The Finisher

VIGINTI NOVEM: Council

THE COUNCIL BUILDING was located at the very end of the High Street. It made all other structures in Wormwood, except Stacks and Steeples, seem but a clutter of old boards and cracked glass by comparison. It was that grand. I had no idea who had built it or when. I had always admired it, if from afar.

It was constructed of stone and marble with soaring columns out front and grand steps leading up to it. The doors were made of iron with intricate scrollwork that, as a Finisher, I had long loved to gaze at. It was said that the lights in the Council building were never extinguished and that despite the heat or cold outside, it remained the same temperature inside at all times.

As the head of Council, Thansius maintained his living quarters on the second floor. I had never been inside. I had had no reason to — until now. And I wished with all my heart that I were not here.

They did not bring me in the front entrance. I supposed prisoners were not given that privilege. A rear entry sufficed. I passed other Wugs who worked at Council as I shuffled along in the chain bindings. Most of the Wugs didn’t look at me. Those who did were fiendishly hostile. I hoped they were not part of the voting process here; otherwise I would be dead before this night.

I was led into a chamber that was nearly as large as the main room at Stacks, but far nicer. The floors were marble, the walls of stone, the ceiling a combination of the two, with enormous old worm-pitted beams crisscrossing the high space.

On a raised dais behind an intricately carved wooden waist-high wall sat the full Council. Thansius was seated in the center. He wore his robes of bloodred, which I did not take as a good sign. To his left was Krone, dressed in his usual black. To his right was Morrigone. She too was dressed in red.

Red and black would never again be favored colors of mine.

I was led to a small table with one chair. Next to it was a lectern, which the Preceptors at Learning had used when teaching us youngs.

“Remove her shackles,” ordered Thansius.

This was done immediately by the two Wugs who had brought me here by wagon. Then they retreated and I heard the door close behind them.

Now it was just me and Council. I looked up at them. And they looked down at me. I felt like a mouse quivering before a garm.

“Sit down, prisoner,” said Krone, “while charges against you are read.”

I sat, surreptitiously tugged down my shirtsleeves and tried to stop my heart from bursting out of my throat. From the corner of my eye I saw Ladon-Tosh seated to the side of the chamber. He was not looking at anyone or anything. I couldn’t understand why he was here, but then my gaze drifted down to his waist.

There was an ax held there in a special sheath fitted to his belt.

I turned back to look at Council while tendrils of cold dread formed around me.

Jurik Krone stood with a scroll of parchment in hand. He looked triumphantly at his fellow Council members. His victorious gaze, at least it seemed to me, lingered longest on Morrigone.

“This female, Vega Jane, has long been skirting the laws of Wormwood. I have statements from Cacus Loon and his son, Cletus, as well as from Non and Roman Picus, that shows she has broken laws without consequences for some time now.”

“We are here for other matters this light, Jurik,” said Thansius. “So let us focus on them.”

Krone nodded and glanced down at the parchment. “We found in the possession of Vega Jane a book.” He reached in front of him and lifted it up for all to see. “This book gives a detailed description of the creatures living in the Quag with, in certain circumstances, ways around said creatures. It also identifies species in the Quag that may be of help to those seeking to traverse the Quag. Like —” He paused and I knew exactly what he was going to say next. I mouthed the word before he spoke it.

“Outliers,” finished Krone.

On this, Council started murmuring among themselves. I noted that only Thansius and Morrigone held their own counsel and did not look at the others.

Thansius stared at a spot just over my head, although his gaze occasionally flicked to me.

Morrigone never once looked at me. I did not take that as a good sign.

Krone continued. “The only possible reason for this female to harbor a book like this is to aid the enemies of Wormwood. For such treasonous acts” — on this he gave a significant glance in the direction of Ladon-Tosh — “execution is the only appropriate punishment.”

Krone looked at each of the Council members in turn and then saved his most scathing look for me.

Thansius rose and said, “Thank you, Jurik, for your, uh, typically energetic parsing of the facts.” He then picked up the book and turned to me.

“How came you by this book, Vega?”

I looked around, unsure of what to do. Finally, I stood.

“I found it at Quentin Herms’s cottage.”

“You were never inside his cottage,” protested Krone.

“I was,” I said. “And I saw you there.”

“Rubbish. Lies and more lies.”

“ ‘The ring is the puzzlement for me. Why would the accursed Virgil not leave it to his son?’ That’s what you said in the cottage, Krone. I was hiding behind the cabinet in the front room. You weren’t there alone.” I hesitated, and then my instinct told me to go for it. “Would you like me to say who you were there with?” I didn’t know who that was, at least not for certain, but Krone couldn’t know that.

“Enough!” shouted Krone. “So you were at the cottage? That merely proves that you knew of the book and took it.”

“I did —”

“Did you help the traitor Herms create it?”

“I am trying to —”

“Do you expect us to believe your pathetic lies?”

“Jurik,” Thansius’s voice boomed.

The entire Council seemed to shudder collectively.

Thansius said, “She is trying to tell us her side of things. Your interrupting before she does so is not especially productive or a good use of Council’s time.”

There were murmurs of agreement on this point and Krone sat down and looked off as though he would not bother to even listen to what I had to say. I noted his crony, Duk Dodgson, sitting next to him and doing the very same thing.

Thansius looked at me and said, “Go on, Vega.”

“I didn’t know about the book. I went to the cottage because of the reward.” A lie plus a truth was far better than two lies, at least in my estimation. In fact, it was pretty close to the truth.

I looked around the room. “That many coins means a lot to a Wug like me. Domitar told us about the reward at Stacks. Every Stacker, I’m sure, did his best to collect his reward, so why not me? I went to the cottage to see if I could find any clues to where Herms had gone.”

“He had not gone anywhere,” countered Krone, who was now once more staring at me. “Outliers took him.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time, did I? It was only announced later and then explained at Steeples to all Wugs.”

“Then why did you keep the book?” asked Krone, a tone of triumph in his voice. “Why did you not turn it in to Council?”

“I was scared,” I replied.

“Of what?” snarled Krone.

“Of Wugs reacting just like you’re reacting now!” I shot back. “Even if I turned it in, I knew you, Krone, would find some way to twist it into a verdict of guilt. When you came for me last night, you said I would be executed. You’d obviously already made up your mind before the Council hearing. Where is the justice in that?”

My statement had the desired effect. Instantly, there were mutterings among the Council members. I saw two of the members give Krone harsh looks.

Morrigone stared at the wall across the room. Thansius kept his gaze on me.

Krone sputtered, “I did no such thing.”

My heart was still pounding and I was still terrified, but my anger was overriding my fear.

“Then why did you take me from my digs in shackles?”

“He did that?”

We all turned to look at Morrigone, who was now staring at Krone.

“He did,” I answered.

“You said you were taken last night, Vega,” said Thansius. “To where were you taken?”

I stared at Krone when I said, “Valhall. I was there until I was brought here. And no food or water has passed my lips.” Well, I had eaten some of what Delph brought me, but I was still starving.

“Then you must be very hungry and thirsty,” said Morrigone. She clapped her hands and an assistant instantly left the chamber. He came back a sliver later carrying a platter with bread and cheeses and a carafe of water. He set it down in front of me.

Morrigone said, “On behalf of Council, Vega, I apologize. No Wug goes to Valhall who has not first been convicted.” She added in a withering tone with a scathing look at Krone tacked on, “As my colleague Krone well knows.”

Krone had said nothing this whole time. As I attacked my meal and drank down the water, I shot glances here and there at Council. I saw Krone looking down at his hands and no doubt wondering where his advantage had gone. I was thinking that I might even be let go in a sliver or two when I noticed the carafe had a slight crack in it. Water had dribbled out of it and onto my sleeve. A puddle of dark liquid was pooling on the table.

I stared at it for a long moment, wondering what its source was. I wasn’t that dirty.

I didn’t even know he was beside me until I looked up.

Krone was staring at the dark pool of water. Then he looked at my arm and then he looked at me. Before I could stop him, he had ripped up my shirtsleeve, exposing the marks I had made from the map of the Quag that Quentin Herms had left me.

“And what in the name of Steeples is this, I ask you,” he roared. He twisted my arm and I cried out in pain.

Thansius stood. “Krone, stand down this instant.”

Morrigone was on her feet too and hurrying over to us. She stopped next to me and her gaze ran down my arm. I saw her attempt to say something but then it was like the words froze in her throat.

Krone had let go of me when Thansius ordered him to, but he still held up my sleeve.

Krone said, “Unless I am much mistaken, fellow members of Council, what I perceive on this female’s arm is nothing less than a map of the Quag.”

I wanted to yell back at him and ask how he knew it was the Quag, but I was struck dumb by the looks on the faces of Council. Thansius alone held me spellbound. He slowly walked over to me and looked down my arm. He gently pulled up my other sleeve and looked there as well.

“Are there any other marks on you, Vega, other than these?” His voice was filled with disappointment and, even worse, betrayal.

My eyes clouding with tears, I found I could not lie. “On my belly and legs.”

“And where did you come by them?”

I looked at Morrigone. She had not taken her eyes off the marks. Her expression of profound surprise was crushing to me.

“Quentin Herms left them on parchment for me,” I said. “Before he disappeared.”

“And did he tell you it was a way through the Quag?”

“In a way, yes.”

“And where is this parchment now?”

“I burned it.”

Krone broke in, “But not before copying the marks on her skin. And why do that if she were not planning to use it somehow, and no doubt against her fellow Wugmorts.”

“I was not,” I cried out. “I was never intending to use it at all.”

“Then why keep it on your skin?”

This query was from Morrigone. She was now looking at me.

I forced myself to meet her gaze. And in holding that gaze, I decided to tell the truth. “Because it showed a way to a place other than here.”

“A confession,” shouted Krone. “The female has as good as told us she is working with the Outliers.”

Morrigone was still staring at me, great sadness in her eyes. She looked at Thansius and said, “I believe that we have heard all that is necessary. We shall deliberate and then render our judgment.”

I wanted to scream at her not to do this. That I was innocent. That they needed to hear more from me. But I said nothing. I knew beyond all doubt that I could say nothing else that would matter to them now.

She looked at Krone. “But she will not be taken back to Valhall. She will be taken to her lodgings and a guard placed over her.”

Krone looked mortified at the idea. “She is a traitor. She will attempt to escape and thus avoid justice on this most serious matter. She has the map of the Quag on her. She will use it to —”

“To what, Krone?” interrupted Morrigone. “To go through the Quag? A fourteen-session-old Wug? She will be dead in two slivers. We all know what lies in there, Vega as well.” She looked at me when she said this. “And she has other reasons not to leave Wormwood. These she knows as well.”

Krone was about to say something, but Thansius forestalled another outburst.

“I am in agreement with Madame Morrigone. Vega will be taken to her lodgings and a guard placed there. However, before this is done, a female assistant to Council will see to … to the washing away of the marks on her … self.”

Krone said, “I want a guard with her every step of the way.”

Thansius looked like he wanted to strangle his colleague.

“I highly doubt Vega can escape from the Council building, Krone. But if you wish, you may go stand outside the door while the necessary, uh, organizing of the washing up is done.”

Krone looked very put off by this suggestion and made no indication that he would accept this offer.

Thansius walked back to the dais and used the hilt of an enormous jewel-encrusted sword lying there to smack the wood.

“Council will take up the matter of Vega Jane immediately.”

As I was led out, I looked back first at Thansius and then at Morrigone. Neither one of them would look at me.

My heart and spirits in my boots, I was led from the chamber and taken to a loo, where all the marks were washed off me with such energy that my skin was reddened and painful. But I didn’t utter a sound as the marks I had kept hidden for so long disappeared from my skin. Afterward, I was taken back to my lodgings, where a very happy Non stood guard outside my door.

Delph had brought Harry Two around to me, and my canine stayed right by my side.

It was quite dark now and I lay on my cot and wondered what my fate would be.

Would they execute me?

Would they place me back in Valhall? Perhaps for many sessions?

Would they let me go free?

But I kept coming back to: Would they execute me?

I had only witnessed one execution. It was when I was ten sessions old and a male had killed his female for no cause other than he was a vile Wug. It had been intentional, or so Council had found. This Wug had also nearly beaten his youngs to death and probably would have if other Wugs had not intervened. All of Wormwood was required to attend the execution, which had taken place in the village center.

He had been led up a short stack of steps to a platform, forced to kneel; a hood was placed over his head, which was set on a block of thick wood, and the executioner, himself hooded — but who I now strongly suspected was Ladon-Tosh — had raised his ax high and with one blow had cleanly severed the head from the rest of the Wug. It had dropped into a straw pouch set in front of the wooden block. The blood had poured down the steps and I thought poor John was going to faint. I had clutched my mother’s hand and felt sick. I had swayed on my feet, yet a great cheer had gone up from the crowd because justice had been served and a wicked Wug was no more.

Was that how my life was to end? With Ladon-Tosh separating my head from the rest of me? With Wugs cheering my bloody death?

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Until I knew my fate, there would be no rest for me.