The Magician Of Vennat

Chapter 24

The judge asked Alabaster what he was being charged with, which the boy though was a stupid thing to ask. Everyone in the room knew what he was here for, but the judge had him say that whole thing out loud. Saying it made him feel stupid. He could almost feel everyone judging him, thinking what a stupid, arrogant person he was for making a deal like that.

When he'd finished, the judge asked for the contract to be given to him. It was produced by the holder, and Brown looked at it for a few long unbearable moments before pronouncing it to be valid. The crowd gasped behind Alabaster, and he wished they'd shut up. Everyone had already knew it was valid.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the judge asked.

Alabaster's tongue cleaved to his mouth. This was it. He couldn't believe it. It was going too quickly.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the judge repeated.

The entire room was silent. Everyone was fixed on Alabaster.

Alabaster struggled for words. Plan B seemed very, very inadequate and foolish compared to the big room.

"Alabaster Merchant, do you-" the judge began again, voice raised.

"What does the court consider an arm?" Alabaster asked in a small voice.

The judge leaned forward. "What?" he asked.

"I said what does the court consider an arm to be?" Alabaster asked.

The judge frowned. "An arm is an arm, young man."

"But is blood an arm?" Alabaster asked.

"I protest!" Shylock yelled. "This is ridiculous! If he doesn't have a good objection-"

"Silence!" boomed the judge. He turned to Alabaster. "Just what is your case?"

"That Shylock can have my arm but nothing else," Alabaster said. "Not a drop more of my blood."

The court was silent as they pondered the meaning of his words.

"You mean to say," said the judge, "that your blood is not part of your arm. I disagree."

"No," Alabaster said. "The blood in my arm is part of my arm. The rest of my blood is not so Shylock cannot have even the slightest drop from the rest of my body."

The judge tapped the bar thoughtfully. "If the arm is cut off you will undoubtedly bleed."

"I object!" Shylock said, realizing where Alabaster was trying to go with this. "This is insanity! I-"

"Silence," boomed the judge. He thought some more. The seconds ticked by slowly. "I do not think it works," he said. "Shylock would not be taking your blood. He would take the arm. The blood might leave your body, but he would not be taking it."

"I beg to differ," Alabaster said quickly as a new idea came to him. "The contract specifically uses the word take, doesn't it?"

The judge glanced at the paper. "Yes."

"Well, take doesn't just mean to get something," Alabaster said. "It also means to remove something or extract something."

The judge tapped the countertop again. "This is true," he said.

"I object!" Shylock blurted.

"I know you do," the judge said. "But I think there is something to this." He studied the piece of paper again. "I think he might have got you, Shylock."

"Impossible!" Shylock exclaimed. "I'll have the butcher cut it off six inches below the shoulder and then have it cauterized. The blood won't escape then!"

The judge stared at Shylock for a long moment probably wondering why he wanted an arm anyway, but then he went back to studying the contract. He looked up at Alabaster a moment later.

"I am afraid he has got you there," he said.

Alabaster's heart plummeted. Shylock smirked.

"Do you have anything else to say in your defense?" Brown asked.

"Cauterization wasn't specified in the contract," Alabaster said.

"Yes, but if you don't have it preformed out of your own volition then it will be your fault, not Shylock's," the judge said.

Alabaster scoured his brain, searching for something, anything to say. But there was nothing. Only emptiness.

"Is there anything else?" the judge repeated.

"No," Alabaster replied, feeling like he was pronouncing his own death sentence as he did so.

Brown took a deep breath and stood straighter. "Then the judge finds Shylock in due rights to claim the arm. Does the jury agree?"

The crowd murmered and shuffled, but there were no dissents. No objections.

Brown slapped his hand down hard upon the bar, the harsh sound echoing around the room. "Then it decided. Shylock may take the arm." He addressed the boy. "Shylock."

Shylock nodded, grin wide on his face, and stepped toward Alabaster. The butcher trailed behind him, cleaver in hand.

"Everyone not involved in this may leave," the judge said.

There was protestation from the crowd, but the people began to file out. A table was brought out. Alabaster was finding it hard to breathe. Each breath felt like a jagged piece of ice forcing its way into his body. His heart pounded wildly in his head, and he felt faint as if from blood loss. And he hadn't even lost blood yet.

The butcher grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled his sleeve up. Using a piece of charcoal, he marked a line across his bare skin.

Alabaster shivered as the rough stick passed over his arm, making the hair prickle. He was told to kneel and his arm was pressed flat against the table.

Shylock chuckled and beamed down Alabaster, who didn't meet his gaze, but fixed his eyes on the bar stools. He tried to take deep, slow breaths.

The icy touch of metal kissed his skin as the butcher lined up his target. The cleaver was lifted high into the air. Alabaster swallowed.

And then the door blew open, throwing itself halfway across the room. Everyone spun around to face a girl. Not just any girl. A black girl from Afca with a blood soaked shirt, bruised eye, and a broken sword wrapped up in wire.

"Hold the court!" Amanda exclaimed. "Shylock, I've got your sword."