Chapter Three: An Unwanted and Boring Responsibility

NOTE:

This chapter was always one of my favorites, though I’m not certain it’s any good. I enjoyed seeing a different side to the Alondere detective work. I also enjoyed the insight into the fracturing political system of Illund. I cut this chapter in an effort to trim the length of the book but also because it didn’t serve much of a purpose. Originally, I intended for it to be where readers get an understanding of the Alondere blessing, but I felt Merl’s first chapter eventually covered all of that. Also, I usually spend a long time getting to know my characters. It takes drafts and drafts for me to really get to know them. Alford is one of the few who not only came out of nowhere but was clear as glass from the moment I met him. He is one of two characters to be completely erased from the book.

1

The carriage came to a slow halt. Ladonir pulled aside the curtain and used one eye to peek out the window. Merl had once described Gonorth as a ‘pretentious Luncost’ and Ladonir couldn’t agree more. While it shared similarities with Ladonir’s hometown—paved streets, brick buildings, well-trimmed hedges—it exuded a feeling of wanting to be more. The hedges weren’t just square but cut and trimmed into shapes. The roads weren’t just paved, lines had been painted to direct automobile and horse-drawn carriage traffic alike. Their buildings’ signs and market banners were brighter, bigger, and more colorful. Even the people were different—dressed a little nicer, noses held a little higher, backs straightened just a little tighter. No wonder the Gonorth judiciary had such an issue with the Alonderes. As neighboring cities, both were just as nice, but Gonorth wanted to be better, yet Luncost had something they did not—the Alonderes.

Because of the Alonderes’ legendary reputation and their seat on the crown, Luncost saw far more traffic than Gonorth.

The carriage door opened with a squeal, and a hot breeze rushed over Ladonir’s face. He grimaced.

“We’ve arrived.” The coachman, a short man wearing a tight shirt, stepped aside, and gestured for Ladonir to exit. Gathering his bag, his hat, and ensuring his pockets were still filled with snacks, Ladonir ambled out of the carriage and onto the clean streets of Gonorth.

Ladonir shouldered his bag, fished in a pouch hanging from his belt, pulled out a few coins, and handed them to the coachman.

“Thank you, sir,” the coachman said. “I may explore the city for a bit, but I’ll be back in two hours.”

“I can ensure you the trial will take much longer than that,” Ladonir said, laughing at his internal dread. “Just be back by nightfall. I won’t mind waiting for you.”

 The coachman nodded. Ladonir slipped his hat onto his head, and then departed for the courtroom.

A few hundred yards ahead of him, a group of wide buildings sat in perfect order, identical save for the small lettering above their front doors. Ladonir concentrated on the nearest building and Sharpened. His eyes zoomed in on the lettering. EXECUTIVE. He blinked again, looked at the next door, and zoomed in once more. JUDICIARY.

As he headed toward the building, his thoughts returned to the rivalry between Gonorth and Luncost. He’d heard a story about the town’s histories. When Luncost Alondere—rumored to have traveled from another Surface—founded the city, it began attracting visitors immediately. None of them came for Luncost’s environment, but for Luncost himself, for his Blessing. Around that same time, a woman by the name of Allistera Gonorth founded a city bordering Luncost. The Gonorth name, while never wildly popular, had been established for half a century. So, she had elected to give the city her family name instead of her own.

“Sorry,” Ladonir said as he sidestepped a passerby who had steadfastly refused to move out of the way. The stranger paid Ladonir no heed. Just like a true Gonorth citizen, Ladonir thought.

While it would be easy to confirm those aspects of both city’s histories, Ladonir wasn’t sure he could ever confirm the rest of the story. Apparently, Allistera had founded her city next to Luncost’s because the two were wildly in love. But the Gonorth family forbade Allistera from marrying Luncost, since the Alondere Blessing was dominant. If they did marry, and the marriage was sanctioned by an Illophere, then Allistera’s Blessing would leave her, and she would become a Mastersense.

While Luncost had gone on to marry another woman to continue his unique and powerful Blessing, and Allistera had wedded a younger man years later, legend claimed tunnels between both cities existed underground, where Luncost Alondere and Allistera Gonorth would meet in secret, unbeknownst to everyone, even their spouses.

If it’s true, Ladonir thought, it’s ironic we hate each other. Romantic love between two people transformed into a rivalry between two towns.

And yet, Ladonir understood it far better than he had ever realized. He had idolized Erkin as a child—the rambunctious uncle who had entertained Lad while Lad’s mom was sick, and his dad was too busy being the Crowned Sleuth. Then things, as they always did, had changed. Now Erkin was daily begging Ladonir to take the throne, pushing him into the same responsibilities Erkin once distracted him from, insisting that fun and personal happiness be set aside for responsibilities Lad never signed up for.

He was not surprised Erkin had cancelled his sabbatical. Now, thinking back on it, he realized he’d expected such a move. Next time, he wouldn’t announce his departure, and Erkin would have to deal with it.

Lad closed the distance and shuffled up the steps to the judiciary building’s doors. Flattening his shirt with his hands, he pushed the door open, and entered the cacophonous, annoyingly beautiful, government building.

2

The Gonorth courtroom resembled the Luncost Council Chambers. The judge, a stern, tired woman, sat behind an elevated desk at the rear. To her left, the jury slumped lazily in neat rows, eyes train on the plaintiff and defendant, who hovered at separate desks with teams of their own.

As the doors squealed shut behind Ladonir, everyone in the courtroom turned to look at him. The judge tried to hide her expression, but Ladonir caught her rolling her eyes before she looked down. Alford, who sat with the plaintiff, smiled with half his mouth. He was a tall, lanky individual. A few years prior, he’d had suffered a stroke, and half his mouth remained unresponsive.

Without waiting for instruction, Ladonir strolled past the empty seats where, during a more popular case, the crowd would sit. Entering through the half gate, he took an empty chair next to Alford.

When Ladonir settled into his seat, slouching into a comfortable position, the judge broke the silence.

“Ladonir Alondere, I presume?” she asked.

“You’ve heard of me?” he asked, fishing in his pocket for a snack. He swore he’d brought something to munch on.

“No. The Sleuth Regent sent word you’d be taking his place. Says you’re one of the Sleuths Apparent, eh?” She looked up from an assortment of papers she held in her hand.

“Yes.” Ladonir found the snacks—nuts this time—but refrained from pulling them out while under the judge’s harsh stare.

“Must be training you to fill his seat,” she said. Ladonir Sharpened his eyesight so he had a closer look at her face. Dark circles under the eyes, dry skin, hair pulled so tight into a bun that it was no doubt giving her a splitting headache. She was tired.

“How long has this been going on?” Ladonir asked, whispering to Alford.

“Five weeks,” Alford said, chewing on half his lip.

“Who’s under trial?” Ladonir looked at the defendant’s table, but even before Alford subtly pointed to the man whose muscles resembled chiseled stone, Ladonir had already figured it out.

“His name is Botiro.”

“Mr. Gonio,” the judge said, straightening the papers in front of her and setting them down.

A man seated at Ladonir’s table stood, picked up his pen, and approached the stand. He wore the sharpest suit out of everyone in the room, and his shaggy gray hair was combed back tidily.

“The defense would like to call Ladonir Alondere to the stand.”

Alford patted Ladonir on the back before he got up and sat on the witness stand.

“Sleuth Apparent,” Mr. Gonio began, “you are an Alondere, correct? You share the same Mastersense Blessing as Alford Alondere?”

Ladonir nodded. The judge cleared her throat.

“Yes,” Ladonir said. “You are correct.”

“Sleuth Apparent, in case you are unaware, it is Gonorth law to take no singular person’s word for their Blessing. Their Blessing, and the parameters of it, are to be corroborated by another member of their family.”

Ladonir had an entirely different view of the room now. He studied the defendant’s table, identifying the three lawyers Botiro had around him, and then Botiro himself. The defendant was so strong, his muscles so big, that Ladonir felt uncomfortable looking at him. He dwarfed those around him. His Blessing must have manifested physically; no person could grow to this size on their own. Ladonir zoomed in on the man, not just with his eyes but with his nose and his ears. Everything about Botiro screamed guilty, but Ladonir understood others could not perceive these aspects.

Botiro smelled like smoke and alcohol. Judging by his healthy skin, those were not regular habits for the man, which led Ladonir to believe it was anxiety that had driven him to the tobacco and the drink. The pores on Botiro’s forehead were agape as well; sweat had yet to break through. His heart, though steady, pounded loudly. His hands, giant paws of scarred and calloused skin, shook ever so slightly. And his eyes … the guilt was there. Hidden behind the denial, the pride, the stolidity, the fear and the torment broiled. Yes, the man’s guilt was physically visible, but after nearly two decades of solving crimes, Ladonir had learned to read people’s souls. He could hear it in their voices, feel it in their violence, and see it in their eyes. Blessings could do remarkable things for mankind, but, no matter what, it was impossible to control every reaction the body had. A man’s soul wished to be honest, and nothing could wash out that nature entirely.

“Sleuth Apparent.” Mr. Gonio appeared in Ladonir’s line of sight, appearing slightly concerned.

“I’m sorry?” Ladonir asked. He heard the judge sigh.

“I was explaining that, for legal reasons, we need an Alondere to display their Blessing so we can ensure Mr. Alford Alondere is being honest.”

“Right.” Ladonir cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “Well, the Mastersense Blessing is slightly misunderstood. We are not always sensing things at higher levels than everyone else, but we can. We can Dull or Sharpen whatever senses we please. As far as any of us are aware, our eyesight has no limit. We can see the invisible creatures that make up our world—things smaller than germs. While I believe our hearing has no limit, I’m not aware any of us have tested that. The world is far too noisy. Our sense of smell is limited only by the scent of what we focus on. Same goes for taste and touch. We can identify every ingredient in a meal because our tongues and our noses can pick them out one-by-one.”

“And what does this prove?” Mr. Gonio asked.

“That if Alford Alondere claims he perceived something others do not think is possible, he is not the one who’s mistaken.”

“What would stop him from lying?” The lawyer looked at the jury when he said this. Ladonir had nearly forgotten they were there.

“Each Blessing has a Curse,” Ladonir explained. “No exception. The Alondere’s Curse is fool proof. If we lie, we lose our Blessing until the lie is made right.”

“What do you mean by made right?” Mr. Gonio asked.

Ladonir refrained from sighing. He understood why Gonio was asking him these questions: It was to cover all bases, it was proper court etiquette, blah blah blah. But Ladonir was exhausted by it all. He wanted to eat his snacks, he wanted to move around, and most of all, he wanted to evade being the center of attention. Is this what Erkin spent his days doing? Bureaucratic nonsense? No wonder he wanted to pawn off the throne. Who would ever want to spend their days doing this?

“We must tell the truth,” Ladonir said, answering the question. “Until we tell the truth to the person we lied to, we are unable to use our Blessing.”

“Abstract,” Mr. Gonio said.

“Many Blessings are,” Ladonir said. “The Hourthieves, the Timedancers, the Transferers, the Reapers.”

Mr. Gonio nodded, tidy hair falling loose. “Yes,” he said. “Perhaps I should rephrase my accusation. By claiming your Curse is abstract, I’m asking if there is a way for you to prove it to us.”

“I can prove to you the powers of the Alondere Blessing,” Ladonir said, “as can Alford. As far as the evidence Alford has provided, I would need to see that for myself.”

Mr. Gonio nodded. Ladonir had just met Mr. Gonio, but they were working together as if they had been for years. Most likely, this was somebody Erkin frequently worked with.

“Your honor,” Mr. Gonio said, turning to the judge, “may I ask for the defendant’s involvement in the Sleuth Apparent’s demonstration?”

The judge waved her hand at him but gave a quick nod.

“Mr. Botiro,” Mr. Gonio said, “would you be so kind to write a random assortment of words as small as you can on a piece of paper?”

Botiro looked to his lawyers.

“We only ask, so no accusations of falsifying the demonstration can be made.”

One of Botiro’s lawyers scrawled something on a sheet of paper and handed it to Botiro.

“Mr. Botiro, would you please continue to the front of the courthouse?”

Botiro complied, lumbering to the front door. Once there, he turned around, a grim frown stretching to his chin, the sweat finally leaking on his forehead.

“Would you please hold the paper in front of you, so the writing is facing our direction?”

Botiro did so. Immediately, the jury, the judge, and the lawyers squinted, trying to read the tiny handwriting twenty feet away. Ladanir and Alford were the only ones who didn’t lean forward. To them, the handwriting was crystal clear.

“Is anyone in this courtroom besides the Alonderes able to read the words from here?” Mr. Gonio asked.

Members of the jury turned to each other, whispering. The judge continued squinting. Botiro’s lawyers pressed their faces into their hands, no longer concerned about upholding their image.

Gonio held up two blank slips of papers and ensured everyone had a look at both sides, then he handed one to Ladonir and the other to Alford.

“Would you please write down the same words written on the paper Mr. Botiro holds?”

Ladonir pulled a pen from his coat and scrawled down the phrase. Alford did the same. Gonio beckoned Botiro forward and motioned for him to place the paper on the judge’s desk. Once he did, he returned to his desk, shoulders sunken. Gonio handed the other two papers to the judge, and she glanced them over.

“‘The jury will deliver justice,’” she quoted. “Each slip shares the same words.” She held them up for the jury to see.

A murmuring of astonishment rippled through the crowd. Alford and Gonio smiled. Ladonir refrained from fidgeting in his seat. He wasn’t bored, he just hated sitting still.

“While imperceptible to our own eyes, it’s made obvious by the Alonderes’ demonstration here today that Alford did see the impression of the defendant’s hand on the pillow that was used to smother the victim.”

Ladonir nodded at Alford, pride swelling his chest. Catching someone by recognizing the near-invisible imprint of their hand on the murder weapon was extremely impressive.

“I rest, your honor,” Gonio said, returning to his table.

“Does the defense wish to question the Sleuth Apparent?” the judge asked, eyeing the massive, slouching form of Botiro.

Ladonir’s pleasant mood deflated.. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through another questioning, this time by people who weren’t on his side. To calm his fear, he patted the snacks in his pocket. He’d have to be sneaky about it, but he was positive he could steal a few bites throughout the questioning.

“No, your honor,” one of the lawyers said.

Ladonir fought his smile.

“That does it for today,” the judge said. “You are all dismissed. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

3

As everyone gathered their belongings and shared hushed conversations, Ladonir caught up with Alford. It had been months since they’d spoken—neither of them spent a lot of time in Luncost—and Ladonir wanted to hear details about the case, as well as divulge some information regarding his own upcoming one.

“The Kinstone Manor?” Alford asked. His half-grin returned, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“It’ll be fun,” Ladonir said. “We’re not just investigating a death, but Dollunhine hired us to ‘dig up dirt’ on the Kinstones as well.”

“Damn,” Alford said. “That’s the best case I’ve heard of in a long time.”  

“I’m sure you can come,” Ladonir said. “Erkin told us he would assign others to the case, but all the detectives are deployed.”

“How I wish,” Alford said, “but this trial’s got at least two more days, and by then, I’ll need to leave for Heravare.” Gonio passed by, clapping Alford on the shoulder and shaking him excitedly. Alford waved goodbye.

“What’s going on in Heravare?”

“Someone robbed one of their banks.” Alford rolled his eyes. “I swear, crime has become boring. Where did the days of betrayal and intrigue and singing ladies go?”

Ladonir chuckled and pulled his hat snug on his head. “I think we’re just desensitized, Alford.”

The jury began filing out.

“So, has Erkin talked you into taking the family throne yet?” Alford asked.

“Never. I don’t want it. Merl doesn’t want it. If Erkin can fill the position when it never truly belonged to him, then why can’t someone else?” Frustrated by his growing hunger, Ladonir finally pulled the snacks out of his pocket and began chomping down on them with vigor.

“Erkin took it because you and Merl were children.”

Ladonir paused, clicking his tongue at Alford. “Are you on his side, too?”

Alford shrugged then scooped a bulging file under his arm. “He doesn’t want the responsibility anymore, Lad. And Merl … I love Merl, but he’s a wild soul. As much as you hate to admit it, you were born for leadership.”

“I don’t want to be a leader,” Ladonir said, tossing another handful of nuts into his mouth.

“No good ones ever do,” Alford said. “You’d make a terrific Crowned Sleuth.”

Alford turned to leave, but before Ladonir could follow, Alford looked over his shoulder. 

“And besides, when you become Crowned Sleuth—”

“If,” Ladonir stressed.

“When you become Crowned Sleuth,” Alford continued, “you can give me the fun cases. I want smoky alleyways, shady suspects, and shocking secrets.”

Unsure how to respond, Ladonir simply stood there, the gargantuan responsibility of Crowned Sleuth looming over him as if it were its own sky.

“The fun cases,” Alford said, and then he left for the door.

Only a minute passed before the judge cleared her throat and Ladonir realized they were the only two remaining. He muttered an apology and shuffled out of the chamber. When he stepped outside and walked to the curb, he was already well on his way to successfully forgetting Alford’s words and was now focused on how stupid he’d been to tell the coachman not to return until nightfall.

He had an entire day to kill. Then came the manor.