not grayed. She judged him to be midlife, perhaps the same age that her mother had been.
He looked down at the top paper of the stack in his hands. From where she stood, Kira could see the markings that he was examining. How she wished she could read!
Then he spoke. "I will address the accusations one by one," he said. Looking at the paper, he repeated the words that Vandara had said, though he did not imitate her rage-laden tone. "The girl should have been taken to the Field when she was born and still nameless. It is the way.'"
So that was what he had marked! He had written the words so that he could repeat them!
Painful though it was to hear the accusations repeated, Kira realized with awe the value of the repetition. There would be no argument, afterward, about what had been said. How often among the tykes fistfights and battles had begun from You said, I said, He said that you said, and the infinite variations.
Jamison set the papers on the table and picked up a heavy volume bound in green leather. Kira noticed that each of the guardians had an identical volume.
He opened to a page he had marked during the proceedings. Kira had seen him turning the pages of the volume as Vandara had made her accusatory presentation.
"The accuser is correct that it is the way," Jamison said to the guardians. Kira felt stricken by the betrayal. Hadn't he been appointed her defender?
He was pointing now to a page, to its densely written text. Kira saw some of the men turn in their green volumes, finding the same passage. Others simply nodded, as if they remembered it so clearly there was no need to reread.
She saw Vandara smile slightly.
Defeated, Kira felt again the small cloth square in her pocket. Its warmth was gone. Its comfort was gone.
"Turning, though," Jamison was saying, "to the third set of amendments —"
The guardians all turned pages in their books. Even those whose volumes had remained closed now picked them up and looked for the place.
"It is clear that exceptions can be made."
"Exceptions can be made," one of the guardians repeated, reading the words, his fingers moving on the page.
"So we may set aside the assertion that it is the way," Jamison announced with certainty. "It need not
always
be the way."
He is my defender. Perhaps he will find a way to let me live!
"Do you wish to speak?" the defender asked Kira.
Touching her scrap of cloth, she shook her head no.
He went on, consulting his notes. "She was imperfect. And fatherless as well. She should not have been kept." The second repetition hurt, because it was true. Kira's leg hurt too. She was not accustomed to standing so still for so long. She tried to shift her weight to ease the pressure on her flawed side.
"These accusations are true." Jamison repeated the obvious, in his steady voice. "The girl Kira was imperfect at birth. She had a visible and incurable defect."
The guardians were staring at her. So was Vandara, with contempt. Kira was accustomed to stares. She had been taunted throughout her childhood. With her mother as teacher and guide, she had learned to hold her head high. She did so now, looking her judges in the eyes.
"And fatherless as well," Jamison continued.
In her memory, Kira could hear her mother's voice explaining it to her. She was small then, and wondering why she had never had a father. "He did not return from the great hunt. It was before you were born," her mother said gently. "He was taken by beasts."
She heard Jamison repeat the words of her thoughts as if they had been audible. "Before her birth, her father was taken by beasts," Jamison explained.
The chief guardian looked up from his papers. Turning to the others at the table, he interrupted Jamison. "Her father was Christopher. He was a fine hunter, one of the best. Some of you probably remember him."
Several of the men nodded. Her defender nodded as well. "I was with the hunting party that day," he said. "I saw him taken."
You saw my father taken?
Kira had never