Random Fragments 05

Really Random Fragments 05 & 06

Several months passed before Toby discovered the side effects of her new medication. The university’s surroundings were, if anything, more staid and hidebound than the university itself. Toby had been surprised to discover that unlike most cities that celebrate important moments in their own history, or noteworthy people who chose to dwell within their confines, Zerotown’s most exciting annual festivals celebrated water freezing and the town-wide eruption of the first dandelions of spring. Most of the inhabitants considered talking about the weather to be the height of conversational bliss, the result of which is that Toby did not go out very often. Not going out meant not flying, and not flying meant not discovering that the pills affected her flight abilities.
Of course, the first time she booked out for a holiday, she found herself flying with all the grace and agility of cow launched by a catapult. It took her several embarrassing attempts, over the course of several days, before she figured out that stopping medication twenty-four hours before flying was a good idea.
Sacrificing flight for good grades made ample sense to her while she was at the university of zero. Thanks to tunnels and walkways built for the water-freeze times, he could, after all, walk from her dorm room to her classes to the refectory without even stepping outside. Flying was unnecessary. And, if she thought she might do well enough on her annual final exams to warrant an aerial celebration, she could always stop taking the meds between her last exam and the announcement of the marks.
Unfortunately the balance switched back when she was in Uber Celestia. Foregoing flight would be far too big a sacrifice to exchange for mere concentration. Toby had to resign herself to never being quite on top of her work load. It was a reasonable sacrifice for being able to spend a part of every day in the air.
***
With meds sorted out, school became much less traumatic ... for Toby. For the rest of the school she became the unpredictable one. Often happy to quietly take notes at the back of class, Toby would go unnoticed until something, somewhere, would create a perfect opening for yanking a low level card from a playing card castle of theory, causing the large sections of the entire structure to crumple.
Toby’s favourite incident involved a series of property cases in which the High Court kept on reversing its judgement despite identical fact situations. The Professor had asked whether anyone could explain this, and Toby had caught her eye and solemnly mimed tossing a coin and checking it for heads or tails. The other students never knew why that lecturer suddenly broke into giggles and had to excuse the class early.
Unfortunately even "less traumatic" is not quite the same as enjoyable. Even during the worst end of term, stressed out with too much to do and not enough time to do it in, periods. Toby found some solace in friends who were suffering just as badly. Small breaks were all they could afford, but fifteen minutes with strong coffee and fruit crumble with ice cream at a nearby caf‚ was enough to refresh the mind for several hours more study. Even five minutes hanging out on the top floor over the atrium comparing the hypothetical capacity of automatic weapons and dragon fire to reduce the school’s population of persnickety pedagogues and slimy students. The latter, of course, being defined as anyone that was getting better marks than Toby and her friends.
***
Toby thanked the Majordomo, who left, closing the door behind himself. Toby had stood when the Major domo knocked, but seeing her clients – and the unlikelihood of shaking hands – she coiled again behind her desk and took a moment to examine the four who wanted to become her next clients.
From what Blue had mentioned, she guessed that the leader must be Chauncey. He was grey and sturdy looking, a scar bifurcating one of his long ears, possibly a source for and interesting tale. His muzzle was whitening, and from the look in his eyes, she estimated that he was fairly old in donkey years, whatever that meant.
Mytchell, the protective one, was presumably the large dog that had positioned itself between Toby and its companions. Toby did not know al lot about dogs. She would happily have admitted not being able to reliably tell the difference between a beagle and a borzoi – as long as they both had four legs and tails. That said, she had seen dogs like Mytchell in fields watching or herding sheep, cows, and even on one market day, a farm wife’s seemingly excessive brood of children. Again a grizzled muzzle and certain depth of gaze betrayed Mytchell’s somewhat advanced age.
The last two, Tibbeth and Hepzibah, had not played big enough roles in Blue’s report for Toby to be sure which name attached to whom. Nor could she quite decide between describing the cat as portly or stately. Some word like that which would connote a larger than usual domestic feline that moved with a restrained power. Toby briefly admired the cat’s presence, she might want to practise moving a bit more like that herself. The bird – Toby thought it was some kind of chicken – held itself arrogantly as befitted an avian descendent of the First Ones – those who had created dragon kind.
"Greetings, and welcome to the offices of Happy, Ever & After. Tobermory After, potentially at your service. And the appointment says that you are Chauncey?" the donkey nodded, "Mytchell?" the dog bowed, "Tibbeth?" the cat flicked an ear, "Hepzibah?" the chicken bobbed it’s head. Toby pause, waiting to see which of the creatures would appoint itself speaker for the group, wondering whether they all had the ability to talk, or whether it was just one among them.
Clearly they had decided this prior to arriving, as there was no pause for decision making. Rather Chauncey took a step closer to Toby’s desk, and taped one hoof politely on the floor. Toby looked at him and nodded, raising an eyebrow and asking, "How may I be of service?"
Toby was somewhat taken aback when the donkey did not answer. She had thought that the whole point was that at least one of the animals thought it could speak for the lot. But if the donkey was their leader and he did not speak, then why had they declined Blue’s assistance.
Instead of speaking, however, the donkey looked around Toby’s office, and pointed at her certificates listing the day of her Call to the Bar of Uber Celestia. The donkey focussed on the certificate then at Toby, then back to the certificate, and back at Toby – this time with a quizzical look as if to ask "Are you really a lawyer?"
Toby answered, as though the question had been asked out loud. "Yes, I am Tobermory After, the Lawyer."
6:26
Chauncey made a circling motion with his head to indicate his companions, and Mytchell got up and went over to Chauncey, standing on his hind legs to neatly remove one of the bags hooked onto the donkey’s harness. Chauncey nodded at Mytchell who carried the bag over and dropped it on Toby’s desk. From the noise it made, Toby estimated the bag contained two thousand, seven hundred and fifty three gold pieces, six silver and three coppers.
"Well I’m a lawyer, and that looks like a retainer, you still need to tell me what you think I can do for you, and I need to explain some of the rules of the firm before we can call this an agreement."
Chauncey nodded, then gently nosed Mytchell and the cat. The two sat up and stared at Toby, then Mytchell stood, and suddenly looked every year of his age, plus several. His back swayed, his hips cocked, and he gave Toby an open mouthed blank eyed look that – had Toby not seen him earlier – would have convinced her that he was on the very edge of death. The cat then went to it’s, no his, hind legs, walked over to Mytchell, patted him twice on the head with one paw, and mimed slitting his throat with the other. Mytchell, with consummate artistry, played dead.
The image clicked, suddenly, in Toby’s mind. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re all fairly old for your species, and your ... um ... masters? owners? humans? thought it was time to kill you?"
All four beasts nodded.
"So you ran away?"
Four more nods.
"And now you figure your people have changed their minds and you’re looking for the way home?"
Chauncey, Mytchell and Tibbeth all laid their ears back – Chauncey shaking his head, and Tibbeth carefully miming burying the idea in his sandbox. Hepzibah added a derisive squawk to the general disapproval.
"Okay then, so tell me why you folk are here?"
Mytchell went to another of Chauncey’s bags, and after snuffling through it for a second or two, pulled out a rolled scroll, which he put on Toby’s desk, rolling it towards her.
Toby opened the scroll, carefully – just in case it was cursed – and read:
BASIC LAWS for the TALKING KINDS
Those with speech - the talking kinds - do not kill each other. Hunger is no excuse. Anger is no excuse.
Unless it is to prevent a greater harm, they do not cause each other harm.
They do not steal or damage each other’s property. They do not damage the commons, nor do they divert any part of the commons to their sole use.
They assist in maintaining their community and its resources for the common good.
They pay a living wage for work done, and a fair price for all goods, so that all may earn their sustenance.
They provide for and protect the young, and those others who cannot provide for and protect themselves.
They treat dumb creatures with respect. They do not cause them needless suffering. If they are carnivores, they kill their food quickly.
They do not interfere with another’s enjoyment, if that enjoyment does not contravene laws 1-7.
They jointly punish code-breakers who are found to be guilty in a Court of Law. They do not engage in blood feuds or other kinds of personal reprisals.
They do not change this Code except with the consent of two-thirds of those who would be most affected by the change.
***
She read the whole thing through – not because she needed to, she’d memorized it many years before, but to see whether this might be a version that tried to sneak in changes. It was not.
So she read it all again, trying to figure out why it disturbed her potential clients sufficiently for them to want to pay for legal assistance. Unfortunately, the second reading left her no further ahead in understanding than the first one did.
Before a she had a chance to ask, Hepzibah hopped up onto her desk and pecked angrily at the Title of the Code. Or, more precisely, Toby noted, at the words "TALKING KINDS".
Toby was not prone to precognition. As a matter of fact, there had not been anyone with any sort of reliable future sense in her family as far back as the family trees went. And since both her parents could trace their lineages all the way to the first stories of the dinosaurs, she was pretty sure that the family trees went as far as there was family. Yet whether she wanted to consider it precognition, or the burgeoning of some heretofore latent lawyer sense, Toby knew that this case could only mean one thing. Trouble.
***

Radom Fragments 06 Starts Here

***
Toby knew it was possible to challenge laws like the Code, but possible and advisable, or even easy, were all different things. An overhaul of the code to include all non-speaking animals would turn society on it's head. Not to mention making it exceedingly difficult for her to figure out what the heck she'd have for dinner.
But before she could start analysing the potential conflicts of interest – such as her interest in her dinner plate – she would have to figure out whether the clients really meant what she thought they meant. There was hope she was mistaken. After all she had worked for cats before – Maurice was in and out of their office frequently enough that they'd joked about installing a little revolving cat door – and from what she could tell not cat would endorse an idea that got between them and their playing with – and eating – dinner.
"Again, please do correct me if I'm wrong," and there was honest pleading in her tone, "but what you want the firm to do is challenge the main legal code forcing it to be changed so that all birds and beasts are protected?"
Chauncey and Hepzibah looked momentarily interested, but Mytchell and Tibbeth both laid ears back and growled at the thought. Tibbeth decided to take matters into his own claws, and leaped onto the desk, shouldering Hepzibah gently out of his way. Checking to see that he was properly the centre of attention – and slapping Toby's nose when he discovered she was still watching Hepzibah, who had fluttered to the ground and was wandering around apparently looking for a suitable perch – Tibbeth tapped the word "TALKING" with one paw and said "Mrarow, Naow, Pffft." Then he looked at Toby, looked at the document, and, sitting back on his haunches, struck a thinker's pose – one forearm crossed, the other paw under his chin, head slightly angled, and the unfocused stare of one deep in contemplation. He held the pose of a few moments, then returning to all fours, extended one fore claw, and carefully drew an "X" through the word "Talking".
Toby extended one of her own fore claws – a talon longer than Tibbeth's magnificent tail – and tapped the copy of the Code. "You don't want to change the whole code, then. Just the word 'talking', you want it to be 'thinking' instead?"
Three sets of ears flicked forward, Mytchell gave Toby a relaxed jaw doggy grin, and Tibbeth added ten seconds of rumbling basso profundo purr.
"Ah, so then the reason you did not wish to have Ms. Blue translating for you is that you have a problem with the whole 'talking' concept, right?"
Another grin, another short purr.
"You do realize that the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Sentient Non-Dominant Species would likely be interested in your case, and that they would pay your legal fees. This is the sort of case that has the potential to have considerable ramifications – I will need to talk to the partners before Happy, Ever & After will take it on, and then there would likely need to be consultations with a variety of legal scholars. The research costs alone ..."
Toby trailed off as Mytchell reached up and took another bag off Chauncey's harness, then dropped it on her desk. It clinked when it landed, then silence fell over the office. The silence continued for a full minute before Toby cleared her throat tentatively and asked, "Do you mind if I look at this one a bit more closely, I'm not quite sure I believe what I heard?"
Mytchell gave a couple of quick pants, a canine laugh, while Chauncey wickered a snickering sound.
Toby gingerly opened the sack and peered in. Another silence descended as Toby stared, lost in the contemplation of facets. Finally Hepzibah crowed, bringing Toby's attention back to the clients. And, yes, they were clients, now. Toby knew she would still have to consult with the senior partners, but any consultation backed by a sack full of gems of that quality would pretty much begin and end with "How high do we have to jump to get them?"
Grasping her professionalism firmly with all four sets of claws, Toby managed not to say "Wow!", but a certain amount of awe crept into her tone. "Right then. You're not concerned about funding. It's certainly your right to run your case as you wish. I'll bring your matter to the partners tomorrow morning – it's just pro-forma, I'm sure they'll agree that it is an important issue and high time that someone brought the law up to date. The Majordomo showed you where you'll be staying while you're with us? I'll just give you a receipt then, and start on the research so I can give the Partners a bit more context tomorrow morning."
She grabbed a receipt book from one drawer, and hazarded another peek into the bag of gems, just to make sure she'd seen them all, twice, at least... "Yes, yes, a receipt, I'd guess that the contents of the bag are worth, oh, approximately twenty-three million, eight hundred and seventy six thousand, five hundred and ..." another quick check "... seven platinum pieces, at the current exchange rates on Uber Celestia, Gnome Mountain and Uberwald. It would be a bit less in the Underdark, and a bit more, perhaps, on one of the mid-level technological worlds. Not counting the conversion fees, or appraisal fees, of course – that would set you back at least fifteen percent if you went to the open market, likely much more as you'd also need to travel to sell them all at best value..."
Chauncey coughed, and pawed the ground a couple of times. Looking up, Toby realized that both Mytchell and Tibbeth were yawning, and Hepzibah had put her head under her wing and was making delicate bird like snoring noises.
"Sorry, I tend to get a bit, enthused by the money markets, I know it's not everyone's cup of tea. How about I write the receipt for twenty-three million, eight hundred, and we don't try to figure the best exchange rate?"
The animals looked at each other, exchanging ear-twitches and shifts of body language that Toby didn't understand. Finally, Chauncey nodded.
Toby signed the receipt with a flourish, and was getting to her feet to usher her clients out when she saw Blue, still sitting, waiting for Toby.
Conscience warred with avarice. For a brief moment, Toby thought her head might explode, but she managed to channel the energy into an explosive sneeze – and channel the sneeze out the window behind her. As the echo faded back into the surrounding hills, Toby shook herself, took a deep breath and said, "There is one more matter before you leave, today. Chauncey, I believe you met my colleague, Ms. Blue? She has done extensive work with the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Sentient Non-Dominant Species, and has been a valued consultant on several of my cases."
Chauncey nodded, but his ears were back, and Toby could see the three others hackles (and feathers) rising.
"I do understand that you certainly have no need of Ms. Blue's services in communicating with counsel."
The ears started moving forward, while fur and feathers smoothened slightly.
"At the same time, however, you are hiring our firm because Happy, Ever and After are one of the best – if not the best – firms at successfully handling matters for non-human clients. If, in our strategy meetings, we decide that Ms. Blue can contribute to the chances of our succeeding on your behalf, then we will employ her services and expect you to accept that or find alternate counsel." Somewhere inside herself, Toby could hear generations of dragons crying at the idea that the gems – and their owners – might leave. Firmly squelching those voices, Toby took a deep breath and continued, "Furthermore, Happy, Ever and After are an equal employment firm. We hire sentients in all shapes, sizes, and guises. This only works because we fiercely police our non-harassment policy, and apply it to clients as well as staff, contractors, and suppliers. Please understand, we value your business, but it is important that you treat those you meet here as you yourselves would wish to be treated."
The animals looked at each other again, this time starting a much longer exchange of ear-twitches and posturing. Toby hoped that none of them could read dragon well enough to know that she wasn't leaning on the wall; the wall was holding her up. This time Mytchell nodded first. The others shook themselves, while he walked over to Blue, sat in front of her chair, and offered a picture perfect paw shake. Blue laughed, and said something to Mytchell that Toby couldn't quite hear.
Mytchell shook himself, then walked to the door and looked at Toby expectantly. Toby opened it, the dog stepped aside, and the animals left in the same order they had entered.
The door safely closed, Toby slid to the floor and, looking vaguely in Blue's direction, muttered softly "Oh, what gems!" before passing out.
***