'Hederick the Heretic, you do not frighten me,' she whispered. She forced an insolent smile to her face as she studied the Chamber's portal. No sound came from the oiled hinges as two more novitiates pulled the double doors apart. The door beneath the pulpit was reserved for Seeker priests and novitiates; lay persons entered the Chamber for worship services through doors at each end of the topmost tier of seats.
The High Theocrat of Solace entered, regally dipped his head to the assembled crowd, and solemnly mounted the steps to the pulpit that doubled as judgment seat. The flickering light from ceremonial candles glinted off the gold threads interwoven with the mink-brown silk of the High Theocrat's robe. Dahos, Hederick's high priest, remained standing by the entrance.
Crealora marked the despised Theocrat's progress with bitter eyes and despairing heart. That Solace had fallen into the hands of such a wretch!
Hederick moved into the pulpit and began a prayer. Crealora craned her neck to look up at him. The angle gave her a splendid view of his pouchy chin and the bot shy;tom of his fleshy nose.
'Who'd think such arrogance and evil could fit in so small and lumpy a package?' she murmured.
Hederick was decidedly round in girth and not very tall. Thin, lank hair framed protruding blue eyes. At times during the witch's trial he had donned a ridiculous dark brown wig and a midnight-blue robe of velvet, but he'd eschewed those trappings today in favor of the traditional Seeker colors of brown and gold.
'Pious hypocrite,' Crealora said softly, then added, more loudly, 'Hederick, you are a heretic to the religion of the True Gods, and a hypocrite to boot!'
When Hederick ended his prayer, he gazed down at her without a word. Silence hung as heavily as the incense.
She burst out, 'Everyone knows you destroy your opponents by any means. These people merely fear to say it!' She gestured as best she could under the weight of the heavy chains. 'They know they'll be the next to face this court if they speak out against you, heretic! I ask you, Hederick-what threat am I, a poor widow, to one so great and powerful as you?'
Hederick pointed dramatically down at Crealora. Despite the murmuring of the crowd, his words filled the huge room. 'You accuse me of impure motives? Of violat shy;ing Seeker laws? You-an unholy witch, spawn of the dark gods?'
Crealora kept her face impassive. That voice, she thought. It had held countless audiences in thrall. Heder shy;ick's fame for oratory stretched from Solamnia to the shores of New Sea. He spun sentences like a spider threw a web, lingering over words as though he savored each syllable. If oratory were sorcery, Hederick would head the magical orders, Crealora thought.
'I'm no witch,' she said flatly. 'The charges against me are false.'
Hederick stepped back and threw up his hands in exag shy;gerated surprise. 'Witch of Zaygoth!' he exclaimed. A few spectators chuckled. 'Do you not recall the testimony of our own trial? The sworn testimony of dozens of your long-time neighbors who attest that they have personal knowledge of your witchery?'
Crealora turned to fling a withering glance at the assembly. As one, hundreds of people also twisted-to look anywhere but at the prisoner. Crealora grimaced and turned back.
'They lie to win your favor, Hederick,' she said gently. 'They lie to protect themselves. They are afraid, as all wise and thoughtful people in Solace are afraid in these troubled times.'
Hederick, not normally one to allow prisoners to address him directly, seemed in uncommonly good humor today. He feigned great incredulity at Crealora's words.
'Surely the righteous don't fear me!' he retorted. 'I am the protector of all who follow the true gods-the Seeker gods. Your neighbors-do they lie? Does Dugan Detmarr deceive us when he says he dreamed that he saw you hurl bolts of magical lightning at the Bayard family, killing them as they lay sleeping innocently in their beds?'
'The Bayards were slain by arrows, not lightning, Hed shy;erick.' Crealora's voice filled the space between them. 'How could I, a solitary woman, slaughter them all with no help, without any of the Bayards awaking to leave their beds and cry a warning? How could they be killed by lightning and not have a trace of a burn on their bod shy;ies?'
'The evil power of witches is great indeed,' Hederick replied unctuously, 'as must be the power of good that hopes to uproot it.'
Crealora held up her chin defiantly. 'Again I say, heretic, that it was not me. I was at home asleep.'
'The location of your body is immaterial, witch. If it was not your actual physical being, then it was your spiri shy;tual likeness. Both are incriminating.'
'My spiritual likeness? What Seeker pap!' Crealora laughed bitterly. 'My likeness, taken flight to do mis shy;chief at the behest of evil gods? If I have such a like shy;ness, Hederick, it surely was asleep at home beside me that night.'
Dozens of onlookers gasped. Several men snickered. Hederick looked over the crowd, noted the overly merry ones, and used a quill to scrawl on a parchment. He dropped the paper from the pulpit. Dahos hurried for shy;ward, retrieved the fragment, bowed to Hederick, and conveyed the note to two guards near the double doors. The snickerers sank back into the press of bodies, cower shy;ing; no hands reached to comfort them.
'And why would I slay my neighbors?' Crealora demanded.
'Marka Uth Kondas and others witnessed your ire when the Bayard pigs trampled your garden early this summer.'
'Tor a parcel of ruined flax, you think I would kill?'
'The logic of witches is not the logic of the pure and holy.' Hederick gazed piously upward. 'And why else would little Elia Bayard, a child of only five years, cry out your name as she lay dying, if you were not the guilty party?'
'I'd often taken herbs to the child when she had minor ailments. If anyone could help her that night, it would have been me. Elia knew that. It was only natural-'
'What? You claim to be a healer now?' Hederick exclaimed as though outraged. 'Many have said that except for the miracles wrought by the Seekers, there has been no true 'healing' since the Old Gods abandoned Krynn at the time of the Cataclysm. Clearly you are no fol shy;lower of the Seekers, yet you claim now to be able to heal. What new sin is this?'
Crealora knew she was doomed, but perhaps there was a reasonable person here who would recall her words later. 'That's no sorcery, heretic Hederick,' she said loudly. 'Nor is it a miracle. Certain plants are able to effect certain cures-of minor complaints. And the only gods who can claim responsibility for that are the old, ancient gods, who created the plants and their wonderful proper shy;ties in the first place.'
Hederick snorted, inspiring another flicker of titters from the crowd. 'Those gods are long gone, Dame Senter-nal. There are only the Seeker gods now. And if you claim to heal and are no Seeker, the only possibility left is that you are a witch.'
'You killed the Bayards, Hederick!'
Onlookers cried out as Crealora let the accusation burst forth. 'Sethin Bayard had complained loudly because you cut down the vallenwoods he treasured. You had plenty of reasons to want him dead. I say you sent the bowmen who slew the Bayards in the night. You are responsible for the arrows that pierced the hearts of five- year-old Elia Bayard and her parents. And because I, too, have criti shy;cized you, you use this farce of a trial to rid yourself of me as well! Who's to say that you didn't have a hand in the slaying of my husband, as well? Kleven's low opinion of you was well-known in Solace.'
Hederick went white, then red. He clutched the railing so tightly his nails bit into his palms. 'You dare to speak thus to one of the Seeker high ministry? Surely this is proof of your heresy!'
Crealora turned to face the crowd. She tried vainly to raise her chained hands as she addressed the mass of people. 'Why would I want the Bayards dead?' she cried. 'They were my neighbors. As most of you are!' Her voice rang out over the rising noise of the assembly. 'Can you truly believe that I would hurt you?'
A pall fell over the crowd. No one met her gaze. Too late, Crealora recalled the exchange with the Domroys. A moment of frightened vengefulness on her part, and look at them now. Of course they feared her-they'd 'seen' her put the evil eye on an unborn baby! By the time the child was born, strong and healthy, she would be dead, and it would no longer matter what they believed or thought they'd seen. Tears in her eyes, she turned back toward Hederick, her chin high.
'It has been proved to this court's satisfaction that you, Crealora Senternal, killed the Bayards with magic
