Chương 235: Chapter 256: Spinning

"Both of them?" I nearly shrieked in glee. I had to clamp my hands together to keep them from flapping around. I kicked my feet like I was being tickled, floating up to keep my balance. Bruce stared at me with just a little bit of... I want to say, amused disdain? Like, a sort of doting contempt? Honestly, his expressions can be hard to describe sometimes because he will combine emotions in compositions I never would have expected.

"Yes," he said, with as wry a look as I've ever seen on often-wry face, "and I have no idea why you seem to think this is a good thing."

"That's fine," I said, trying to master my reactions again.

"Strategy's more my thing."

"A curiously elegant way to say that you don't value my intellect," he smirked.

"Nobody else here had to say it out loud," I pointed out to him.

"Anyway, it's a fine Fifthday morning, we've got a great lineup, should be a splendid day." And I'm not bluffing. I have set this up so that I've got good results. If they blow me off, we can file for contempt of court and technically that makes them guilty of the only crimes I've ever been officially convicted of, which would be funny. That did not happen. And, it would have proven that they are too scared to let me confront them in person, which also would serve my purposes.

Instead, they both showed up, which demonstrates that I am in control and that I can bait them, command them, manipulate them or however you like to typify this scenario. Very good for me. Also, yes, it does give me control and the chance to confront them for answers in front of an audience, which lets me shape narratives in a way that I never could before. The only real bad outcome here is only one of them shows up.

And then, only because it's a mixed message that has more room for interpretations that I don't control. When both 'yes' and 'no' work for you, the only enemy left is 'maybe'. As usual I was at the entrances working the crowd, but this time Petunia and Bruce were running messages for me. I still do not master a single animal that is useful as a messenger creature, but someday it will happen. The day I get a high affinity for corvids is going to be pivotal, changing most of how I operate.

For now, I take my messages the old-fashioned way. I'm glad to see the crowd is even more excited today, there's that rumble undertone that I'm used to hearing from sporting events and stuff. This is not "let's watch a trial" energy, this is "let's see what happens next" energy, and that's a big jump. And also as usual, the people have surprised me. I wish all the good ideas around here were my good ideas, but it's just not the case.

I was prepped to hand out hammers, not as many this time because (a) more and more of the crowd is returning from before, and (b) I'm not made of money. Yes, I'm getting them cheap, but "cheap" multiplied by "ten thousand" equals "ouch". It was an expensive investment in the future, controlling the course of this trial and the succession of the duchy. Something important like that should not be skimped, and I am not in the habit of leaving important issues to chance. Or at least, not to chances of failure.

I still like to see a chance of unexpected success. And while I'm passing out round-headed metal-punching hammers to anyone who seems to need one, pushing our message of tools and building and construction, someone surprised me. A five-pound sledge head thudded down onto the tabletop, making all the other stacks of hammers jingle and clank as they settled.

"Get this inscribed?" the burly laborer on the end of the handle said, with a small shy smile. I grinned in delight, and the metal head of it was embossed with the date, and my signature, and my portrait. I melded metal to make these shapes, I drew my face from the portrait that had been done back in Newtown. That artist had a more flattering view of my face than my mirror does.

He turned and showed it off to some other people while I went back to trying to get at least a handshake and a few words with everyone walking past. I did not notice several people see this, and turn around and walk back to their homes or workshops. But I did see when they came back, with hammers, sledges, pickaxes, mauls and even one wrecking-bar. I inscribed them all with a flourish. Was I building a construction crew or an army?

I'm not sure which it was, but it already seemed to have enlisted volunteers and career officers. This movement was picking up momentum. Anyway, of course I needed to make a great big entrance. And I needed to use it to keep everyone guessing. Now, the judge has upheld that I'm not allowed to use portals there on the courtroom floor. And honestly, not a bad call, those things are startling and make it difficult for everyone who isn't me.

But he had not specified that I can't use the portals above the building, so just a minute after the bell rang, while everyone else was marching to take their places, I conjured a cleft in the sky, a hundred feet up, glaring a spotlight down onto the stage. The biggest I've ever made, thirty feet across, and it looked like a second sun had appeared overhead, just a stone's throw away, painting the stage with snow-white blaze. Everyone looked up to the piercing white glare, waiting for me to emerge and float down.

So, of course I closed the portal again without emerging from it and when everyone looked back down I was already in place. The void-light was my distraction, to get everyone looking the wrong way while I just zipped in from the side at a hundred miles per hour. Power, versatility, and intelligence are the ultimate shortcut to theatricality. Every time someone assumes they know what I'm up to, I have to outfox them. Confusion to the enemy.

I want Nuur and her people to be perpetually reminded that any time they think they can predict me, they are wrong. Huh, there's someone missing. I had made some assumptions about "Nuur and her people", but they seemed to be in some disarray, revolving around an empty chair. The seat that Inquisitor Pina had held down up until now, as it turned out. From the gestures in their camp, it looks like they've got a lot of questions and a couple arguments.

They don't technically need Pina, but she is meant to be the representative of the magisters and her absence is conspicuous, it puts a hiccup into the ceremonies. Of which there are far too many. Fanfare and frippery, flourishes and forms to observe. Then after all the ritual obeisances, the judge cleared his throat and said, "Well, it is this court's pleasure and honor to welcome esteemed guests to these chambers, we will be -""The defense calls Baroness Grancine Tarratan," I cut in. He blinked in surprise.

So did pretty much everyone else. See, yesterday I had butted in at the very end to demand the royals show up for questioning. So, everyone assumes that they will be the first witnesses to speak today. But ultimately, I'm in charge of which of my witnesses gets called in what order. The judge may have had some nice little speech to welcome the king and queen to the court's floor, but he doesn't call my witnesses for me. And so that puts a wonderful weapon in my holster: timing.

One of the most classic, well-loved, time-honored power-plays is to make someone wait for you. It's almost universal, it's such a wonderful snub. Whether it's a corporate boss scheduling a meeting they're going to be late to, or a doctor requiring patients to be early for appointments.

"Hurry up and wait".

"The bell doesn't release you, I release you".

"We'll call your number when we're ready for you". And the most egregious: "Your service call will arrive between eight a. m. and two p. m.", which always means ten minutes past two but you can't do anything else all day because you're waiting for the installer. It's the same principle that lets the higher-ranked nobility arrive "fashionably late", so others are waiting on us. Hierarchies are defined by how much we respect each other's time. And now, I get to make them wait on me.

Here's my chance to use the machinery of the government to public express my scorn for the royals, and make them take it. Not an opportunity for me to squander. So I call out Baroness Grancine, and she sits at the witness stand, and we just catch up for a minute while thousands of people watch us and listen in. Just some basics, how have you been, it's been so long, et cetera. I press my hand to the witness stand's front rail, and it distorts and creaks slightly at my touch.

And it forms the words The royal couple is waiting while we chat. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Her smile was beaming, she understood immediately. Grancine was my first co-conspirator in Hearstcliff, the first person who looked at my talents and offered to trade my assistance for her resources and influence. She got me my starting capital, and she got me many of my early introductions.

When I first stumbled into the Hearstcliff gala scene I did not have anyone to guide me past pitfalls besides her. Granted, she could have done a much better job of it, and later I was able to get good advice from many others, like Lady Hanje Toor, and my cousins, and Junia and Millstrong. And of them all, I think only Grancine Tarratan gets the same giddy glee that I do from putting the screws to Dominionists. So, I added something to the routine. I smoothed the rail out, and created a flat surface on top of it.

"Baroness, could you describe for the audience and the record what this is?" I said, holding up a disk.

"A coin. Or a medallion? Brass, old." I started it spinning.

"When Baroness Grancine lies," I said to it, as it settled into position.

"Let me explain," I said.

"This is a magic coin. Call it the Liar's Gyre. I picked it up in my adventures. I've told you before that I'm a guild adventurer now, yes? Anyway, I needed a trick to level the playing field. As you know, Baroness, I can't lie. Not about anything, large or small. So it's useful to me to have a coin that can tell when people are lying." And from this range, she can tell that I'm up to something. From thirty feet away, the crowd can't tell anything. I've got my back to the prosecutor. I wink towards the judge.

"And this coin can tell when people are lying?" Grancine asked.

"Try it out," I said, waving a Vanna White gesture.

"Um, I had a pony when I was a child," she said. The clack of the coin picked up and carried through the stadium. The judge cleared his throat.

"Now, there is nothing wrong with the record showing these outcomes, but for the sake of procedure I should point out that scrying devices, truth spells, and other magical methods are not considered to be evidence or proof in the eyes of these courts. This is useful testimony but is not definitive."

"Yes your honor," I said and started it spinning again.

"When the baroness tells a lie. Here, Grancine. Try another."

"Um, I came prepared for a situation like this." Clack!

"Very good," I said. I started it up again, and prepped it, and then Baroness Grancine and I had a nice little character-witness conversation where we established that I would be a wonderful duchess and a fine friend to have, with only the best intentions for the duchy. She was actually surprised at how far I pushed some of the questions, but I had faith that she thought well of me. I watched the judge and the stenographer for signals when I was letting this run long. There's a balancing act to this.

After all, I want to frustrate and piss off the royals by making them wait. But, I also want to maintain the pacing and dramatic tension for the crowd. So while I might have a malicious urge to just let them stew in a waiting room for the next seven hours, I would rather maintain the suspense for a reasonable amount of time. I picked up the coin, and nodded to Nuur.

"Your witness," I said.

"Don't be a pest about it, the king and queen have been waiting far too long as it is." Which, of course, puts the responsibility for their impatience on her, not me. Without the spinning Gyre, she asked questions that were transparently easy to lie about. There is a whole different atmosphere now, with Grancine's smirk making it clear she could be making up any story she wanted. She mentioned a pony in several of her answers, just to taunt Nuur. Bless her for that.

The plaintiff's counsel was getting red-faced after just a few questions and then she dismissed the witness. I nodded to the judge, and said, "Counsel would like to call Queen Czoverenne Rithika Raynenne Freckentop to the stand." He nodded, and picked up his speech from the top, giving the bailiffs and stagehands plenty of time to position Her Majesty by the doors.

She came out to a fanfare of trumpets playing her theme of the royal anthem, and she walked out with great decorum and dignity, glaring holes in my head with every ounce of hatred that her heart could muster. It's going to get worse before it gets better. My smile was pure sugar and sunlight. Gods I do love pissing off people with power and no moral fiber. And, here's the important part: she walked out alone. Almost alone. A handful of personal guard lined up at the doorway, mana weapons ready.

But all of her magister security detail stayed well back out of sight. Because that was the only demand I had for the whole first day, the whole opening motions. That nobody with a magister's staff come anywhere near the courtroom floor. And so now, at long last, I have pried this bitch loose from the scribed wards that keep her safe from my sorcery. This is the fuel for my furious smile, I watch her walk into my sphere of control and away from her wizards. I could pulverize her in an instant.

Or, I could make it look like an accident. Does she have access to forensic doctors good enough to see the difference between some sudden-onset malady and a death from taking on a dozen atmospheres of pressure? Is it possible for me to carefully conjure water into her lungs and then dispel it with no evidence? How would I get serpent venom into her bloodstream? Or a deadly dapperling mushroom into her stomach? I fantasized about her horrible demise, and my heart swelled with vindictive contentment.

I was not going to kill her today. I know that. But I can imagine. And, I can send her from here with the knowledge that I could have. And I'm going to play it up a little bit. Halfway between the door and the witness stand, her dress shrank an inch. She paused, her stride catching like a discordant note, and she glared at me. I smiled with transparent guilelessness. The air around her started to warm up uncomfortably, and something at her shoulders began to itch. She's not going to die here today.

But I'm not letting her off without at least a nasty little petty annoyance. She was sat at the bench with extra honors that were not present when mere dukes and baronesses had been brought to this forum. I stood by and let the court officials dote on her. I stood at my podium, and spun the coin. Clat-skirrrrrrrrr rang through the gallery, fading down as the coin stabilized. I leaned close to it.

"When the queen tells a lie," I said, my voice hushing over the crowd. Queen Czoverenne heard this, and frowned at me. But nobody has run back to the waiting room after I spoke to Baroness Grancine, and I don't think anyone has told her what the Gyre does. Or, rather, what I have claimed it does. Maybe she can read between the lines. But maybe I can interfere.

Part of what I'm counting on is that Hearstcliff is so very corrupt, and the Freckentops are so scummy, and the royals as so entitled, that she will not be able to help telling a bald-faced lie and getting embarrassed with the need to deflect a perjury charge. I'm trying to fill my bag with ammunition to use against her and her husband. So I am not toning down the smarmy insouciance as I stroll up towards the witness stand, hands folded behind my back.

"Your Majesty," I said, nodding respectfully while smirking disrespectfully.

"My first question needs to be one of pure form, of course. Per the laws, charters and edicts of this kingdom, does the crown or throne have any direct say over the succession of duchies?"

"None," she said, already flushed and slightly damp with sweat. I don't believe she spends much time out of doors. She was glaring sullenly at me while I had the audacity to question her. In front of all these citizens. Peasants.

"That duty falls to the High Council, the dukes and duchesses themselves, and the regulations of their fiefdom." She spoke very precisely, I had to believe these were words she had heard or read verbatim several times in the past few days. I hope so. I hope that all this week they have been bothered by this.

"I see. So, by no means at all do I need your permission to succeed my parents as the duchess?" I pressed. Her face was stone and ice. Her glared was knives and fire.

"None at all," she admitted.

"Swell. So how much did you and your husband profit from the necromantic blight of Meadowtam?"

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

"Withdrawn." All in a rush. Nuur yelling that I'm out of line, the judge nudging me to not go so far out of line, and I gracefully accepted this correction and stepped back behind the line.

"What I mean to say," I continued blithely, "was to ask whether you have any particular insight or opinion into my qualifications and abilities as such. Perhaps, for example, you've made a study of myself and my history."

"I have," she allowed.

"Ah. And, to the best of your understanding, would the duchy of Meadowtam be better off if it were presided by my brother Nathan, or by myself? All else being equal."

"All else being equal?" she said, latching onto that as the operative phrase. To answer the question in a vacuum, with no other considerations. If she was planning to have me killed before the day was out, that would not be relevant to this question. If my rule of Meadowtam would be disastrous to the kingdom, that would be irrelevant. All else being equal, just this question.

"Yes, your Majesty." She was uncomfortable, out of her element, and under pressure. She was currently in the power of what was likely her greatest living enemy. There were magics she did not understand at work, she was being stared at from all sides, and she had been humiliated publicly. So, it was really impressive that she was still holding this much stately poise. In her place, I'd be coming unglued. She folded her hands with great composure.

"That question, all else being equal, yes." I nodded, smiling.

"And would you state why, your Majesty?" That's right, sing my praises under oath, you bitch.

"You're smarter, more willful, more resourceful," she said hollowly.

"You're ambitious and motivated. You bring personal power and you've demonstrated you're quite willing to exercise your own personal abilities in service to your broader aims. If this court ruled against you I believe you would tear the duchy in half trying to take it all, but if it ruled against Nathan he would barely notice. One of those two scenarios is clearly more advantageous to Meadowtam than the other. And, you're far more ruthless than he is. You proved that when you killed my daughter."

The coin did not fall.