Dragon in Motions

I paused on the stairs down to the main court room just long enough to take a couple of deep breaths, and make sure my robes were straight, my spines flat and my whiskers properly curled. There was not much that my mother’s and father’s sides of the family agreed upon, but when they did agree, whatever they agreed upon was clearly the one and only truth. The importance of making properly dignified and imposing entrances was one such thing, and even at the risk of running late, it was thoroughly ingrained in my every scale and sinew.

The first order of business, finding my client Mistress Mulch, was – if you’ll excuse the pun – dirt simple. Once again just about every forest sprite from the lowliest bush babies to the elegant shrubbery sylphs had uprooted themselves to provide the dryad with a proper escort. I bowed to them all, then snuck a curl of tail around my client, separating her from her entourage and drawing her close enough to ask quietly, whether she had seen her ex-consort yet at court. She nodded, and indicated a corner with an elegant half shrug.

I saw Robin first, strutting and preening as he was wont to do when worried about exams, blind dates, or – apparently – court appearances. Then behind him, in the dimness of the corner, I saw a dissipated, slouching, horned figure that must be Flash Hooves. There was little of the faun to be seen in Flash. It was immediately apparent that he had been hanging with the wild crowd, and was almost totally converted to satyr. I wondered for a moment what his family thought of his current pursuits. Going wild was always an option for us mythicals, but I knew I wasn’t the only one whose parents, and grand parents, would never permit one of their lineage to fall so low. Perhaps if there was a bit of shame there, I might be able to use it.

My thoughts were interrupted by the Bailiff calling us into the court. “Order, all stand! Oyez, Oyez! This Court of the People of Briar is in session, the Honourable Madame Justice Heads presiding. Speak and you will be heard.”

“Please be seated, gentlebeings.” Justice Heads sat, suiting action to her words, “We have a full docket today, and I would like to get through it with some dispatch. I will go through the docket in order, and when I am not dealing with your matter, I expect you to wait outside. Counsel, you can take that time to conference and attempt to resolve matters. If you reach a settlement, just let the Bailiff know, and I will take your consent orders before moving on to anything else.”

“Do any of you have any matters to be dealt with on consent now? No? Well I expect you to be working on that outside. First case is Caulmaker v. Hartles. Everyone not involved in that matter, may leave the court.”

Unlike the more practiced members of the bar, I had little idea what to make of our having drawn Judge Heads. I had heard the partners discussing their favourite judges: Taelsz was apparently prone to throwing tantrums, and his gavel, if barristers talked longer than he wanted to listen; Oare was a quiet judge who never gave a clue how he was going to rule; and, Heads ... must be she was the one they described as fierce, forthright and fair, but not necessarily in that order.

Ah well, that could help or hinder, depending on what we made of our case. Definitely something to remember if negotiations failed. For now, though, I know Robin very well, and I have some guesses about his client. With a bit of luck that should be enough to set up some kind of deal. If nothing else, Robin, like most avians, hated wearing clothing. Perhaps I could close the bargain by reminding him that the longer we stay in court the longer before he would be able to uncover his feathers again.

I suggested that Spring take her entourage outside to photosynthesize for a little bit while I spoke with Robin and found out more about his client. She went, but not without leaving a few of the smaller sprites lurking in the potted plants. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry that she didn’t trust me, or impressed that she was thinking like a dragon.

Robin and his client were in a tight tete-a-tete when I found him. Sometimes it would be nice to be a little bit less noticeable – hard to eavesdrop when one is larger than the eaves in question. Robin and I conducted a brief eyebrow, point and shoulder wag conversation at the end of which he suggested his client stay inside and, perhaps, visit the cafeteria downstairs where Robin could find him when we were done talking.

Flash slouched away.

Robin stared at me.

I stared at Robin.

Robin gave an abbreviated head jerk, reminiscent of an avian pulling some wyrm-like morsel out of it’s hole.

I stretched my neck up towards the ceiling and sent a hot smoke ring to wreath the chandelier, darkening the room slightly for the moments it took to dissipate.

Robin sighed and walked over to me to talk. I remembered Grandmama’s lectures on graciousness and converted my instinctive victory grin into a polite smile. At least that’s what I meant to do. Judging by the way Robin’s eyes widened, perhaps a few too many teeth were showing for true inter-species politeness.

Undaunted, Robin challenged, “So, you’re representing vegetables now. Isn’t that a come down for Miss. Mooting champion of 237? Thought you were planning on making partner by now... seems like you’re still junior counsel.”

I had to laugh. Sometimes the gods are kind, and Robin’s rivalry was truly a gift. “We at Happy, Ever, After value all our clients – animal, vegetable or mineral -- and we do not send junior counsel to do a partner’s job.” I pulled a thick, gold-embossed card from under one of my scales, silently thanking After for insisting I have them made. “My new cards. See: ‘Tobermory G. After, Partner.’ That would be me.”

In all honesty, Robin was pretty good. No one would ever have known how puffed his feathers were, until he actually took my card and realized it was real. Then he deflated, and for a moment or two looked like the skinny moltling he actually was.

Figuring that it was only fair that I pick up the conversational burden while he recomposed himself, I asked, “Can you tell me what your client really wants? He doesn’t stand a chance at getting the tree cut down – that would be murder, besides, he doesn’t have much claim to having contributed to the family dwelling. The tree was fully grown and in better condition before she met him than after he left. What does he claim he added, a little bit of water and fertilizer after spending the night out with his Bacchante friends?”

“Yes, I know,” Robin sighed deeply, “That part of his claim isn’t the clearest. But, Toby, you’ve got to understand he gave the best part of his life to her. He was in line for a prime accounting position at Tumnus & Co. and he turned them down when she said accountants were boring and she’d never go out with one. He may not have earned lots, but he managed her finances so that she could build that pool... and then... when she found out he couldn’t swim... she told him he was no good in bed or out. Then she suggested that maybe if he became a satyr he would at least be some use. What’s the guy to do? He’s broke, cannot get employment in any of the faun fields, and his heart really is not into the whole ‘drink, drink, and be merry’ scene. He just wants enough gold to start again somewhere far enough away that no one knows him.”

I couldn’t resist imitating Ever’s sardonic applause. “Well done, Robin. I’m sure you have the bar maids in tears after practising that speech. Seriously, though. We aren’t in one of the realms where they’ve invented spousal support. My client clearly owes him nothing in terms of the value of her tree – either as a living organism or as lumber. I might be able to persuade her to fund his travel – as long as we could get a guarantee that he was travelling away. Beyond that, her only incentive is whatever money she’d save by ending this quickly and not paying my fees for the rest of the day. Give me some reasonable numbers, and I’ll go talk with her.”

Robin shrugged and stepped closer, making sure no one could overhear us. “Look, his fees are adding up. I don’t have the kind of staff you probably have now at H.E.A., I’ve put four or five hours into this and if I don’t get at least that for him, I might as well feed myself to the worms. If you can get him a couple of hundred more than that, he’ll be happy, the partners will be happy, and I will owe you a favour.”

This time I managed to keep from showing my glee. I gave Robin a serious but pensive nod, and told him I’d see what my client could offer. I think I managed to keep the sedate walk in place until the front doors closed behind me. Then it was all I could do to keep claws to ground rather than floating off into the sky. After all, I knew how much my client was willing to pay to get Flash to go away and leave her alone. And it was a heck of a lot more than the seven or eight hundred Robin was asking.

Spring Mulch met me in the grassed area just outside the court. She could tell that things were going well, but when I took pen and parchment and started drafting, out loud, a settlement agreement giving her everything she had wanted, she started to cry. At first I was shocked and worried, and then I understood she was just overwhelmingly pleased.

Humanoids. We dragons can only feel sorry for them. They have so few ways of expressing themselves that they use tears for diametrically opposed emotions. Dragons only cry when we’re sad. If we’re overjoyed we laugh, or sing, or dance, or fly – sometimes we even do them all at the same time. ‘It’s better than fireworks!” is the unanimous opinion of those who have seen a dragon that happy.

Once we got all the emotional stuff sorted out, Spring agreed to a settlement offer that would have Flash leaving this Realm and moving to one of the more derivative dimensions. It was the Realm where Tumnus & Associates originated, and she would give him a letter of recommendation for his book keeping skills. She’d also give him a flat thousand, which should be enough to pay his legal bills, transport, and setting up a new home.

I took the offer back to Robin, explaining her generosity as partly her wanting Flash well and truly gone, and partly my figuring that if Robin was going to owe me, he really ought to owe me a big favour not a small one. Robin came back with Flash’s signature, and Flash himself looking somewhat stunned, rather as though he’d been slapped by a dragon tail. I guess he must not have had all that much faith in Robin, if he was so surprised by a good outcome.

Between getting the agreement entered and signed by the Judge, getting rid of my client, stopping to make sure that Matt Baker knew the first batch was successful and the next cookies eagerly awaited, and dropping off the final Order with Ever’s assistant so that he’d know I’d won his case, it was twilight by the time I made it out to soar the thermals.