“John, then,” said Hezekiah. “I knew God had heard my prayer when I learned that it was you and no other who drew this case.”

“One judge is coughing his life out into bloody handkerchiefs and the other is burying his wife, and you think this is how God answers your prayers?”

“You weren’t due, and here you are. A witch trial, sir. John.”

“Oh, now you’ve knighted me. Sir John.” He wanted to laugh at the idea of his ever being the answer to someone’s prayer. Since his own prayers seemed rarely to be answered, it wouldn’t be quite fair of God, would it, to play him as the prize in someone else’s game of piety.

“I know how you feel about witches,” said Hezekiah.

“You also know how I feel about the law,” said John.

“I may disbelieve in the crime, but that doesn’t mean I’ll have any bias in the handling of the case.” Oh, let’s stop the pretense that the question has come up casually. “What’s your interest in it? Didn’t you used to defend these cases, back when you were a lawyer?”

“I was never a good one.”

John heard the pain in his voice. Still haunted after all these years? “You were an excellent lawyer, Hezekiah. But what is a lawyer against a superstitious, bloody-minded mob?”

Hezekiah smiled wanly. “I assume you know that the blacksmith’s lawyer was arrested last night.”

Quill hadn’t seen fit to mention this little ploy, but John had learned it from the sheriff. “I can see it now. Lawyer after lawyer steps forth to defend this man, only to be accused, each in turn, and locked away. Thus the trial continues till all the lawyers are in jail.”

Hezekiah smiled. “There are those who would regard that as the best of all possible outcomes.”

John chuckled with him, then sighed. “Don’t worry, Hezekiah. I won’t have defense attorneys locked up in order to bolster the witchers’ case. You shouldn’t be talking to me about this, though.”

“Oh, I knew what you’d do about that,” said Hezekiah. “If Quill thought he could get away with that—well, you’ll see when you meet the lawyer. He has Quill by the character!”

“That would be a slippery place to try to hold him.”

“No, it wasn’t the lawyer. It was another matter I wanted to bring to your attention.”

“Bring it in open court then, Hezekiah.”

“I can’t. And it’s not evidentiary, anyway.”

“Then tell me afterward.”

“Please don’t torment me, friend,” said Hezekiah. “I wouldn’t attempt anything unethical. Trust me enough to hear me out.”

“If it’s about the case ...”

“It’s about the accuser....”

“Who will also be a defendant in her own trial.”

“She’ll not be tried,” said Hezekiah. “She’s cooperating with Quill. So this can have no compromising effect on an action in court.”

“Don’t blame Quill for her. She came up with this accusation on her own.”

“I know, sir. John. But she’s not your normal accuser. Her parents were hanged for witches when she was a newborn. Indeed, her father took the drop, as they say, before she was even born, and her mother but weeks afterward. She found it out only a few days ago, and it put her in such a state that—”