Deadman - Book 3 Chapter 50: Accusers

Somehow, I slept. Even knowing my trial was at midnight, and even after several cups of coffee and well radded meat, I slept the longest and most restful sleep I had since the war had begun. I was blessed by a dreamless void, though I still awoke to the pain of the scars on my back as the sunlight hit my face.

I had slept in the living room. Under the guard of the Entombed. Nico was awake, and brought out a cup of coffee which I drank gratefully. I felt no need to speak, we had said all we’d needed to, and I knew now that even in Exile we would still be a part of one another’s lives.

There was a knock on the door, and Nico answered to find Nix standing there. Nix was holding my pack, and my sword, which she offered to me. I nodded, and took them gratefully, understanding the implication. If it was decided that I was to be exiled, then there would be no going back to retrieve my things. I would need to leave immediately, there would be no goodbyes or final leisurely strolls through Pott’s. All that would be left was a long lonely walk through the deadzone.

I re-holstered all of my weapons, slung my sword at my back, and slid the pack back onto my pack.

“You ready?” asked Nix.

I nodded, and we started walking. Nix in the lead, the entombed at either side of me, and Nico a short walk behind. The streets were oddly clear as we walked, but I could smell that the majority of the city was gathered near the Mausoleum. That wasn’t unusual, it was the center of the city, and the hub of most of its business, of course it was busy. As we got closer though, I began to realize that the gathering was not the natural buildup of footraffic that happened every day, but in fact, concentrated at the mausoleum.

When we entered the square, we found a massive crowd gathered. I could hear animated discussions, arguments, and even yelling as we got closer. There was a brief quiet as we came into view, and the crowd parted to let us through. All eyes were on me as I walked, and it set my teeth on edge. Some of the crowd shouted encouragement at me, or regarded me with gestures of strength and resilience, others offered gestures of a different kind, and spittle covered insults, though none got anywhere near close enough to me for their spit to land.

We made our way into the Mausoleum itself, and past the chambers in which I usually met the Honored Dead, into the central chamber that existed for larger trials, or grand meetings that involved the entire community. It was rarely used, typically only seeing occupancy once or twice within a year, but today it was filled to the brim with observers, and those with a stake. I recognized a number of faces as I was escorted through, but I was so overwhelmed by the press of people, that I found myself unable to focus on any one person for long. I think I’d have been more comfortable had they been trying to kill me.

I walked to the center of the room, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, and looked up at the gathered Honored Dead. They were all wearing their robes that marked who in Pott’s they represented. Julian in White, Solomon purple, Kit deep brown, Mama in black and Jim in red. In between us was an additional podium where those for or against my exile would speak where they could be witnessed. Exiles were rare, but the traditions were old and well known. First the council had to decide exile was to be considered, then Pott’s itself would plead for or against the defendant. After that the Honored Dead would weigh everything, and make a final decision.

Julian stood, drawing the hood of his white robe over his head as he did so. He raised his hand, and that chattering that had filled the room ceased. He spoke easily, raising his voice just enough to be caught by the natural acoustics in the room, and heard by all who attended. “We have come here to hear those arguments both for, and against the exile of Donovan, a Deadman and citizen of Pott’s. We shall begin by hearing those who would speak against him, who believe he should be banished, and then we shall hear from those who would have him stay, and remain as one of us.” He gestured to the space between us. “His primary accusers may speak first, as it is their right to be heard, and his right to see them.”

As he finished speaking, a door to the right of the chamber opened, and I waited with anticipation to see who would walk through. I saw a woman, a cloth wrap around her eyes, wearing long robes, with burgundy skin and long black hair down her back in a braid. To her right was a massive hulking figure of rippling muscle, gently clasping her hand as they walked toward the small podium at which they’d speak. Behind the blindfold she wore, I saw a faint green glow.

I ground my teeth together with such force that the grinding was audible to those near me. I recognized my accusers immediately, it was Mary and Sampson. Red tinged my vision for a moment, and I felt the temptation to leap at them, but I held back. I would honor Pott’s traditions…once I was exiled though, that might change.

Once I’d calmed myself down and was able to take a better look at them, I realized that they’d changed. Their clothes were clean and well kept, and they’d clearly been taken care of since they’d arrived in Pott’s, but they themselves were worn down. They seemed thinner, their bodies scarred, and their eyes weary. The fact that they were in such a state in spite of the ‘gifts’ they’d been given by the first was a comfort to me. Clearly the slaves I’d released had taken full advantage of the chances I’d created. I activated my Lie detector ability before the testimony started.

Once Sampson had guided Mary to the podium, he stepped to the side and looked at me with unrestrained hatred in his eyes. Mary too, turned to look at me as if she could see, which I assumed she could and was lying about to garner additional sympathy for herself.

“Before I speak, I wish to say that mere exile is not remotely the level of punishment this filth deserves.”

Julian nodded. ‘Noted. Please speak your peace, both of you.”

“I come from a place, similar, but different, to Pott’s. A place we called Eden. It lived up to its name. It was a paradise for deadmen and women. Our every need was met, we were safe and secure, and even lived in harmony with those who were not so blessed as us.”

I bit my tongue. I was not able to defend myself in this trial. The actions I’d taken and the words I’d spoken were meant to act as my defense.

“When Donovan arrived, he was treated with the highest of respects and honors. We fed him, offered him shelter, and he was even allowed to meet with our go-. Our leader by himself to receive his blessings.” Mary shook her head, her voice taking on a deep sadness. “He was even offered the chance to live among us, and join us as a brother.” She shook her head. “He rejected that chance. He left us briefly, performing some act for those you now call enemies, the Remnants, I believe you call them, then he returned to our lands in secret. He destroyed the facilities which armed us, and protected us from the raiders who existed upon our borders, he destroyed our gates, and turned many of our own people against us. The First, our leader, in his great mercy captured him and offered him the chance at repentance, but he tricked him, and killed him in cold blood.” She clutched her arms. “The worst thing he did though, was lead the beast to us… It tore through Eden. Killing not only us, but those who attacked us, those he’d pretended to befriend. Our homes were completely and utterly destroyed. We were forced to flee Eden to escape the wrath of the creature, forced to follow the path that he himself created in his flight from us. At the start of the journey we were thirty…by the end of it, only Sampson and I remained.” She pointed at me, her finger finding its mark easily in spite of her covered eyes. “He is damnation. A stain on all Deadmen, a murderer, and apostate, a demon.”

I met her supposedly blind gaze, looking past her pointing finger. Everything she’d said had been marked as true by my ability, but she’d neglected to mention Eden’s cannibalism, slavery, torture, my own incarceration and attempted brainwashing, or any number of other reasons behind my actions. I still had no idea what beast she was referring to, but it sounded like a happy coincidence to me. Overall, her accusations sounded like a job well done. It wasn’t as if I’d never been called a murderer or a demon before. Apostate was a new though.