* - * - * - *
They led him through the back halls of the great House of the Hassonlandith. He marveled that nothing had changed; the carpeting, the pictures on the walls, the furniture, were all as he remembered them. He had run through these halls a thousand times. This had been his home; he had grown up in this household. He considered the Hasson as his family, for he had no other. Jesh had spent his youth in their service, and they had treated him well.
Involuntarily his mind began adding up the house's worth in Prenth dollars. It was a mansion, hundreds of years old. On Prent it would cost a fortune to build such a building. The two economies were completely different . . . Jesh's mind filled with thoughts, comparisons between Prent and Kinthaldith.
They led Jesh downstairs to a holding room on one of the lower floors and left him there with his cuffs still on. He was afraid to object. He was hungry, but no one brought food. Perhaps they planned to kill him soon--then hunger would cease to be a problem. Jesh tried to turn his mind to other thoughts.
He had gambled a lot in returning to Kinthaldith. All his preparations would be for nothing if they killed him. He 'd known there would be a lot of risk, but hadn't exactly known what to expect from the Kinthaldan system of justice; he didn't know how to prepare. Most of his elaborate plans had been made to deter the Prenth from attacking Kinthaldith: the correspondence he'd had with Prenth newspapers, the complaints he'd sent to the Council. There was no telling what fruit they would bear, or whether they would effect the Prenth at all. He paced while he worried.
Two hours later men came for him and took him upstairs. Fear had worn him out, and he began to wish he had used the time to rest. They led him to the main hall where all the highest members of the house had gathered.
Lady Tireth sat on a dais in the center of the main hall, expression blank and unreadable. Her cousin, Lord Eshlarterral, sat beside her. Jesh remembered him as kind. Lord Risser sat next to them, and it chilled Jesh to look in his eyes.
Others were present. Jesh recognized many of them. Their expressions were stern; no one smiled at him. Suddenly, Jesh was embarrassed, being brought before them now, bound and in disgrace. He looked around the room for his bag but couldn't see it. Had Lady Tireth lied earlier? Did she really send someone to find it? Jesh wondered.
Lady Tireth spoke without standing. "All present have heard the words spoken at the Lawbody. We give you one last chance to speak."
Then they have not decided, thought Jesh. His heart beat faster. He stepped forward, trying to look sure of himself. "I swear to you, on my word, that I did not kill Lord Demminsantlan." The group stirred, Jesh hurried before he could be interrupted. "The trial on Prent was unjust. My lawyer gave a false account. The translator changed my words. The Prenth didn't care about justice; they wanted to stir up their people to hate the Lords of Kinthaldith--rather than admit that one of their own people killed Lord Demminsantlan."
No one moved. Jesh's words had the sound of truth. It was easy for them to believe the Prenth would do such a thing. He almost had them. Then Lord Risser spoke, breaking the silence. "Lies!"
"It's the truth," said Jesh.
"Where is your evidence, traitor?" said Lord Risser.
Jesh resisted mentioning the bag. He didn't want to insult Lady Tireth further, but now he wondered if the young Lord had aided in its disappearance.
"If you are innocent," said Lady Tireth, "why did you stay on Prent and accept their citizenship?" Jesh could see the doubt in her eyes. His heart sank.
"They wouldn't let me come home. I had no choice."
"You flaunt your foreignness," said Lord Risser. "Look at your clothes. They are Prenth. Where are your yinnesthan?" he said, referring to the traditional costume servants wore, designating their service to a house.
"They took them," Jesh said.
"You wanted freedom. You wanted what Prent had--their learning, their ways. You were ashamed of us!" said Lord Risser.
It was true. Jesh had wanted it then. Prent was a place of wonders and technology--and freedom was attractive.
Lord Risser continued. "Once on Prent you killed my father and ran to them for help."
"No!"
"You hated us!"
"Then why have I returned?"
"To betray us. You're a pawn of the Prenth."
Jesh didn't dare tell them how close it was to being true. If he failed now, he realized he'd lose more than his life. Prent could take revenge for his death on Kinthaldith, and he really would have betrayed them.
"Will anyone speak for him?" the Lady Tireth asked. No one spoke for a time. Then a man stepped forward. Jesh remembered him as a fellow servant he used to do chores with. "I'll speak for him. I always found him to be honest."
Then another man spoke, his old work-master. "I'll also speak for him. He worked hard and respected the household."
Silence came again--no one else spoke. It would not be enough, Jesh thought. He wished desperately that some of the family would speak for him, but none did.
The door opened then, and a man entered and went over to Lady Tireth. He handed her a bag and Jesh recognized it as his. Hope returned. She opened the bag and examined the contents, then looked up at Jesh.
"Is this the one?" she asked.
"Yes. It is." He didn't ask her where they had found it.
She drew out the tape recorder and looked at it, along with several tapes. There were papers inside, documents printed in both Kinthaldan and the language of Prent. "Explain them," she said.
Jesh hesitated awkwardly. “If . . . if you could free my hands . . ."
Lady Tireth thought it over a moment, glancing at the other members. No one objected, not even Lord Risser. "Release him," she said.
A man came over, unlocking the cuffs, and removed them. Jesh rubbed his wrists gently, trying to get the blood flowing again. It felt good to have his hands free again--very good. "May I?" Jesh pointed to the bag. Lady Tireth nodded, and a servant took the bag and its contents and brought them over to Jesh.
Jesh set them on a table and looked them over. The audio-tapes were there. He shuffled through the somewhat crumpled papers, rearranging them, then he tapped them neatly against the table into a compact stack. Now things were right. He felt a sudden confidence, and his lawyer's manner returned.
"Do you have a man who can understand the language of Prent?" asked Jesh.
A man stood. "I can." Jesh recognized him as a teacher.
Jesh picked up the first tape and put it in the player. "This is a recording of my trial on Prent, eleven years ago. Listen to my words, then listen to his translation to the judges."
He played that segment for them, then stopped the tape. "These were the only words I spoke at the trial. He asked me if I had anything to say. As you heard, I said: 'I didn't kill him. On my word, I didn't kill him.' Now tell them his translation of that," said Jesh.
The man shook his head. "The interpreter's rendition was: 'I didn't mean to kill him. On my word, I didn't mean to.'"
Jesh let silence fill the room a moment, then spoke. "If you read the official transcript, which I have here--no doubt the one used publicly for the news media--it records my words in Kinthaldith as matching the interpreter's words. The official audio recording of this trial was mysteriously lost. The recording you heard was made by a person who attended the trial. It is the only record of what was really said. It was eight years before I found out about the existence of this record and copied it.
Jesh picked up another tape. "This is the recording of my conversation with my Prent lawyer before the trial. I told him the same story I told the Lawbody this morning. He said no one would believe it. He suggested I tell the judges that I had struck my master in self-defense and killed him and that he was sure I would be let off. I refused.
"If you'll read the full manuscript of the trial, you'll see that my lawyer used his story, not mine. At the time of the trial, I couldn't speak the language of Prent. I couldn't understand what was being said.
I assumed my lawyer was defending me, when he was actually condemning me," said Jesh.
"Shouldn't the events have been translated to you at the trial?" asked Lord Eshlar.
"Yes," said Jesh. "That point alone invalidates the whole trial."
"Why didn't you take this evidence to the Prent courts and clear your name?" asked Lady Tireth.
"I tried, but they refused. I think they were afraid. They said a retrial was unnecessary because it had been more than seven years and because I was set free without punishment. They said it was unimportant to reopen the case."
"What about your honor? Isn't that important?" asked Lady Tireth.
"My honor? Not to the Prenth," said Jesh. “You see, I couldn't have won that trial. It wasn't until three years afterward, when I'd learned the language of Prent and read the trial transcripts, that I realized what had been done to me."
"This is treachery indeed," said Lady Tireth. "We will listen to this tape and consider the matter. Take him out."
The men escorted Jesh out, but they did not put the cuffs back on his wrists. They took him back to the room downstairs.