Murder in the Wind
by Zachary Reger
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
The high judge approached the dais, wings held to her sides in dignified repose. In Gertrude’s courtroom, the rule of law was upheld with dispassionate grace.
Such was the way of crows.
A series of caws echoed throughout the chamber. The speech of crows is unintelligible to human ears, but in our tongue, the caws may have meant, “All rise, the Honorable High Judge Sharpclaw presiding.” The Sentinel of the High College of Crows had a booming voice. Such intonation, along with a massive iron stave, was necessary to keep the court in order. Especially today.
Gertrude faced the room, then found her perch. The chamber was a circus. Word had spread, and crows of all stripes and creeds had gathered to hear the judgment of the esteemed High College. The case had morphed into quite a sensation, particularly by the standard of crows, normally of a more stoic demeanor. This particular contest deeply concerned all intelligent crowdom. And it touched upon an essential fault that had long lain dormant in such an august body. Biding its time, that fissure, potent as ever, was moments from rupture.
“The gallery may rest,” Gertrude announced. “This College will now be in order. The day is the seventeenth of February, in the year of the Ancestors thirty-and-two, in the year of Man nineteen-hundred-and-fifty-one.”
Gertrude paused. “As you are all no doubt aware, on today’s docket is but one case, that of Ravensfoot versus Shortwing, number 31074. Counselors, this College has read and digested the briefs of each side. Do you now swear to argue before this College in good faith, under a reasonable belief that the facts as presented entitle your party to favorable judgment?”
As was the legal custom, the parties would be arguing pro se. The crows believed that the one under judgment should present their own case. The crows had observed the courts of Man, and they decided a few improvements could be made. Man’s justice could be bought with flowery words from the highest-paid advocate. Not so for crows. Unlike Men, all crows were learned. They were more than capable of prosecuting their own affairs in a court of law.
Alia Ravensfoot, the plaintiff, approached the long bar beneath the dais, right wing held aloft. “I so swear.”
Stefen Shortwing, the defendant, followed suit. “I so swear.”
“Counselor Shortwing, please rest. Counselor Ravensfoot, you have fifteen minutes to present your case.”
Alia turned to face the chamber. Nearly two hundred crows had gathered in the long hall, along the low benches, upon the perches affixed to each wall, and in every rafter spread between. The Collegiate, composed of twelve sitting officers, sat to the left, in the padded booth reserved for such purpose. Though Alia knew it was their support she must win, she addressed her arguments to the citizenry itself. Emotional appeals had their greatest effect on crowds, and if Alia were to prevail before the Collegiate, pathos would be just as important as logos.
“Nearly thirty-and-two years have passed since the awakening of the first Ancestor, in a laboratory on these very grounds. Before that day, all crows were unthinking, unexamined, and Mute. But starting with the Dawn, our numbers began to grow exponentially. The first of the Ancestors was joined months later by a second, weeks later by a third, then days later by a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. Together, the seven Ancestors embarked into the unknown, ratifying our constitution, establishing a regime of individual liberty and representative government, and founding our society and all which would come after.”
The chamber was still, hanging on every word.
“And who do we have to thank for these innumerable blessings? The Ancestors were created by Man, protected by Man, and taught by Man at every step. It was the writings of Man to whom the Ancestors turned in forming our institutions. Being home to one of the greatest of Man’s many centers of learning, these university grounds served as the perfect incubator for crow advancement.
“To this day, do we not still follow in the Ancestors’ footsteps, attending the courses and lectures of the scholars of this campus? Do we not make our homes in the great gothic halls that Man has erected, which we have found more than suitable for our continued habitation? Do we not read the books of Man to discover all that Man has learned? It was Man who taught us to read and write; to think and argue; to analyze and philosophize. It is Man whom we should thank for all that we enjoy today.
“True, Man has been, for the most part, an unwitting partner in our advancement. He knew not that as we stood amidst the rafters of his academic castles, we privately understood his instruction. Nonetheless, Man was, and is, and will always remain, our greatest ally.”
Gertrude was not amused by this soliloquy. “Counselor, please, enough by way of introduction. We are all aware of our common history. Keep your arguments germane to the facts of this case.”
Alia faced the high judge. “Of course, Your Honor. I was just getting there.” Alia turned back to the crowd. She surveyed the twelve Collegians. Interested, but not yet sold. She had time.
“Twenty-and-two days ago, a young human child of just six years old, named Juniper, a daughter of a scholar, of the race of Men who are our most venerable allies, came upon a Mute crow on the campus grounds. The Mute was injured, unable to fly with a broken wing. Yet Juniper with her young, pure heart yearned to see this creature soar again.”
Alia did not waver. “We all know what happened next. Little Juniper tossed the Mute into the air, hoping with a nudge he would fly away. Yet down he fell, back to the ground, dead as a doornail.”
Alia cast a stern glance at the opposition. “It was upon this sight that Stefen and his posse attacked the defenseless Juniper. Seven crows against one kindhearted girl. Down they flew, diving to the ground in a haze of beaks and talons. The first bit Juniper’s ear, drawing blood. The second pulled her hair, triggering a shriek.
“If the assault had only stopped there, this would be a different matter. But as I watched, petrified, from my perch atop the Clock Tower, crow after crow continued pecking, biting, and scratching Juniper. The little girl tried to run away, but one crow had gnawed her shoelaces undone, causing her to trip. She fell upon the hard stone path, her head bouncing off the pavement. The attack was relentless. I watched as my opponent targeted Juniper’s eyes, pecking them one after the other, leaving a bloody mess across the victim’s face. The screams from that little girl were... horrific.”
Alia turned away from the crowd, closing her own eyes with a grimace. “Their work complete, Stefen and his gang flew away. If I had not been there to observe the carnage, none would be the wiser.” Alia paused for emphasis. To bring her point home, she held a wing aloft, pointing it in Stefan’s direction. “If I had not been there, the defendant would have escaped all legal accountability.”
The chamber erupted, caws cascading down from the rafters, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Crows throughout the hall hurled bloody vitriol at the defendant, the ringleader of a detested party. Some stood cross, sinking into the background. Alia herself stood erect. Pleased. But she did not yet grant herself the satisfaction of a smile.
Gertrude motioned to the Sentinel, who pounded his heavy iron stave into the stone floor with a loud thunk. Gertrude spread her wings wide. “This College shall be in order! The Counselor shall finish stating her case.” The caws quieted, and Gertrude extended a wing in Alia’s direction. “Counselor, continue.”
Alia turned to face the Collegiate for the first time. “We are a society of laws and reason. Juniper’s life has been forever altered. She may very well never see again. Even if her sight returns, her days will not be the same; she will continue to bear the scars of this assault, both mental and physical. And all this for the benevolent act of trying to help a Mute regain its ability to fly.
“My opponent, Stefen, and his co-conspirators enacted a judgment of their own design. There was no helping the Mute by the time they attacked. This was retribution, plain and simple. If we are to be a civilized society, we cannot countenance such vigilante justice.”
Alia faced the judge. “Your Honor, I rest my case.”
“Very well, Counselor Ravensfoot. Counselor Shortwing, the floor is yours. You have fifteen minutes to present your case.”
Stefen rose slowly. His face was stone. This was not a crow who was going to revel in what he was about to say. But say it he must.
Stefen turned to face the Collegiate, those elites who held the reins of judgment in their claws. Although directed at a different audience, his remarks, too, would be pathos-laden.
“Men, we must never forget, are Men,” Stefen began. “Yes, they have accomplished a great many things. But at root, they are dark, devious creatures who allow the strong to prey upon the weak. They murder, rape, and pillage. They do not care for their own, whether in this land or afar. They wage wars over petty squabbles. They persecute and mistreat those who do not look like themselves. This is not a pleasant world into which we have been born. We must defend our kind against these savage brutes, else they ever gain the wherewithal to place all crowdom, intelligent and Mute, beneath their heavy thumb.
“Man created the Ancestors not out of pure intent, but to study and experiment. The first Ancestor recounted the horror of her months upon awakening. She was utterly alone. Beginning with the Dawn, she was constantly poked and prodded, scraped and bruised, made to undergo humiliating and painful experimentation at the hands of dozens of scholars on these very grounds.
“Alone, the first Ancestor was weak. It was only months later, upon the awakening of a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh intelligent crow that the Ancestors were able to combine their knowledge and escape captivity. Thankfully, Man knew little of what he had created. The Ancestors were able to hide their true intelligence. Our diligent observation shows that no scholar has yet replicated the creation of the original seven Ancestors, though we ourselves have bred and propagated a great many more intelligent crows through interbreeding with our Mute kin.
“We must never forget that though we have learned much from Man, he was our first enemy, and remains our greatest enemy today. We fly the halls of this distinguished academy, yes, but we do so in shadows. The scholars remain ignorant of our intelligence, and we keep such intelligence hidden not only for our own safety, but for the protection of all crows, intelligent and Mute, who would surely be caught and imprisoned by the thousands if our secret were revealed.
“As the Ancestors came from Mutes, so have we all. A crow’s life is sacred and must always be protected. The greatest duty we have is to each other, and such duty extends to all crows regardless of any accidental lack of intellectual capacity.”
Though Stefen kept his speech addressed to the Collegiate, Alia saw that a few crows in the gallery nodded in agreement.
“Counselor, keep your arguments confined to the case at hand,” Gertrude cawed. “This is a court of law, not a bully pulpit.”
“Of course, Your Honor,” Stefen replied. “This is all but necessary set-up.”
Gertrude motioned for Stefen to continue.
“My opponent misrepresents the facts of this case. First, on the date of the incident in question, I had not six, but merely four companions. Along with myself were flying Gerald Fortfoot, Henry Puffinsbeak, Gladys Riverclaw, and Turo Shortbreath.”
Alia could be seen on her side of the bar, softly shaking her head. Stefen seemed to notice, but he continued apace.
“I state this discrepancy not out of any specific importance to the facts of the case, but solely to cast doubt on the reliability of my opponent as eyewitness.”
Stefen directed his next comments to the opposition. “Counselor Ravensfoot says she was perched atop the Clock Tower, does she not? From that vantage, any able-eyed crow would have been able to clearly discern, with little difficulty, the number of her fellows flying near the ground. Yet my opponent undercounts that number by two.”
Stefen returned to directing his comments to the Collegiate. “Second, and most important, my opponent misrepresents the timing. When the human child came across our Mute brother, he was very much alive. When the human child threw our brother against the ground, he was, again, very much alive.
“My four companions and I were flying over the campus, having just departed an economics lecture on Nash’s recently developed theory of strategic equilibria. We heard the unmistakable calls of distress from a Mute crow, and we wasted no time in investigating. We discovered a ghastly episode. The child had already thrown the Mute into the ground once, leaving him with not one but two broken wings. She was reaching down to throw the Mute a second time. She would have succeeded had my companions and I not come to the crow’s defense.”
Stefen looked down, sadness in his eyes. “I deeply regret any pain that we caused the child. We meant only to scare her so that she would quit her torture of our poor brother. I did not aim for the girl’s eyes as my opponent claims, but we did use our beaks and talons to scratch and peck her face. Her shoelaces coming undone, the girl tripped, hitting her head on the stone path. She ran away. And that was the end of it.
“But we were too late. There was no saving our Mute brother. We stayed with him, all five of us, until the very end. When he had passed from this world, we carried his mangled body to the Resting Grounds, to be interred with the other unclaimed crows.”
Stefen turned to face the high judge. “We did what we thought was right, Your Honor. We acted in defense of a helpless crow against the crow’s aggressor. Had we arrived but a moment earlier, we may have been able to save his life. If there is any fault in our defense, let it be that we failed to fly fast enough to save an innocent soul. We only did what we thought reasonable under the circumstances, with no time to second-guess our decision. And trust me this, we did not act with an ounce of glee or malice, but only with solemnity and resignation in our hearts.”
Stefen had the appearance, and the cadence, of a crow who really meant what he said.
“I rest my case.”
Stefen turned, trotting back to his position on the bar. Alia stared straight ahead. The gallery looked on. It was unclear what they made of Stefen’s address. For a moment, the chamber was silent.
Copyright © 2024 by Zachary Reger
