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“So you see, ladies and gentlemen, until the ownership of this knife is confirmed...” The overseer of Cold Pass Castle pauses mid-sentence as a knock is heard on the chamber door. “Come in.” He calls.
The solid, wooden door opens just wide enough to admit a bland, rail thin aide, who bows deeply, clearly nervous. “Honored Chancellor, your majesties, Mr. President, sir, if you will excuse my intrusion...” “Get on with it.” The overseer interrupts impatiently. “Sir, there’s a woman here demanding to speak on behalf of the guard.” Surprise crosses the faces of the six world leaders seated at the round conference table. “Who is she?” The aide swallows; “She says her name is Mrs. William Hawklan, sir.” The red haired chancellor of the Pleasure Society glances across the table at the young monarch of Midkingsen. Both women nod briefly, then Chancellor Amanda Burren speaks. “I motion we hear what Mrs. Hawklan has to say.” “I second the motion.” Her majesty, Kallia, of Midkingsen quickly adds. “Any objections, your majesties, Mr. President?” The overseer addresses the other four seated at the table. Each shakes his head in turn. “Show Mrs. Hawklan in.” He commands the aide. A couple minutes later, an elderly woman enters, assisted by a cane. The castle overseer steps away from the table, allowing her to take his place. She rests one hand on the edge of the table as she inclines her head to those watching her. “My greetings and thanks to your majesties, Honored Chancellor, Mr. President,” Her words are pronounced in an unmistakable west continent accent, “I request you hear me out before rendering your judgement in this case.” “A few questions first.” West Continent President Evans requests, “Were you acquainted with the guard or the prisoner?” “The prisoner, sir.” “For how long?” His majesty, Robero, of Ouestlun asks. “Eighty-six years.” The strong clear voice does not hesitate. “Then you are aware that the prisoner was an old woman?” His majesty, Darius, of Norsecount queries. “Old in that she was passed her century birthday,” The woman pauses a moment, “The guard was young then?” “Between twenty-five and thirty.” The overseer offers. Mrs. Hawklan nods to herself. “Whose weapon was that?” She indicates a knife covered in dried blood on the table. “That has not yet been determined,” President Evans states, “There is insufficient evidence...” “What Mr. President means is...” Monarch Kallia cuts in. “What that means is clear enough,” The elderly woman looks around the table at the six world leaders seated there, “That is why I came. I believe that what I have to tell you will clear up a great many aspects of this case.” “Then you believe,” Begins his majesty, Ferdinand, of Estorika, “That the prisoner, whom you claim to have known, may be the guilty party?” “I do,” Mrs. Hawklan raises her hand to quell murmurs, “I do believe so in the light of what she has previously proven herself capable of.” “What exactly do you know of the prisoner then?” Monarch Robero inquires. “Her life story: From the circumstances surrounding her birth to the reasons for her imprisonment in Cold Pass Castle.” “Perhaps you might simply give us the conclusion to that story.” President Evans requests. “If you wish,” The woman inclines her head to the west continent president, “Whatever your verdict, justice has already been served.” “Perhaps,” Chancellor Burren observes, “We should allow the lady to tell her story from the beginning.” “Indeed,” Monarch Ferdinand agrees, “Such a conclusion requires the most complete explanation possible.” “A seat for the lady then,” Monarch Darius commands, “One hundred years makes for a long tale.” “More than that.” Mrs. Hawklan corrects gently as the overseer positions a chair for her, “My history begins with four people whose paths crossed time and time again.”
Helaine Ducot looks up from the paperwork cluttering her desk when someone knocks on her office door.
“Yes?” Her irritation at the interruption is clear in her voice. Her assistant, Duncan Wrout, opens the door enough to stick his head in. “Doctor Neil McAlsie is here for his two thirty appointment.” “McAlsie?” Helaine frowns, trying to place the name. “The archaeologist,” Duncan prompts, “The one researching the towers.” “Oh,” Helaine groans, “Him. Might as well send him in.” Duncan’s head vanishes. A moment later, the door opens wider to admit a sixty something man and two young women. The man, although slow moving and nearly bald, is respectably dressed in a new suit and dress shoes. The young women cause Helaine to suppress another groan. The first is petite with long white blonde hair braided after the east continent fashion. A single streak of black starts in the center of her forehead and disappears into the braid. She is wearing a sleeveless, fitted, black leather vest which reveals the tattoos on either shoulder, black jeans belted with what appears to be a martial arts black belt, and old slip on shoes. The second is taller with long, wavy blonde hair worn loose and long, crimson fingernails. Her outfit consists of a grey sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, shredded blue jeans, and biker boots. She also has a richly ornamented sword in a battle harness across her back. Both young women have an unusual, intricately designed earring dangling from their left ears. Helaine forces herself not to stare, but has trouble thinking of what to say. The man saves her the trouble. “Good afternoon, Ms Ducot. My name is Neil McAlsie. I appreciate your agreeing to see me so quickly.” “Good afternoon, Doctor McAlsie,” Helaine stands and extends her hand, “Are these your... assistants?” Neil shakes her hand firmly. “After a fashion. May I introduce Amy and Stacie.” Helaine manages a polite nod to each, but is slightly unnerved by the two sets of cold, hard, blue eyes fixed on her. She drops back into her chair, indicating for her guests to sit as well. The man does, but the young women remain standing. * * * The clock in the dashboard reads seven fifty-seven when Helaine parks outside the massive stone structure known as Gemstone Palace. She gets out of her car and approaches the main door to find four people waiting. Three, she identifies as Doctor McAlsie, Amy, and Stacie. The fourth is another young woman. This one is a little taller than the other two, although wearing an identical earring, and has shoulder length black hair. She is wearing a short, tight, blue t-shirt, black track pants, and worn running shoes. As Helaine gets closer, she discovers her to also have cold, hard, blue eyes. “Good morning,” Doctor McAlsie calls, “I’d like you to meet Lexa.” Helaine manages a polite nod before fumbling for the proper key. She notices Stacie is still wearing the sword and Amy is carrying a beat up backpack. Finally, she comes up with the key she needs and unlocks the door. After ushering them inside, she closes and locks the door carefully.
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AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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