“It is your right,” said Willem drily. “Go ahead.”
“I received word of a messenger carrying a private missive into the Palace compound. I, along with some companions, intercepted this message and found that a leader of Forge was conspiring to unlawfully influence the decisions of the Council.” In the corner of his eye, he saw Malikel sit up straighter. He dearly hoped that his commander would approve of what he was about to do.
“That’s a very vague report,” said Willem. “Who was your informant?”
“My informant wishes to remain anonymous, Your Grace, but the note itself requests gold to sway scribes, soldiers, and other people within Forge. It suggests that the Council’s vote to attack the Demon Riders was corrupted by bribery.” Tristam produced the parchment out of his pocket. “Here is the original note, if the Council would like to inspect it.”
Willem held out a hand. “Give it here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Grace.” Willem shifted in surprise, and Tristam felt his heart pound against his rib cage. Even after all this, he wasn’t used to direct insubordination, and his body was letting him know it.
“You refuse?” asked Willem.
“I refuse because the messenger entered the Palace compound from your private gate, and the note is written in your handwriting.”
The Council Room erupted in shouts. Willem pounded his gavel to regain the floor. “Let me see if I understand you, Tristam. You are accusing me of treason against Forge, the city in which I already hold the highest office.”
Tristam raised his voice. “With all due respect, Your Grace, you are indeed Head Councilman, but the Demon Rider offensive was a close vote, and there was plenty of motivation on either side to sway it.”
Lord Perce of Roll, a Council member who had voted against Willem, raised his hand. “These are serious allegations you bring against the Head Councilman. Do you have any evidence?”
“I will gladly hand over this note to a neutral third party.”
“May I see it?”
Tristam handed the message to Perce, who looked it over. “The note reads as Tristam says, but it contains no signature, and the seal is not one I recognize.” He looked back at Tristam. “Do you have any stronger evidence?”
Tristam nodded to a manservant waiting near the door and hoped that Fitz was still outside. “I have the testimony of the messenger.”
This time, he did see a flicker of worry across Willem’s face. A moment later, Fitz stepped into the room with Robert in tow. The messenger faltered when he saw Willem, and Fitz had to drag him the remainder of the way. Don’t lose your nerve, thought Tristam.
“This is the messenger whom I followed from the Palace walls to an inn not far away. He has confessed to taking messages between Head Councilman Willem and Whitt Manor.”
Tristam could see observers in the Council Room looking around, probably trying to see if Lord Whitt had any representatives in attendance. Tristam doubted he did. Whitt didn’t have a strong presence within the city.
Perce addressed the messenger. “What is your name?”
“Robert, sir. Of Forge.” The messenger couldn’t seem to take his eyes from Willem, who was studying him with an intense, cold gaze.
“And do you confirm what Tristam of Brancel has said? Did you, in fact, receive this message from the Head Councilman to deliver to Lord Whitt?”
The messenger was still staring at Willem. His jaw worked, but he didn’t speak. Tristam focused everything he had on Robert, willing him to follow through.
“Please answer the question,” Perce repeated.
The messenger licked his lips. “No,” he said. “The parchment that Tristam claims to have found on me was a plant that he created himself. He tried to pay me to testify against Willem.”