“Arenadd Taranisäii,” he said, his voice echoing in the huge space, “also known as Arren Cardockson, of Idun, you have been accused of abducting a griffin chick. You have been brought before me, in the company of your fellow griffiners, for the chance to defend yourself and perhaps win your freedom. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Arren looked at him and then at the gallery. They were all watching. Waiting. “I . . .”
“Go ahead,” said Rannagon. “It’s your right.”
“I didn’t do it,” said Arren. “I didn’t steal the chick. It chose me.”
There was a muttering from the gallery.
“Indeed?” said Rannagon. “Then why did you run away? And why did you restrain it? And why did a dozen witnesses see it break free and tear your face?”
“It was frightened,” Arren replied. “The fire scared it, and it panicked. Hasn’t your griffin ever bitten you, my lord?”
Rannagon’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t presume to speak to me like that. You have not answered my other questions. Why did you run and hide?”
“Because . . .”
“Answer me.”
“Because I knew I had to,” Arren said loudly. “Because I knew no-one would accept it. I knew I had no chance to be a true griffiner again, and so I decided we both had to leave.”
“Why?” said Rannagon. “What were you afraid of, Arenadd?”
“You know the answer to that, my lord.”
“Speak plainly,” said Rannagon. “Speak the truth.”
Arren was silent. He looked down at the wooden edge of the dock, where his hands rested. Long, pale hands with black hair scattered over the knuckles, the manacles resting just behind them. He could see his reflection, faintly, on the surface of the metal. See his own eyes, black and cold as steel.
“Speak,” Rannagon commanded. “Speak now or I will presume that you have waived your right to do so, and I will pronounce sentence on you.”
Arren looked up. “I was afraid of you,” he said.
There was more muttering from the crowd, louder this time.
Rannagon waved them into silence. “Why would that be?”
“You already know,” said Arren. “You know. You knew from the beginning.”
“What did I know, Arenadd?” Rannagon asked steadily.
Arren straightened up. “Griffiners! Listen to me!” he shouted, and pointed at Rannagon. “This man is a liar and a traitor! He drove me to do what I did! He betrayed me!”
The guards grabbed his shoulders to hold him still, as the listeners reacted with a flurry of shouts and screeches.
“Silence!” Rannagon roared. He came toward Arren. “Tell me what I’ve done,” he said, raising his voice above the noise. “Tell them.”
“You killed Eluna!” Arren shouted back, provoking further consternation. “It was your fault! You lied to me and sent me to my death! And then you lied to Riona as well! You told them it was my fault, you said I was a liar and a thief, you said if I told anyone you’d kill me, and then you murdered my friend because he knew the truth! You sent people after me, made them put this collar on me and destroy my house, and then you set it on fire! You took my life!”
This time there were not mutterings or muted exclamations. This time there was an outburst of shouting and screeching, deafeningly loud and terrible with rage.
Arren ignored them completely. “You can’t do this to me!” he half-screamed. “Murderer! Traitor!”
“Shut him up!” Rannagon snapped at the guards.
They took Arren by the elbows and dragged him back from the front of the dock, and one of them clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. Arren bit him, and the other guard hit him in the neck and then grabbed him by the hair, dragging his head sideways. He tried to fend them off, but they only hit him harder; he subsided, fists clenched, unable to speak, the guard’s hand once again firmly in place over his mouth.
Rannagon was busy trying to silence the crowd, but without much success. Then Shoa stood up and screeched. Her voice cut across the babble; as it started to die down, she reared up, opening her wings, and screeched again. The crowd went quiet.
Rannagon watched them sternly then turned back to Arren, and the look on his face was not angry or accusing but full of terrible sadness. “Arren, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”
He turned to address the gallery again. “I had been expecting something like this to happen,” he said, “though I hoped it