Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Anyone would feel that way,” Imani said quietly. “But no—you didn’t kill Mistress Zangelo. We have definitive proof that you were framed for her murder but you had no part in it.”
“I was? Who did it then?” J’are demanded.
“I don’t know.” Imani had a sudden thought. “Would you like to see the vid file? Maybe you can give me an idea about the identity of the killer.”
J’are nodded.
“Yes, that would be good. Show it to me, please.”
Imani nodded and hopped out of bed. She was really glad they were off the subject of what had happened between them last night and back onto the case. Maybe, if she was lucky, J’are could give her an idea of who had framed him—that would be good information to present in court—if they would take the word of a lowly male, that was.
She got the tiny fingernail-sized drive, which she’d gotten back from the bailiff after the hearing, and her own personal tablet. She was glad she’d brought with her, since the one that had come with J’are’s files had been destroyed.
Getting back on the bed, she plugged the drive in and showed him the vid.
“That’s you, right?” she asked, pointing to the image of J’are lying asleep or drugged in his cage with his long hair covering his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s me.” He grimaced. “She chained me up like a fucking animal. Used to braid pain receptors into my hair—I was glad when they shaved it off my first day in the hole.”
“It sounds like you’re remembering a little bit more,” Imani said cautiously.
He shrugged.
“Some. It’s like a few vivid images in a long stretch of black.”
“Can you remember if you were drugged that night?” Imani asked, pointing to the date signature on the bottom corner of the vid.
J’are frowned.
“I don’t know. I seem to remember my food tasting awful but then, it was never very good. Mistress Zangelo didn’t believe in rewarding bad bodyslaves with good food. I was more likely to get the pain prod for dessert than anything decent to eat when I was defying her.”
“What a horrible woman!” Imani burst out before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry,” she said, when J’are raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s just…I’m not from here. And it’s hard to understand how anyone could treat another person so horribly.”
“I take it you come from a more enlightened society?” J’are inquired.
Imani sighed.
“I’d like to think so but unfortunately, it’s not. I guess it’s just not as blatant as what goes on here in Yonnie Six—although it certainly was in the past.” She shook her head. “That’s one of the reasons I became a Councilor in the first place—to fight against injustice and inequality.”
“Well, I thank you for coming to fight for me, my Defender,” J’are said gravely. “I would have been executed if you hadn’t come.” He nodded at the vid, which Imani had paused. “Play the rest of that, would you? I want to see who framed me and put me in the hole.”
Imani unpaused the vid-clip and they watched together as the shadowy, cloaked figure came into the room and smeared blood all over J’are and his cage and the floor around it.
“Well, whoever they are, they certainly did a thorough job,” he muttered as they watched the shadowy figure slink away.
“So you don’t recognize anything about them?” Imani’s heart sank. “I realize it’s a long shot since the vid is so dark and they’re basically hiding their face but anything at all? The way they move? Something?”
“Sorry, no,” J’are said. He frowned, concentrating on the screen. “Though by the size, you can tell it was either a female or a very small male. And there aren’t many small males on Yonnie Six, since the Mistresses like their bodyslaves big and muscular as a sign of status.”
“Is that why your original Mistress picked you?” Imani asked curiously. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she added quickly. “I just thought—”
“No, it’s all right.” He shrugged, indicating that he didn’t mind talking. “I was only a young one of five or six cycles when old Mother Hownow came and took me away from the forests and jungles of my home world.”
“Mother Hownow?” Imani asked.
“That was what she wanted me to call her,” J’are told her. “I was an orphan and she wanted me to think of her as my mother.” He shrugged. “In time, I did. She was always very kind to me—she even wanted me to be her heir.”
“Yes, I heard that in court,” Imani said cautiously. “I understand that’s kind of a radical idea here on Yonnie Six. Having a male heir, I mean.”
“Radical?” He snorted. “Try insane. Saying you want a male heir makes everyone think you’re out of your fucking mind. But that was Mother Hownow. She was…eccentric to say the least.”