Voolio woke up.
“C’mon big guy, time to go.” The guard opened the cell door and ushered him out into the corridor. It was as gross as Voolio remembered it. Most of the others were already there, waiting around in swanky looking handcuffs. As his jealousy was peaking, the guard told him to hold out his arms, giving Voolio a pair of his own. Sweet.
Soon, all his friends were out, each in matching cuffs, and waiting around to see what was going on. All his friends, that is, but Dylk. Voolio looked up and down, left and right, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’s behind Balder, he thought wishfully. He was not.
A group of eight or ten guards came through the double doors at the entrance of the hallway, led by the warden he’d seen earlier. Each one positioned themselves behind a member of their merry band, a few more nervous than others. Voolio could hear his assigned companion’s teeth chattering under his helmet. Then, just as the boot quaking was subsiding, the warden called out:
“To the courtroom!”
The guard to Voolio’s posterior gave him a nudge with his sword hilt and they were off. The group passed through the room with poor old Dolores, and through another door into a long hallway.
“Hey, Gnom,” he said, being close enough to talk.
“Hey dude.”
“Where’s the redhead?”
“Bauwls? She’s up there. Hey! Bauwls!”
“Yes?”
“No, not her! Dylk! Where’s Dylk?”
“Did you need something?” Bauwls asked.
“No, Bauwls, sorry,” Gnom said. “I dunno, I told him to go get you for help.”
“Oh, I helped, yeah. He asked me about… huh, I don’t think he asked for help, now that you mention it. He told me about what happened while I was out.”
“It happened again?”
“Mhm. He said something about a… werebear? Or something.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“And how we got arrested.”
“Also correct.”
“Then I passed out.”
“I rem- you passed out?” Gnom cast him a look as if Voolio had just told him he’d married a Pordish woman he’d never met. “You alright, dude?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No, you’re right.”
“Really, why wouldn’t I be ok?”
“Well, it’s just that… I’m a little concerned about the whole passing out thing.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Gnom?”
“Mhm?”
“Thanks for backing me up right there.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Alright.”
…
“How long’s this hallway?” Gnom asked.
“Yeah, no, too long. Way too long.”
“Like what would they use this hallway for?”
“No, I completely agree.”
…
“There are more doors than people!”
“I’m totally with you on this one. Long hallways are number 25 on my List.”
…
“Y’know, Gnom,” Voolio said, looking around, “I was just going along with what you were saying, but this is ridiculous.”
“That’s what I’ve been talking about! Oh wait, check it out, they got to the end.”
The warden stopped at the doors and turned to face them. The rest of the group, talking among themselves, looked equally as baffled by both the sheer length of the hallway and the concept of its ending. He said:
“I would like to welcome you all to your place of judgment. But before I do, I have a reminder. A reminder of great importance to me. You see, it is your privilege to be here, make no mistake. It will be an honor to be able to make yourselves heard to such powerful people as the council. So, in that spirit, I have prepared a short phrase for you to repeat back to me before we enter. Please repeat after me: it is your pleasure to be here.”
“It is your pleasure to be here,” Voolio said in sync with everyone else.
“No, no, no,” the warden said, sighing. “It is my pleasure to be here.”
Everyone nodded to him and each other. Even the guards were getting into it. The warden sighed again.
“Well, all that’s left to say is good luck. And gods be with you.” The warden motioned two of the guards to open the doors and stepped aside.
Through them was what Voolio assumed to be the courtroom. It was nice. Like, it was pretty nice. Not mind blowing or anything. It was grey to be sure, but you can’t always get everything you want, you know. There were plenty of seats for them, though. Wooden benches lined the sides of the walkway, and most of them were empty. Speaking of the walkway, it led to a little knee-high flappy door - waist or even head-high for the shorties around Voolio - which led in turn to the court proper, if he were to guess. There sat five little creatures: the three members of the council, all dressed up and everything; an official looking man standing behind a podium that seemed custom-made for him; and Dylk. Good old Dylk. He looked nice, better than the others, at least in Voolio’s book.
The court was empty save for those five and a couple at the far back right of the benches, so Voolio and the rest took seats where they pleased. He claimed a walkway seat next to Gnom, who sat next to Hob and Gob. Behind them were Ballin, bet guy, and Vix, and behind them was Bauwls. On the opposite side of the walkway - the right side, if you’re following along at home - Salman sat at the front and Balder, in the middle. It was all very methodical and well planned out, and it’s a wonder the guards let it happen at all. But there they were, against all odds.
“Gnom, do you think they’ll let us out for lunch?” Voolio asked, leaning down to his small friend.
“Erm, it’s six o’clock in the morning, Voolio. I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Oh, dude, what were you saying about a list earlier?”
Voolio squirmed in his seat. Six o’clock? he thought. I bet that means it’s a long time from lunch.
“I don’t think I can handle not having lunch for that long,” he said.
“You can do it, man!”
“I can feel an episode coming on. I can tell this is gonna be boring, Gnom. I can tell.” He made up his mind. “I’m going to the cloud place.”
“No, dude, don’t do it. This is important.”
“But it’s gonna be so boring!” The bench squeaked with his movement.
“Don’t do it, for realsies. Dylk said this was importa-”
Voolio was in the clouds, but he had the distinct feeling he shouldn’t have been. He looked around and saw the same old place he remembered, but something was wrong. Not wrong, per say, but off. Different. It felt like he was about to be in the middle of a tornado he couldn’t see. Yet the cloud was still.
He heard a voice:
“Watch over your friends.”
His eyes were drawn, for the first time in a long time, downward to the world. But it, too, was different. He could see and hear anything he wanted as well as he wanted. It was as if he had been blind his whole life and he was seeing now for the first time.
The court room wasn’t the same grey drab he’d left it. The patterns in the wallpaper glowed. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head but it remained the same. The people there bustled with thought, with emotion, and he could sense it all.
He went to Gnom, who was pushing Voolio in a desperate attempt to wake him up. Soon, if soon still had any meaning, Gnom pulled a pair of shaded bifocals from his pocket and placed them onto Voolio’s eyes. It didn’t make much difference, he looked as awake and aware as ever, but Gnom was pleased with himself, thinking what a smart move! and proceeded to light his pipe. Voolio smiled with Gnom’s happiness, if he could still do such a thing as smile.
“Order! Order in the court!” It was the iconic leader of the council, as he thought of himself, but the voice was richer than before. More complete. “We have much to discuss, so let us begin. Brought before us today are a group of, shall we say, unique, independent contractors for the council of Rattwater who have been accused of uh… taming a werebear?” The man started to mutter to his fellow council members but Voolio could still hear him: “Is that a typo? Tamed a werebear?
“No, that’s correct,” Lady Beauregard said.
“Really?”
“Yes, yes, I’m quite certain.”
“Taming a werebear,” the councilman said aloud, “and attempting to smuggle said werebear into the city of Rattwater. The penalty for these crimes combined stands at five years in Rattwater City Prison. Placed on them also are the murders of five city guards, all knowingly committed. The penalty for these charges stands at nothing less than death. Let the case begin.” The councilman rang his gavel. “Sir Hardis, you may make your opening statements.”
The man opposite Dylk straightened up and placed his arms on the pedestal in front of him.
“Lady and lordth of the counthil,” he thaid - he said, “the cathes today are ath cut and dry ath they come. The defendanths were caught in both acth and-”
“Please,” the councilman said, cutting him off, “please, please, make this quick. Please.”
“Abtholutely, your honor!” Hardis said. The court reporter’s mind cut in with a stab of dread. “Jutht finith- finithi- finithing up! It ith my opinion that the defendanth are guilty on all counth.”
“Thank you, Sir Hardis. Thank you very much,” the councilman said. This is going to be a long day, he thought. “Now then,” he said, “mister Willum, your opening statement.” Dylk stepped up a ladder that had been placed there before any of them had entered the room. Voolio was picking up on more and more of that sort of thing all the time; he could even point out the guard who had put it there. Anyway, Dylk began:
“Thanks. Members… of the council, I’m still not used to that. I have only one thing to say.” He paused.
“And what is that, mister Willum?” Voolio felt a surge of anxiety from the benches.
“When you let us outta here, you gotta pay us double what you were before.” Then, the rare, bittersweet satisfaction of justified fear. And, on the other side of the room, the joy of a good laugh.
“You’re nothing if not reckless, mister Willum,” the councilman said, chuckling. The benches relaxed. “Sir Hardis, please go on with your first piece of evidence.”
“Yeth, your honor.” Hardis withdrew a wooden easel from his podium and placed a large pad of parchment on it. “Your honorth, I prethent to you my firtht piethe of evidenth.” He waved his open palm to the image on the pad. “Here we can thee a rendering of the crime thcene. A point that may be of interetht to you is right here in the foreground. Plain ath day, your honorth, you will find the bodieth of five of our very own Rattwater city guardth, all of whom have been identified.”
“Yes, plain as day, indeed,” the councilman said. “Now, mister Willum. It is time for your counter.” The room rang with confusion. Voolio got the idea that there had not been a trial as formal as this one in living memory, not since the trial of Pompo the pig husband in 1973, which was the reason for two separate jails in the first place. Voolio knew from the councilman that he was making it up as he went along. Unfortunately, that meant that Dylk had no idea what to do next. Hardis, however, gave Voolio what he needed:
His stomach curled in a lightly veiled panic. He was acutely aware of every bead of sweat forming on his forehead, every twitch in his mouth, every change in stance. He was praying. Please, Wriling, please don’t let him notice how they’re positioned. Voolio knew exactly what he was talking - thinking - about.
He went to Dylk and whispered in his ear: “They were running toward us, Dylk. With swords and stuff.” Dylk’s eyes lit up and he spoke as if he’d known the answer all along:
“Well, obviously they were charging at us, look at how they’re positioned on the ground.”
Hardis’ stomach shriveled.
“I see,” the councilman said. “This alone, however, does not indicate innocence to us. Mister Willum, your first piece of evidence.”
“I have a witness, if that’s alright with you,” Dylk said.
“Mm… we will allow it. Bring them up.”
“I call to the stand, Salman.” Hardis sprung up.
“Objection, conflict of interetht!”
“Objection overruled!” the councilman said, though he wasn’t sure what conflict of interetht was. “Bring up the dwarf.” Two guards led Salman to the open floor between the two lawyers and dropped him there. A wave of relief poured off the benches.
“Your honors,” Salman said, calm and focused. He turned to Dylk. “I am ready, master Willum.” Salman was the strangest of them all. He had no past, no experience to draw on, so he lived only in the present. He wasn’t lying about the memory loss, but Voolio never thought he was. No, the strangest part was a fleeting memory, something neither Salman nor Voolio could quite catch. Something to do with Jub. A place. A golden seat.
“Salman,” Dylk said, a smug smile across his face, “I have a simple question for you. Why did you kill those men?” The room churned with confusion and despair.
“It was simple, master Willum, council. I killed them in self-defense. They were bandits.”
“Go on, dwarf,” the councilman said, intrigued. Salman continued:
“They had ransacked a carriage on the road, killing at least one man, whose finger you can see in Sir Hardis’ sketch.” The councilman’s confidence in Hardis was starting to break. He asked: “Any other questions for the witness, Willum?”
“Nope, I’m done,” Dylk said.
“Very well. Sir Hardis, you may start your counter.”
Voolio heard Dylk wordlessly thinking I bet he won’t ask Salman why he didn’t know they were guards. That would be really stupid. Voolio heard no such thoughts from Hardis, whose mind was made up to not ask anything at all. So, he decided to change that. He whispered into Hardis’ ear: “Why didn’t he know they were guards? Seems obvious to me, hehe.” Hardis smiled.
“Tell me, dwarf, how could you have been ignorant to the fact that they were guardth? It thould have been obviouth to you, no?”
“No, sir,” Salman said. “They had abandoned their armor and taken up the clothes of scoundrels, the ways of scoundrels. Their honor, if they had any left, was well hidden under those clothes.” Voolio felt a stab of pain from the couple at the back of the benches; the pain of admitting to yourself something you’d never thought or wanted to admit. He realized they were the parents of one of the guards.
“Any other questions for the witness, Hardis?”
“No, your honor.”
“Well then, your next piece of evidence, sir."
“There wath a witneth, your honor,” Hardis said, floundering.
“Bring them to the stand.”
“He wath dithmithed from Upper Rattwater Jail earlier today.” Hardis was having, to put it lightly, a bad time. “So, I will protheed to my third piethe of evidenth. Thith arrow.” He held an arrow, which faltered with the shaking of his hands. “It wath fired by the witneth, Thalman the dwarf, at hith victimth.” Voolio didn’t need to help Dylk, he was responding before Hardis could even think of what Voolio should say:
“And for my counter, if that’s allowed…”
“Granted.”
“...I have this plank of wood from the carriage those guys burgled. You can tell, if you look close enough, by the big red letters that say The Egregious Mistake, which is exactly what they made. I think it was the name of the carriage, too, I’m not sure. Oh, and this arrow hole.” Dylk stuck his finger straight through it. “Now, Balder took this before any of your guys got there to do the sketch, and you can see that arrow on the ground next to where he pulled it from.” He pointed to the still open sketch. “Would you give me that arrow for a second?” A guard took the arrow from Hardis and handed it to him. “As you can see, it’s a perfect fit.” He demonstrated by pushing it back and forth through the hole, each time getting caught at a certain depth, snug as a pack of treehares in winter.
“And what doeth that prove?”
“If they were running toward us this way,” Dylk said, pointing behind himself, “there’s no way Salman could’ve shot it. The arrow was pointing out this way,” he said, pointing to the left, “90 degrees clockwise from where we were standing. The arrow had to have come from the guards-turned-bandits while they were attacking the carriage from that side.” Voolio felt the council’s confidence melting away.
“I see,” the councilman said, stroking his beard. “Sir Hardis, have you an explanation for this?”
“No, your honor,” he said, feeling sorry for himself.
“Then, we have come to an impasse; the point of judgment is at hand. I am sure I speak for the council when I pronounce Dylk Willum and company innocent on all five counts of murder.” A cheer went up from the benches, relief spilling off them. “Onto the counts of taming and attempted smuggling of a werebear. Mister Willum, you may begin.”
“This is a funny one, actually,” Dylk said. “Technically speaking, the pool of water where we encountered the werebear is outside of Rattwater’s jurisdiction, just north of Denn’s borders. Only by a few feet, too. So, if we’re being technical about the whole thing, we did it in Pord territory, if you want to bring it up with them.”
“No, mister Willum, that won’t be necessary,” the councilman said, tensing up. “What of the smuggling charge?”
“The werebear was already tamed. There wasn’t even a werebear to be smuggled by the time we were arrested.”
“Hm… bring out the werebear!” A side door opened, revealing Tunk, held in place by eight shaking guards. He had no intention of breaking out or hurting anyone. The council muttered to themselves:
“That’s no werebear.”
“This is ridiculous, there’s no evidence against them.”
“Would someone remind me why we went through the trouble of setting this up?”
“See?” Dylk asked.
“Sir Hardis,” the councilman said, staring at Tunk.
“Yeth, your honor?”
“Do you have a rebuttal for this new information?”
“No, your honor.”
“Well then, gentlemen!” he said, clapping his hands together. “It looks as though the case has drawn to a close. Dylk Willum and… you should choose a name for the group, if it’s at all possible, are cleared of all charges and are henceforth free!” The benches erupted, Voolio didn’t need his new powers to see that.
“Oh, your honor?” Dylk asked, calming himself for a second.
“Yes? Oh, yes. And double the pay.” He rang his gavel. “Dismissed.”