A Centaur for Libby Page 11

  “The king was a lion too?”

  “Yes, the husband of Queen Aquaria. He appeared to die of natural causes, though everyone knows he was poisoned at the hands of Scorpos. Scorpos was one of the king’s advisors. He grew greedy and determined to have it all for himself. So he killed the king and started weaving a dark web of fear and doubt around the queen. She never shows her face and she lets Scorpos do anything he wants.”

  “Can you defeat him?”

  “If I am freed, theoretically, I could lead the army of the exiles. They are in the mountains. You saw them when we linked minds with Argos and Dalion.” He raised an eyebrow, noting her lack of sexual movement on top of him. “Did I tell you to stop?”

  “No,” she said with a frown, subjecting herself once more to sexual torture. “Damn it, Markos, can I come already?”

  “No. I want you good and eager for the trial.”

  “Good and eager? What the hell good will that do?! I’ll be a basket case.”

  “Consider it incentive for you to save me so we can finish later.”

  “You know,” she said, flashing him an endearing if furious look. “I could be home slugging it out with obnoxious assistant district attorneys defending career criminals right now.”

  “Who are you kidding?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t miss this excitement for the world…either one of them.”

  She sighed. “You’re the only one who can ever get the last word with me, you know that?”

  Just then the door opened. It was Argos, holding a dress for Libby to wear and a suit for Markos. The dress was quite formal, an Elizabethan-style gown with puffy brocaded sleeves and a fancy lacework bodice. It was a pale gray, trimmed in white.

  Color-wise, Markos’ outfit was a decent match in royal blue with gold buttons. The style, however, was not exactly in sync with hers, being that his was a Sixties-style Nehru suit.

  Argos cleared his throat, pretending not to notice what they had been doing. “I took the liberty of whipping up some Earth-type clothing for the trial. I hope you like it.”

  “It’s very nice.” She smiled politely.

  Dalion was behind him and Kalos.

  “Glad to see you’ve been so hard at work on the case,” grumbled Kalos.

  “Oh, give it a rest,” said Dalion. “You’re just jealous you haven’t gotten any sex in the last millennium.”

  “Just because I don’t hump anything I can chase up a mountain does not mean I don’t get my share.”

  “Sure, if you count zero as a share.”

  In spite of everything, Libby began to laugh. If this wasn’t so bizarre and potentially deadly, she might well be enjoying herself.

  Not that her time with Markos wasn’t pleasant.

  Pleasant? Who was she kidding, it was the best sex of her life, and the best connection she had ever had with another creature.

  He has to live, she thought. I have to save him somehow. Otherwise they will have to take me, too, dissolving me to the Four Winds.

  Whatever that meant.

  * * * * *

  The trial…

  Where to begin? For starters, there were two judges in the courtroom, seated side by side in a pair of Roman-style curule chairs. They wore long white wigs and white robes and they were in every way duplicates of each other. Right down to the white pancake makeup and the round, pink circles on their cheeks.

  They reminded Libby of courtiers from the days of Louis XIV, though each had two sets of hands, which was rather distracting as all eight of them held gavels.

  The gavels were to be pounded upon small drums which were held in the hands of flying fish. It was comical to watch the fish trying to keep themselves positioned in readiness under the gavels as the judges moved their hands.

  The room itself was long and narrow. On both sides were railings behind which sat spectators in long rows, stacked three and four deep. They were a mix of creature types, representing all the zodiac types. Minus the Sagittarian centaurs and Leo lions, of course.

  In front of the judges’ chairs there were two tables, one for the defense and one for the prosecution. The prosecutor was a bull, black with white horns. He was constantly huffing and puffing and tapping the floor with his hooves. He wore no clothing, although he had a wig—dark gray. The wig was lopsided and appeared as if it would fall off at any minute.

  The bull stood behind his table, which was labeled “Voice of Truth”.

  The defense table, by contrast, was labeled “Guilty Party”.

  This was a big tip-off from the start that they were going to have a hard time getting due process.

  The crowd wasn’t exactly friendly either. There was much buzzing and whispering as they walked in. Libby heard the words “human trash” uttered several times.

  Libby and Markos, escorted by Argos for moral support, were made to stand behind their table as the judges made their introduction.

  “Who is here to speak the truth today?” asked the judge on the left, whose name was Pollus according to the engraved sign behind his chair.

  Before Libby could open her mouth, the bull spoke up. “I, Grolok the Taurus,” he bellowed. “Speak the truth.”

  There were cheers for the audience.

  “And who is here to lie?” the other asked, he whose name was Prios.

  Grolok was kind enough to speak for them. “They are the liars,” he pronounced as he pointed his horns.

  Libby moved to speak, but Argos restrained her. “Not now,” he whispered. “You would be in contempt.”

  “But this is outrageous,” she said.

  “Can’t be helped,” said Argos.

  “You may begin your arguments,” said Prios to Grolok, hitting one of his gavels against a drum.

  “Thank you, Your Honors.” Grolok cleared his throat. “If it pleases the court, we recommend the maximum sentence for this crime.”

  “Sentence?” said Libby. “But we haven’t had the trial.”

  “We usually don’t,” said Argos. “Up to now, with the centaurs and lions in charge no one was ever brought to trial who wasn’t guilty. They were honest and they never made mistakes.”

  “Well, that system sure backfired, didn’t it?”

  The two judges whispered to one another. “We agree,” Pollus spoke for them both. “Let the prisoner be dissolved, sentence to be carried out at—”

  Libby was on her feet. “Objection!”

  Every eye was on her. Prios turned to Pollus, shocked. “She interrupted you. How rude!”

  “It’s not an interruption, it’s a legitimate point of law. The defendant is entitled to hear the case against him and you have to rule on it based on the evidence.”

  The two looked at each other again, blinking.

  “We do?” said Prios.

  “But how?” asked Pollus.

  Libby sighed. These were Geminis at their worst, the blind leading the blind. “You will hear from both sides and then decide if the prosecutor, the bull’s side, has made a clear case, without reasonable doubt. Ideally there would be a jury, but in this case, we better leave things as they are.”

  “You know,” said Prios, “this could be fun.”

  “As long as we’re done by lunch,” said Pollus.

  “Oh, yes,” said Prios. “We’ll be done by lunch, won’t we?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Goodie, where do we start?” asked Pollus.

  “The bull needs to say what the charge is and then give his evidence,” said Libby.

  Grolok growled. “Is this necessary?”

  “Yes,” said Libby. “It is.”

  Fortunately, Argos had gotten the queen to back them in keeping the scorpions out of the room. It would be impossible with their presence to have any semblance of fair play. As it was this was going to be a lot more of an uphill fight than she had first thought.

  “Very well,” the bull said grudgingly. “This creature here killed Theonicus and everyone knows it. Is that enough of
a case for you?”

  “Oh, dear,” said Pollus. “That does sound convincing. He must be guilty, don’t you think, Prios?”

  “No, no,” said Libby, “you have to dig into it. Grolok, can you produce any witnesses to the crime?”

  “Zinox and the whole scorpion guard, they saw Markos.”

  “Saw him what?”

  “Killing Theonicus, that’s what.”

  “Saw him killing Theonicus,” she pressed, “or standing near his body?”

  “Standing near it.”

  “But that isn’t proof, is it? What if he just came along, while on patrol as he said he did and found the body?”

  There were murmurs in the crowd.

  “Impossible,” Grolok declared. “The victim was killed by arrows, everyone knows only centaurs use arrows and he was the only centaur around.”

  “He’s guilty,” cried out a ram from the audience.

  “Yes,” agreed Prios. “He does seem to be. Centaurs do use arrows.”

  “But how do you know he was the only centaur around?” Libby exclaimed. “And can you be sure no other creature could use an arrow? Judge Pollus, couldn’t you string a bow, for example?”

  Prios gasped, moving away from his brother. “Pollus, did you kill Theonicus?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Libby cried in exasperation. “I’m just raising reasonable doubt. The murder could have been committed by someone else.”

  “Who?” demanded the bull.

  “Someone with an interest in making Markos appear guilty,” she said. “That’s who.”

  A gasp went through the crowd. The judges pounded their gavels, ordering silence.

  The bull snorted, glaring. After a moment, deep in thought, he spoke. “Your Honors, I think I know how to settle this.”

  “Good,” said Pollus. “It’s getting near lunchtime.”

  “It’s like this,” he said. “We all know Markos is guilty, but this creature over here keeps trying to defend him. She’s obviously lying for him and she’s probably in on it. I propose we sentence them both.”

  Sounds of approval came from here and there in the crowd.

  “That would be a solution,” agreed Pollus.

  “No it wouldn’t.” Libby threw up her hands. “You can’t sentence the defense counsel, that’s ridiculous.”

  “You see,” Grolok said. “She is arguing with you. What more proof do you need of her guilt?”

  “I am not arguing, I am making a case,” she insisted. “Unlike my opponent who is babbling nonsense. Not one bit of evidence does he have, not one witness, not one scrap of anything to link my client to this crime.”

  “You want a witness? Fine,” said the bull. “You.” He pointed to a pair of Piscean fish floating in the second row. “Are these two guilty or not?”

  “They are guilty, sir,” they answered in unison.

  “There,” said Grolok, “you have two witnesses.”

  “Witnesses to what?” Libby demanded.

  “To your guilt. Interrogate them yourself if you like.”

  Libby sighed. Since there was nothing like a witness chair, she spoke to the pair where they were. “Were the two of you in the room when Theonicus was murdered?”

  “No,” they said.

  “Did you see who killed him?”

  “No.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to avert a migraine. “So how in the world,” she asked, knowing she would regret the answer, “can you be witnesses?”

  “We heard Grolok,” they said. “We heard him say you were guilty.”

  Libby was ready to tear out her finely arranged hair. It was bad enough she was stuck in this ridiculous outfit, but did she have to be a prisoner in a kangaroo court too?

  “That isn’t being a witness to the crime, it’s being a witness to the trial. Didn’t you also hear me say my client was innocent? That’s witnessing too, isn’t it?”

  The fish had no reply.

  “Look,” she decided to seize on her momentary advantage, “it’s really just this simple. On the one hand, my client Markos has spent his whole life protecting Constellia with integrity and courage. On the other hand you have the word of Zinox and his scorpions. Do you trust them as much?”

  The judges frowned in unison. Pollus leaned over, cupping one of his four hands to whisper in his brother’s ear.

  Prios nodded. “My brother has a point. We trusted Markos the Centaur, but this isn’t him. This is a barbaric two-legged animal, no offense.”

  “None taken,” she conceded. “Argos, could I ask you to explain about Markos’ current appearance?”

  Argos cleared his throat. “Yes…I have been giving that a lot of thought. I cast a spell, you see, when I sent him to the Earth, one that would make his form blend to that of humanity. When he came back it should have reversed, but it did not. I am not sure why. He is, however, still Markos, in every way.”

  “The same Markos who escaped prison to avoid trial,” Grolok said.

  Libby was ready on this score. “He did that to find a lawyer, because as is readily obvious today, no one on this world will stand up for him.”

  “I will,” said Dalion, pushing his way to the front row.

  “As will I,” said Kalos by his side.

  “Is there no one else?” Libby asked.

  “Speak up,” said Dalios. “You all know what Markos has done, working night and day, protecting our land, guarding our crops, keeping the king safe? Who was it held up the roof of the tavern when it caught fire keeping it from falling and killing dozens? Who rode across the Plains of Worry three days and nights to warn the coast dwellers of the coming storm?”

  “It was Markos,” called a woman with a water jug. “He saved my daughter in that fire.”

  “Markos taught my son to fly a kite,” said a Libra.

  Libby was filled with pride as creature after creature rose to the centaur’s defense. The testimony continued until not one creature remained to stand against him.

  Except the bull.

  “What about you?” said Libby. “What can you say of Markos? In your heart, do you honestly believe he would kill anyone?”

  The bull scowled. Very slowly he shook his head no.

  “There you have it, Judges, all of this testimony. And what do you have on the other side? The word of the scorpions. And even I, a foreigner, can tell you they are up to no good.”

  The judges bent their heads together, whispering furiously.

  “Well done,” encouraged Argos.

  “We will see,” said Libby, not at all sure what her utterly unorthodox approach had produced.

  It was Pollus who spoke for the pair at long last. “We have conferred,” he said. “And we are inclined to agree. There is, how did you put it, reasonable doubt that Markos committed this crime. We must therefore find him…not guilty.”

  A cheer went up throughout the room. All eight of the gavels pounded at once. “Hold on,” called the judges. “We must have order.”

  The creatures redirected their attention.

  Prios regarded them most somberly. “You know what this decision means. Scorpos will not be pleased that we have discounted the word of his agents. We are many in number, but without the centaurs or lions, how will we defend ourselves?”

  It was Markos who spoke next. It was his shining moment, Libby could tell. “I have been silent up to now, because it was not my place to defend myself. But since you have made your decision, it is my duty to offer you my service. I will head for the mountains where I will gather our forces in exile. The rest of you must hide in the meantime, keep away from the scorpions.”

  “But how, noble centaur?” asked Prios. “How do we avoid their stingers?”

  “Under the castle there are caverns. Some are converted into dungeons, but there are more, which Scorpos does not know about. The old king used them to store his wine and some of his secret belongings. There is room there for all of you.”

  “That might work
,” said Grolok. “If we could get there undetected. Surely we will be noticed, a mass of us, trooping toward the castle?”

  “You will wait until darkness falls. My friends will help you, in small numbers to sneak into the castle. By dawn you will all be safe. As for the scorpions, I will draw most of them away…during my escape.”

  “And what escape is that?” asked Argos.

  “From the Dissolution Scaffold,” he said. “You will pretend that you have convicted me, you will fool the scorpions, leading me to my supposed execution at sunset. At the last moment, I will get away and they will chase me.”

  “Again, there is merit,” Grolok said. “But for one thing. How will you evade the scorpions on these two legs of yours?”

  “You must leave that worry to me. Concentrate on organization, get the word out to everyone and hide tonight. At dawn, the centaurs and lions return.”

  “Three cheers for Captain Markos,” called Judge Prios.

  “No,” said Markos. “You mustn’t make any noise. The walls have ears.”

  “You are right,” said Prios. “You are most right.”

  “We must open the doors,” said Markos. “You must announce the guilty plea to the scorpion guards. They will return me to my cell.”

  “And what about me?” Libby grabbed his arm.

  He kissed her forehead. “I will try and have you sent to me before this evening.”

  With that the bull escorted him to the door. The crowd followed, single file down the aisle. The judges went last, waiting until the doors were thrust open. She could hear the scorpions hissing in victory.

  Libby stood there, bracing herself against the table in her silly antique gown as Markos disappeared out of sight.

  “Congratulations,” said Argos.

  Libby said nothing. Talk about a hollow victory. “I don’t know if I will ever see him again,” she whispered.

  Libby didn’t care about herself. She could handle the devastation of a life without Markos. But the thought that he would be cheated of his right to live and breathe was simply too much to bear. “Tell me, Argos, can he turn back into a centaur or not?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”