There were ways to send messages across long distances using magic and Benen knew the spells for this, but he needed to have met the person he was trying to communicate with. This reduced his choices down to three wizards — well, four if you counted the Westren wizard, Blon, Benen had met briefly during his apprenticeship, but being Westren he would not be of help in this case.
The first wizard was his former master, Oster. But Benen was not sure he was ready to face him. He still had nightmares of his time under that wizard’s thumb and did not relish ever meeting him again.
The second wizard was Tawn, who had used a vessel to confront Benen. From his examination of this vessel, Benen had devised the body he had built for Timmon. Tawn had been collecting goods from the people of Gronin, but they did not remember the agreement their ancestors had made with the wizard. They had asked Benen to intervene and stop him. When Benen had found out the wizard was owed the goods, their quarrel stopped and they managed to part on lukewarm terms. He didn’t think Tawn would be happy to hear from him, and doubted the wizard would be favourably inclined to help.
The third wizard was Mellen, the adviser to the king of Estren. This was the most promising choice he could think of. This wizard was the first to mention moots to him and had even suggested Benen should attend one. Unfortunately, he did not know Mellen well at all. They had met once and then only briefly. Strictly speaking, the spell to contact him should work
if
he could picture the meeting well enough in his mind.
Benen tried to recall Mellen’s face but he had great difficulty picturing his features. He feared his message would not make it to its destination, or worse, make it to the wrong person. Still, he had to try. He gathered all his memories of Mellen, what he had worn, the colour of his hair, his face, his height and weight, even how he had moved and how he had talked. Some of these he could recall clearly, others he had to guess at.
He kept all this in his mind as he called upon the moon and the Parallels, both of which were in the sky by the time he had finished his deliberations, and cast the communication spell.
“Mellen? This is the wizard Benen. We met, briefly, decades ago. I had come to the capital to see the king to convince him that he should make use of wizards to better the realm. Do you remember me? Can you communicate back?” Benen sent this along the channel his spell created and waited for a response. On his end, Mellen would have to cast the same spell to send his reply.
Benen maintained his spell for almost an hour before Mellen communicated back to him; he had almost given up hope of a reply when he heard the old wizard’s voice.
“Benen? I’m sorry I could not respond faster, I was in a meeting when your message reached me.”
“I am grateful you responded at all, I did not mean to interrupt anything. I am in need of advice, I was hoping you could help me.” Benen’s voice betrayed his anxiety.
“Is something wrong?”
“A wizard has died.”
“By your hand?” Mellen’s tone suggested that he hoped the answer was negative.
“Not exactly,” Benen replied. He did feel responsibility for the death and could not deny his own involvement.
“How
exactly
did the wizard die?” Mellen had no patience for Benen’s hedging.
“A wizard came to the village that has sprung up in the area of the eastern desolation that I have made fertile. This village is under my protection. The wizard, a woman — I never got her name — claimed she was taking an apprentice from among the locals. I objected and we fought. My friend, a . . . um . . . ghost is the one who dealt the blow that killed her.”
“A ghost killed her?”
“Well, he has a body now. I’ve made him one out of gold.”
Silence.
“Mellen?”
“You made a body that a ghost can inhabit?”
“Yes, quite a while ago.”
“Okay. Never mind that for the moment. Let us focus on the death. You are not responsible, but you should come to the next moot and explain what happened and face judgement. You will be acquitted, have no fear.”
Benen did not like the sound of ‘face judgement’ but he felt he had best follow the advice of the elder wizard.
“That’s another thing I need. Where is the next moot and when?” he asked of Mellen.
Mellen told him the details and said they could talk further at that time.
Benen had to wait almost two years for the moot to occur. He passed those years anxiously dreading the judgement he would face there.
#
Benen went to the moot alone, without Timmon; he did not think the embodied ghost would be welcome at a gathering of wizards.
He had no trouble reaching the remote location where it was being held; his giant eagle form was perfect for long distance travel and he found the flight relaxing. Being the bird and letting it take over relieved him of his anxiety over the coming judgement for a time.
When he came close to the abandoned castle hosting the moot, he took over once more and landed nearby. After Benen returned to his human form, he dressed in the fine clothes he had brought with him. He felt it was important to look his best for this event.
Benen was met by men-at-arms in the castle’s courtyard. They demanded to know who he was at spear point. When he told them his name, a sergeant checked a list.
“Journeyman Benen, student of Master Oster?” he asked.
“I am,” Benen said.
“Welcome, sir.” The sergeant bowed to Benen and stepped sharply to the side. Benen gave him a curt nod, pleased that he was recognized. He entered the keep.
Once through the entrance, Benen found himself directed by stern-faced guards to a great hall near the centre of the keep. This reception hall was filled with wizards that had arrived before Benen; he counted twelve. They were speaking to each other, some in pairs, others in groups of three or four. Benen ignored them for the moment and went to the tables laden with hors-d’oeuvres to grab a bite to eat — he was famished from the flight. As he crossed the room, he attracted the attention of many of the wizards; he could hear conversations stop as he was noticed.
As he picked up a tasty morsel of meat on bread, Benen was accosted by one of these wizards. The man, a tall, thin, blond with an overlarge nose that ruined an otherwise handsome face, touched Benen’s shoulder to gain his attention.
“Pardon me, but who are you?” the man asked.
Benen did not like the man’s tone, he seemed to be questioning his right to be at the moot.
“I will do you the honour of giving you my name, after you’ve given me yours, sir.” Benen addressed him as formally as he knew how.
“Certainly. I am Master Garund, student of Master Bellamir.” He said the names as if they had a significance Benen should understand; he did not.
“Very well then: I am Benen.”
“You give yourself no rank? Name no master?”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m a Journeyman, I guess. My master was Oster.”
Garund’s eyes widened at the mention of Oster. “I . . . I did not know. Welcome then, Journeyman Benen, student of Master Oster.” He bowed after this and withdrew without further bothering Benen.
What was that about?
Benen wondered.
Whispers went around the room after this encounter and Benen heard what he thought to be Oster’s name many times. No one else approached him.
Seven more wizards arrived one by one over the course of the next hour. Last among them was Mellen, who came to speak with Benen the moment he spotted him.
“Benen, is all well?” he asked him the moment he came close.
“Yes, I suppose.” Benen was surprised by the question and by the worry he saw on Mellen’s face.
“I fear I may have overestimated your chances of acquittal. I did not know the identity of the wizard when I spoke with you, and this changes much.”
“It does?” Benen did not like the sound of this at all. “Who was she?”
“Elladora was the master of two of the five wizards who are to sit in judgement over cases this moot. If one or both of them is chosen by lots to judge your case, you will have a hard time of it.”
“But . . . I did not kill her!” Benen said it too loudly and wizards all around turned from their own conversations to look his way. He continued more quietly: “I didn’t.”
“I know, Benen, I know. I’ll do what I can for you.” Mellen paused and his face assumed a solemn mien. When he spoke again, it was in a louder voice that carried to the entire room. “Journeyman Benen, student of Master Oster, you are accused of the murder of your sister wizard, Master Elladora, student of Master Bera. Until your trial, you are to be confined to the dungeons.”
Men-at-arms came forward from the edges of the room to grab Benen and restrain him. Mellen looked at him seriously and said, “Don’t fight this, it’s for your own protection.”
As he was carried away, Benen heard other wizards address Mellen as Baron Estermont. The name of the abandoned castle, he knew, was Castle Estermont.
Benen was suddenly not sure he should have ever trusted the man.
#
The dungeon was rendered magic-proof by the simple expedient of a
sink
and a guardian wizard standing outside the cell. The sink was a magical effect that drew all the nearby magical energy to itself. The guardian wizard, at his post on the sink, was the only wizard in the area with any magical power.
The cell Benen was placed in was a small stone-walled room with no windows. The heavy wooden door resisted his efforts to open it, which he quickly abandoned as unproductive. He resigned himself to waiting, spending the time berating himself for having ever decided to come to the moot.
He did not have to wait long. Three hours after his imprisonment, Benen was brought out of the dungeons and escorted to a long hall with few furnishings. The only seats in the room were three high throne-like chairs at the far end of the room. The seats were occupied by wizards Benen had never met before. Other wizards were milling about, talking to one another on the other side of the room.
Benen was brought forward to stand in front of the seated justices. To his left stood a wizard, glaring at him. Benen’s guards withdrew.
The wizard seated in the middle spoke then:
“Journeyman Benen, student of Master Oster, you stand accused of the murder of Master Elladora, student of Master Bera. What do you plead?”
Everyone looked to Benen. “Not guilty. I didn’t kill her,” he said simply.
The middle wizard frowned at Benen, but after a moment nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Master Edim, student of Master Elladora.” He called upon the wizard standing beside Benen. “You act in the victim’s name. As the accuser, you have the right of first arguments.”
Edim accepted this responsibility with a nod and spoke with a clear voice that carried throughout the hall. He was obviously an experienced orator.
“The statement given by Master Mellen is clear: the accused, Journeyman Benen, admitted to Master Mellen with his own voice and without ambiguity, that he killed Master Elladora when she came to the area he claims as his domain.”
“I did no such thing!” Benen was outraged. “I specifically told him I did
not
kill her. It was Timmon.”
The wizard seated on the centre chair pointed a censorious finger at Benen. “You may not speak! It is the accuser’s turn to state their case, not yours to defend yourself.”
The accuser, Edim, raised a hand to get the wizard’s attention. “If the justices will permit and if the accused accepts, we could switch formats to the less formal Dialogue trial format.”
The central justice looked to Benen. “Do you consent?”
“I don’t know what any of this means.” Benen was lost in these legal proceedings.
“It means that instead of formal statements from first the accuser and then the accused, followed by the calling of witnesses and then final statements, you and the accuser would discuss what happened. The accuser would ask you questions which you must answer. Any answers can be required to be proven true with evidence or testimony, as needed.”
“Okay, that sounds reasonable,” Benen allowed.
The central justice indicated to Edim that he could begin.
“Thank you for allowing this, Journeyman Benen, it will make things much simpler.” Edim smiled at Benen. “Do you admit that you confronted Master Elladora when she arrived in the village of Benen’s Oasis?”
He had, so Benen said that he so admitted.
“Do you admit that you and Master Elladora fought one another?”
Reluctantly, Benen did admit this.
“And do you admit that your creature, which you name Timmon, came to your aid in this fight, killing Master Elladora in the process?”
“I did not name him Timmon, that’s his name. And he is not
my
creature, he is a ghost.”
“But Benen, a ghost could not have killed Master Elladora.”
“Timmon has a body now. I made him one out of gold.”
“You claim to have made a body for a ghost to inhabit?” Edim’s voice was coloured with doubt.