Eyes Of Truth

by

Linda Suzane

Insu-ha Coiji, the High Judge and Arbitrator, the Dyamu of Naj, tried not to look bored as the master clerk droned on. He longed for the daily report to be over. He leaned back against the carving of the high-backed audience chair and tried, unobtrusively, to shift back and forth, hoping to scratch an annoying itch. His secretary, Hakoni, saw the slight movement and frowned, the corners of his mouth matching his long drooping mustache. Coiji found himself responding to that frown like a small boy caught daydreaming by a stern teacher. He straightened. Then he stopped himself. He was the Dyamu and had been for six years. He was no longer a frightened fourteen-year-old, unsure of himself. Still, he returned his attention to what the master clerk was saying.

“In Dak-moon of Funara Province, there are troubling circumstances. A murder, a gardener was killed and drained of all blood. The city is also plagued by a mysterious illness.” At least it wasn’t floods or food shortages. “And we haven’t received a report from the High Magistrate in four moons.”

Coiji was disappointed. He didn’t care that a magistrate hadn’t bothered to write a silly report. Hakoni continued to take notes. Coiji saw the tip of the man’s tongue at the corner of his mouth, as though he was concentrating hard, but it was an old signal from the time he had first become Dyamu. It told him to pay attention to this matter.

“Who is the Magistrate?”

“The Insu-ha Shoki,” the master clerk responded.

Now Coiji understood Hakoni’s interest. “There’s no indication of a problem?”

The master clerk shook his head.

“And what does the Guard report?”

“Nothing regarding the Insu-ha, Dyamu. If his Greatness has no more questions that concludes my report.”

Coiji glanced at his secretary, wondering if there were more questions he should ask. Hakoni put his brush down and folded his hands across his stomach. Coiji took that as a sign and gave a wave of dismissal. The master clerk bowed his way out of the small audience chamber. Once the doors were closed, Coiji gave up all pretense and vigorously scratched his itching shoulder blade, ignoring the fact that his nails snagged the delicate embroidery of his ceremonial robe.

With a sigh of relief, he turned to his secretary. Hakoni had served his father and now Coiji. In the last six years, Hakoni had grown an elder’s beard. The wispy, grey-streaked chin whiskers were long enough to reach his folded hands, a respectable length. His drooping mustache, which Hakoni kept trimmed to half the length of his whiskers, was still coal black. Coiji wondered if Hakoni judiciously helped it to remain so dark. “So, old man, what are you thinking? Should we do something about this murder?”

“It’s more disturbing that Insu-ha Shoki hasn’t sent his reports. He may be planning something.”

“If Shoki was, as you say, planning something, he’d be sure to send his reports so we wouldn’t suspect. Is this one of your little feelings or do you have other information that makes Shoki suspect?”

“Nothing new, but as you say, perhaps a hunch. When the master clerk spoke of Dak-moon, I felt a sense, well, of heaviness, darkness. I can’t recall ever having such a feeling. It is most puzzling.”

Hakoni was famous for his hunches. His little feelings he called them. Coiji’s father had learned to listen to them, after encountering several disasters when he ignored Hakoni’s warnings. Coiji always listened.

“I will send a Hand,” said Coiji.

Hakoni grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and poised the stylus above the blankness.

“Send for my brother, Dar.”

“My Dyamu!” Surprise and doubt filled Hakoni’s voice. “Is he a wise choice?”

“A perfect choice.”

Hakoni frowned, Coiji grinned back playfully. He held up his hand, counting his reasons on his fingers.

“First, I can’t send anyone but another Insu-ha to investigate Shoki.” Another finger joined the first. “Name another Insu-ha who would be willing to travel so far without complaint on such minor matters as a few missing reports and the murder of an unimportant gardener.” He put up the third finger. “Dar will care passionately about justice for this gardener and will search for the truth, no matter where it leads.”

Hakoni’s dark eyes acknowledged the truth of Coiji’s statements.

“A wise choice, my Dyamu.”

“Stop lying to me. I can always tell.”

Hakoni sighed. “It’s just that sometimes your brother cares too much about the wrong things and too little for the consequences.”

Now Coiji frowned; anger tinged his voice. “Insu-ha Nito deserved what Dar did! Must that scandal haunt Dar for the rest of his life?”

“It’s not easy to forget that Insu-ha Nito died.”

“But Dar didn’t kill him,” Coiji objected. He rose and stalked the length of the room and back. “Not four moons ago, Dar and Waulo saved my life. If not for them, the assassin would have killed me. Surely, if people knew, it would change their opinion.”

“No,” Hakoni said firmly. “It’s better that the matter remains a secret. Your brother agrees.”

Coiji frowned. He had wanted to award his brother a medal so that the whole court would know his brother’s bravery, but both Hakoni and Dar had told him no. “If I can’t reward him in public, at least I can make him my Hand.”

“There are those who would use Dar’s reputation against you. If he makes a mistake, it’s you who will suffer.”

“He won’t make a mistake. I know my brother. He will find the murderer. If Shoki is up to something, as you suspect, you must agree that Dar and Waulo are the ones to uncover it.”

“You can’t be thinking of sending Waulo!” Hakoni protested in alarm.

“Waulo will make an excellent legal assistant. She’s well versed in the law.”

“Well versed in criminal pursuits.”

“Her husband was an advocate, and so was she.”

“I would hardly call her an advocate. She helped him on occasion. Surely, someone more experienced. Someone who has previously assisted a Hand. Someone who understands the difficulties of being a Hand and can advise your brother.”

“Waulo is very qualified; besides, she has other skills.” Hakoni paled. Coiji grinned impishly. “Not that she’ll need them.”

“I should hope not!”

“Moreover if I send Waulo with Dar, I may avert a financial crisis within my court. Far too many of my subjects have lost to her at nu, including, I believe, you.”

Hakoni looked guilty. His eyes no longer met Coiji’s. “The god Tazar favors her too often. I’m sure she’s cheating, but I can’t figure out how.”