The Vampire & Her Witch

The entire great hall seemed to be holding its breath as they stared at the lone Inquisitor sitting on the dais.

Of everyone sitting on the dais, only Diarmuid had participated in the defense of Hanrahan Town. Dame Sybyll, for all that she was a Hanrahan, was also a vampire, and even the most sympathetic members of the audience had just seen how quickly she could shift from sympathetic damsel to bloodthirsty predator.

Aside from the Crimson Knight herself, the court might look balanced. Three demons and three humans. At first glance, it seemed like a tremendous concession to the defeated party. But Hugo Hanrahan openly admitted that he sided with his cousin rather than his father, and Liam Dunn’s status as a ’prisoner’ was ambiguous at best. There were no shackles on his hands, unlike Loman Lothian and the remainder of the Hanrahan family.

But Diarmuid, sitting between a witch and a frost-horned demon, had gone to the walls to help the defenders. He had the courage to do what Ian and Bastian Hanrahan hadn’t, and he had the courage to not only sit there now, but to speak up, and for that alone, the people of Hanrahan respected him.

”Dame Sybyll,” Diarmuid began, choosing his words with exceptional care. ”When we spoke before, you told me that my place on your court was to call you out if you strayed from justice to vengeance. Is that still true? Or is Baron Ian Hanrahan doomed to die no matter what?”

From his position on the floor, standing in chains, Ian looked at the Inquisitor with a bit of reluctant admiration. As much as he loathed the man for finding a way to stand in judgment against everyone else here, he had to give some respect to the man for having the courage to ask that question... Even if it was just the respect he gave to a fool who was about to die even faster than Ian himself would.

”Me cousin, Ian, doomed himself wit’ his own actions,” Sybyll said as she clawed back her desire to say something even more scathing. ”But I didn’a convene a whole court just ta’ pronounce judgment. Ask yer questions, Inquisitor,” Sybyll said with a graceful gesture toward Ian. ”Let tha’ people hear his wrongs laid bare t’night, an’ then tha’ court can make its judgment.”

”Thank you, Dame Sybyll, for your magnanimity,” Diarmuid said as he stood to give a slight bow before turning to face Ian Hanrahan. ”Baron Hanrahan, you stand accused of magnicide. It’s a serious crime that carries the penalty of death,” the inquisitor began, speaking more for the people than for the baron himself. After all, the crime was so rare that most people wouldn’t understand the severity of the crime.

”Further, if you are found guilty of this crime, you will be stripped of all lands, titles, and privileges as a peer of the kingdom,” Diarmuid continued. ”Your heirs will inherit nothing and will live the rest of their days as commoners. The crime of magnicide is not only the murder of an ordinary person, but a person who has received the blessing of the Holy Lord of Light in recognition of lifetimes of piety in their struggle, and the punishment you will face for this is exceptionally grave,” Diarmuid explained.

”Yes, yes, I know,” Ian snapped, already irritated that the Inquisitor seemed to have free rein not only to question the Crimson Knight, but to hold a sermon in what had been Ian’s own great hall just hours ago. ”You will stake my body out for the crows to feast on. I will have no pyre. My bones will be left in the open until the sun bakes them to dust. I will not reach the Heavenly shores. Did I forget anything? Inquisitor?” Ian mocked.

”Ye forgot nothin’,” Sybyll said from her throne as she gave her cousin a hungry smile. ”But yer wrong ta’ think that it’ll be as simple as desecrating yer bones when yer dead an’ gone. Ye may beg fer a death so quick b’fore tha’ night is done.”

”Be good ta’ tha’ Inquisitor,” Sybyll warned. ”I’ve seen me’ Mistress keep a man alive fer eighty years o’ sufferin’ an torture fer what he did ta’ her people. If tha’ Inquisitor catches ye lyin’ ta him, I might just start addin’ years ta’ yer life, just fer ye ta’ suffer longer b’fore tha’ end,” she said menacingly.

Hearing her words, Ian Hanrahan visibly paled, and Bastian dropped to his knees where he stood. The young man tried to speak, to plead that he’d already told her everything he knew, but when he looked into his cousin’s crimson eyes, he couldn’t make his throat work, and his lips just moved soundlessly as he pleaded for mercy.

”Dame Sybyll,” Diarmuid said with a frown at the woman sitting languidly on her throne. ”Threats aren’t necessary for me to gain the truth from Baron Hanrahan. He’ll answer my questions, one way or the other,” the Inquisitor said as he returned his attention to Ian Hanrahan.

”There are two things I want to make clear from the beginning,” Diarmuid continued as he tried to force the proceedings back on track. There was sweat running down his back, and part of him was afraid of what exactly Dame Sybyll might do to him if she was displeased by what he was about to say.

Her reminder that the demons had methods of punishing a man that went far beyond what even the Church could do to a criminal scratched at his mind like a dog at the door, begging to come in from the cold, but he refused to allow thoughts of demonic punishment into his mind to distract him.

”The first thing to make clear is the severity of the crime that Baron Hanrahan is accused of,” Diarmuid said, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace across the front of the raised dais. ”The second is his defense. Baron Hanrahan, you don’t deny killing Dame Sybyll’s mother,” the Inquisitor said, pausing in his pacing to look directly into the eyes of the accused lord.

”Instead, you deny that you did anything wrong,” Diarmuid said. ”You deny that Dame Sybyll is the daughter of your Aunt Caitlin, or that the woman you killed was your Aunt Caitlin. You assert that they are frauds who attempted to swindle you, and you executed her mother for that crime.”

On the throne, Sybyll bristled at hearing her mother being called a fraud, but she held her temper back firmly, despite her desire to leap to her mother’s defense. Diarmuid would prove things out, she just had to give him time, she reminded herself.

She might not have as much faith in his character as Heila did, but the diminutive witch seemed to possess some unique insight into the Inquisitor, and Sybyll was willing to put her faith in Heila. After all, the diminutive witch had more than earned Sybyll’s trust with her deeds in the battle tonight.

But on the floor beneath the dais, a slow smile appeared on Ian Hanrahan’s face as he realized that the Inquisitor hadn’t given up on him entirely. He was opening a door for the baron to explain that, even if he’d killed the old cripple, it hadn’t been a crime at all. And once the people understood that, once the entire crowd was on his side, and most importantly, now that the ’Crimson Knight’ had given up the impenetrable armor that made her all but unkillable...

Ian Hanrahan would have his chance to turn his people into a rabid mob that would tear her down like a pack of dogs chasing a doe caught in an open field. All he needed to do was bring the men in the crowd over to his side... and he knew just the way to do it.

And if the men in the great hall couldn’t overcome the unarmored demon with the witch and her fellow demons at her side, then so what? Even if nine out of ten people in the hall died in the attempt, so long as Ian was able to make his way to a loyal retainer or two who could help him escape, then he’d have a chance to flee to Lothian City, or perhaps all the way to the Holy City, where no demons could possibly reach him.

If he could scoop up Loman in the chaos, he might even gain the bargaining chip he needed in order to buy his way into the Church’s good graces. After all, rescuing the Disciple of an Exemplar had to be worth some kind of reward...