Three Visually Impaired Rodents: The Appeal

On her return to the hotel, Toby ordered a light dinner and some peace and quiet. Reviewing different attack plans in her mind, it occurred to her that Happy and Ever had probably guessed that this would be the way the case worked out. It hadn’t made sense that they’d given a high profile client – the Society, not the mice – to a lawyer who despite her name was really only a junior associate. Even if neither of the partners had wanted to handle it personally, there were several more experienced associates who might have achieved more at trial.

Unlike those associates, however, Toby was young, fast, strong and virtually physically indestructible. Nothing that she had seen in the local heroic fiction mentioned weapons strong enough to do more than bruise a dragon. Or at least not portable weapons – cannons and the like could be damaging, but they were easy enough to dodge. Toby was also confident that the people at Farmer’s Wife Inc. did not have the kind of inter-planar contacts necessary to bring an experience dragon killer to the plane in under an hour. She had heard tales of Saint George analogues being in high demand in the days when dragons more commonly hired themselves out as mercenaries. It was likely that she would be fast enough to win against a George, but if she were wagering, she wouldn’t give herself better than 55% odds of survival.

For a moment Toby contemplated taking her next holiday on a plane where death was temporary, and trying a few matches with a George. Then she laughed at herself ... enough trouble surviving tonight, no need to plan for future miracles like being given an actual holiday from Happy, Ever, After.

Soon enough it was time to return to the Winter Garden. Blue had offered to be her second – a good thing considering that she knew no one else on the plane. Eek and Ike also came along, they understood that the fight was for their safety, and believed they should at least witness it. Iyk, on the other claw, didn’t want to watch anyone trying to hurt her Toby.

The Winter Garden had changed in the forty minutes since they flew over it. Two modular grandstands had been set up against the wall on either side of the park, and vendors had set up carts selling everything from food and drink to colourful scarves and tokens carrying images of the Farmer’s Wife or stylized dragons. Toby stifled a laugh as she realized – obviously tonight she and her opponent would not be the only ones attempting to make a killing. On second thought, given that she knew nothing about local law enforcement practices, she hoped that no one else in the crowd had thoughts of doing any more damage than picking the occasional pocket.

It took two or three circles over the park before she could find an empty space to land. Once she had landed, however, the crowd left her considerable space and she had no problem making her way over to the judges platform. Judge Hortus was there, and readily introduced the bowing dragon to his colleague, Judge Urbanus, who would be adjudicating the appeal. Justice Urbanus returned Toby’s bow, and checking his watch, asked her if she was ready to discuss weapons.

Toby nodded.

“Your list?” Justice Urbanus asked, “Just tell me and I’ll jot them down.”

“I don’t think I want anything but my body, Your Honour. We dragons tend not to use technology in one on one fights.”

“It would help if you could itemize that – unless of course you just mean flopping yourself on top of your opponents and smothering them?”

Toby snorted, “You are right, Your Honour, that is not what I meant. Itemize ... teeth and claws, then my tail is pretty useful as well, and fire breath. I suppose if the opportunity arose to flop and smother, I would try that too...”

The Judge thanked her, and then moved off to repeat the process with the newly arriving representatives of Farmer’s Wife Inc.

Toby watched the group around her opposing counsel carefully, wondering which of them would be her second opponent that evening. Most of the group appeared to be low level flunkies: heavily burdened and following orders. Among those giving the orders were the Wife herself, and a tall white-haired man. The Farmer’s Wife seemed to be arguing with Justice Urbanus, and Toby found her curiosity mounting.

Urbanus waved over Justice Hortus, and then several others in judges robes that Toby did not recognize. The Judges argued among themselves for a while, occaisionally sending attending clerks running off to come back burdened with books or scrolls. Finally they seemed to reach a consensus – or at least decide that further argument was futile. Justice Urbanus looked around until he spotted Toby, and then beckoned her over to join the somewhat disgruntled looking group of judges.

“Counsel, we seem to have arrived at a slight impasse. The respondents have raised two issues, unanticipated by my colleagues, and not yet sufficiently determined by the Custom of the Land. We have found a potential solution, but need your approval...”

“Or at least your non-objection,” interjected Judge Hortus.

“... yes.... If your clients do not object, we will be able to continue.”

“What is the impasse?” asked Toby. “If you can give me an outline of the situation, I will canvass my clients and get right back to Your Honours.”

“There are two issues, the first is that counsel for Farmer’s Wife Inc. wish to question the specific concept of ‘portable weapon’. They suggest that as long as the ... how did they phrase it ... the effective portion of their weapon is portable, the bits that it is connected to do not have to be. This is the first time that someone has wished to use a weapon that is powered externally. Yet their expert likens the weapon to a bow, powered by a human who can lift the bow but cannot also lift themselves.”

“The other issue,” Justice Hortus continued for the judges, “is one of representation. Apparently the Company was not happy with Mr. Jimson – their counsel at trial. It is, of course, under the Code, a party’s right to change their representation if they are unhappy. Under the Custom of the Land, however, it was found that allowing parties to change representation at will often delayed trials unfairly. The Demiurge Lutwidge L’Oye decided that the best solution to this problem was to allow the party to have their new representative attempt to depose the previous one prior to any new trial.”

“So our questions for your clients,” Justice Urbanus summarized, “are whether they will oppose the weapon of choice of the Company, and whether they will oppose the Lutwidge solution. Of course, you will inform them that opposition on either issue will result in delays in the hearing of this appeal while the courts re-examine the matter.”

“Thank you, Your Honours.” Toby replied, “Given those circumstances, and the urgency of the matter, I am relatively certain how my clients with respond. Allow me, however, five minutes to discuss the matter with them, and I will get back to you.”

Toby turned on her heel and stalked away, bristling. Clearly her clients were being given no choice but to accept purchase of a poked porcine, or give up their claim against the Company while the courts bickered for the next twenty or thirty years. She was fairly confident that even with the Company’s new weapon she wouldn’t have much problem, but the idea of allowing the Company to execute their lawyer so that they could field a better fighter angered her more than she would have expected. Perhaps because it was just another incident proving that the Company had no care for anything but its own bottom line, perhaps because she had looked forward to frying the odious Mr. Jimson herself, the suggested solution just seemed unfair.

Blue and the mice met Toby half-way; Blue bubbling with anxious questions. Toby cut her off, somewhat brusquely, then appologised and explained the situation, summing it up with an annoyed, “They have us over a barrel, folks. I would prefer to go ahead with the appeal under their conditions than give up now, but I would understand if the situation sickens you enough for you to want to drop it. Whatever comes of this evening, we will all need a thorough cleansing afterwards.”

Waiting while Blue, Eek and Ike discussed what to do was one of the harder things Toby had endured. She found herself contemplatively clawing at the slate walkway, and only stopped herself when she realized she had almost cut the slate in pieces.

Finally Blue turned to her and said, “We don’t like the situation either, and the mice are not willing to leave the decision entirely on your shoulders. They think it is not fair to place you in that position, when you have done nothing but your best to help them. After discussion, they instruct you to take the ‘suggestions’ of the Court, and know that you have their confidence and blessings in the appeal that follows.”

Toby gave Blue her best and brightest grin, and walked – almost pranced – back to the huddle of judges. “My clients accept the wisdom of the Court with no reservations, and are willing to follow your suggestions in this matter fully.”

Enough expressions soured, that Toby knew the Judges had heard her subtext. Murder might be done on the field that evening, but the responsibility for that was neither hers, nor her clients.

Justice Urbanus signalled to a bailiff who raised a bugle and sounded several sharp notes to quieten the crowd before calling the field to order. “Order! All stand! This area, enclosed by the four walls of the Winter Garden, is now and for the course of this evening , an annex of our Courts of Justice. This Court is now in session, the Honourable Justice Urbanus presiding, Justices Hortus and Calunus monitoring the parties for breeches of the rules – today’s matter: an Appeal of the case of Three Visually Impaired Mice v. Farmer’s Wife Incorporated.”

“Gentlebeings, the parties to this appeal have settled the prescribed questions: the time is now, the place is here. The Appellants are represented by Tobermory After, now taking her place next to Justice Hortus at the South end of the Court. The Respondents, as this is a capital case, have the right to bring two representatives to Court. They have chosen, first, Chief Scientist Russel Fitch, now taking his place next to Justice Calunus at the North end of the Court. As is their right, the Respondents will not reveal their second representative unless and until the first is defeated. This Court has certified the weapons of the parties. The Applicant will be using tooth, claw, tail and fire. The Respondent will be using a weapon described in materials presented to the Court as a bright coherent light.”

The lackeys had been bustling about at the other end of the field, and Toby heard the coughing start of a small engine. Fitch picked up a tube and walked over to his starting spot, as he moved, a cord trailed from the tube back to the engine. Judging the distance, Toby knew she would have to get closer before her fire would reach him. It would be interesting to see what the range on his weapon might be.

“Seconds, you may relay final instructions to your counsel if you wish... No? Monitors please move away to the side walls. Gentlebeings, please turn and face the walls behind you. On the count of three, you may turn and begin your arguments. Gods and Truth settle the day. One... Two... Three!”

Toby instinctively stepped sideways – hindbrain knew not to take risks with unknown weapons, especially on a tech plane. Hindbrain saved her life.

The human, the enemy now, had spun and fired at the place she had been standing. She couldn’t see anything coming from the tube he held, but the stone wall behind her bubbled and spat molten rock. The hot spot moved towards her as the enemy realized she had moved, and as the enemy realized, she moved again. A half-leap, soar, twist, and she landed halfway up the field, flattening herself to the ground with all the flexibility her saurian ancestor skeleton allowed. Thank the gods, she was much faster than the enemy. She could take a whole second to gauge his actions. He was holding the tube with both hands, now – twisting it like a telescope, and the hot spot sizzled along the ground flashing grass and bushes into crescendoes of flame, and melting a bubbling path in the dirt.

Toby scrambled sideways out of the tube’s direct path, then bounded forwards. One more leap, then breathe. At their most intense, her flames too could melt stone. Not as quickly or as finely as the enemy’s tube, but who needed a fine line when a burst would do as well. Toby was angry, angry that the Court’s manipulation, angry at the Company’s bizarre mutilations, and mostly angry that the enemy was allowed to use this strange tool. Fire was for dragons. Her flame turned the engine and half of the connecting cord to slag. Fire is for dragons. The enemy shook the tube, desperately before the silence from his engine penetrated his understanding and he realized it was dead. Fire and dragons are one. The enemy gibbered, throwing the tube at Toby and attempting to run. She was on him before he could take a third step, catching him by the belt with her fore-claws and tossing him high in the air. Breathe. The enemy’s scream cut off, and silence fell over the field. Then the observervers could hear the faint pattering as the ashes that remained of the enemy drifted to the ground.

Toby let the silence continue, drinking in the smells of ash and char. Enemy gone. Her scales settled as muscles from tail-tip to nose relaxed. One down. Her hindbrain retreated to monitoring heartbeat and digestion, and her forebrain awoke again. She stretched slowly, turned and looked at the huddle around the Farmer’s Wife, then deliberately scored the ground with front claws and back: the ritual, and near universal, gesture of high-caste to those whose purpose is to be buried.

The crowd broke into shouts of acclaim. Even those wearing the Company token, in that moment could not resist the chant: “Deus Veult!”

Toby stifled the urge to sneer – what gods wanted, they had better ways of achieving than battlegrounds or court appeals. This was not about gods. It was about humans taking advantage of opposable thumb and massive ignorance to hurt others. It was about corporations as people without consciences. Fundamentally, though, it was about to end.

Bow to the Judge, her inner voice reminded her, then we can get this damn charade over with and get on with our lives. She bowed, with just that trifle more flourish than necessary, a touch that only the most perceptive would recognize as the gesture of scorn that it was. She could see that Justice Urbanus understood, but could do nothing.

The Bailiff’s bugle rang out again, and the crowd fell quiet.

“Our judgement in this Appeal so far is that truth rests with the Appellants.” Justice Urbanus declaimed, “Farmer’s Wife Incorporated, you may choose to accept this judgement, and the results that follow from it, or you may choose to continue the Appeal.”

The Wife spoke, “We choose to continue.”

“Your representative in this portion of the Appeal is to be FitzMaurice Jimson. Is he prepared?”

“Your Honour, as is our perogative, we wish to withdraw our retainer to Mr. Jimson. We have chosen to be self-representing.”

“You realize that no withdrawal is permitted in these circumstances?”

“We are ready to remove the impediment to our self-representation.” The Wife’s voice was emotionless. Jimson had clearly figured out what was going on, two of the lackeys held him pinioned between them, as he wept and struggled to escape.

Distaste coloured the judges voice as he reminded, “Counsel has the right to be armed.”

At her gesture, the lackeys dragged Jimson to the middle of the field, the Wife followed, carrying two identical blades. She tossed one at Jimson’s feet, then gestured to the lackeys to let him go. As soon as his arms were released, he rushed towards the South exit. The Wife moved and was in front of him. He veered and tried for the East gate. She flickered, more than moving, and was ahead of him again, waiting. He skidded to a stop, then ran back towards the blade. Scooping it up and holding it like a spear, he charged towards the West gate. She smiled, and moved again, deliberately slowing her step to arrive ahead of him just as he neared the gate. Toby was not certain whether he saw her or not, for he seemed to be attempting to charge right through her.

The Farmer’s Wife chopped once. Jimson’s outstretched arm still holding the blade fell to the earth. She chopped again. He fell, one leg severed just above the knee. She chopped twice more, severing the other arm and leg. He inhaled, a breath that would have been his final scream. She chopped. His head rolled a step closer to the exit he had been seeking.

“We have removed the impediment to our self-representation.” The Wife’s voice was still held no emotion, “We are ready to respond to the appeal.”

It took the Judge two or three tries to find his voice, and Toby appreciated the respite. The woman was faster than any human she had ever met, and that blade... Toby had enough knowledge of humanoid anatomy to appreciate that severing limbs took either great strength or great sharpness. And enough of either could cut through dragon scales, and the dragon flesh underneath them.

“Gentlebeings,” Justice Urbanus had lost some of his declamatory posture, “the parties to this Appeal have settled the prescribed questions: the Appeal will continue. The Appellants are represented by Tobermory After, now returning to her place next to Justice Hortus at the South end of the Court. The Respondents, have chosen as their Corporate representative, their figurehead, the Farmer’s Wife, now taking her place next to Justice Calunus at the North end of the Court. This Court has certified the weapons of the parties. The Applicant will be using tooth, claw, tail and fire. The Respondent will be using her ... carving knife.”

A buzz arose from the crowd, fortunately covering Toby’s unbelieving “Bullshit.” That wasn’t a carving knife... not unless the woman was more powerful than the average titan... Something strange was going on here.

“Silence! Monitors please take your positions at the side walls. Gentlebeings, please turn and face the walls behind you. On the count of three, you may turn and begin your arguments. Gods and Truth settle the day. One... Two... Three!”

Toby stepped sideways, the other side this time, just in case. Nothing happened. She turned, the Wife was standing, back to the wall at the other end of the field. Toby took a slow step forward. The Wife moved, a blur faster than Toby’s eyes could track, and stood in the middle of the field. Toby took another step forward, let her come closer if she wished. The Wife stood, unnaturally still.

Toby knew that a few more paces would bring her close enough to flame, presumably the woman knew it too. Leaping forward and to the side, Toby breathed flame. Through its brilliance she could see the woman standing, unmoving, waiting. Her flame ended. The Wife shook herself, bits of charred clothing drifting to the ground around her. Underneath it was immaculate, lacquered, each hair in place, not a smudge or a scar. Perfect. Unhuman. It smiled, and started walking slowly towards Toby.

For a moment Toby understood the need to run, but hindbrain didn’t understand poetry. Hindbrain wouldn’t know a nursery rhyme from a coat rack. Forebrain did. Forebrain knew that under no conditions would there ever be a universe where children sang about a dragon and a farmer’s wife. At least never a song where the dragon ran and the farmer’s wife cut it’s tale off with a carving knife. This was the enemy and Toby was furious.

She flamed again, this time a wide swathe between them, firing shrubs and trees and sending up smoke and steam from the still damp ground. Blinking her third eye, she could see the enemy through the obscuring vapour. She jumped to one side and the enemy turned to face her. Okay, so it too could see beyond the normal. Did it know, though, that Toby could see it?

Taking a chance, Toby leaped – aiming for the place where the enemy had been before the vapour concealed it. The enemy paused and braced itself for a swing – Yesss, it thought Toby was fighting blind! At the last minute, Toby stretched a wing and veered, hitting the enemy with a spine cracking tail strike. A loud clang reverberated through the Winter Garden.

For a fatal second, Toby was disoriented – the noise, the pain in her tail, it all seemed as though she had hit a large cast iron statue rather than medium sized humanoid. Then another pain hit as the enemy struck. Not the neck cleaving strike it had intended, but it scored a deep slash along Toby’s shoulder.

Toby recoiled, an ungainly hop and flap that took her above the enemy’s next strike and out into clear air. A gasp spread through the crowd as they noticed the blood dripping along her foreleg. A second gasp followed as the enemy moved out of the smoke as well. It was not moving as quickly or as smoothly as before, Toby had hit lower than she intended, and the enemy was now bent – a large concavity showed by its right hip.

Other than that, however, it still appeared immaculate – a decided contrast to Toby’s dirt grimed scales and bent tail spines. The two combatants circled each other, Toby trying to figure out whether claws or teeth would damage the enemy, and the enemy giving no sign that it thought at all.

The knife, Toby thought, if the wielder is nearly invulnerable, perhaps the knife can be broken. Not waiting for second thoughts, Toby pounced forward. A low tail-strike failed to topple the enemy but succeeded in bringing a downward slash of the knife. Toby bit.

Dragon jaws have been known to crush rock, sever steel, and tear dragon scale. Dragon teeth, among those who have had the opportunity to test them, have been established as the hardest material in the multi-verse, diamond included. Toby willed every ounce of her strength into her jaws, and prayed for every atom of hardness her teeth could muster. Something had to break, and break something did.

Lightning flashed through Toby’s head, spasming her jaws shut and tossing her, reeling, across the field. Darkness, mercifully, fell.

***

A tiny spark wandered aimlessly through dark corridors. This was interesting, somewhere off in the distance was something trying to get its attention, but there were lots of other things it was trying to avoid and none of those things came here in the darkness. It wasn’t aware that it saw, until it saw another spark and, drawing closer, realized that the other spark was a reflection of itself in some shiny material. “That’s me!” the spark thought to itself admiringly, then “Who am I?” Somehow the spark knew that there ought to be more to it than just a glimmer of light in a mirror. “Magnificent” was a word the spark associated with itself – yet no one would call the figure in the mirror magnificent, would they? And there was another word, a ... name, yes, a word that meant who she was supposed to be.

The spark, a larger blaze now, thought that somewhere around there should be a name. “I am.” she thought, then “I am...Tobermory.”

Noise. Tobermory has ears. The blaze almost withdrew, better to be a spark with no name than a Tobermory name with ears and something shouting into them. The shouting thing ought to go away, then the Tobermory could rest.

Rest? Yes, Tobermorys rest. Rest cures, and if Tobermory had more of a body than just ears, Tobermory would know that Tobermory was hurting.

Body? The blaze expanded and for a moment felt body. Pain.

The noise around Tobermory clarified, “She moved! Toby? Toby can you hear me? Blink if you can hear me!”

With words came the idea that a Tobermory should also be able to make noise. Perhaps if the blaze could get the Tobermory to make the right noises, all the things would go away and they could be quiet and rest.

Make noise! The blaze commanded the Tobermory, and the Tobermory tried, but there was something in its mouth. The blaze thought about mouths for a moment, then commanded, Spit!

***

Blue knelt by Toby’s head crying and calling her name. The Judges had declared Toby the victor; when the sparks had stopped flying, the Farmer’s Wife was not breathing and Toby was – albeit just barely. Justice Urbanus had lead the crowd to tell the Corporation that it was being declared dead. No need to execute a corporate person, just a declaration, and the courts taking charge of the paperwork until the corpse could be sold. The courts would find homes for the animal prisoners. The Society would make sure those homes were good ones. On all counts, the mice would go down as victors, and the Society would gain enough in reputation and prominence to be able to launch more cases. Blue knew all of this, but somehow, for her and for the mice, the victory was wasted without Toby.

Toby spat. A metal hand, still clutching a shiny knife, flew a couple of feet and hit the turf with a sodden thud. Toby’s voice was soft and creaky, but Blue was close enough to hear that she was saying, “Quiet, need rest, be better after rest.”

Blue gestured to one of the bailiffs that had stayed behind, no doubt to start figuring out how to repair the park and get rid of the rather large dragon that seemed to be dying in it. Whispering, Blue told him that Toby had spoken, and that if the court could scrounge up enough blankets to keep Toby warm over night, the Society would have someone there the next morning to help move her away.

***

Toby awoke, remembering the fight, the lightning bolt, some interesting internal conversations, and absolutely nothing about how on earth she had gotten to wherever she was. The soft sound of the sea outside her window indicated that it was likely she was in Grandmama’s house, but since the house managed to manifest on most planes, that was not as informative as it ought to be.

“Hmph,” she thought to herself. “So that’s what near death experiences are like. I don’t think I’ll do that again.”

The smells of boar roasting and bread toasting were gradually permeating the bedroom, a signal from Grandmama that it was time to get up. Toby unwound herself from the guest hoard, and examined her body. She was a bit stiff, and lots thinner than ususal. She suspected that she had been asleep for quite some time. She still had several broken spines, so she hadn’t slept long enough for them to regrow, but the wound on her shoulder was just a distinguished scar – mage healers, got to love them.

Well, time to face the music. No doubt Grandmama had prepared a long lecture on the follies of practising law when one could do so much more good as a Kami, and without risking one’s life... Stretching carefully, Toby followed her nose towards the breakfast room.

Poking her head in to gauge the mood, Toby was surprised to see not only her Grandmama, but also her Mother and the Old Man. Wow! The last time they had all been in the same room was probably her graduation from law school. And that had been a bigger room, and full of enough people that they probably never had to speak to each other.

Suddenly Toby felt certain that her “near-death” experience must have been a lot nearer death than she had first believed. Anything serious enough to bring those three together, and keep them civil, was virtually earth shattering.

“Um... Good morning?” Toby ventured, not quite certain what her reception would be.

Three dragon head turned towards her, three worried faces, and then suddenly Toby found herself wrapped in a four-way tail tip to whisker dragon hug. The hug held for almost a full minute, then splintered into three worried, angry adults and one penitent, hungry youth. Fortunately for Toby, both Grandmama and Mama understood the need for sustenance, and believed that Toby could listen and eat at the same time. Besides, as experienced parents, they knew that the longer they could keep Toby’s mouth full, the longer before she started answering back.