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 I did not slay the Relt, strom! I swear it by Opaz the All-Glorious! I found the body and was set on,
and so fought for my life, and was knocked on the head and left for dead. And when I woke 
 You were taken up. I looked at Nath and then at Barty and the others at the table.  The law of Vallia
 the new laws of Vallia that the new emperor will see maintained  demand absolute proof of guilt.
No one saw this man slay the Relt. You must prove beyond all doubt he did the deed before you
pronounce him guilty.
 But he was standing over the body with a bloody knife in his hand! Barty spluttered, his face
perplexed and yet clearly showing the way he struggled with preconceived notions.
 The chavnik knocks over the bowl of cream and the slave girl comes in to set it right and the mistress
sees her and has her whipped for stealing and spilling the cream.
 Yes, majister, but 
 Enevon. Read out the description of the wounds.
 Enevon rustled his papers and then read:  Six stab wounds in the small of the back, close together,
deep.
I looked at Renko.  You were an axeman, as I recall.
 That I was, strom. Renko, still disoriented, took a grip on remembered pride.
I nodded.  Are the clothes of the dead Relt available?
They were not. They had been burned.
 Tell me of the men who attacked you.
Renko screwed his leathery face up. He wanted to rub his nose, I could see; but the chains stopped that.
 I saw three of them, strom. But there must have been another one at my back who hit me after I stuck
the bastard in front. By Vox, but the whiptail was quick, and I d have had him, too, but for that crack on
my noodle.
I said, sharply:  A Kataki?
 That s what I said, strom.
He d said whiptail; but that was the slang term for a Kataki, a nasty member of a nasty race of diffs,
slavers, with fierce brow-beating faces, and intemperate dispositions and with long sinuous tails to which
they strapped six inches of bladed steel. There were Katakis on Kregen who had no other aim in life but
to degut me. The ambition was reciprocated.
 Anything else? Clothes, faces, weapons ?
 Rapiers, strom, but they kept them scabbarded. They hit me with what felt like the Lenk of Vox. The
whiptail had a favor of black and green feathers clipped by a golden grascent  I think, strom, for I was
taken by surprise.
For a space a silence fell. Then, to give Barty the due he deserved, he was the one to burst out:  By
Vox! Under the Gate of Voxyri  when I came running up  this Renko the Murais speaks the truth.
I ll swear it!
 Aye, said Nath.  The devil s work spreads itself.
After that we prosecuted further inquiries and a garbled story came out that made me itch with worry
and with frustration. It seemed clear that the Relt stylor was bringing in a message and had been waylaid
and slain and the message stolen. But from whom had the message been sent? The minions of
Phu-Si-Yantong had heard of it, and we had not, and they had struck. There was no question now in
anyone s mind that Renko the Murais was not guilty. His chains were ordered struck off at once. He
expanded after that, and a cup of wine further restored him. But he could add nothing further to the story,
being engaged in eking out a living scrounging scraps from the ruins, as so many were. Now there was a
happy outcome to the adventure, we could feel thankful he had stumbled on the corpse of the stylor.
Although, frustratingly, we knew no more than that there had been a message from someone.
 Anyway, majister  what made you ? asked Barty.
  The blood. There was no blood on the cut straps. Had Renko stabbed him in the back, that would
have been the beginning of the murder  or the end of the Relt  and then he d have cut the satchel
free. No blood meant a clean knife had been used. I smiled  I, Dray Prescot, smiled  across at
Barty.  Anyway, Renko is an axeman. He wouldn t have stabbed with such a heavy knife. He d have
sliced the Relt s throat out.
 Yes, said Barty.
 And where stands Jando ti Faleravensmot in this? demanded Nath.
 His judgments have always been impeccable, offered Enevon, shuffling his papers together. I rather
think, as my chief stylor, he had been put out at the murder of a brother in his craft, and was pleased that
at least some truth had been revealed.
A stir at the back of the chamber announced the arrival of Tabshur the Talens and the sibling who had
won the inheritance, a lean fellow in an apron called Naghan the Tallow. They both looked as guilty as
hell. But that must not be allowed to weigh against them. Somehow  and in this I do not boast but
rather feel a sense of deflation and defeat  the news that the Emperor of Vallia himself had sent for
them and was to look again at their stories, had unnerved them. And, in the case of Tabshur, at least, he
was a hard-case, cunning and vicious in his extortions. Naghan the Tallow had been a mere tool in his
hands, credulous and willing to be led into infamy.
They broke down and confessed. I think the jingle of chains as the Pachak guard waited added to their
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