Link to part one by our infallible wonderful 
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The gear turned, interlacing with another and another. His eyes traced the inner workings of the machine to the place where the light shone. Seth understood the depth of his deception. He refactored his knowledge and prayed that the gods would be kind. Reiter’s voice reading the indented passage from his work interrupted his thoughts.
"A precipice is the ultimate pinnacle of indecision, but the insubstantial ground offered little room for choice. She felt an eagle take power from her breast and embark on its ascent. She saw the horizon glitter into a kaleidoscope of iridescent, shifting colors. She could sense the flow of the river as it rushed to the waterfall of enlightenment. She saw the crown of the gods sway, shiver, and shatter into shards as sharp as paper."
Reiter pushed himself away from his desk with a flourish. There was victory in the scraping sound of his chair.
It was the only sound in the room.
His face was ruddy with intent. His glasses, reflecting the light from the ceiling-high stained glass windows, looked menacingly unfocused, as if arbitrary thoughts were colliding, unhinged.
Seth felt Reiter’s disdainful delight whip across the smooth chestnut surface of the desk and ricochet at him with physical force. The raw power of the man’s cunning timing cut into him, robbing him of his breath and choking the mirth that had bubbled so freely moments before.
The air thinned. Seth simply stared at the robust, all-powerful figure of a man displayed so cruelly before his shy eyes.
Seth took in the room. The adjudicators were silent, pinned to the edge of their seats like statues from some ancient tomb. He felt a throb assail his temple. A pulse; a sign; a "tell". He straightened his shoulders. He tried to square up to the man who held his fate with so much precarious disregard in his fingers’.
But the words—the words that filled the room like a reverberating echo—left him speechless. He felt himself cower.
"Explain yourself. Explain?"
Seth brought his forefinger up to his full lips. It was a habit he’d learned at the knees of his favorite goddess, Shiva, the moon chaser. She’d always asked unfathomable questions. His mouth formed an involuntary "O". There was nothing to explain, but Reiter had something, and that was for sure—he only needed to turn his head and see the hungry crowd to know it.
Seth saw Reiter’s eyes bulge as he pulled himself back to his desk. He wanted to say something clever and witty to lighten the stiff crowd, but nothing came to him.
Then Reiter repeated himself, and a feather of an idea floated like manna from the gods before him.
"No! You, Reiter, have picked this passage from my work. You’ve singled it out as the rousing ‘seed’ of insurrection. I believe in my work and my innocence. You explain it to me?"
An audible gasp shook the room. The adjudicators turned as one to face Reiter.
The man paled visibly under the light spilling over him from the stately windows. "It’s…err…inciting. It’s treason to suggest that the gods have a hand in death."
Seth felt the crowd turn: "So you see the power of the gods’ in these simple lines?"
Reiter’s face collapsed into a series of old-man’s lines.
A cry rang out from the crowd: "Seize him! Seize him!"
Seth made himself as small as he could. He edged toward the entrance to the chamber as the crowd surged.
"Thank the gods," he whispered to himself, "thank the gods that the man knew nothing of the machine."
