To McKie's Dosadi-conditioned eyes, it was as though he read the prisoners' thoughts.  They were safest if they remained silent.  Trust Parando.  Rely on Broey's enlightened greed.  At the worst, they could live out what life was left to them here on Tandaloor, hoping for new bodies before the flesh they now wore ran out of vitality.  As long as they still lived they could hope and scheme.  Perhaps another Caleban could be hired, more Pcharkys found . . .

Aritch broke, unwilling to lose what had almost been his.

The High Magister's Tandaloor accent was hoarse with protest.

"But I did supervise the tests on Dosadi's population!"

"To what tests do you refer?"

"The Dosadi . . ."

Aritch fell silent, seeing the trap.  More than a million Dosadi Gowachin already had left their planet.  Would Aritch make targets of them?  Anything he said could open the door to proof that the Dosadis were superior to non-Dosadis.  Any Gowachin (or Human, for that matter) could well become a target in the next few minutes.  One had only to denounce a selected Human or Gowachin as Dosadi.  ConSentient fears would do the rest.  And any of his arguments could be directed into exposure of Dosadi's real purpose.  He obviously saw the peril in that, had seen it from the first.

The High Magister confirmed this analysis by glancing at the Ferret Wreaves in the audience.  What consternation it would create among the secretive Wreaves to learn that another species could masquerade successfully as one of their own!

McKie could not leave matters where they stood, though.  He threw a question at Aritch.

"Were the original transportees to Dosadi apprised of the nature of the project?"

"Only they could testify to that."

"And their memories were erased.  We don't even have historical testimony on this matter."

Aritch remained silent.  Eight of the original designers of the Dosadi project sat near him on the arena floor.  Would he denounce them to save himself?  McKie thought not.  A person deemed capable of performing as The Mrreg could not possess such a flaw.  Could he?  Here was the real point of no return.

The High Magister confirmed McKie's judgment by turning his back on the Tribunal, the ages-old Gowachin gesture of submission.  What a shock Aritch's performance must have been for those who'd seen him as a possible Mrreg.  A poor choice except at the end, and that'd been as much recognition of total failure as anything else.

McKie waited, knowing what had to happen now. Here was Ceylang's moment of truth.

Broey addressed her.

"You have suggested that you would prosecute these eight prisoners.  The matter is in the hands of Defense Legum."

Broey shifted his gaze.

"How say you, Legum McKie?"

The moment to test Broey had come.  McKie countered with a question.

"Can this Courtarena suggest another disposition for these eight prisoners?"

Ceylang held her breath.

Broey was pleased.  He had triumphed in the end over Jedrik.  Broey was certain in his mind that Jedrik did not occupy this Legum body on the arena floor.  Now, he could show the puppet masters what a Dosadi-born could do.  And McKie saw that Broey intended to move fast, much faster than anyone had expected.

Anyone except Jedrik, and she was only a silent (memory?) in McKie's awareness.

Having given the appearance of deliberation, Broey spoke.

"I can order these eight bound over to ConSentient jurisdiction if McKie agrees."

The eight stirred, subsided.

"I agree," McKie said.  He glanced at Ceylang.  She made no protest, seeing the futility.  Her only hope now lay in the possible deterrent presence of the Ferret Wreaves.

"Then I so order it," Broey said.  He spared a triumphant glance for Parando.  "Let a ConSentient jurisdiction decide if these eight are guilty of murder and other conspiracy."

He was well within the bounds of the Covenant between the ConSentiency and Gowachin, but the Gowachin members of his audience didn't like it.  Their Law was best!  Angry whistlings could be heard all around the arena.

Broey rose half-out of his seat, pointed at the instruments of pain arrayed beneath him.  Gowachin in the audience fell silent.  They, better than anyone, knew that no person here, not even a member of the audience, was outside the Tribunal's power.  And many understood clearly now why those bloody tools had been displayed here.  Thoughtful people had anticipated the problem of keeping order in this arena.

Responding to the silent acceptance of his authority, Broey sank back into his seat.

Parando was staring at Broey as though having just discovered the presence of a monster in this Gowachin form.  Many people would be reassessing Broey now.

Aritch held his attitude of complete submission.

Ceylang's thoughts almost hummed in the air around her.  Every way she turned, she saw only a tangle of unmanageable tendrils and a blocked passage.

McKie saw that it was time to bring matters to a head.  He crossed to the foot of the judicial bench, lifted a short spear from the instruments there.  He brandished the barbed, razor-edged weapon.

"Who sits on this Tribunal?"

Once, Aritch had issued such a challenge.  McKie, repeating it, pointed with the spear, answered his own question.

"A Gowachin of my choice, one supposedly wronged by the Dosadi project.  Were you wronged, Broey?"

"No."

McKie faced Parando.

"And here we have a Human from Lirat.  Is that not the case, Parando?"

"I am from Lirat, yes."

McKie nodded.

"I am prepared to bring a parade of witnesses into this arena to testify as to your occupation on Lirat.  Would you care to state that occupation?"

"How dare you question this Tribunal?"

Parando glared down at McKie, face flushed.

"Answer his question."

It was Broey.

Parando looked at Bildoon, who still sat with face concealed in his arms, face down on the bench.  Something about the PanSpechi repelled Parando, but he knew he had to have Bildoon's vote to overrule Broey.  Parando nudged the PanSpechi.  Inert flesh rolled away from Parando's hand.

McKie understood.

Facing doom, Bildoon had retreated into the creche.  Somewhere, an unprepared PanSpechi body was being rushed into acceptance of that crushed identity.  The emergence of a new Bildoon would require considerable time.  They did not have that time.  When the creche finally brought forth a functioning persona, it would not be heir to Bildoon's old powers in BuSab.

Parando was alone, exposed.  He stared at the spear in McKie's hand.

McKie favored the arena with a sweeping glance before speaking once more to Parando.

"I quote that renowned expert on Gowachin Law, High Magister Aritch:  'ConSentient Law always makes aristocrats of its practitioners.  Gowachin Law stands beneath that pretension.  Gowachin Law asks:  Who knows the people?  Only such a one is fit to judge in the Courtarena.'  That is Gowachin Law according to High Magister Aritch.  That is the law in this place."

Again, McKie gave Parando a chance to speak, received only silence.

"Perhaps you are truly fit to judge here," McKie suggested.  "Are you an artisan?  A philosopher?  Perhaps you're a humorist?  An artist?  Ahhh, maybe you are that lowliest of workmen, he who tends an automatic machine?"

Parando remained silent, gaze locked on the spear.

"None of these?" McKie asked.  "Then I shall supply the answer.  You are a professional legalist, one who gives legal advice, even to advice on Gowachin Law.  You, a Human, not even a Legum, dare to speak of Gowachin Law!"

Without any muscular warning signal, McKie leaped forward, hurled the spear at Parando, saw it strike deeply into the man's chest.

One for Jedrik!

With bubbling gasp, Parando sagged out of sight behind the bench.