When they stepped outside the Gathering Ground, it was midday. The sun had reached the middle of the sky and clouds gathered on the southern-west ward. Now the city was hot. The cold wind that had risen in the morning dwindled gradually.
"We have sentences at the Compartment, little lording," Sufe said. Along Kalaman and Sufe, Umr wheeled Lymas through the streets of the city. His teeth cracked and his body wiggled as the wheelchair pushed through the cracked, stony ground.
The streets of the city were narrow and long. The stones were very old, weather beaten, and they stretched through all the alleys of the city. On the first alley they went through, small and big tents alike hugged the wall. Silk owners shouted their prices and shoved their goods at the passers. When they saw the wheelchair, they hailed and stretched their hands up in the air to greet Lymas son of Elyas. Lymas smiled politely and raised his hand in response.
They took a turn left at the end of the alley, then right at another end, then another left. The alleys were crammed with tents and people. Big wooden tables adorned each tent with silks and cloths with all colors and tissues for different seasons; food of different kinds, fresh food, fresh fish from the Axe, fresh meat of sheep and cow and camel and horse, white and black and green and burgundy olives; different kinds of medicine, from Sandleaf to Silent Tea. Men and women in their cloak and veils and wishaah swarmed on the goods. Sounds of low prices and bargaining covered the alleys. Lymas liked being in the alleys. He liked seeing the movement of his people. He loved the smell of freshly, baked bread on one of the alleys.
When they reached the Compartment, men were standing by an area covered with trees, concealed from the sun. Soldiers, his father's men. Their emerald velvets were tucked in serouals, wide at the legs and tightened at the waist. Swords sheathed in the serouals' casing. Other sat on their knees where the soldiers stood. Those are the ones to sentence, Lymas thought. He hoped they didn't do very bad things. The bad the deed you did, the worse the punishment you have, his father said once. And his father also said many things, like 'never have mercy on those who did not obey the law. If they break one law today, they'll break another by the morrow. You'll have to put fear in their hearts.' So, unless you punish them, they will do other bad things. Lymas ordered them to go inside the Compartment.
The room was small and the windows were closed. A hint of light came in as the soldiers opened the windows. Lymas caught a smell that lingered in his nose a while after the air went in from the windows. It was the smell of guilt and shame, he thought. He hated it.
Two soldiers stood at the entrance. The others pushed the guilty men to their knees and stood on each side of them.
Sufe stood closely to Lymas. "They await your sentencing, little lordling."
Lymas cleared his throat. He remembered what his father always said. He felt his tongue tied into a knot. "You are here for breaking laws," he started in his feeble voice, glancing at them. "Laws that keep our city and our people intact. If we let one mishap goes unpunished, everything falls apart. We are all responsible for our actions, and when these actions break the law, we pay."
The guilty men were trembling, some of them weeping and pleading. Lymas felt sorry for them. He felt guilty for them getting punished. The soldiers took them, one by one, in front of Lymas and Sufe.
"State your name and your misdeed," Sufe asked the first man.
"Halwen of Liongate. I stole from my neighbor," the man said, his words caught in between sobs. "But my lor—"
"Why did you steal? Were you in need of food or clothing?" Sufe cut him off.
"No. my lord…" The man fell silent.
"Why did you steal?" Lymas repeated. The man surrendered to his sobs and plunged into crying.
When the crying and the sobbing slowed down, he said, "I stole because I envied him. He's got more sheep than me… I-I tried to hide his sheep with mine."
"Envy grows from a black seed in the heart and blossoms into thorns that aches it," said Sufe.
Lymas looked at the man, face red and swollen from crying. He wanted to cry too, but as the son of the Sid, he held himself from doing so.
He bent forward to the man. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "By the laws stated by Starshade that go in the tribelands, I sentence you to amputation for larceny. Kalaman, the man is to be cut from his wrist." The soldiers took the man away to the barred corner.
There was a dozen of guilty men after the first one. Lymas sentenced them all. Some were adulterers and the sentence for adultery was a hundred flays in front of the city's people. Others were thieves, and one of them was very weak and slim in body that he could almost stay on his knees, let alone standing. The man said that he stole food from one of the tents in the Cornered Alleys and the owner caught him and called the soldiers on him, after giving him a beating. He was hungry and had no food or shelter, so Lymas forgave him for his deed, and called the owner to be sentenced for the false beating. And Sufe ordered the soldiers to speak to Melin, to provide the poor man with food and shelter, and get him work as soon as he is capable of it. Lymas felt joy grow in his heart, and he let himself be satisfied for a moment. At least there's something good coming out of this place, he thought.
There was one last guilty man they had to deal with.
"State your name and your misdeed," Sufe repeated for the seemingly hundredth time.
"Jaber of Treehill. I… I got into a fight with a man… broke his nose," the guilty said. Compared to all others, this one was not a grown man. He was young, maybe younger than Mayas. His dark hair was crumpled with filth and his face was darkened with smudges of dirt. Even his clothes were ragged and torn. When he looked up, his big, grey eyes sparkled with tears, but he held them back. His small jaws trembled. He does not seem guilty.
"Treehill. What's a young lad from Treehill be doing here, I wonder?" Sufe said. Lymas knew that Sufe had the answer to that, or at least could hint at it. He could always know what people meant to say when they spoke, especially people that have been around him all his life.
"Oh, yes," one of the soldiers said. "This Treehill boy's a prisoner. Here," he handed Umr a rolled parchment paper. Sufe unrolled it, gazing intently at its contents, his eyes moving.
"He is to be sent to the Divide," Sufe informed Lymas.
"Why, what have you done?" Lymas asked him.
Umr didn't wait for the guilty boy to answer, "He got into a fight with one of Balan's men." Lymas pondered at who was Balan for a second, then he placed him for the Treehill Sid, his aunt's husband.
"They were sending him to the Divide when he escaped. Two soldiers went after him and caught him at the edge of town, in the woods, and brought him here. He is sentenced three years in the Divide with five-year exile from Treehill." Sufe slid the paper into the table and fell silent again. He moved closer to Lymas. "Add one year to his sentence for the escape," he whispered.
Lymas pursed his lips, and sat straight in his wheelchair. A ruler must not show weakness. "Jaber of Treehill, I sentence you to imprisonment. You shall spend the next three years in the Divide…" He paused, hesitating. "…Plus, one year for escaping," Lymas announced. The soldiers held the boy up to his feet.
"My lord, sir, please. I got into the fight for a reason," his voice weakened, looking at Lymas, then at Sufe. "I ran from my sentence for a reason. Please."
"A guilty man always has his reasons," Sufe said, "Take him."
The soldiers dragged him away to the barred corner, but he kept wriggling off their hold.
"I have a sister!" He screamed, "A small sister. She's got no one but me. Please, my lord Sid." Lymas gestured for them to bring him back.
"I'm no Sid. What of your sister?" Lymas asked curiously.
"She's eleven, my lord. Her name's Ritel. Lives in Treehill. My parents are dead, and I'm the one who keeps her safe and fed. I know I won't get away with what I have done, but please Sid…sir, send word to Treehill. I regret doing what I did, but my sister should not be punished for it."
Lymas wanted to say that he will send word for his sister, but was afraid that Sufe might disagree with him. He looked up at him, his eyes flickering as if in agreement with his own thoughts.
"I will send word for your sister." Lymas said, a gentle smile grew on his face.
"Thank you, my lord." The soldiers took the boy away.
When they were finished, they went back to the Gathering Ground. Lymas had been waiting for his duties to end. It took most of the morning and into the noon to finish what was wanted of him as the ruler of Liongate.