Luminous

63 - Right of the Bereft

Arinel was told that Dineira's trial would open Lady Jaise's court today. From her seat on the plaintiff's pew, her eyes swept over the court as she awaited the arrival of her nemesis.

To her left, at the back of the hall, Lady Jaise sat ramrod straight on her highbacked wooden chair, her lips a grim line under her half-mask of black glass. Her freefalling hair was shrouded under a black lace veil trailing from her toque. A shimmering robe of purple-black silk cascaded down her shoulders and flowed from her armrests to the floor. She was flanked by six jurors to each side, all masked and draped in black.

On another pew before the opposite wall, sat the alchemist Diamat Sameri and his wife, a plump woman whose fidgeting tendency further likened her to her daughter.

As his wife huddled against his arm and grasped his hand for reassurance, Diamat's shrouded eyes stared at Arinel across the room. Though she couldn't see his face, he seemed more fearful and confused rather than hostile. Arinel suspected Winterwen hadn't told them the reason they were here.

At long last, from the crowd of shadows flitting pass the entrance, one reached its way towards the depths of the hall. At the end of the shadow was Dineira Sameri.

Being an alchemist, Dineira was no doubt called to court on occasion to provide insight on cases. She breezed down the hall as if stepping into old footprints worn into the stone. Her brisk gait stalled when she spotted her parents on the bench normally occupied by relatives of the accused. Her gaze lingered on them as she mouthed wordlessly, then she lurched to a halt just short of the chair and table set at the center of the room.

Dineira gawked at the chair, then turned to Lady Jaise and offered her a shaky smile.

"My Lady, y-you've summoned me for my opinion on a case?"

"No, Dineira. Today, you are here to testify on your own behalf."

Winterwen's melodic voice was calm and pleasant. Yet, there was a weight to it Arinel hadn't felt before, an icy front masking a heavy heart. Dineira shuddered. Winterwen raised her decorated hand and indicated the empty chair.

"Have a seat. We'd be here for some time."

Dineira shot the chair a swift glance, then simpered weakly.

"Oh, I-I-I'd rather stand." She stammered. Her feeble attempt at a laugh trailed off to a pathetic end in her throat as she ebbed away from the chair. She clutched her cloak close to her sides, as if she feared she would be cursed if it touched the seat which had condemned countless men.

Winterwen's tight smile stretched tauter.

"If you insist." She accepted tonelessly, then turned to the clerk,

"Bring out the evidence."

Dineira jolted as if stung by a scorpion. The clerk made his way around the row of jurors. He laid the wooden tray he carried on the table before her. Dineira hobbled forth to read the heading of the papers in the tray, then staggered back, scrabbling at the chair to keep herself on her feet.

"This treatise was written by the late alchemist Lucis Tyberne and his maid, Erina Chatrise." Winterwen's resounding voice drowned out the echoes of Dineira's frantic panting. Arinel clenched her fists as the surreal spectacle unfolded, anticipating yet dreading the outcome. "It should have been destroyed in the fire that killed them seventeen years ago. Can you explain how it came to be in your lab?"

Dineira stared transfixed at the unearthed treatise, one hand gouging at the chest of her alchemist's robe.

"H—How?" She gasped, hyperventilating, glancing wildly around the hall, "Who? How in the—"