down his cheeks, dripping onto the cold ivory and running down its blank cheeks. His fingers trembling, Andoris released the mask. It fell onto the stone at his feet, and split with a loud crack. He wouldn't be needing it anymore.
Assassin's Shadow
Jess Lebow
NetherilYear 3392
(The Year of Emerald Groves, — 467 DR)
The wet stink of mud hung in the air.
Olostin lowered his foot to the floor at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. The cellar was dark and wet, and rats splashed, unseen, in the far corners of the room.
'You have come,' said a voice from out of the darkness.
'As I was directed,' replied Olostin.
'You have served us well,' came another voice.
'Thank you,' replied Olostin.
'And you have prospered from the knowledge and power we have granted to you,' continued the first. 'Your raiders wreak havoc all over the countryside, and your name strikes fear in the hearts of the common man. Indeed, even the archwizards take notice.'
'Your friendship has indeed benefited me greatly. One day I shall bring about the end of the archwizards' rule, and thus I am forever in your debt.' Olostin bowed toward the sound of the voices. 'Then we have a task for you.'
'One that will no doubt be fueled by your hatred of the ruling wizard class,' added the second voice.
'Of course,' replied Olostin, still bowed. 'Tell me only what you require, and consider it done.'
'An arch wizard by the name of Shadow has been experimenting with a new type of magic,' explained the first voice.
'He calls his new source of power the Shadow Weave,' interjected the second.
'This Shadow Weave could be the very thing the arch-wizards need to destroy us.'
'How is it that I may serve you?' asked Olostin. 'Kill Shadow before he uncovers too much,' affirmed the first voice.
'As you have directed,' replied Olostin. He stood and headed back up the stairs.
'In the name of Olostin, submit or meet your doom!' Cy hurled his torch at a thatch-roofed house and
