Hour of Judgement Read Online Free Page A

one day the longer, Specialist Ivers. It has been eight years.”
    Irritation had shaded over into stubbornness in her face, somehow. Andrej wasn’t quite sure how that had happened.
    “You’ve earned a rest, sir. No one dreams of disputing that. You have three eighths of a years’ worth of accumulated leave, and I have the privilege of bringing word from the prince your father” — reaching into her over-tunic, as Andrej stared in horror — “with a personal message. Your Excellency.”
    Holding out a heavy square of folded paper she waited. Andrej was afraid of that message, suddenly. He didn’t want to disgrace himself by showing his fear in front of the Bench specialist. It was an effort, but he forced himself to reach out his hand in turn to receive the note, his hand almost absolutely steady. There was his name on the note, in script so black against the clotted fabric of the writing-cloth that it was almost red. And bled as Andrej stared at it, the blood draining from the letter to stain his hand and overflow his fist down to the floor.

    Son Andrej.
    It will be good to see you again, child. We are glad of the First Secretary's charitable gesture, in letting the past forget itself. Come home and kneel for your mother's blessing before you go to Chilleau Judiciary.

    His father’s hand, his father’s voice, more loving than it had been these past eight years, and as much as Andrej ached for his father’s blessing he could not force himself to accept that he would have to pay so high a price to purchase it.
    “I cannot go.” He whispered it half to himself, half to the room, transfixed with horror. “Oh, it is too much. I cannot be made to go, Specialist Ivers, surely. And my family. I owe duty there that I have much neglected.”
    Ivers sat unmoving in her chair, straight-backed, formal. Unyielding. “And the First Secretary understands, sir. There need be no impediment to a long and well-earned duty leave to see to personal business. The facilities at Chilleau Judiciary will be awaiting your arrival upon the conclusion of your leave. I’m sorry, sir — ”
    She hesitated, but she said it anyway. What, did she see the roiling pit at last, and hear the tortured screams of damned souls in horrific torment? “I’m sorry, your Excellency. Secretary Verlaine has communicated with your family, and has taken great pains to explain the value of your technical qualifications to your father. How much Chilleau Judiciary needs your skills. And it is a Bench prerogative to annex, sir.”
    He had known that he could not escape his dead, he had known it all along. He almost didn’t want to escape them — they had a natural right to be revenged. That was right. It was proper. It was decent and moral. But he had been certain that there would be no more of them once eight years were finally over, finished, done.
    The enormity of this disaster left him without the capacity for coherent thought.
    “It is intolerable to suggest that I should be punished in this manner. I have done my duty and upheld my Writ, and if the Bench has not heard me to disenfranchise Captain Lowden of my Bonds nor has the Bench any complaint to make of my performance — ”
    Except. Except, that he had cried to Heaven at the Domitt Prison, and been heard. And Chilleau Judiciary had held the responsibility for the Domitt Prison. Was it for the pride of Secretary Verlaine that this carefully planned torture had been prepared for him?
    “Indeed no such thing is contemplated, your Excellency.” It seemed that he had genuinely startled her; Ivers spoke slowly, as if putting her thoughts together with care. “The First Secretary holds no grudge of whatever sort associated with the unpleasantness at the Domitt Prison.”
    He could not sit here for a moment longer.
    This horror was too huge and terrible for him.
    “Very well, Specialist Ivers.” Reaching for his rhyti flask he drained it in one half-convulsive draught, letting the sharpness of