“Mr. Werner and I were involved for a time, yes. But unbeknownst to me, he was using me to further his own career with—”
“I’m not finished,” Rowder said, her voice still light, easy, as if this were a conversation over brunch. “Because then there’s one Linus Baker, a former employee of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. You are currently in a romantic relationship with him, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
Rowder sat back in her chair. “You seem to have a habit of collecting our employees for your own pleasure. I do hope we don’t lose any more good men to you. Employee retention is important, and a revolving door of paramours isn’t something children should be exposed to. It does raise an interesting question, however: Did Lawrence Baker, oh, excuse me”—she looked down at the folder once more, though Arthur knew it was all for show—“Linus Baker, falsify reports from Marsyas Island in order to appease you, Arthur Parnassus?”
Haversford looked stunned. “This has never been brought to our attention before, nor have we seen or heard any evidence that even remotely suggests such a thing. Councilwoman, what are you accusing Mr. Parnassus of, exactly?”
Rowder held up a piece of paper covered in black lettering that Arthur couldn’t make out. “I have in my possession a sworn, signed affidavit from Charles Werner, a former member of Extremely Upper Management. After the dissolution of EUM last year, Mr. Werner took it upon himself to offer on record his keen insight into Arthur Parnassus. In addition to saying he felt threatened by Arthur Parnassus and Linus Baker—which is why, he claims, he and the other members of EUM agreed to keep the Marsyas Island orphanage open—it was his not-so-inconsiderable opinion that Mr. Parnassus is, for all intents and purposes, training magical youth to be soldiers.”
An explosion from all corners of Netherwicke: the crowd around Arthur rose to their feet, shouting, fists raised in the air. Cameras clicked and flashed, and people shouted over one another, their words lost in a wall of noise. Those in the second-floor gallery stomped their feet, beating their hands against the railing before them.
“SILENCE!” Burton bellowed, the word a whipcrack. Most everyone blinked rapidly as if awaking from a fuzzy dream. “We will not allow such outbursts during these proceedings. Anyone who speaks out of turn again will be removed immediately. Do I make myself clear?”
The crowd returned to their seats, the tension so thick Arthur practically choked on it.
“Mr. Parnassus?” Rowder asked sweetly. “Would you care to respond to these allegations?”
“Allegations,” Arthur repeated.
“Yes. About the children. Are you training them?”
“Beg pardon, but I think you meant to use the word ‘raising.’”
“But that’s not what I said, is it?” Rowder said, smiling once more. “Again, are you training them?”
“For what? Life? To be good people? To show love and acceptance even in the face of institutionalized bigotry? If that’s what you mean, then yes. I’m training them.”
Sallow shifted uncomfortably. “I think what she’s asking is if you’re training these children to go to war for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of going to war with any of you,” Arthur said mildly. “It would be a battle of wits for which you are wholly unarmed.”
A resounding gasp from the observers, followed by furious mutterings, the rain plinking against the windows.
“Now, see here,” Burton started. “I will invite you to watch your tone, as—”
“Mr. Parnassus,” Rowder said, and Burton subsided, muttering under his breath. “You should know I sympathize with you greatly. And I don’t think I’m alone in that regard. Anyone who has heard your testimony today has most likely found themselves irrevocably changed. You have a way with words, sir, and we are all better off for it. That being said, another question, if I may.” She opened another folder, this one red like blood. “After your removal from Marsyas, you were placed in no less than seven different orphanages. At the age of eighteen, you were allowed to leave on your own—”
“I was kicked out first thing that morning,” Arthur said. “But not before the master attempted to extort me out of the blood money DICOMY paid me. Unfortunately for him, the money was in a trust until my twenty-first birthday.”
“You poor dear,” Rowder said. “That must have been part of the reason you didn’t register with the Department in Charge of Magical Adults as you were legally required to do. Per the records provided from the time, you failed to attend twenty-four different scheduled meetings with a department representative. My question is this: Where were you from the ages of twenty-one to approximately forty when you returned to Marsyas?”
He should’ve seen this coming. He hadn’t, but he should have. Of course they’d do whatever they could to make him appear the fool, and a dangerous one at that. He’d thought himself better, smarter, and some small part of him—optimistic to a fault—had hoped this would be the start of something different, that people would actually listen. His own hubris would be his undoing, and he had no one to blame but himself. No one knew what he’d done during those years, not even Zoe or Linus. It wasn’t as if he were ashamed; if he’d had to do it over again, he would have made all the same choices.
He chose his words carefully. “I traveled extensively. I’d never been able to see much beyond the walls of the homes in which I was placed.”
“And during your … travels, did you ever come across another magical being?”
“Of course I did.”
She nodded, pleased. “And did you assist them in any way?”
“Define ‘assist.’”
Her mouth dropped open, another practiced move. “Are you hedging in front of the Council of Utmost Importance? Mr. Parnassus, surely you understand how unacceptable that is.”
He spread his hands as if to say What can you do? “If you’re going to accuse me of something, do it.”
“As you wish. Mr. Parnassus, did you illegally move magical persons to help them avoid detection by DICOMY and DICOMA, thus enabling them to live as unregistered beings?”
“Yes.”
A burst of noise that he ignored, though he could feel Linus’s gaze boring into the back of his head.
“And you did this knowing it was against the law?”
“Yes.”
“And if you were not here today, and if you hadn’t found yourself returning to Marsyas Island, is it fair to say that you would have continued helping the magical community flout the laws of this great country?”
“Yes.”
Then she asked a question he didn’t expect. “During this period, or any time after, did you ever help another phoenix?”
“I wouldn’t answer that even if I had.”
The low mutterings behind him grew louder.
