Martin was measuring Cassian's foot.The judge's gavel lay on the table. A black shoe swallowed Cassian's right foot and folded his toes."Too small.""I know," Martin said, tightening the laces. "A criminal does not deserve comfortable shoes."Bones cried in Cassian's instep.Golden thread filled the palm Cassian had cut in the torture chamber: the wound proving noble blood.The shoemaker's hands still smelled of leather, and each finger wore one of the Seventeen Houses' seals."The other shoe?""After judgment.""For what crime?"Martin looked up."I am choosing."Ria entered. Ledgers hung on every wall, victim names instead of portraits.People robbed of memories by the adjudicator. Servants robbed of years by Isen Bale. Families dead outside the famine granary.The inheritance included unpaid victim claims. Martin inherited those first."You bought all this?""With the inherited money.""You bought victims' debts with their abusers' money.""The vilest use I could find for my title," Martin said with satisfaction. "That is why I liked it."He lowered Cassian's foot."Walk."Cassian stepped, and the entrance became a courtroom.Floorboards rose as witness stands, curtains became judicial robes, and every name watched him.The house had belonged to an adjudicator's family. The law recognized Baron Martin Roe.Inside his own house, the shoemaker was judge."The auction begins."
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The lot was a finger-sized piece of the black idol's lips.It whispered from a silver tray."I pardon you.""I pardon you.""I pardon you."Each utterance faded the guests' sinmarks and raised another face in the wall ledgers.Sin moved to someone cheaper.Martin struck the tray. The lips bit their tongue."Lot: fragment of the Black Saint's idol."He pointed at Cassian."Also known as the property of the man who used me."Cassian did not deny it.The eleven first speakers sat in the parlor: ration officer, undertaker, former nun, noble accountant.Before them lay victim claims instead of money."Only one bidding currency," Martin said. "Debts unpaid by the Seventeen Houses."The first man raised papers."Claims of twenty-three famine dead.""How acquired?""Bought from their families.""For what?""Two wagons of bread."Twenty-three shadows fell from the wall and clung to his back."One wagon was rotten," he added through pain.The second woman bid."Claims of nine servants robbed of lifespan.""How acquired?""I paid their treatment.""All of it?"The house repeated: `All?`"The first month only."Nine old hands rose and caught Martin's ankles.The third offered claims of fourteen tailors robbed of memory."How acquired?""I protected them.""Where?""My factory.""Their wages?"He could not answer.Faceless tailors descended and bound Martin with thread.The bidder laughed."A shoemaker should make shoes."He produced the old adjudicator seal stolen before Martin's inheritance."Baron Martin Roe has lost capacity to manage his debts. I request a temporary estate administrator."Four armored execution dolls entered, young adjudicator portraits on their faces.One hung a tag on Martin.`One shoemaker. Estimated sale price: twelve silver.`His original station returned as a price."Generous," Martin said. "My hands are good.""Surrender the ledgers and fragment. I will manage the debts.""Like your factory?""I fed and housed things without memories.""Wages?""Why do they keep needing those?"Martin lifted the gavel. A doll broke his wrist.He kept hold, having tied the handle to his palm with leather.He struck his own knee.Bang."Request denied.""By what authority?""By your law saying this house is mine."A second strike."The unpaid wages of fourteen tailors are confirmed."The threads changed direction and bound the bidder.The portraits peeled from the dolls, revealing fourteen forgotten faces."How much?" he screamed.Martin counted like pricing shoes."Your entire factory. And your name if that is short."Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.The third strike melted the noble seal and divided it among fourteen names.The tailors became joint owners of the factory.They might not remember tomorrow, but now had property they could sell.Martin did not call the difference salvation."Next bid."One arm hung broken; his voice was straighter than an adjudicator's.As bids continued, victim debt gathered on the new judge.His gold-thread wound split. The sins sought the cheapest heir again.Martin's knees folded.Cassian did not move."Waiting again?""You are not dead.""Will you use my blood when I nearly am?"Cassian watched the idol fragment, the original that made eleven people speak one pardon.Eating it would trace the false command. If Martin died, fragment and ledgers might pass to Cassian.The fastest route.Martin understood."Do it. This time I will watch awake."Cassian drew his sword. Martin flinched.The blade passed him and entered the first bidder's back without killing him.Cassian opened only the sinmark.The final hunger of twenty-three people fed rotten bread poured into Cassian's neck.Twenty-three new ribs grew inside him.The second woman fled.Cassian pinned her skirt with the too-small shoe. His toes broke; he did not release her.His blade split her shadow. Nine stolen lifetimes entered his left hand.Skin rotted and nails lengthened.The third bidder ran for the door. Ria shut it."Why stop me?""I need the spelling of your name.""I killed no one.""You stole wages."Ria asked his name exactly. Cassian waited for the answer, then took the debt.Fourteen lost memories entered his armor.His hands stitched an absent child's sleeve in empty air.The child never turned its face.
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After the eleventh debt, Cassian could not stand.One foot was broken, his left hand scraped like a centenarian's, and the starving dead chewed bones in his belly.The threads and shadows binding Martin vanished.All eleven bidders lived, their sinmarks intact.Cassian had taken the pain in the claims they stole, not forgiven them.Martin wiped blood away."Why not use me?""You need to live.""Out of guilt?""If you die, who bites at the Seventeen Houses' debts?"Something vanished from Martin's face: the chance of being treated as human.Cassian had preserved a sharp tool."Just like you.""Displeased?""Do I need a reason to like it?"Martin approached with the gavel and fragment."The winning bidder?" Cassian asked."Me. I stripped eleven false claims. Now I can return them to the true victims."Names in the frames lit."Payment enough."He did not give Cassian the fragment. He knocked out its teeth.A folded purchase ledger lay beneath."You wanted this.""Price?""One conviction against you."Ria looked up.Martin spoke slowly."One day, I convict you once on a charge I choose.""Sentence?""Chosen then.""If I am innocent?""I write it as you wrote me. The law still believes I am noble.""If I refuse?""I burn the ledger."The fragment breathed heat over the paper."I can find them without it.""How many more will the pardon eat meanwhile?"Cassian was silent."One judgment of my choosing. You may defend yourself or flee.""If I flee?""Only the verdict of guilt remains."Ria underlined the plain terms.Martin chose charge and time. Cassian must face one judgment if he wanted the ledger.Cassian took it."Good."Ria recorded their agreement."You will regret it.""Who?""Both of you."Martin brought the second shoe. It fit perfectly."Comfortable.""Wear it when you come for judgment."He removed the small shoe, holding Cassian's blood and broken-toe imprint, and filed it as evidence.
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The purchase ledger's first page held one name.`First purchaser of the Black Saint's false pardon.``Price: one sin.``Purchaser: Third Princess Elodie Aurelia.`Ria snatched it and held it to the light."A woman without a sinmark paid a sin?""That must be why she bought it."A white carriage waited across the street.Elodie stepped out barefoot, no sinmark even on her white soles.She studied Cassian's ruined hand, broken foot, then his sword."Put a sin inside me," Elodie said."I want to see where it disappears this time."