Coren knew the story. Anyone with an even passing knowledge of Imperial history knew the story. Taylor D’Endray, a colonel in the infantry, had been assigned to clear out the jungles of Et’alash of those who would resist rightful Imperial rule. After a career of loyal service, he and three units of Imperial troops, totaling some three thousand men, had turned traitor and joined the rebel forces. When the war ended four years later, the survivors of these units, including Colonel D’Endray himself, had been dealt with harshly. The punishments doled out by the then-Emperor were legendary.
“So am I to understand you’re the Emperor’s hand-picked man?” Coren asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Kilthanis replied.
“So I’m to only receive a farce of a trial then? Is that what the Emperor calls justice?”
“Far from it. The Emperor asked for me precisely because I’m so good at my job, and because of my ancestor’s actions. He wants there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind that you had the best defense available. If you’re convicted for this, it’ll be because you committed the crime, not because you didn’t have adequate counsel or a fair trial.”
“Well, then Lord D’Endray, let’s talk about my defense. What evidence do they have against me? I assume they’ve captured the desert man?”
“Kilthanis will be fine, Lieutenant. From what I was reading, they apparently have a vial, found in the Imperial kitchens, with your mark upon it. There was no mention of any desert man.”
“Well please call me Coren. I haven’t had a rank in over a decade.” He paused, then muttered to himself. “So they claim to have a vial with my mark. I must stop drinking when I work.” To Kilthanis he said, “It’s possible that one of the kitchen staff were using a cure I created for them. I am an apothecary after all.”
“I doubt you’ll find a servant working in the kitchens who will admit to having visited you, with the charges that have been laid in this case. There’s also the small matter that there’s poison residue in the vial. The Imperial Physician checked it himself.”
“Well, there’s no evidence that I placed the poison in that vial. I have no idea what becomes of the vials I use after I sell them to my customers. Perhaps one of them used it.”
“Perhaps. But again, you’d have to have sold a remedy to someone with access to the Imperial kitchens.”
“Not necessarily,” Coren said. “Someone could have sold the vial in one of the market squares. Anyone could have picked it up. My mark doesn’t cease being on it merely because the vial has left my possession,” he pointed out.
“True. But I am assuming the magicians can put the vial in your hand within hours of the poisoning,” Kilthanis replied.
“Magicians?” Color drained from Coren’s face.
“Indeed. Remember, Coren, we’re not out in some backwater kingdom, without resources. This is an attack on the Imperial family we’re talking about. The Emperor will bring to bear all the resources at his disposal. And that includes use of the Imperial magicians. I understand they can read the impressions on objects. And the courts are very sympathetic to their testimony.”
“But…but…I didn’t know!” he cried. “There was no way I could know what that man wanted the poison for. I find it best not to ask. They can’t prove I intended to hurt the Emperor!”
Kilthanis nodded. “Correct. They can’t force you to testify, and I believe that if they did, you would be able to testify under Oath that you had no idea the Emperor was the intended victim. Unfortunately, trafficking in poisons carries a death sentence. And I don’t think you could testify under Oath that you weren’t doing that. And I can’t prevent the Imperial Prosecutor from asking, if you do decide to testify.”
“So I’m a dead man, either way.” Coren’s voice was flat.
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