Boran had been marched out of his office by guards. He had expected to end up poisoned in the cellar or shot against the back wall. But Janssen had a different plan for him- a show trial.
A couple of the guards had beaten him during his first few hours in the cell. They hadn’t asked any questions or made any accusations- they were doing it to counter the boredom. One of them had ripped the Tower icon from around Boran’s neck, which had been worse than the anything else.
Janssen himself had come to explain the timetable for Boran’s shaming and eventual death. Documentary crews were coming from the south to film the trial of all the traitors serving in the cities of Cora and Munss. They would record testimony of how the traitors had undermined all Janssen’s good work, and why it was their fault so many of the city’s population had to die. Boran was to be the star of the charade. His father was an important figure in the party and Janssen’s sponsors would benefit from his suffering.
Boran had no warm feelings for his father. After they had left the twin cities his climb up the political hierarchy had begun. A child had been something he had no time for, and the boy had been bundled off to school. Political shame would be the only thing to bring Boran back to his father’s attention. Even then he would probably be sacrificed for career gain.
The cell had a window up near the roof. Boran couldn’t reach it to look out, but it did let in voice from the parade ground and cold damp wind straight off the fjord. Boran lay back on his cot, closed his eyes and sniffed the breeze. He could just about imagine himself standing on the edge of the cliffs staring down.