‘Nevertheless, please indulge me,’ Arcturus said, giving Didric an innocent smile.
‘The scroll was obviously an orc’s, written in their language. I remember it very clearly.’
Fletcher wondered for a moment how Didric knew of the scroll’s original owner. Then he remembered he had told Inquisitor Rook that the scroll was of orcish origin, in front of the entire class. Anyone could have told him that … he only hoped that was all Didric knew about it.
‘The ink was dark in colour, that’s all I can remember. The size was also difficult to judge, since each end was rolled up. The graveyard was too poorly lit to tell how white the paper was. Does that answer your question?’
‘It does. But saying the ink was dark – surely any writing would need to be dark, in order to be read. You’re absolutely sure you can’t give us any more detail on the colour of the ink?’
‘Do you really think that a murderer’s innocence can be proven because I can’t remember the exact colour of ink on the scroll? You should stick to war, Captain – you make a poor lawyer. It used dark ink and that’s all you’ll get from me.’
‘You’re quite sure?’ Arcturus said.
‘Completely,’ Didric replied, folding his arms defiantly.
‘And you, Jakov. Do you corroborate this story?’ Arcturus asked, striding over to him.
‘Yes, sir,’ Jakov mumbled.
‘Calista, has that description reminded you of anything?’
‘I think there was a scroll and mat like that, yes,’ Calista muttered.
‘So, to summarise. Didric and Jakov say that Fletcher used a rolled-up paper scroll of indeterminate size, written in dark ink to summon the demon, as well as a leather mat with a pentacle on it. Calista now corroborates that story,’ Arcturus announced.
‘Yes, Captain, that is quite clear,’ the judge said, reading through his notes. ‘Can you please let me know where you are going with this?’
‘Of course,’ Arcturus said. He strode over to his rucksack and withdrew an item, brandishing it in the air for all to see.
‘I give you … the scroll.’
5
After an entire year, Fletcher had almost forgotten how grisly the summoning scroll actually was.
The scroll was a single sheet of yellowed, leathery material. The orc lettering was formed by roughly raised lines on the surface, so that even a blind man could read it using touch alone. The faintest trace of Baker’s pencilled translation was etched below, barely visible to the naked eye.
‘This scroll, if you can even call it that, is nothing like the object Didric described. There is no ink to speak of, no rolled edges on either side, nor is it made of paper or anything even resembling it,’ Arcturus announced, his finger pointed at Didric in accusation. ‘It is in fact made from someone’s skin. The victim would have had the lettering carved into their back, then once the wounds had healed and scarified, the skin would be flayed from them and dried to form this disgusting object.’
There were gasps of horror from the crowd. One man ran out of the courtroom, holding his hands over his mouth. As the sounds of his retching permeated the room, others followed, tripping over themselves to get into the fresh air. Not all of them made it outside in time.
‘Guards, get someone to clean that up,’ the judge said, his own face turning a tinge of green. ‘We will take a brief recess.’ He hurried down the steps of his podium and disappeared through the side door.
Didric had gone pale, but he kept completely silent. As he stared at Fletcher, the colour rushed back to his face, his shock turning into anger.
‘Fletcher,’ Arcturus said, squatting down beside him. ‘Are you injured? Have they hurt you?’
‘I’m fine. It … it’s good to see you.’
Suddenly, Fletcher felt awkward, his words tripping from his tongue. He wasn’t used to kindness … not any more. His body shook and he felt briny tears trickle down his face. He hadn’t realised how lonely he had been until that very moment.
Arcturus squeezed Fletcher’s shoulder.
‘We’re going to get you out of here. You’re sorely missed.’
‘How are the others?’ Fletcher asked.
‘We haven’t seen Sylva since the Tournament. She was flown back to her home country as soon as King Harold got word of her injuries. He was furious, as were the elves of course.’ Arcturus paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Berdon has been thrown in jail on some trumped-up charges. They can only hold him for a few nights, so don’t worry. Didric just didn’t want you to see him. He denied you even that shred of comfort.’
‘That snake,’ Fletcher growled, grinding his knuckles into the floorboards. ‘I’m going to get him if it’s the last thing I do.’
‘Careful,’ Arcturus said, looking around in case anyone had heard. ‘We’re at a murder trial, remember.’