Movin' on up...

Toby leaned back in her chair and surveyed her new office. It almost required, she thought, a surveying team to do it justice. The tower office was splendid. As long as she didn't remember, she could revel in the 360 degree view, her own rooftop landing spot, and carpets thick enough that even when she flexed her claws she couldn’t feel the floor beneath. But she did remember. She whimpered softly, reminding herself that the office, and the name on the letterhead, were neither deserved nor attached to any real power at the firm of Happy, Ever, After.

***

It was only a couple of days ago that she had been summoned into the board room. The partners were all there, and her spines had wilted at the thought of an emergency huge enough to bring them all to one room. The Old Man had sneered at her, and jetted a small gout of flame from a nearby window. All the partners in one room and the Old Man taking up smoking again, Toby suspected that fear was turning her scales an unbecoming shade of pink.

“Order...,” After’s icy tenor caught the attention of all there. “Son, stop trying to scare your daughter. It’s bad enough that we must all rely on her... discretion... without you blanching her scales. Heh, if she looks like a ghost dragon she won’t be able to assist.”

The Old Man grumbled a bit, but the flames he was producing rapidly cooled from blue white to a nice orange hue. In another minute he sat quietly with only a drift of smoke rings to show that he was sulking.

Only After could talk like that to the Old Man without getting flamed to a crisp. As After usually put it, “I’ve died once, and gained by the experience. Dying agin will only annoy me... And no one wants to annoy me.”

Ever slipped into the first moment of silence, welcoming me to the meeting, and, with typical elven arrogance taking the Chair. It had been a major coup for Happy, Ever, After to acquire the original Round Table, but hierarchy was so much a part of the firm’s way of life that they immediately had to develop some marker of who was heading the table. I think it must have been Happy who came up with the idea of the Chair. Elves are content to sproing from spot to spot without settling anywhere, and we dragons are comfortable coiled. Dwarves, on the other claw, like sitting ­ especially when the seating is adapted to put them a foot or two above everyone else.

The Chair was a massive dwarven construct, just alive enough to know who ­ or what ­ was sitting upon it and adapt its bulk to keep them comfortable. If it wasn’t obviously enough the “seat of power” in the room, it was also the only chair in the board room. “Eternity,” as After would say, “is not long enough to be wasted on meetings. We think faster on our feet, and faster thinking leads to faster meetings.”

I stammered out humble, procedurally correct salutations to the Partners and the Chair. I hoped that there was no need to greet the Table ­ august though it was ­ since, despite 372 years of training in etiquette, I had no idea what to say to it. As no one pointed out my error, it seems I was right.

“Well, Toby,” Ever’s tone first mystified me, then scared my spines into wilting again. He was attempting to sound avuncular. It was ­ a tone I’d only ever heard in bard’s tales and theatre, and which always presaged the junior listener being sent to a heroic death. I didn’t want to die; 499 is still young for a dragon, and I found that I really wanted to achieve my 500th birthday. I’d just passed my final law exams and been called to the bar ­ it would be a total waste of 400 years of education if I didn’t get to practise...

Ever’s voice dragged me back out of the mental death-spiral: “You may have heard that your Father has been given the honour of a judgeship.” He paused to allow me to give startled congratulations to my sire, obviously knowing that I had not heard any such thing. Junior associates are always the last to know anything important.

“Although it is an honour to our firm to have a second After on the bench, this appointment raises a small problem. Happy, Ever, After is renowned in all the realms in which we practice. Which, I suppose, is really all the realms.” An elf practising self-deprecation; I knew the apocalypse must be imminent.

“Yet when a partner leaves the firm to join the judiciary, his or her name must be removed from our letterhead. You may not have realized this, but one of the reasons that After considered post-mortem continuance was that he wanted to stay with the firm until your father was old enough to carry on the name. We are not, however, willing to postpone your father’s promotion. This leaves us the choice between becoming “Happy, Ever” or finding another lawyerly After who wishes to become a partner.”

I think After saw my legs move. My hindbrain sometimes yanks control from my forebrain. It is ­ one of the down-sides of youth ­ and this time my hindbrain was stridently instructing my legs to get the rest of me out of there P.D.Q.

“Wait.”

Both brains listened to After. I suspect that if both brains were removed, my body would still listen to After. After is like that.

“Do not worry that we will be giving you power beyond your wisdom, or responsibilities beyond your power. To the public, you will have a vote, because that is necessary. Those in this room all know that when I say ‘Aye’.”

“Aye, Sir!” my voice surprised me. I’d not meant to say that...

“Or I say ‘Nay’.”

“Nay, Sir!” this time, at least I was ready for it.

“You listen to my sage counsel, ponder its worth, and, having given lengthy consideration, do what is best for the firm ­ -- exactly what I told you to do.”

“Indeed, Venerable Grandsire, that is exactly what I do.” He wasn’t controlling me that time, but the cumulative etiquette classes were as tight a cleft as his command. I was not going to experiment with attempting to fight against either of them.

“See, gentlebeings? We have nothing to fear in this investiture. We can give young Tobermory After the necessary trappings of partnership: the business cards, the office, perhaps even the administrative assistant. The public and, even more importantly, the Law Society of Uber Celestia, will be happy, and we can continue as we are. Except, that is, with one more voice on the Bench.”

I would not have believed that After could show more teeth than his regular skeletal grin. Now that I’d seen he could, I hoped I’d never see it again.

After’s demonstration convinced the partners. Happy and Ever started counter-signing the new partnership agreements. The Old Man dug his formal resignation out from under a hip scale, signed it and added it to the growing pile of official documentation. I stood, silent and stunned, until After prodded me over to a spot at the table, materialized a pen, and started whisking documents backwards and forwards between Happy, Ever and I with a speed that would have turned Zhendra, the three-card-monte dealer in the market, green with envy. I was losing count of how many times I’d signed here, or initialled there, when I realized that I was the only one writing. Happy and Ever were through with their piles, while a good six inches of paper rested before me.

Happy noticed my dismay, and, in her usual dour fashion, pointed out that I’d never be a real lawyer until I could keep up ­ and read the documents before signing them.

“Read?” I squeaked, hating the way my voice changed when I was startled.

“Yes. Read. Comprehend. Notice alterations. Especially alterations like the ones on page 316 that state you’ll be acting partner but still earning junior associate salary.” Happy snorted a scornful laugh.

“Good to have you on board, pup. But if you were thinking of letting it go to your head, remember After is not the only one who can say ‘frog’ and have you hopping.”

Ever laughed, one of those tinkling elven laughs reminiscent of springtime, burbling brooks, and mysterious drowning deaths.

The meeting ended then. After, of course, stayed to make sure that every page was signed, and I didn’t miss any spots requiring my initials. The Old Man must have used that time to move out of his office, because when I was done, After brought me up to the dragon tower and showed me my new lair.

****

I’m pretty sure there is someone outside the office. Someone whose task it is to keep an eye on me, make sure I eat regularly, and, no doubt, make sure that I don’t try to do anything the real partners might disapprove of. I’m not completely sure of this, since the only sign is that my coffee barrel is always full when I wake up, and food appears and left overs disappear with some regularity.

One of these days I’ll summon up the courage to open the door and see. Perhaps even to find out what tasks the partners consider unimportant enough to assign to me.

Until then, there’s the view.