Free Judge by R.J. Larson Page A

Whatever your opinion of me and my men, you will guard your tongue for her sake.”
    “Mmm,” Ruestock agreed. “The lovely prophet. Tragic that I cannot see her—quite unfair.”
    To end his complaints, Ela prayed aloud, “Infinite, please restore this man’s sight.”
    Ruestock blinked, squinted, then recovered and smiled. “Ah, Ela. What a joy to see you! Pretty as ever.” He swept her with a critical glance. “Despite your dreary attire.”
    Before Jon had the chance to lose his temper, Ela warned Ruestock, “The Infinite restored your sight, sir, but that can be reversed.”
    “My dear girl, I—”
    “I am not your dear girl.”
    He affected hurt. “Are you not the least bit flattered by my sincere admiration?”
    “No. Your sincerity means nothing. You are a sneaking, foul-minded, vicious—”
    “Ah,” Ruestock interrupted. “You’re thinking of the past. I assure you, my actions were strictly impersonal. They—”
    Despite her resolution to remain calm, Ela cried, “You threatened to kill my sister!”
    Jon shifted one hand to his sword. “What? He threatened to kill Tzana?”
    Ruestock’s voice pitched higher now, in a genial-sounding protest. “What threat? It was nothing. A bluff against the little Unfortunate to gain your cooperation.”
    Ela wanted to strike him. “It was no bluff, sir. Admit the truth.”
    Expression hardening, the former nobleman said, “Well, it’s unimportant now. My plans failed and the king is dead. Long live Siphra’s new king, whose supporters confiscated my lands! And, because I’m neither lord nor ambassador, I’m reduced to roadside skirmishes to survive. Moreover, I’m in exile, which is not entirely my fault.”
    “Implying that I’m partly to blame?” Ela shook her head. “No. Accept responsibility for your actions. You’re no longer an ambassador because you deserved to be ousted.”
    “Deserved? How dare—!”
    “Control yourself,” Ela warned. “If my destroyer believes I’m in danger, he’ll come after you.” Ruestock looked down, fury visible in the tensed line of his mouth. Ela continued. “Also, I must point out that, prophet or not, if I act according to my own will and make such errors in judgment as you’ve done, then the Infinite allows me to suffer the consequences. You are collecting the punishment you’ve earned.”
    “And what is my sentence?”
    Ela hesitated. Ruestock began to wheedle, “Ela, Ela, you are too merciful and tenderhearted to declare me guilty without proof of any wrongdoing worthy of death.”
    He was right, regrettably. She studied the branch. It remained plain uncommunicative vinewood. Sighing, Ela gave up. “When the Ytarians release you, you’ll go home to Siphra.”
    “Why? My lands have been confiscated by the new king’s royal council.”
    “King Akabe is a reasonable man. Appeal to him for the restoration of your lands.”
    “Then what?” Ruestock argued. “He wouldn’t trust me in any official capacity!”
    “Trust can be earned, and your reputation can be restored—it’s not too late. Meanwhile, learn to manage your province.”
    “Like a common overseer? My dear girl—”
    She glared. Oh, he was making forgiveness a serious ordeal!
    Ruestock exhaled gustily. “Excuse me. I cannot help myself, seeing your exquisite face.”
    Impossible man. Would forgiveness offer him a chance for true understanding of his Creator? Infinite? Silence compelled her toward mercy. “This will be your final reprieve. And before you argue your innocence, remember that men have died because of your schemes.”
    “An unjust accusation!”
    “Is it? Do you wish me to recite the circumstances?”
    Silent and unmistakably hostile, Ruestock shifted his gaze to the roof beams.
    Jailor Amak cleared his throat. “Can you prove his guilt?”
    Ela shook her head. “The dead weren’t Tracelanders, sir, and I have no proof. The only thing you can punish him for is attempted robbery—yet he is Siphran.”
    The