Three Visually Impaired Rodents

By the time Toby’s eyes started crossing with fatigue she was sure about three things. Despite her initial skepticism over representing diminutive visually impaired rodents, this was a case she would hate to lose. Despite the one or two loosely related precedent cases the Society had included in their materials, it likely was a case she would lose. And, despite all her reading, something was hovering just at the edges of her mind that might allow her to resolve the matter, but only if she could figure out what it was.

Mindful of the Brownie secreted in her packs, Toby took care to recap her research – in all its glorious futility – out loud as she patted her notes together, set out a plate of cookies, and staggered off towards the hotel’s disgustingly soft and uncomfortably coin-free bed. Her last thoughts of the night being that there was no point in having a secret weapon if it had no way to aim itself.

Toby awoke the next morning, bleary eyed, sore in spots where she was normally stiff, and stiff in spots where she was usually flexible. At least, she thought to herself, now she understood why humanoids were so fragile – never getting a proper night’s sleep from birth to death would do that to a body. Fortunately the hotel had a properly designed draconic cleansing room. The rough stone walls absorbed and radiated back the heat of her flames and after several long minutes basking in fire she felt almost dragon again.

Blue was awake and sitting in the dining room reading and keeping an eye on the mice who were investigating the breakfast table. Toby noticed that they carefully confined their sniffing and nibbling to bits of bread, nuts and cheese that Blue had set aside on a separate plate. She made a mental note that these were obviously smarter mice than most, nodded to Blue and carried on through to the conference room.

The Brownie had done its usual magic, further sorting and colour coding the assembled documents. Not everything had been put away, and Toby hastened to the table to examine the information the Brownie had thought significant for her to review. She recognized one small stack of papers as several of the cases the Society had brought to her attention, but could not figure out what the Brownie thought those cases had in common. The remaining materials included a few pages of Toby’s notes from her first year of law school, and a small brochure on the founding of the local legal system.

The notes looked vaguely familiar – she could recognize spots where her writing had changed as she drifted off to sleep in the lecture hall. There were stretches of indecipherable scrawl in almost all of Toby’s school notes, few classes had been consistently interesting, but the contracts class these notes were taken from had been more soporific than most. She browsed through the notes, puzzled that they did not seem to be about actual contracts, but more about the formation of some of the early modern legal systems on the original plane. Most of the ideas were familiar, although the word “compurgation” gave her a moment’s pause, until she remembered that it meant judging a case on the basis of which party had the most friends. Or, at least, which party could bring the most friends to court to testify as to the party’s probity.

The notes reminded Toby of one of the more embarrassing incidents of her law school career. She had been happily drowsing off in that contracts class while the professor droned on about how originally trials were ordeals by fire – literally, as in if you can carry this red hot iron bar twenty paces we'll know god supports your side – or by combat. Trial by combat was originally somewhat defensible – few would risk their own lives when they believed they were in the wrong. Then fighters for hire stepped in as a surrogates and trials were won based on who could afford to hire the strongest mercenary. The professor had puffed himself up and waffled that those brave fighters were, in effect, the ancestral lawyers from whom the profession had built... Here Toby had half woken from her nap, muttered loudly, “Hah. Princes and champions... lunchmeat I call them!” and then started snoring softly. Her fellow student’s laughter woke her, and the professor’s apoplectic glare told her she’d be caught.

Toby cringed slightly at the memories, then stiffened her spines and read through the brochure. It seemed quite useful, nicely explaining the workings of the lower court she would be attending the next day, but the suspicion that she was missing something suddenly grew stronger. Lower court... that was it. The brochure did not mention any court of appeal. She flipped back through the cases the Brownie had left out. They were all cases where the outcome had been very much in doubt, and on the back page of each she had noted – check for an appeal...

Twisting her head back over her shoulders, Toby peered into the breakfast room behind her. Blue was still there, appearing to be chatting with the mice. Toby momentarily weighed the discourtesy of interrupting her clients against the need to win their case, and asked, “Blue, do you know much about the local court system? I know they’ve adopted the Code, but how far have they taken it?”

“I don’t know, Toby. Sorry, but the Society hired me to help with the clients – I know how to talk to mice, not how to wrangle local law.”

“Do you know, or can you find out, whether there’s a university nearby? I need to buy the services of a local law professor, or maybe a historian, but it would probably be best if they did not know who I am – or what I am – until after they have agreed to a 48 hour contract that includes no communication with anyone other than us for that period. Can you arrange that?”

Blue thought a moment before replying, “I guess so, the Society has entrusted me with a fairly large line of credit for this case. I expect it will be enough. But what should I say if anyone asks about you?”

“Tell them that you don’t know much about me. Tell them that I seem old – probably close to 300 years. Tell them that the trip to this plane took a lot out of me, and that I said I don’t sleep well on beds other than my own. Tell them that I don’t feel ready to leave the hotel. That’s all true, and it is best to stick to the truth. Just, whatever you do, do not mention my surname or tell them that I’m a dragon.”

“Are you sure, Toby? I’ve worked with lawyers before, and usually they want to have their reputations and toughness puffed up, not understated.”

“Most of the time that makes, sense. This time, I’m hoping against hope that I can be more effective if no one knows who, or what, I am before I get to court.”

“Well, I suppose you are the expert strategist. Just let me take the mice back to their nest and I’ll go and see who I can find.”

* * *

Toby munched her way through the substantial breakfast that she’d not been able to contemplate while wondering about the Brownie’s findings. Speaking to the concierge about ensuring that a sampler of fresh cookies from the best local bakeries would be sent to the room each evening took another few minutes. Contacting the nearest bank and ordering as much coin as they could spare took a bit longer, but it too was done before Blue returned.

The plane had not advanced to the point of having entertainment supplied in the rooms, and Toby briefly missed not being able to find some soothing moving picture to occupy her mind. Then she remembered the book Blue had been reading, and picked it up. The book itself did not look interesting, but it had the hotel’s name stamped liberally over the pages, and a phone number that one could call to order more. It occurred to her that if her plans came to fruition, it might be a good idea to know something about local heroes – or at least archetypes – and besides with a bit of luck the hotel staff could suggest something absorbing enough to take her mind off waiting.

* * *

The room was shading into the grey of dusk, when rasp of the key turning in the lock dragged Toby out of the book she had been reading. She swiftly tucked it – garish cover to the wall – on a top shelf of one of the cases well beyond Blue’s reach. Stretching, she started lighting lamps to ensure that the humans would be able to see. It was always a good question for a long night’s discussion whether humanoids were more likely to be frightened by dragons they could see or dragons lurking in shadow. Hoping that an academic would be driven by curiosity more than fear, Toby decided to err on the side of excessive brightness rather than insufficient light.

By the time Blue and the older human male that accompanied her entered the main room, Toby was artfully arranged in the mode of a superior greeting one that is only slightly inferior, and is capable of doing a substantial favour. She did not believe the academic was likely to recognize the form, but it pleased her to know that in this, at least, she was being fully proper.

Blue had briefed the academic well. He understood that he would be staying for another day or so, accommodation, food and drink provided. He understood that he would not be allowed to speak with anyone outside the room for that period – and now that he had met Her Eminent Dragoness he even understood why, or at least had an inkling in that direction. He also understood that She wished to ask him questions, and he wished to get the asking and answering over as quickly as possible, for, like any other academic, the idea of free food and alcohol was almost as enticing as the royal salary deposited by Her associate into his bank on their way here.

Toby relaxed into a more comfortable position, and gestured the academic to a nearby chair. Blue, she welcomed to stay or go as she pleased – warning her that the discussion was likely to be highly technical and potentially boring to one not versed in the law. Blue thanked her, and settled unobtrusively into a corner.

After a few questions about the academic’s background and specialization, Toby asked the question she had wanted answered from the beginning, “How have you adopted the Code, without adopting the provisions for appealing decisions made by the courts of first instance? What happens when one party is unhappy with a decision? Do you go back to your old laws?”

The visions of fine brandy dancing in his mind did not detract the academic from formulating his answers according to the proper length, depth and obscurity appropriate for one of his reputation. Later, when the academic had retired to his own rooms with a large and sloshy sounding cart from room service, Toby explained the short version to Blue. “They’ve been moving away from more primitive methods of trial and adopting the Code one bit at a time as seems reasonable. And reasonable in this realm seems anything but reasonable to me. At some point they decided that it made sense to have the full Code in use, but since they did not have an appeal system, they didn’t see any need to develop one in accordance to the Code. Fortunately for me, I’m not the first one to find the omission annoying. Twice in their history so far, a losing party has demanded the right to appeal a decision – both times, that party won at the appeal. Although the second time, the win was rather a technicality since the winner died later that night of injuries from the battle.”

“So you’re going to fight the other lawyer?” Blue asked, confused.

“Well, I haven’t quite decided that yet. It depends on what strategy seems best once I get to court. But at least now I know it’s a possibility. My favourite teacher used to say that it was always best to keep one’s options open, especially in court matters where she with the most options usually has a winning fallback position.”

Blue shook her head, “Better you than me, the parents could never decide whether I should become a lawyer or marry one. I am so glad I decided on ‘none of the above’ and kept the ring that lets me speak with animals. Being a translator is sometimes peculiar, but at least it rarely requires me to be devious, and it’s never particularly dangerous. Sorry, Toby, nothing personal but I have had quite a long day, and I really should explain things to the mice. I hope you don’t mind if I follow the academic’s lead and take a tray to my room?”

“Not at all. Give the little ones my regards.”

Humming to herself, Toby wandered back into the meeting room. There were a couple more notes she needed to make before sleeping – and maybe a few bits of evidence she should review – but unlike the previous night, she felt a warm certainty that one way or another the mice, and all the other animals held by the Company, would find justice done.

* * *

A rumbling martial tune – the one that she had been humming the previous night – woke Toby the next morning. It took her a few moments to figure out the source of the music. She had been singing in her sleep. She stopped herself with an effort, and began to get ready for the day in court. Despite her best intentions, bits of music dogged her from bed – not a proper hoard, but far more comfy with the piled coins she had acquired – to cleansing room, through breakfast, and into her robes.

The feel of the heavy cloth robes dispelled her hum. All of a sudden the number of things that might go wrong started circling her confidence, nipping off peace of mind like a pack of feral dogs worrying a flock of sheep. Toby breathed deeply – restraining her flame – and thinking about the evidence the Society had compiled of atrocities being committed by the Company. Hundreds and thousands of little lives depended on her today, and in that there was a core of – if not exactly strength, then stubborn resistance to defeat.

It was in that mood of stubborn resistance that Toby took the pile of neatly packed briefs and strode to the rainy balcony. Blue and the mice had already left – concentrating her sight, Toby could see Blue making her way towards the court house. Toby calculated wind, time, trajectory and ... leaped, cupping air in her wings for a few heart beats before tilting into a dive that would land her – without any annoying or ungainly momentum – on the court steps a half second before her clients arrived.

Several humanoids shrieked as she landed – one or two even dropping their papers or throwing themselves to the rain swept ground. It was a gratifying reception, and Toby fought to stifle the hope that opposing counsel was one of those picking soggy papers from the ground. Not that she wished he wasn’t, but it was the sort of hope that could rebound against her were it not true.

Bowing to Blue, Toby gestured her towards the doors. They were a tight squeeze for Toby, built, no doubt, to the standard minus 10%. Planes that rarely encountered extra-planar visitors often tried to skimp or save money by undercutting the inter-species building standards. It worked until a creature that was tired of the annoyances sued, then the money involved in damages plus the cost of bringing all buildings up to standard, far exceeded the original savings. Toby had more important legal issues in mind than a personal suit, yet she noted the squeeze – and the ceilings that weren’t quite high enough – and understood that they were a message that this culture had not yet learned to think of the long term.

Court proceedings had a pleasant similarity on planes the followed the Code. The coats of arms on the walls changed, the colours of uniforms of bailiffs changed, but judges were still visibly judges, and parties sat – plaintiff right, defendant left – in positions fossilized by eons of custom. Blue placed a small tray covered with shavings on the table and set the three mice there to watch the proceedings in comfort. Toby spread her notes where she could reach them easily and sat to await the arrival of opposing counsel. It surprised her, somewhat, that he would be running late. Although she knew that some deemed it a proper power play, to her, tardiness in court was never more than merely a silly gesture of disrespect to the judge.

The court clerks had just issued a second call for counsel for the Company, when he arrived in court. By his somewhat dishevelled look, Toby guessed that he had, in fact, been one of those discomfited by her arrival. He was accompanied by a small retinue – presumably members of the management or board of the Company. All but one split off to take seats on the left side of the court room. That last one... so physically immaculate she appeared to have been lacquered... took her seat next to her lawyer at the front of the court. Toby would have thought that immense propriety next to rumpled and stained would somehow exacerbate the bedraggled look. Instead, however, the lacquer just spread and somehow, suddenly, each wrinkle and spot seemed placed exactly to imply the highest fashion taste.

The familiar call tore Toby from her sartorial perplexity, “All rise! This Court is now in session, the Honourable Justice Hortus presiding – today’s matter: Three Visually Impaired Mice v. Farmer’s Wife Incorporated. Speak, and you will be heard.”

Toby doubted that Justice Hortus was old enough to know proper protocol, but she didn’t let that stop her from performing the deep obeisance of counsel, junior grade, to judge, honourable. She finished with a new flourish – something she’d been practising for just such a moment – a half-second burst of flame that she released then inhaled again before it could reach the ceiling “catching it” with an audible snap of her teeth. Opposing counsel either didn’t know about dragon’s excellent peripheral vision, or didn’t care if she saw him flinching. Only a quick elbow from his client kept him from ducking under the counsel table.

Smiling slightly, Toby began to outline the points she intended to make and the witnesses and evidence she intended to introduce. Within minutes she began to relax. This was what she had trained for, and that training was finally paying off. The Society had well prepared her witnesses, and Blue, as an interpreter, was unflappable even in cross examination. She had no idea how the Society had managed to procure the photographs from inside the Company, but they added a touch of realistic horror that left even the Judge looking slightly green. Toby hoped it was a good sign that Justice Hortus took her time in restoring order when the general public started tossing catcalls and spit balls at the Company flacks.

By the time Toby was finished she was exhausted. Only the fact that her clients, and a significant number of Society brass, were there watching kept her from resting her head on the counsel table for a quick nap. One of the mice – she thought it was young Iyk – took the opportunity to run up Toby’s leg and along her neck to give her a whiskery kiss on the ear. Toby blushed beneath her scales. The blush only worsened when Blue leaned over and said, Ike and Eke say “Good job!” too.

Toby was about to remind them that she hadn’t won yet, when the rumpled counsel began to speak. Opposing counsel might not be much to look at, but his voice was mesmerizing. He alternated between base rumbles and rich baritone exhortations, his client’s name falling from his lips with a warmth usually reserved for babies or long lost lovers. Toby found herself having a hard time following and noting opposing counsel’s arguments, until she realized that, in fact, he was not really arguing. She had read his submissions to court, and recognized phrases from them, the rest of his speech appeared to be a layering of emotional phrases linking and swaddling his points in a manner that left them unassailable without simultaneously calling into question all that was good in society.

Within ten or fifteen minutes, Toby knew she had lost the case. Even hardened Society members were nodding along with their opponent, and the Judge was closely following his cues: alternately smiling and sniffing back tears of sympathy. Thanking her dragon ancestors for the ability to more or less close her ears, Toby daydreamed contentedly about Plan B.

As she had expected, opposing counsel wrapped his submissions just before four. Perfect to pack in the maximum persuasion, and leave just enough time for the judge to render a verdict that day. After all, allowing the Court to sleep on the matter might also allow His Honour to realize that he had been manipulated. The Judge did not even recess before announcing his decision: Of course the case was dismissed, all charges were patently untrue and merely vexatious harassment. The plaintiff’s would pay all costs, on a full indemnity basis, and at that they were lucky that he was not adding a sizeable fine for their slanderous accusations against such an upstanding corporate citizen as the Farmer’s Wife Inc.

As Justice Hortus finished, Toby stood, spines erect and scales slightly elevated. The moment of silence following the decision lengthened as people absorbed this new vision of the amount of space a dragon could occupy when it truly wanted to look impressive. In the silence Toby turned and walked five slow, heavy paces towards the defendant’s table. The silence became more absolute, Toby suspected that even the mice had stopped breathing. Reminding herself that at least her clients had a choice about breathing – unlike those murdered by the defendant – Toby stifled any anxious desires to giggle, or bounce, shout “boo!”, and see if defence counsel wet his robes. Moving with all the careful deliberation of a glacier, Toby took a red parchment scroll from beneath a scale and placed it in front of the Farmer’s Wife. The Judge’s quick intake of breath indicated that at least one person other than Toby recognized the form.

Speaking before anyone else could start asking questions, and knowing that her best court voice could not rival her opponent’s, Toby stated flatly, “I hereby serve you with Notice of Appeal. As per the Custom of this Plane, established 879 years ago by Demiurge Perrault L’Oye, minimum required notice is one hour. As representative for the Appellant, I choose to give exactly one hour’s notice, and expect to meet you on a field of your choosing at that time. Should you be unaware of the forms, Respondent chooses place, and both parties submit their choice of weapon to a Judge present at the field. That Judge selects the weapon to be used. At any time, either party can opt to use their own natural weapons as a default. As this case has included the possibility of a finding of capital crime, the Appeal will, of course, need to be argued to the death.”

Instant pandemonium broke across the court room. Toby returned to her table, and dropped a loose coil of tail around Blue to remind the crowd that the interpreter was under Toby’s protection. She could see Judge Hortus pounding his gavel, and waving to the bailiff to bring reinforcements, but the noise of the audience drowned out his frenzied hammering. Finally a mixed group of bailiffs, police, and burly court clerks managed to restore order by dragging everyone but the parties and their counsel from the court room and barring the door.

The short break had allowed Justice Hortus to re-consider his enthusiasm for the Farmer’s Wife, and he called the Court back to session as soon as he could be heard. “Counsel, just so that you are both clear on how this matter will proceed on Appeal, I will strongly suggest that counsel for the Farmer’s Wife select the location of the Appeal now. Perhaps the Winter Garden would be suitable. At least it is walled, so that there is less likelihood that your contest will damage anyone but yourselves.”

He paused, looking inquiringly at the rumpled man. The silence stretched, until finally the Farmer’s Wife nodded, and her lawyer – dulcet tones in abeyance – squeaked, “Yes, if it please your Honour.”

“It does,” Justice Hortus answered, “furthermore, I will ensure that one of my brother judges is present to certify the selection of weapons. You are each allowed one second, present in an observational capacity only. Since Counsel for the Three Visually Impaired Mice seems to have neglected to file a preliminary warning with the Court, as per the Custom of this Plane, established 731 years ago by Demiurge Tenniel L’Oye, the Respondent in this matter is permitted to bring a second champion to the field so that if present Counsel fails in his argument, this Court can be certain that all proper opinions are expressed, and the final result is truly the will of the gods. Due to the recent disturbance, and without prejudice to either of your arguments, I hereby declare the hour of notice to begin as soon as Court is dismissed.” Nodding to the bailiff, the Judge stood to leave the room.

“All Rise! This Court is now dismissed.” The bailiff paused for a moment, then added, “Gentlebeings, should you wish to avoid the crowds out front, there is a rear exit. Just give His Honour another minute to grab an elevator, and you’re welcome to come this way.”

Toby and Blue waited while the Wife and her lackey hustled out, then Toby asked the bailiff whether there was any way she might be permitted access to the splendid balcony she had seen on her way to the court. Moments later she was aloft, Blue clinging tightly to her back.

Asking Blue to identify the Winter Garden, Toby flew over and around it, judging the space, planning her approach, and estimating the flight time from the hotel.