Realms of Shadow - Lizz Baldwin [12]
Back in his chamber, the homunculus sat on the floor with its knees drawn up against its bony chest, and its wings folded tightly against its back. It rocked back and forth like a wounded child, alternately moaning and sobbing, fresh tears sliding from its eyes each time it squeezed them shut.
Jelal was telling the truth-the mantle said so.
I know, Andoris replied.
The sentence wasn't fair.
I know, but it was… the law.
But he's dead!
The homunculus flailed out of its fetal position, seizing a portrait of Jelal from the wall and hurling it onto the floor. When this gave it no satisfaction, it smashed an inkwell on top of the picture. Black ink exploded in all directions, obliterating Jelal's smiling face.
How could we have murdered our favorite son? We hate ourselves!
A part of Andoris's mind held onto the here and now. He was standing in the Spiral Court, hearing but not really hearing the murmurs of the crowd and the anxious questions High Justice Wentar was softly asking him. Another part of him was staring through the homunculus’s eyes at the destruction that had just been wrought-at the spreading pool of black ink, surrounded by a fine spray of dots.
Staring at them, Andoris was struck by how tiny they were, how small a space they occupied. A realization came to him then-one so startling that he didn't even notice he was sharing the homunculus's pain when it slammed its hands down onto the broken glass of the inkwell, cutting them in several places.
His realization was that an ordinary mythallar was absolutely enormous-it had to be, because of the material that went into its construction: long strands of the Weave itself-but a mythallar made of shadowstuff, made from the spaces between the Weave didn't need to be so large. It could be compressed, tiny. Small enough to place inside a shadow double.
This would explain why Blamira found herself unable to command or dispel the double after erasing her own memories. Fueled by a self-contained source of magic that came directly from the Shadow Weave, the shadow double was independent of her. It had been all along. Incapable of being under her control from the start, it had to be innocent-created solely to provide her with an alibi, probably after the crime itself.
For the briefest of moments, Andoris felt his lips twitch. In any other man, it would have been a smile, but Andoris pushed the emotion securely back into place- back into the homunculus.
Only to have it shoved back at him again.
Your hypothesis is very clever, said a mocking voice, but what makes you so sure you're right?
Seizing a piece of glass off the floor, the homunculus held it above its arm.
Were you right about me?
The shard slashed down, and bright red blood joined the black ink on the floor. Andoris tried to force the homunculus to stop but found he could not.
"Of course I'm right!" he shouted. "I can prove-"
In mid-sentence, he realized that he'd spoken aloud, and not only spoken but shouted, his voice loud with anger.
Wentar gaped at him through the eyes of his mask.
"Andoris," he said softly. "You look so… strange. Are you unwell? Should we adjourn?"
For the first time in many years, Andoris felt uncertain, like a man who suddenly finds that the solid ground beneath his feet has turned to thin river ice. He glanced wildly around the Spiral Court. It wasn't just Wentar who was staring at him.
Sometimes it isn't good to be right all the time, a small voice whispered as the homunculus lay down on the floor in a spreading pool of blood. Sometimes doubt brings… justice.
Then it was gone.
With a soft sob, Andoris lurched forward and found himself plunging down into the icy waters of guilt. As he struggled to surface, he realized something. The finer points of law and being right didn't matter. Justice did.
Had the first