by James (Ben) Mielke
His hands got tired eventually, after two hours of practicing, and Edzelian stopped. He lolled on the big pillows surrounded by the ever expanding Mucetti drum collection-skin and wood, beads, rattles, brass gongs and bells, feathers, the elements of his comfort; meditation aids. He wasn't hungry enough to go to the larder, nor uncomfortable enough to head for the toilet shed, not yet. He enjoyed the ironic polarity of the bodily functions; but for the bad smells, the toilet would be a fine place to eat.
Footsteps on the porch preceded the front door opening and Borphon entered accompanied by Mabutu. This was Keeper's Cottage-nobody ever knocked.
Borphon went up the ladder to the classroom loft, Luenda and the senior students were already there waiting for him.
Mabutu crossed to the drum heap and greeted the young musician. "Hello, Edzy, it's been a long time. I hope we can be friends."
"Sure. I never hated you-that was Luvin."
"I remember. We used to get along at Branch House."
"Yeah, before..."
"That was a good time, right? Taralisa was teaching us to read."
Edzelian smiled at Mabutu, recalling the good old days. "We laughed so hard the first time you and Sal came into class and sat with us-she was bigger than the teacher!"
Mabutu chuckled. "I thought we looked funny or something-like my underwear was out."
"No-we thought you must be dumb. All grown up and you can't read. Guess you're not dumb; they're making you a teacher."
"Thanks. So, this is your cabin now?"
"I'm not supposed to leave without Mom or some grown-up taking me."
"I was a prisoner, kind of. It's not bad."
"I don't mind it too much and I get to be in the big kid's class."
"Makes you special."
"Yeah. I like that!"
It was an original cabin of the Hospice-the Keeper's Cottage-designed and built by Mellisa, with a little help from her friends, many long years ago, with easy access, a shaded wrap-around porch and a terraced garden in the rear hedged by grapevines. The interior was mostly one room with a huge sleeping loft over the fireplace, large enough to entertain a small party and looking out a dormer window. During her residence Naomi sectioned off a small space by a garden window for an office, connecting to the colony's network.
Now the cabin was Luenda's to share with Edzelian. They made a bed in the office nook and used the loft as a classroom for the eldest children to follow more advanced studies; the main room was mostly a place for music, as always. Borphon mentored the class and Mabutu was his associate.
The eunuch was shooting up in height but remained slender, a walking skeleton; his skull wore a halo of silky black hair to the shoulders, typically adorned with fragrant pink tea roses. He grew out of his clown outfit before he finished sewing it and he designed a new one easy to adjust. He was learning to act and relate independently of Salyanna; he still held a resentment over the pilgrimage and now she was a deputy, busy many days and nights, far from him; it felt like they were sliding apart. Working with the kids, playing jester, staying up nights studying ahead to teach back, reading and learning and helping wherever he could; diversions all, growing to passions as he immersed.
Salyanna transferred to the Judge's with Chloe, becoming guard/companion for the prisoner. Chloe occupied Precious Rose's room and Salyanna slept in Jerry's; the kids moved to the Hospice. Precious was her class leader, the top youth athlete in the colony and the best student in Firstown, reading at college level, researching, teaching and supervising the younger kids with assurance. The adults trusted her and the littlest ones loved her. Her half brother, two years younger, had tinker's fingers and loved to take things apart, study the components and reassemble them, sometimes he found a better way. He always carried a small tool set in a wallet.
"...So sure, they had the jail under surveillance and spotted us leaving with Chloe. How did they know we were taking her to the Judge's? Only you, me, Kaila, Lucy, Patty and Arrolon knew our destination."
"Wouldn't be too hard to figure that out," Homer answered. "Aren't many places to go. They probably realized we weren't taking her to the Hospice and there are no hiding places in town-just neighborhoods where we don't want trouble. That leaves here, or the Vale-that ambush covered both options."
"Chloe was expecting it."
"They weren't trying to kill her. Or us, they could easily have wiped out everybody."
Naomi patted her belly where the jacket bulged over bandages. "She wasn't playing nice. If she had escaped, we would be dead."
"Maybe... probably, I suppose. They likely have a 'no witnesses' policy."
"Well, Marcus. That didn't work out very well, did it?"
The colonist said nothing. Bruises on his face, cracked lips and broken nose made speech painful.
Pyteman stepped behind his prisoner, bound and seated on the ground. The off-worlder grabbed Marcus's head by the hair of his brow and pulled back, his other hand flashed quickly with a long cold knife and slit the stonemason's throat from ear to ear. Pyteman was practiced at this task and knew how to avoid staining his pants with the gushing blood, skipping backward as the body fell. Mindful of the need to document his work for expeditious receipt of the bounty, Pyteman drew a pocket recorder, made note of the exact time and captured an image of the body before the fungus consumed it.
Salyanna knocked, waited a grace minute, and then unlocked the door, going on in. "Good morning! Sleep well?"
Chloe was already up and dressed. She sat at the window admiring the bundles of wisteria blossoms hanging at the top of the glass. "Not bad. What's for breakfast?"
"Mushroom omelet with cheese and hashed sweetroot-Arrolon cooked."
"You guys are spoiling me. I'll get fat before the execution." She rose to her feet.
"Don't say that! I kinda like you. It would be awful for you to die." She led the prisoner out into the hallway, then across the house and outside to the table by the rose arbor.
Chloe's breakfast was laid out, keeping warm under a silver cover. Salyanna handed her a single spoon when she sat and then stood back a respectful distance while she dined-the deputy had already eaten.
Chloe finished, Salyanna recovered the spoon and rang a dinner bell. Arrolon came from the house, still with a stoop shouldered walk, and gathered the dishes. As he went back in the officers of the Court: Kaila, Naomi and Homer, Lucy and Charlene, all came out of the villa. The sheriff was moving with ease and her chief deputy used his wife's elbow for a crutch, scarcely limping on the injured leg; the judge carried the tea service.
Kaila took the table's head, opposite Chloe, and the others arrayed themselves in between, Salyanna sat too.
Lucy poured for the tea drinkers-all but Chloe and Charlene-and Kaila opened the talk.
"The trial is prepared; we're all ready; are you?"
Chloe smiled. "I'm always ready for some theater. Whenever you want to do it. Lead me to your altar of Justice and make the bloody offering, but don't expect me to bare my throat willingly."
"You don't have to die. Cooperate, tell the truth; we deserve it, and you will probably feel better."
"I have nothing new to say."
Kaila shook her head.
"It seems that the last time anybody saw Marcus was the day before the night we were ambushed."
"I can't believe Marcus would shoot me."
"I can believe that he was captured by Pyteman-probably at the jail. He could have been forced to help set up an ambush. If that's the case we won't see Marcus again-he's dead."
"Where's his body?"
"Gone to the fungus, of course. There will be nothing we can prove, no matter what we know."
"Poor MaryJane. Karma... even Synoveh, I guess." A tear ran down Homer's left cheek.
The strolled the vineyard, Chloe and Salyanna; a daily after-lunch excursion, exercise, fresh air, vistas, birds, talk:
Salyanna waved at the spread of wild landscape beyond the vineyard. "There were pictures looking like that in the brothels, on the walls. I couldn't figure them out at all, what they were showing me. Usually there's a naked girl in the picture up close, you know it's supposed to be real,,, But of what? I never saw trees or outside. When I was first here, at Branch House, and that's right up to the forest-you know? Like I was in the pictureÖ but I'm not the naked girlÖ the trees are the only thing around reminding me of brothels. But it's all so beautiful-unreal."
Chloe's portfolio held stock in brothels and vineyards, she invested in art, including landscape paintings and erotic nudes; but Salyanna's gusto for the experience lifted some jade from her eyes. To her surprise, she enjoyed the moment; it was warm, peaceful and she had a new friend. "I'm in the best jail in the Galaxy, and I kind of like the jailer, too."
Salyanna leaned over and brushed shoulders with her prisoner. "You're just being nice"
"No, really. I like you. When I think of 'brothel babes' I think of somebody like Roxie, and then I get to visit with you. It's been an education. My life is so different from yours; I'm twice your age, at least, but you teach me a lot. Almost worth being arrested."
Salyanna loved flattery: "Gosh, I like you, too! There's a connection-we could be sweeties! You know what I would like?"
"What?"
"You ever take the purple stuff and meet It?"
"Purple stuff? You mean that fungus drug from Homestead? I tried it once, nothing happened. And what is It?"
"I heard that the stuff doesn't always work, I don't think It likes whiskey..."
"What is It?" She stopped and faced her guard.
Salyanna paused, turned to catch eyes. "You haven't had whiskey forever now. We should do It."
"What is It?" Chloe snapped.
"It will tell you. When we take It."
"No! You tell me, now-what is It?"
"Don't get upset, I wanna help you. It will help!" She was blinking and childlike, smiling sweetly. "You drink the stuff and you sleep, okay? And It's like meeting your best friend, only better. You feel warm and her green eyes watch youÖ SheÖ It listens, understands and takes you away. Like when I used to get high and sort of not be inside of me for a while-not notice what I was feeling. But with It, It takes that stuff, what hurts youÖ Doesn't take it away, you know, but puts that stuff where you can look at it, 'cause you are alongside It, and understand a little, with It-I'm not saying this very good; let's just take the stuff-you'll see It, and then you'll know what I mean."
Chloe was intrigued: "You make enough sense to me-It is a healing spirit coming to you from the drug."
"Well, yeah. But no, not 'from the drug'-that's only at first. When you get there then, the purple stuff, you won't really need that anymore. It will be with you whenever. The more I think, the more I say that you gotta do It. It can fix things; we won't have to kill you." Salyanna shined a million diamond smile at the happy prospect.
Bemused and skeptical, but loving it. "I rather don't believe that Judge Kaila will..."
"Judge Kaila needs to see It, so does Lucy, and Homer. It all makes sense to me."
"Why not? I doubt we can get them to join us, but I'm ready anytime."
"I bet it's against the rules. We should be secret. Middle of the night sometime. I have to get a bottle."
"I like breaking rules."
Salyanna shot conspiratorial eyes at her companion. "Me too, sometimes, 'specially with Bubu. I know we all think you are real bad; I don't understand those things-what you did or whatever. I wasn't there and I still think you're kinda fun. We could be like, Sisters."
"Sisters... That would be new to me, never felt close to somebody!" Chloe stopped walking and stopped breathing, feeling for emptiness, there was unexpected pain on the horizon and closing in rapidly. She shivered in the warm afternoon sunlight and her eyes went wet.
"Are you okay?" Salyanna took Chloe's hand in both of hers; the off-world woman seemed off world, beyond the stratosphere. "Are you okay?" Salyanna repeated.
Chloe let out her breath and collapsed into the larger woman's embrace. Sobbing, she buried her face in Salyanna's breast.
Bokassa plead guilty to four counts of willful homicide, without premeditation, and accepted a life sentence. Davey and Paul Jones agreed to minor accessory charges and a one year prison term. Hildy was the new director of Firstown Choir, and under a three-year sentence to the choir house-he never missed a practice.
The only case remaining before the Court was the little matter of Chloe:
The Defense examined a witness: "...The Prosecution presented a sworn statement from you, Ms. DeShawnet, your account of the late Owen Sanchez's account of the events on the day in question. Do you stand by that statement?"
"Yes, I do." It was a fresh faced Roxie on the stand: clean hair neatly combed back and tied with a sedate blue ribbon, trim new clothes in a conservative city cut, prim make-up, thin lips, no shadows and clear eyes; nobody recognized her.
"You had a sexual relationship with Owen Sanchez?"
"Yes, I did." She was suppressing a smile.
"Did he give you money?"
"Yes, he did." A little more curl to her lips; she blinked.
"For sex?"
"Not like that. He gave me booze for sex; he gave me money for more sex. Why else would I stay with him? He was ugly and mean and a lousy fuck-barely got it up and blamed me!"
Kaila knew better than to try stopping the round of laughter. She waited a decent five seconds before gaveling for silence. "The witness is advised to adhere to the question; and to refrain from unnecessary profanity."
"Yes, Judge. I'm sorry." Roxie smiled, loving her effect.
"Did you have a sexual relationship with Davey?"
"Not before he went to jail."
"But you socialized with him before he went to jail?"
"Yes, I did."
"Describe your acquaintance with Davey."
"Mostly we drank together. I wanted to f... have a sexual relationship with him, but Owen was watching too close."
"Did you have a sexual relationship with Bokassa Stutz?"
"Yes, I did."
"Did he give you money?"
"No. He paid Owen. I got a cut."
"Describe Bokassa Stutz; how you feel about him."
"Ugly, mean, drunk; a worse... sexual relationship than Owen was."
"Are you sorry that Owen Sanchez is dead?"
"No-I'm glad."
"How well do you know the defendant?"
"Not much. We only met a couple times."
"Do you have an opinion of her; like her or dislike her?"
"No opinion. She was always polite to me."
"How well were you acquainted with Drushina Stutz and the child, Pikel Lythum?"
"I met them. We didn't talk much. They were nice."
"How did you feel when you learned of their deaths?"
"Terrible, of course. She was pretty-very sweet, now I think of her. Boy was sad, but nice. Just awful what happened."
"How did you feel when Owen Sanchez told you that he took part in the slayings?"
"How could I feel? I hated him, naturally."
"And Bokassa Stutz?"
Roxie nodded vigorously. "Yeah, hating him is easy. But you gotta understand mean men. Hurting people, it's what they do; they can't help themselves; not that I've ever seen. Sometimes they can be nice, too. Like Cal. I met Owen because of Cal. Cal liked wood, you know. Owen gave him stuff to carve."
"That's interesting, but aside from the point at hand. Was Owen Sanchez a heavy drinker?"
"Yes, he was." Roxie smiled.
"Is Bokassa Stutz a heavy drinker?"
"Yes, he is."
"Are you a heavy drinker?"
"No, I drink a lot but I'm not heavy."
The laughter was too much for one short moment to contain and Judge Kaila called a fifteen-minute recess.
Roxie rose from the stand and stretched, she watched the crowd watching her and felt adored; she waved at them. Moving slowly, she wandered from the courtroom and around the hall, going to the rear, where the staircases landed. She entered the shadows beneath one flight and checked her surroundings, decided that she had sufficient privacy.
She was unfamiliar with the floor-length dress and had an awkward moment lifting the hem enough to reach the flask in her boot. But soon the bottle lifted, the stopper pulled, she brought it to her lips and sweet nectar white wine flowed into a dry hole.
As the flask lowered a woman's hand lashed out from behind and seized Roxie by the wrist.
The witness swung around with her left fist, pulling back when she saw that her assailant was the defense counsel. "Hi, Charlene," she giggled. "Want some?"
"Chloe suggested that I should follow you. She's very perceptive. Let's go see the Judge."
Court adjourned for the day and they hosted Roxie for the night in her own private jail cell.
"...So, we have had a demonstration of your taste for alcoholic beverages, Ms. DeShawnet, a taste that seems to overrule your better judgement."
Roxie still gave a perky presentation. "I'm sorry," showing contrition with a smile. "After talking so much, I got thirsty."
"We have water for dry throats. Was that your first drink of the day?"
"No, hardly. It was a cold morning yesterday and I had whiskey for breakfast." There were a few chuckles amid the audience, Kaila glared at them.
"Did you eat at all before Court?"
"Sure. Lucy fed me while that skinny boy finished my new outfit-he did a real good job, someone should tell him."
"Besides the whiskey, did you drink any alcohol before your testimony?"
"I had a couple nips of my wine before getting up here. A bit of the old 'Cardomon Courage', you know?"
Charlene allowed a stagy smile. "Yes-I've actually used that courage once or twiceÖ" She turned and faced the bench. "Your Honor, Ms. DeShawnet has demonstrated that she is a chronic abuser of alcohol and subject to all of the delusions and fantasies that arise from living in that state. I move that all of her testimony be stricken from the record of this Court. She is an unreliable witness."
Roxie leaped to her feet, yelling, "Don't you call me a liar!" Homer came to her side and urged her back to the seat. She tried to charge past him and Homer grabbed her left arm.
She yanked the arm upward and twisted her head, bringing Homer's thumb within reach of her teeth. She bit as hard as she could.
Homer yelled out and released Roxie's arm, but she kept her mouth clamped tight, grinding on his digit. Homer's right hand tried to pry her jaws open. Blood seeped over her lips, dripped from her chin.
Charlene was the first to close with the witness, Kaila was right at her side. Together they pulled back on her forehead and down on her jaw; Kaila thought to pinch Roxie's nostrils.
She spat out Homer's hand; he fell away to his knees clutching at it. Roxie tried to turn and claw out Charlene's eyes but Lucy came up behind her, Kaila on her right, and the biologist in front, squeezing her in; she had no room to maneuver and the prosecutor seized her arms.
Two mornings later they found the remains of the People's sole eyewitness against Chloe in his cell at breakfast call. The heap of purple sporous powder offered no clues to cause of death.
The People's case evaporated.
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