Cirtha had once been a lively city. Now it was a memory that barely breathed. Buildings with prying eyes hidden around every corner, streets that seemed to twist toward nowhere, and a thick fog that haunted like a raging plague.
Morgana got out of the vehicle.
Those who arrived in Cirtha without permission to enter were doomed.
A slow, orchestrated misery. An experience of "original justice." And the Bone Judge was the executive part of the experiment.
Morgana stepped onto a narrow alley between two rundown blocks. A faint light pulsed on an upper floor, like a heart under resuscitation. With every step, the ground cracked with the sound of fragile bones. Silent black birds watched her from fallen electrical wires.
In the middle of the square, a circle of ashes. A man waited inside the circle.
"Have you come to end the trial?"
"If the trial means suffering, yes."
"The Judge doesn't judge suffering. He weighs the soul you abandoned on the day you chose to live."
"You're not what you seem. You're just an arrowhead. An arrow still seeking its target."
"Fine. The Judge awaits you in the Tribunal. Only one can be released."
"Kael," Morgana replied.
The Tribunal in Cirtha no longer had a roof. The main hall was a deep pit.
In the center of the room, on a wooden throne, sat he.
The Bone Judge wore a robe made from various patches. Over his face was a mask shaped from scraps. Where his mouth should have been, half an unlit cigar was stuck. He held a rusty scale in his hand. In one pan was a tooth, and in the other, a dried leaf.
"Your name," he said in a voice that creaked like a half-tuned violin.
"Morgana."
"Welcome, Morgana," the Judge said. "Have you come to tell me you'll pay your debts? Is that why you're here?"
"No."
"You have the look of a woman who has failed."
"I won't pay."
"That's a poor choice."
"I'm not afraid of death."
"Death?" The Judge laughed. "Death isn't your debt, Morgana. It's your payment."
"I want a jury. I want a trial with a jury."
"I'm sorry, Morgana. There's no time. You have the look of a desperate woman. Are you a desperate woman?"
"No. What are the charges?"
"You'll be judged by the consequences of your actions. Let's see if I grant you access to the city. What are you writing on that napkin?"
"Your sentence. I enjoy reading it, not writing it. You won't open the gates for me," Morgana said. "Instead, I'll close these gates for you."
The Judge raised his hand. The scale tipped. The leaf weighed more than the tooth. The Judge took the tooth and looked at it.
"This tooth is decayed. A reject. Pull a healthy tooth from someone. The scale of justice suffers."
Morgana watched him impassively.
"Guilty. Because you chose winter over memory."
"I chose to punish you," Morgana said, and drew the sign of the broken spiral in the air.
The spiral stopped on the Judge's left shoulder. For a few moments, the Judge trembled. Words caught in his throat. The scale fell. And the throne sank.
Three people rose from the floor. They were pale, blind, their bodies marked by suffering.
"Only one can be released," the man from the circle had said.
"Kael the cartographer, you are released and come with me," Morgana said.
A long howl echoed through the entire city. The ground cracked. Several fissures formed.
Morgana left the Tribunal, and behind her, the city began to burn. The Judge could no longer pronounce sentences. Someone else would take his place.
Morgana nodded, looking toward a distant tower where a blue light pulsed faintly.
Let them come. Now they know the spiral is open. And I'm still alive.
From now on, you'll sometimes feel a cold shiver on your left shoulder, like an invisible spiral. You'll hear a sinister creak, like a rusty scale. The Bone Judge wasn't destroyed, just replaced. Don't seek to find the Refuge.
Just be careful what you write on some napkins that you then throw away.