He turned to the judge. "Your honor, she is refusing to explain her methods. If I don't understand what the marshal is doing, then how will I be able to adequately defend my client?"
"Marshal Blake," the judge said, "I'm sorry that I opened this issue with my request for information, but I can see the defense's point."
"For most experts, I would see his point, too, your honor, but may I make one more point before you rule on whether the defense gets to question my every move?"
"I won't allow him to question your every move, Marshal," he said with a smile that even by moonlight seemed self-satisfied. Or maybe I was just watching the entire night go up in questions, and that was making me grumpy. I'd never had to raise the dead while being questioned by hostile lawyers. It didn't sound like a fun evening. "But I will allow you to make your point."
"If I raise Emmett Rose from the dead tonight, you'll be here to see it, right?"
"Are you speaking to me, Marshal Blake?" asked the defense lawyer.
"Yes, Mr. Salvia, I am speaking to you." I fought to keep the impatience out of my voice.
"Could you repeat the question?" he asked.
I repeated it, then added, "If I fail to raise Emmett Rose from the dead tonight, you'll be here to see that, too, right?"
I could see him frown even in the cooler darkness under the trees. "Yes." But he said it slowly, as if he didn't see the trap but suspected that there was one.
"I will either raise the zombie from this grave, or I will not. Correct, Mr. Salvia?"
"Your honor, what is Marshal Blake trying to get at?" Salvia asked.
"Do you concede that my raising Emmett Rose from the dead is either a yes or no question? Either he pops out of the grave, or he does not."
"Yes, yes, I concede that, but I still don't see--"
"Would you say that the zombie rising from the grave is open to interpretation?" I asked.
Salvia opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm not sure I understand the question."
The judge said, "Marshal Blake has made her point. Either the zombie will rise from the grave, or it won't. We will all be here to see the zombie either rise, or not rise. It isn't open to interpretation, Mr. Salvia. Either she will do what she's being paid for, or she won't. It either works or it does not."
"But the ritual she chooses to raise the dead could affect the ability of Mr. Rose to give intelligent testimony."
The judge asked me, "Is that true? Marshal, could your choice of rituals affect the zombie?"
"Not the ritual. No, your honor. But the ability of the animator." The moment that last bit left my mouth, I flinched. I should have stopped with "No, your honor." Dammit.
"Explain the last part of that statement," the judge said.
See, I'd said too much. Given them something to question and be confused by. I knew better than that.
"The greater the degree of power the animator has, and sometimes the more practice he or she has at raising the dead, the better their zombies are."
"Better how?" he asked.
"More alive. The greater the power used, the more alive the zombie will appear. You'll also get more of their personality, more of what they were like in life."
Again, I'd overexplained. What was the matter with me tonight? The moment I thought it, I knew, or thought I knew. The dead were whispering to me. Not in voices--the true dead have no voices--but in power. It should have taken energy from me to raise a zombie. They shouldn't have been offering power up to me, like some sort of gift. Power over the dead comes with a price, always. Nothing's free with the dead.
Micah touched my arm. It startled me. I looked at him, and he said softly, "Are you all right?"
I nodded.
"The judge is talking to you."
I turned back to the judge and apologized. "I'm sorry, your honor. Could you repeat what you just said?"