Jennifleur Quazarian and the Order of Truth: Sharp Mere, #1

By Alex Rooth

During a trial, a kitchen boy clashes with his former master. A death results. Was it murder or self-defense, and what secrets lie behind the conflict? In Sharp Mere these are dangerous questions to ask.

A young woman is appointed to investigate. Though inexperienced, she is determined to do her duty. But nothing is as it seems. Powerful interests take notice and pressure mounts from all sides.

How far will she go to discover the truth and find justice for innocent parties? How much will she risk and how much will she be prepared to give up on a journey that becomes more personal with every step she takes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Rooth
• Release date: Dec 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393896098

Book preview

PART I

The Pillar of Redemption cast a long shadow over the lawns of the Sharp Mere estate. It was late afternoon but the sun was still hot. Warm air reflected from the buildings onto the men and women in the crowd. Red-faced and sweaty, people shifted from foot to foot. They had witnessed a day of trials and were tired of standing. Their own discomfort was uppermost in their minds, not the fate of the last few transgressors waiting to be tried. The Pillar of Redemption alone looked cool and untroubled.

Stand apart. No touching! shouted a young Servant of Law. Eyes straight ahead, hands in front or you’ll be next for the Pillar.

Rules don’t apply at trials, retorted a woman with energy to spare after the long day. She stuck out her tongue. We can touch who we like.

It was true that the laws concerning relations between the sexes did not apply with their usual severity on these occasions. Minor touching or accidental bumping into a member of the opposite sex (a crime that would normally send a person to the Pillar of Redemption) was generally overlooked, and the people of Sharp Mere made the most of it.

The young Servant of Law didn’t respond to the woman. She seemed very sure of herself and he didn’t have the confidence to argue. So he acted as if no one had said anything and turned solemnly away from the crowd. He found himself looking at the rabbits nibbling the grass at the foot of the distant estate wall. Near them, white mares with long silky manes cropped the turf. Further away, red-skinned ogres repaired a section of fallen stonework. Even the ogres looked small against the great pine trees that loomed high above the walls of the estate. Heavy gates, locked and bolted, led into the forest. The woods were forbidden to the ordinary inhabitants of Sharp Mere. The young man didn’t think to question why it should be like this. Instead, he turned his gaze to the seating area of the Law Lords, Council members, Impartials and other important individuals, and speculated about their private lives.

Flaxuss Crème, Nth Lord of Sharp Mere, occupied a raised podium near the Pillar of Redemption. As befitted his position, he sat apart from everyone else. Lord Crème had little in common with the Lower Orders, but like them he also wanted the trial to be over. Only three more individuals to deal with and he would be able to return to his private boating lake on the Whitestone Plains. It was the one place in the whole of Sharp Mere where he couldn’t be spied on. He planned to celebrate the end of the trial with a wild party at which he would get drunk and enjoy female company of his own choosing for a change.

The crowd shifted. People turned their heads to watch two transgressors being marched towards the Pillar of Redemption. Servants of Law wearing heavy gloves escorted the two individuals, a man and a woman, along the Slow Path to Change. This comprised a double row of flagstones that formed a walkway to a point half way across the lawn. There, the flagstones became stepping stones that curved in different directions, tracing a path to the Pillar of Redemption. Drugged and compliant, the transgressors offered little resistance.

Despite the heat and their irritability, the crowd became silent. No one was ever sure what magic would be worked by the Lord of Sharp Mere and what transmutation would result at the Pillar of Redemption. The Pillar had been given many names over the course of time. Most were unknown to the current inhabitants of Sharp Mere. Once it had been known as the Lattice. Later it was called Ai. Tens of thousands of years ago it was known as John.

The guilty couple continued on their roundabout path until they were finally brought to a halt before the Pillar. There they were held tight by the Servants of Law. Drugged or not, struggle would have been useless. The Lord proceeded to read out the charges against the couple. These ranged from prohibited contact to fully consummated unlawful sexual relations. Flaxuss became aware of a loud coughing. The Senior Declarer of justice was looking at him expectantly. It was time.

New arrival Jennifleur Quazarian, Assistant Inspector of the Order of Truth, had watched the proceedings that day with a mixture of sadness, horror and disbelief. Jennifleur had surprised herself. Like everyone else in Sharp Mere, she had been educated in the laws as a child, practically before she could walk. She could recite the provisions in her sleep. She knew that for a woman to touch a man, or a man to touch a woman, at any time other than during the Two Day Ceremony, was a crime punishable at the Pillar of Redemption. Like everyone else, Jennifleur also knew that Lord Flaxuss Crème was the only person in the whole of Sharp Mere to whom this law did not apply. Required to produce heirs for the benefit of the community as a whole, Flaxuss was allocated Chosen Ladies with whom he could sleep when it suited him, subject to one exception. During the Two Day Ceremony, when the rest of the population of Sharp Mere were allowed to have sexual relations, the Lord must remain celibate.

Lord Flaxuss Crème was the only person in the whole of Sharp Mere with both the ability and the authority to wield the power of transmutation. The skill also resided in his heirs but the whereabouts of those individuals was a closely guarded secret. Even Flaxuss had no knowledge of the number or location of any of his children.

Jennifleur had been taught that it was by means of the Lord’s magic, which acted as a kind of catalyst, that the Pillar of Redemption could change a flesh and blood human into another form of life. That new creature was then put to use for the benefit of the community, in so doing redeeming the crime committed in its previous existence. This endless cycle had been going on for as long as anyone could remember.

Though recently a lot of rabbits, sheep and chickens had been transmutated, every now and then the Pillar of Redemption still returned unfamiliar, grotesque beasts. Occasionally, as if by some terrible mistake or error of judgement, these died immediately, turning blue as they choked on air, or black after bursting into flames when touched by sunlight. Other creatures appeared once and weren’t seen again for a thousand years. Sometimes rare human-animal hybrids appeared at the Pillar. Jennifleur had heard about a transmutation that resulted in a creature half man, half wolf, with a coat of silver fur. It had taken the Declarers of Justice some time to make an identification (the last appearance of such a beast had been over 500 years ago) and read out its designated use: fur for the calligraphers’ brushes. The man-wolf hybrid had let out a blood-curdling howl in reply and immediately fled towards the forest. The Order of the Hunt was despatched within the hour and brought back its body two weeks later.

Jennifleur was present at the trial almost by accident. It was only the second day of her new posting at the Order of Truth (mid-levels division). Having failed to make contact with her designated supervisor, she had been walking slowly back to her room. An older colleague had noticed that the young woman was underemployed and promptly ordered her to attend the day’s trial. It was a great honour to represent the Order of Truth at such an event, and despite not knowing what to expect, Jennifleur had hurried back to her room with new life to her steps, thrown on her formal robes and run to catch up with the crowds of people flooding towards the gates and spilling onto the lawns.

One of the smaller Orders in Sharp Mere, the Order of Truth was also one of the more privileged. It was responsible for investigating all crimes involving bodily harm, ranging from minor assault to murder. The conclusions of any such investigations would be passed on to the Order of Law for judgement and punishment.

Jennifleur had joined the Order of Truth when she was a child. The selection ceremony had taken place on her eighth birthday and she had begun her education in the area known as the Galleries shortly afterwards. Although training started with the body and continued with the mind, Jennifleur soon saw that the two were closely connected. Traits such as toughness, endurance and an unwillingness to give up were developed through physical drills, and then further enhanced through rigorous mental challenges and long periods of seated meditation.

The education she received was exacting and kept her busy morning till night for the next decade. First she was taught to read, a privilege denied the general population of Sharp Mere. Then, over the course of years, she had to memorize vast amounts of information on numerous subjects: lists of data relating to wounds and the weapons that made them, types of soft tissue injury, body composition and decomposition, common and not so common poisons and their effects, how to prepare and examine bones to determine cause of injury, and so on.

Since arriving in the mid-levels for her first posting, Jennifleur had quickly realized that her education, while thorough in matters relevant to her Order, in other respects appeared to have been less comprehensive. As she stood in the dignitaries box and watched proceedings that afternoon it occurred to her that in her ten years at the Order of Truth (Galleries division) she had been told next to nothing about the workings of the Pillar of Redemption. This should not have surprised her – the subject was prohibited from discussion – but she didn’t like unsolved puzzles and had been taught to question what she saw and to be analytical in her thinking. Partly to prevent her emotions getting the better of her, and partly out of intellectual curiosity, Jennifleur steeled herself to watch the final few transmutations as dispassionately as she could and to try to comprehend what she was witnessing.

On the Lord’s signal, a team of eight broad-shouldered and burly individuals, all women, in smart crimson uniforms, converged on his seated figure. As they approached, Jennifleur jumped at unexpected movement. The Lord’s bodyguard and servant, a tall man named Lance, stepped out of the shadows of the podium. Before he moved he had been practically invisible, standing motionless the whole time. He made way for the new arrivals but remained close enough to touch them. Grunting in unison, the women hoisted the podium into the air and carried it across the intervening space to within touching distance of the Pillar of Redemption. At the same time the Servants of Law tightened their grip on the unresisting couple and turned towards Lord Crème, waiting for his next move. Flaxuss, bored by the proceedings, did a half-hearted flourish with one hand and touched his index finger against the Pillar. Jennifleur observed that the two Servants of Law were watching the Lord closely. As soon as he removed his finger they pushed the palms of the man and woman against the Pillar of Redemption. The transmutation began immediately. First, the air distorted as if the temperature had risen. Then the bodies of the condemned couple seemed to lift upwards by themselves and float for a while, before stretching out, compressing to blobs of almost nothing and then expanding once more to become a pair of rabbits. They dropped to the grass, legs scrabbling as they fell.

The rabbits scooted off, zigzagging across the lawn, and the air around the Pillar of Redemption returned to normal. The Lord picked up a wine glass and emptied it in a gulp. Jennifleur wondered what it would feel like to touch the Pillar. At first glance it appeared to be made of smooth stone but she suspected it was some other substance entirely. Sometimes it looked dark, as if it was absorbing surrounding light; at other times it seemed to glow. Everyone knew that the Pillar was as old as Sharp Mere itself, but for all that it looked new and untouched by the elements, as if it had been put there yesterday. Jennifleur observed that the Pillar was not perpendicular to the ground but leaned at a slight angle, emerging cleanly from the turf. She speculated as to how much of the object was out of sight and how deeply it was buried.

Next! shouted Flaxuss. Let’s get this over with.

Lord Crème, remonstrated Pramventius Gordurasmus, Senior Declarer of Justice, if you will kindly allow me to first do my job.

I’ll save you the trouble, replied Flaxuss, catching Pramventius off guard. We all know what they’re for. Rabbits for grazing grass.

Pramventius frowned, raised his head and, as if the Lord had not spoken, announced in a resounding voice, rabbits for grazing grass. Lord Flaxuss Crème sniggered.

A nearby guard watched the rabbits as they hopped contentedly about the lawn. He almost envied them their freedom. They could copulate whenever they felt like it, rather than having to wait once a month for the Two Day Ceremony. If only he could be so lucky as those rabbits. The guard sighed inwardly. Things could get very tense in the run up to Two Day. Even then, during that ancient ritual, there was no guarantee of finding a willing partner. But like the young Servant of Law, he didn’t question why it was that he was only allowed to sleep with a woman once every thirty days or so. That was the law.

A pause followed while the Lord refreshed himself again, this time from a crystal decanter. One final trial remained. The last transgressor of the day was a young man, a youth from the kitchen. He was tall, lean and muscular, as if his body had been often challenged by demanding physical activity. Jennifleur Quazarian felt the stirrings of professional interest. His head was badly bruised. Yellows and purples were visible through close-cropped hair. She judged the blows to have come from a right-handed individual of about the same height. From the colour she determined them to be three or four days old. That would mean he had acquired the bruises during the last Two Day Ceremony, while she was travelling from the Galleries to the mid-levels.

The young man, drugged like the others, was propelled towards the Pillar of Redemption by the Servants of Law. Whether it was because the effects were wearing off due to the late hour of the day, or because he had been given too low a dose initially, Jennifleur could only speculate, but it seemed to her that the youth was trying to roll his head backwards, and despite the ungainliness of his movements, was to some extent succeeding. After a while he stopped, apparently having achieved his aim. His head was tilted awkwardly so that he was looking straight upwards. Discreetly, Jennifleur followed his gaze, but couldn’t see what he was looking at. It could have been anything. The walls of Sharp Mere stretched up and up, the topmost reaches lost in cloud. As she watched him, Jennifleur couldn’t help thinking it tragic that the young man had been unable to restrain his passions and had thrown away his life so needlessly.

As before, the Servants of Law stood waiting, watching the Lord. Flaxuss read out the youth’s many violations of the law. The list of his transgressions with the female sex appeared endless, and the crowd was predictably outraged. Later Jennifleur thought it strange that the youth had not been put on trial together with the women. Presumably they were equally complicit.

A moment later the Servants of Law pushed the young man’s hands flat against the Pillar of Redemption. The air trembled and his body lifted into the air. Jennifleur looked away. She didn’t want to see him turned into a rabbit. She heard a collective gasp from the crowd. She couldn’t help herself. She looked back again. The youth was no longer standing there. In his place stood a powerful black stallion. The creature took a hesitant step. Great bands of muscle rippled across its chest, bunching and rolling under the skin. It tossed its head. Intelligence shone from its eyes. The crowd watched in awe.

Another easy one, said the Lord. A horse.

My Lord, said the Senior Declarer of Justice, it is a magnificent beast. A marvelous transmutation. We have not had a horse like that–

It’s no unicorn.

We have not had a horse like that, continued Pramventius, for a decade at least. Fortunately I know the designated use.

"That is your job," said Flaxuss.

Pramventius raised his voice and announced loudly, a horse for the stables. A horse for the Lord.

Startled by the noise, the black stallion shied, missed its footing, over-compensated, and careened off to one side. The Servants of Law scattered. They looked puny beside the beast. Jennifleur blinked. She wondered if she had something in her eye; she could no longer see the horse clearly. It wasn’t tears, she was sure of that, though her eyes had overflowed with emotion more than once that afternoon. She blinked again but it made no difference. The air was blurry. The stallion was becoming indistinct. Then she saw that it wasn’t just her. Other people had noticed something strange as well.

Pramventius frowned. Is that...? Are my eyes playing tricks? He rubbed his face vigorously. No, he said, his voice rising with excitement. No, I don’t think they are. The horse is re-transmutating. By itself. A second transmutation! By all the new earths! That can’t be. That doesn’t happen anymore.

What’s going on? shouted the Lord from his podium.

A most remarkable thing, said the Chief Declarer. Most remarkable.

What do you mean?

The Lord’s magic is indeed strong, said Pramventius, playing for time, his mind still trying to grasp the enormity of what was happening. Flaxuss was pleased at the compliment and acknowledged it with a nod. Look, my Lord, continued the Senior Declarer, more sure of himself by the second. It is indeed the case. A second transmutation is occurring. The form is coalescing now.

The turbulent air became still again and in place of the horse stood a human figure. The youth had returned but he looked different. He was completely naked and his skin was jet black with a silky sheen that caught the rays of the fading sun. His body had thickened and his muscles stood out. His face was different too. It wasn’t just that he looked several years older. His eyes were further apart. His nose and cheekbones were sharper than before, as if they had been finely chiseled during the process of transmutation. He looked mentally alert, rather than drugged, and although he was clearly a man, in his posture and movement he retained the grace and nervous energy of the horse.

What is this creature? shouted the Lord. Now it looks like a man.

Well done, my Lord, said Pramventius, by this time fully confident his assessment had been correct. An astute observation. He raised a finger. But all is not as it seems. No, indeed no. It can be no man.

A second later the air trembled again. There was a gasp from the crowd and once more the transmutated youth was a horse. This time the change happened very fast.

What is it? asked the Lord. A horse or a man? Why can’t it make up its mind?

An apposite question, my Lord, and one that goes to the very heart of the matter. It will be my pleasure to enlighten you.

Just tell us what it is.

I will do so. It is a variety of shape changer. Fortunately a benign one or I would order it slain on the spot. I believe it to be a shape-shifting horse-man.

A horseman?

No, my Lord. A horse-man.

Are you being humorous with me?

No, my Lord. As I said, it is a horse-man, not a horseman. It should be pronounced as two separate words. It is not a horseman, but a horse– here the Senior Declarer paused, –man. He laid heavy emphasis on the second word. It is very rare. We are privileged to witness such a creature.

What is the designated use? asked the Lord.

Pramventius opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t have an answer.

You don’t know, do you?

Pramventius’ smile was strained. Rest assured, my Lord, the Order of Declarers always know. Nevertheless, I must consult the book. It will only take an instant.

Lance, the Lord’s bodyguard and servant, uncoiled his long frame from the shadows of the podium and swung up the side till he was level with his master. Hanging easily from the eaves, one boot resting on the head of a carved wooden serpent, he leant forward and whispered in Flaxuss’ ear. The Lord burst out laughing, slapping his legs and drumming his heels against the wooden podium floor. Priceless! Priceless!

My Lord? said Pramventius, eyebrows raised.

Lance is doing your job for you.

How so, my Lord?

He just told me the designated use. It’s a horse and stable boy all in one. It can clean up its own manure.

Lance and the Lord of Sharp Mere