Chapter 33
33
The following morning, we arrived at the Council of the Courts for Althea’s trial, as planned. I had the driver drop me and Nix off some distance from the entrance so we could approach without drawing a lot of attention. I shut the calesa door and flung a dark cloak around my shoulders, lifting the huge hood over my head. It didn’t matter if anyone knew I was here—not like it was forbidden—I just didn’t want to be bothered. Or start needless speculation.
I only had two days until I was supposed to stand in front of the entire kingdom and prove that I was worthy of being their queen. Two days and two major problems: no magic and no witch. I had to find both, or else I was going back to the human world, just in time to witness the apocalypse.
“This is nuts,” Nix said. “I’ll go find us some seats.” There were various kinds of encantos everywhere, all waiting to go in and watch the trial. There were so few murders in Biringan that for most citizens this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime event. Then again, I thought as I watched them huddle in circles, speculating about the guilt or innocence of the accused, they didn’t know about the king. Or Lucas’s father.
As I looked around at all the unfamiliar faces, I wondered if Fortunada might be hiding somewhere among them. I still couldn’t believe she could be the mambabarang. There had to be an explanation for it.
I waited around a bit, with a hood obscuring most of my face, looking for Lucas. People began going inside. I got antsy. I didn’t want to miss anything.
Just as I was about to lose all hope, I spotted him walking down the path in front of the building.
“Hey,” I said as I stepped up next to him.
He smiled. “Hey. I didn’t recognize you.”
“Good, then my disguise is working.”
He held the door open for me, and we entered. There were tons of people still milling around, but most were heading into a set of doors at the far end of the building.
The courtroom was like a university lecture hall or a small theater. There were rows of seats for spectators. At the front was a stage with a long table and seven chairs facing the audience, while one chair was positioned with its back to the audience.
We spotted Nix and took the two seats she’d saved for us in the back of the room.
“Althea will sit there,” Lucas explained once we were situated. “And the seven judges will sit in front of her.”
“No jury of her peers in Biringan, I guess?” Nix said. “Oh, I forgot, humans aren’t allowed to judge encantos.”
The places were all filling up, and fast. It was a little unnerving how many people had arrived to bear witness. I reminded myself that it wasn’t any different than at home, where we not only filled courtrooms for high-profile cases but also tuned in on our televisions, read about them, and listened to podcasts about them. Curiosity was natural, I supposed, but how was this trial more civilized than a public execution or a gladiator tournament?
We watched the crowd. There were encantos from all over, including creatures I hadn’t seen yet, especially from the courts of Tikbalang and Lambana. One looked almost like a wolf, or a cross between a wolf and a gargoyle, maybe. It had a long, spiked tail and huge, spiky teeth. “Who is that?” I asked Lucas.
“A Sigbin. Guardian of the Court of Sigbin. Mostly harmless, until they’re not.”
There was a woman, sitting with representatives of the Court of Lambana, with thick, glossy hair down to the back of her legs, wearing a dress adorned with tiny mirrors; when she faced our way briefly, I saw that she had half a dozen eyes. Another encanto, from the Court of Tikbalang, had black feathered wings, which he expanded and tucked in close to his body at will.
Lucas noticed me staring. He leaned to the side and said, “The equinox courts attract those who live on the margins and prefer dawn or dusk above all.”
Heads turned when two guards in blood-red uniforms marched in and stood one at each side of the door. They were followed by a guard holding a rope that trailed after him. A second later we saw that rope was connected to Althea’s waist. Her hands were bound in front of her. Another guard followed closely behind. Once they were all out, the first two closed the door and then returned to their places.
They led Althea to the chair. She sat, and then they stood watch behind her, swords at the ready in case she attacked or tried to flee.
She looked thin and haggard, but her face was calm and serene, as if she had already accepted her fate, whatever it might be.
Another door opened, this time behind the long table. Again, two guards emerged, and one stood on each side of the door. Then the judges walked out one by one. They all wore black-and-gold robes. The crowd silenced as each of them took their seat, except for the judge in the middle, who stood next to his chair and waited for the others.
Once the room was quiet, he unrolled a parchment scroll in his hand and announced, “We have assembled to hear the evidence against Althea Ramos, accused of the wanton murder of Marikit Baluyot.” He paused before continuing. “Will the prosecution please present your evidence?”
A woman in similar black robes, but with silver piping, stood from the front row behind Althea. “Marikit Baluyot was a page at the Court of Sirena palace. She was doing her job the night that Althea, a human healer, poisoned her using herbs that healers are known to possess as a matter of routine.”
“Who will defend the accused?” the judge asked.
Another woman in black and silver stood on the other side of the front row.
“Sir,” she began, “there is no doubt that Marikit met a grisly end, but it was not at Althea’s hand. The deceased had already consumed the poison when Althea discovered her in the sitting room, writhing on the floor in agony. Althea was attempting to save her life. In fact, she is the one who called for help. That her benevolent actions have been met with this treatment is abhorrent. There is absolutely no proof that Althea poisoned Marikit. The prosecutor has no motive, no evidence that the poison was in Althea’s herbs kit, and in fact, they don’t even have evidence for exactly what type of poison was used in this crime.” She sat back down.
“Response?” the judge asked.
The prosecution stood again. “Sir, the poison does not need to be proven; the fact that it was poison and not, for instance, spoiled food or some other illness is not up for debate. Even the defense does not deny that poison was the cause of death. Only one person in the vicinity that evening had easy access to poison—a search was conducted, and no such substance was located in the palace kitchens or anywhere else on the grounds. The healer’s kit, however, was present, in the same room as the deceased.
“As for motive, we contend that the palace page was not the intended target but merely a practice subject to test the poison’s efficacy. Investigators concluded that the poison was consumed from a teapot the page was delivering to the sitting room. The healer invited her to share some tea with her, so the page poured a cup from the pot, took a sip, then promptly began to seize.”
The defense stood once more. “We agree that the kitchen page was not the intended target. We believe the tea being delivered to the sitting room was intended for the crown princess of the Court of Sirena. Our initial theory was that the tea had been poisoned before Althea arrived.”
My heart stopped. I grabbed Lucas’s arm, and we looked at each other. Others were just as surprised. There were gasps and whispers around the room. I was glad none of them knew I was sitting there.
“What proof do you have?” the judge asked.
“Well, we knew a page would not have been called to deliver tea to the healer. It was more likely that, upon delivering it to an empty room, Marikit had decided to sneak a sip of the poisoned tea, having no idea it was tainted. Althea, as she maintains, happened to be in the palace and heard her cries, and she rushed to Marikit’s aid. Our theory made sense.
“But, sir, our initial assumptions were wrong. Because there was no trace of poison in the teapot. If Marikit Baluyot died of poison, it was delivered in a different way.”
More gasps from the audience.
“And what way was that?” demanded the judge.
“Beetles. Althea did not poison Marikit Baluyot. She is merely a scapegoat to cover the truth that this kingdom is hiding.” The defense drew a long breath. “Marikit Baluyot was poisoned by a mambabarang.”
This time the room exploded.
“Order! Order!” the judge yelled.
When the crowd settled, the judge stared down the defense. “The Kalahok was disbanded and exiled after the Endless Wars. What proof do you have that a mambabarang caused her death?”
“I call Althea Ramos to serve as her own witness. Althea, please tell the court what you saw.”
Althea stood up and bowed. In a soft, scared voice, she told her story. “I received a note saying to come to the palace and meet the page, who had something for me. When I got to the receiving room, she was confused as to why I was there. There was a pot of tea in the room, but neither of us took some. She said she didn’t call for me. I was about to leave, when all of a sudden, the darkness came out of the walls.”
“Darkness?” the judge said.
“Sudden, and complete. And then when it was over, the girl was lying dead.”
“That is your testimony?”
“It’s what happened. It’s what I saw. I didn’t harm the girl.” Althea sat down.
“Do either of you have any further evidence to present to the court in this case?” the judge asked the prosecution and defense.
“No, sir,” both of them responded.
“In that case, barring any further evidence, this case is concluded, and we will have a verdict in due time.”
The judge sat down. I thought that meant we should leave, but Lucas stopped me when I started to stand. “Aren’t we done?” I asked him.
“No.” He explained, “They will have an answer any minute.”
The team of justices conferred for a while, writing things down, passing papers back and forth. The entire process was baffling to me. They didn’t even leave the room to do this. I added a mental note to do something, anything, about this inherently unfair system of justice.
Suddenly the judge seated in the middle of the row stood. “We have arrived at a conclusion,” he announced. The courtroom quieted down. He waited until all whispering ceased. “Now we shall read the decision.” There was some fumbling among the judges, and then they passed a sheet of parchment down to the middle of the table.
The judge put on his glasses, a pair of narrow, rectangular frames that perched precariously on the tip of his tiny nose. He read over the paper, then proceeded to take notes.
My leg was shaking, and my palms were clammy. Others in the room were getting impatient, too. They started fidgeting and scooching around in their seats, whispering to one another again. The judge looked up over his glasses as if he was reprimanding some rowdy children.
Althea sat motionless in her chair, shoulders slumped. She stared at the floor in front of her. She was so still, it almost looked like she was sleeping, except every so often, she blinked.
“Ah, yes. Here we are,” the judge said. “Per the rules, regulations, ordinances, and so forth and so on, et cetera, et cetera, concerning the application of laws and bylaws of the great kingdom of Biringan and all of its courts...”
“Oh my god, I wish they would speed it up,” I whispered to Lucas and Nix.
“According to the ancient Book of Justice set forth by our esteemed ancestors and their rightfully anointed kings...”
“And queens,” Nix whispered.
“We do hereby and henceforth declare the accused, Althea Ramos, a human healer residing in Biringan of her own free will and accord...”
“Wow,” I muttered under my breath. “Free will?”
“...is guilty of the crime of murder.”
There was an eruption of voices and activity in the room, as people began shouting out their disagreements, while others were cheering the judge’s decision. But Althea said nothing. She uttered not a word of protest even as the guards hauled her away.
She was resigned to her fate. Humans never got justice in Biringan, Nix had said. They were always found guilty of any crime in this realm. Althea knew she never had a chance.
“What now? How long does she go to prison?” I asked Lucas.
He pointed to the front of the room, where the judge was still standing. He was waiting for the chatter to stop again. Once it did, he made one final announcement: “Thereby, this board of justices has unanimously sentenced the convicted... to death.” Then the judge banged his gavel.