The open square held a stone fountain, now dry; a smithy fallen into disrepair, its forge long cold; a silent and empty inn and tavern. There were also a warehouse, several merchant offices, an eating establishment, a livery, and barns filled with old hay, but no horses. Around the square, wooden tables and kiosks showed the remnants of what must have been a thriving market. Shriveled husks and rotted cores showed what remained of the produce at farmers’ stalls. Feral chickens scuttled through the town square.
Although peripheral details sank into Nicci’s consciousness, her attention was fixated on the numerous statues in the square. Countless stone figures stood in the market, in the doorways, by the vegetable stalls, by the water well.
Bannon looked sick. Each of the sculptures wore the same look of horror and anguish, smooth marble eyes open wide in appalled disbelief, or clenched shut in furious denial, stone lips drawn back in sobs.
Bannon shook his head. “Sweet Sea Mother, why would someone do that? I always try to imagine a nice world. Who would want to imagine this? Why would someone do this to a town?”
A deep voice rang out. “Because they were guilty.”
They whirled to see a bald man emerging from a dark wooden building that looked like the home of an important person. Tall and thin, with an unnaturally elongated skull, he strode down the street. A gold circlet rested on his head just above the brow. The stranger’s long black robes flowed as he walked. The sleeves belled out at the cuffs, and a thick gold chain served as a belt around his waist. His piercing eyes were the palest blue Nicci had ever seen, as clear as water in a mountain stream. His face was so grim, he made even the Keeper look cheerful.
Bannon instinctively drew his sword to defend them, but Nicci took a step forward. “Guilty of what? And who are you?”
The gaunt man stopped before them, drawing himself even taller. He seemed satisfied to be surrounded by numerous statues of misery. “Each was guilty of his own crimes, her own indiscretions. It would take far too long for me to name them all.”
Nicci faced the man’s implacable, pale stare. “I asked your name. Are you the only one left here? Where did the others go?”
“I am the Adjudicator,” he said in a deep baritone voice. “I have brought justice to this town of Lockridge and to many towns.”
“We’re just travelers,” Bannon said. “We’re looking for food and a place to sleep, maybe to get some supplies.”
Nicci focused her concentration on the strange man. “You are a wizard.” She could sense the gift within him, the magic he contained.
“I am the Adjudicator,” he repeated. “I bear the gift and the responsibility. I have the tools and the power to bring justice.” He looked at them sternly, his water-pale eyes raking over Nicci’s form and then Bannon’s, as if he were dissecting them and looking for corruption within.
“Who appointed you?” Nicci asked.
“Justice appointed me,” he said, as if Nicci were the most foolish person he had ever met. “Many years ago I was just a magistrate, and I roved the districts by common consent, for the people required an impartial law. I would go from town to town, where they presented the accused to me, and I served as judge. I would hear the laws they had broken, I would look at the accused, and I would determine the truth of what they had done, as well as the punishment for their crimes.”
He pressed a long-fingered hand to the center of his chest, which was covered by the black robes. “That was my gift. I could know the truth of what someone said. Through magic I determined whether they were innocent or guilty, and then I decreed the appropriate sentence, which the town leaders imposed. That was our common agreement. That was our law.”
“Like a Confessor,” Nicci said. “A male Confessor.”
The strange man gave her a blank stare. “I know nothing of Confessors. I am the Adjudicator.”
“But where are all the people?” Bannon asked. “If you passed sentence and the villagers agreed to it, where are they? Why did they all leave this town?”
“They did not leave,” said the grim wizard. “But my calling changed, became stronger. I became stronger. The amulet, by which I determined truth and innocence, became a part of me, and I grew much more powerful.”
The Adjudicator pulled open the folds of the black robe to expose his bare chest and an amulet: a golden triangular plate carved with ornate loops, arcane symbols, and spell-forms surrounding a deep red garnet. The amulet hung by a thin golden chain around his neck.
But the amulet was no longer just an ornament—the golden triangle had fused to his flesh. The skin of his chest had bubbled and scarred around it, as if someone had pressed hot metal hard into skin like pliable candle wax and let the flesh harden around it. Parts of the chain had cut into the Adjudicator’s collarbone and the tendons of his neck, becoming permanently bonded there. The central garnet glowed with a deep simmering fire of magic.
Bannon gasped. “What happened to you?”
“I became the Adjudicator.” His stony, accusing stare turned toward the young man. “For years, the crimes I judged were mostly small—assaults, thievery, arson, adultery. Sometimes there were murders or rapes, but it was here in Lockridge…” He looked up, and his water-blue gaze skated past them, over their heads, as if he was calling upon the spirits. “It was here that I changed.
“There was a mother, Reva, who had three fine daughters, the oldest eight years old, the youngest only three. The mother was lovely in her own way, as were the little girls, but her husband desired another woman. Ellis was his name. He cheated on his wife, and when Reva learned of the affair, she became convinced that it was her fault—that she paid too much attention to their three daughters and not enough to her husband. Reva was desperate to regain his love.” He made a disgusted sound. “She was mad.
“So, Reva smothered her three daughters in their sleep, to make sure that they would no longer come between her and Ellis. She thought he would love her more. When he came home that night, after his furtive passions with his mistress, Reva proudly showed him what she had done. She opened her arms and told him that her time and her heart now belonged only to him again.
“When Ellis saw their three dead daughters, he took a hatchet from the firewood pile and killed his wife, chopping her sixteen times.”
The Adjudicator’s expression didn’t change as he told his story. “And when I came to judge Ellis, I touched the center of his forehead. We all thought we knew what had happened. I called upon the power in my amulet, and I learned the full story. I learned his thoughts and his black, poisoned heart. I already knew the horrors of his wife’s crimes, but then I discovered what this man had done. Yes, he had killed his wife after she had killed his daughters. There was no question as to the murder Ellis had committed, but some even sympathized with him.