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leather mat with a pentacle on it, like every other summoner before him. Why are we continuing with this farcical line of questioning?’
    ‘Lord Cavell!’ the judge snapped, banging his gavel against the table. ‘You will be quiet!’
    ‘My apologies, your honour,’ Didric said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘I was just impatient to tell my side of the story.’
    ‘Not. Another. Word,’ the judge ordered, punctuating each syllable with a stab of his finger.
    Fletcher felt a flash of hope, as he finally understood what Arcturus was trying to do. Didric had already fallen into his trap.
    Arcturus continued to address Jakov. ‘Is that so? He read from a scroll and used a leather mat to summon the demon?’
    ‘It’s like Didric said,’ Jakov said slowly, looking desperately at Didric for confirmation. ‘I remember it now.’
    ‘Ah, good. I’m glad we have all that sorted,’ Arcturus said, nodding to himself. He began to walk back to his podium, then paused, as if he had just remembered something.
    ‘Lord Cavell. Where do you think he got these two items? I thought he was given only a book by the old soldier?’
    Didric glared at Arcturus, and Fletcher could see the boy’s mind working as he considered what to say. Didric had not prepared for this.
    ‘I have no idea,’ Didric replied, looking at the ceiling as if deep in thought. ‘If I was to speculate, Fletcher was given those items as well. The soldier stole a summoner’s satchel, which would definitely have contained a summoning leather of some kind. The same with the scroll.’
    ‘Can you describe the scroll?’ Arcturus asked. ‘Perhaps tell us what colour ink was written on it. How large was the scroll? How white was the paper?’
    ‘You are not testing the validity of my story, Captain. You are simply testing my memory,’ Didric said, then sat back and smiled as if he had scored a point.
    ‘Nevertheless, please indulge me,’ Arcturus said, giving Didric an innocent smile.
    ‘The scroll was obviously an orc’s, written in their language. I remember it very clearly.’
    Fletcher wondered for a moment how Didric knew of the scroll’s original owner. Then he remembered he had told Inquisitor Rook that the scroll was of orcish origin, in front of the entire class. Anyone could have told him that … he only hoped that was all Didric knew about it.
    ‘The ink was dark in colour, that’s all I can remember. The size was also difficult to judge, since each end was rolled up. The graveyard was too poorly lit to tell how white the paper was. Does that answer your question?’
    ‘It does. But saying the ink was dark – surely any writing would need to be dark, in order to be read. You’re absolutely sure you can’t give us any more detail on the colour of the ink?’
    ‘Do you really think that a murderer’s innocence can be proven because I can’t remember the exact colour of ink on the scroll? You should stick to war, Captain – you make a poor lawyer. It used dark ink and that’s all you’ll get from me.’
    ‘You’re quite sure?’ Arcturus said.
    ‘Completely,’ Didric replied, folding his arms defiantly.
    ‘And you, Jakov. Do you corroborate this story?’ Arcturus asked, striding over to him.
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Jakov mumbled.
    ‘Calista, has that description reminded you of anything?’
    ‘I think there was a scroll and mat like that, yes,’ Calista muttered.
    ‘So, to summarise. Didric and Jakov say that Fletcher used a rolled-up paper scroll of indeterminate size, written in dark ink to summon the demon, as well as a leather mat with a pentacle on it. Calista now corroborates that story,’ Arcturus announced.
    ‘Yes, Captain, that is quite clear,’ the judge said, reading through his notes. ‘Can you please let me know where you are going with this?’
    ‘Of course,’ Arcturus said. He strode over to his rucksack and withdrew an item, brandishing it in the air for all to see.
    ‘I give you … the