Realms of Shadow - Lizz Baldwin [0]
Anthologies 08 - Realms of
Shadow
Edited by
Trial by Ordeal – Lisa Smedman
Assassin's Shadow – Jess Lebow
Too long in the Dark – Paul S. Kemp
Darksword – Troy Denning
Liar's Game – Jessica Beaven
That Curious Sword – R. A. Salvatore
A little Knowledge – Elaine Cunningham
Astride the Wind – Philip Athans
The Fallen Lands – Murray J. D. Leeder
When Shadows Come Seeking a Throne – Ed Greenwood
King Shadow – Richard Lee Byers
The Shifting Sands – Peter Archer
Realms of Shadow is edited by Lizz Baldwin
Trial by Ordeal
Lisa Smedman
Netheril Year 3389
(The Year of Perdition's Flame, –
470 DR)
Hands clasped behind his back, Andoris Derathar stared out the warded window at the drifting clouds that veiled the farmland so far below. The city was currently floating over a lush checkerboard of leaf-greens, wheat-yellows and loamy browns, but in the distance he could see a ridge of sun-bleached white that should not have been there: the low dunes of the encroaching desert.
He had just come from the Hall of Judgment and was still wearing his robes of office: a starched and pleated black kilt that hung to the floor and a long-sleeved black shirt with a pair of scales, embroidered in gold thread, on its left breast. A gold cord was knotted around his waist. Suspended from it was a mask-a smooth circle of ivory with holes for eyes and nostrils, and a slit for the mouth. Its color matched that of Andoris's white-blond hair, which was receding on either side of a high-swept forehead. The face of the mask was as bland as Andoris's own his beardless cheeks were smooth-unmarred by lines of age or worry.
Turning away from the window, Andoris regarded the gem he had been holding behind his back: an enormous blood-red ruby, faceted at such odd angles that the sides of the gem seemed to turn in upon themselves. Drifting at the center of it was a ghostlike essence that twisted slightly-the soul of the man Andoris had just found guilty of murder. Two holes that might have been eyes stared mournfully out through the walls of the crystal prison.
"Death," Andoris said, repeating the sentence he had just imposed, "without possibility of resurrection for fifty years."
He placed the ruby in a niche on the wall beside a dozen others.
Behind Andoris, a homunculus-a vaguely humanlike creature with green, leathery skin, enormous batlike ears, and glistening black eyes-gave a faint snort. Folding its leathery wings around itself like a cloak, it made a disdainful gesture with webbed fingers.
Horbal was a cruel bastard, it said in a voice that was part squeak, part croak-a voice that only Andoris could hear. He killed that cat slowly-and enjoyed watching it suffer. You should have given him five hundred years, not fifty.
Andoris stared down at the homunculus. Even standing fully upright, the creature was no taller than his knee. Created through an alchemical process with a pint of Andoris's own blood, it was in constant telepathic contact with its master. In the years since its creation, it had served as an invaluable tool in Andoris's climb up the ranks of the judiciary.
"Fifty years is the punishment proscribed by law for the killing of a familiar," Andoris told it.
He spoke the words aloud-something he only did when he and the homunculus were alone.
It isn't fair! the homunculus whined. That bastard Horbal will be free in fifty years, while poor Jelal-
The homunculus had been reaching for the ruby, intending to give it a furious shake. Even though this wouldn't damage the gem or its contents, decorum had to be maintained. Andoris forced his will into the homunculus's mind and wrenched its arm down. Sulking, the creature huddled into itself, nursing a dislocated shoulder.
Andoris, his mind shielded from the pain, stared down at the homunculus with a face as dispassionate as the mask that hung at his belt. With a flick of his fingers, he cast a healing spell.
A moment later, he heard sharp raps at the door. His finger pointed in silent command, and the homunculus stiffened, then scurried under a table. It