Sharps Read Online Free Page B

said, “of being able to decide what happened. Once I’ve chosen a version of events, it’ll be accepted as true and nobody will question it. I can decide it was rape and murder or a stupid misunderstanding and involuntary manslaughter. Usually only the Invincible Sun can retrospectively alter the course of history, but apparently on this occasion He’s delegated that power to me. As you can imagine, I’ve given it a certain amount of thought.”
    She stopped again and looked at him; creating suspense, just for wickedness, because she could. Eventually she leaned forward just a little – there was something rather motherly about the way she sat, almost as if she was about to read him a story. “I was strongly tempted to allow my dislike for my late husband to influence me into letting you get away with it,” she went on. “He’d have been absolutely furious at the thought that his killer might walk free, and he was always so very pompous when he was angry. On the other hand, our family enjoys a certain position in this city. It really wouldn’t do if people got the idea that someone could kill the head of the Chrysostomas and not be punished for it. Also,” she went on, reaching down to a velvet bag on the floor and taking out a small embroidery frame, “there’s you to consider.”
    She stopped talking long enough to thread a needle with red embroidery silk. His mother was the same. She’d been doing needlework so long she couldn’t think properly unless she was stitching at something.
    “I spoke to your parents,” she went on. “Your mother was inclined to be hysterical, and your father … That reminds me.” From her bag she took a folded sheet of paper. “He asked me to give you this. Go on, read it.”
    He took the paper and unfolded it. Not his father’s atrocious handwriting; he’d had it written out formally by a professional clerk.
WHEREAS my son Giraut Bryennius has by his wicked and unforgivable conduct disgraced himself and his family for ever and WHEREAS my said son Giraut stands by the will of my father Jilaum Bryennius and sundry other family trusts hereinafter specified to inherit certain properties more specifically described in the schedule hereto NOW THIS DEED WITNESSES that I Tancre Bryennius entirely disinherit and dispossess my said son Giraut of all properties real and personal in being or hereafter acquired that would otherwise —
     
    “If you like,” she said gently, “I can talk to him for you when he’s had a chance to calm down. The fact remains,” she went on, “that even your own parents agree that you’re basically worthless. I think your father blames himself and your mother blames him, but really, that’s none of my business. The point is,” and she paused to pick exactly the right place to insert her needle into the cloth, “you may be entirely without value to society; my husband, for all his many faults, was not. I don’t suppose you follow current affairs, but he was a leading light of the Redemptionist faction; very much a radical, and remarkably, something of an idealist. It’s rather a pity he didn’t bring his enlightened thinking home with him in the evenings, but the fact remains, politically he was a good man, possibly even a great one, which is probably why I put up with him for so long. And you killed him.”
    The silence that followed was so oppressive that he felt he had to say something, even though anything he said would undoubtedly make him feel worse. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
    “Of course you didn’t. And even if you had, it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference, when my husband was lashing around with his sword trying to kill you. That’s men for you,” she added, “always looking for the easiest response instead of the best.” She lifted the embroidery frame to her mouth and bit through the last inch of thread; neat and efficient, like a hawk. “Because of you, the land reform bill, the slavery