Authors: Ilona Andrews
Bayou Moon (25 page)
“It appears the Sheeriles obtained a Weird lawyer,” Richard said. “Bringing out the big guns.”
“Where the heck is our lawyer?” Cerise grimaced.
“I told him the time,” Richard said. “Twice.”
A small door on the side swung open. A huge bald man shouldered his way into the courtroom, planted himself to the right of the judge’s desk, and crossed his arms, making his carved biceps bulge. His face broadcast “Don’t screw with me” loud and clear. All that was missing was a big tattoo across his chest that said BACK OFF.
A bodyguard. William took his measure. Big. Probably very strong but not young, approaching middle age. With that kind of man, you’d have to keep your distance. He’d break bones with one lucky punch. William scrutinized the legs. If he had to get past him, he’d go for the knees. All of that muscle made for a lot of weight to drag around. His knees were probably shot, and he wouldn’t react fast enough to block.
“That’s Clyde, our bailiff.” Grandmother Az wiggled her fingers at the giant.
Clyde winked at her without breaking his scowl and looked straight ahead.
A large beast trotted through the side door. At least thirty-five inches at the shoulder, shaggy with greenish fur sprayed with brown rosettes, it resembled a lynx. The beast sauntered over and lay at Clyde’s feet, surveying the crowd with yellow eyes.
Great. A green cat. Why the hell not? This place came in two colors: green and brown, and the beast had both.
“That’s Clyde’s pet bobcat, Chuckles,” Grandmother Az said helpfully. “Clyde, Chuckles, and Judge Dobe. Three peas in a pod.”
A man dropped into the chair next to Cerise and grinned, black eyes slightly wild. Lean, quick, with the sure movements of a born thief, he wore a mud-splattered shirt over mud-smeared jeans. His brown hair fell on his shoulders, and a two-day stubble stained his chin. A silver hoop earring shone in his left ear. He looked like he’d spent the night in lockup after a drunken binge and was up to no good. “Did I miss anything?”
“Kaldar,” Cerise reached over and poked him with her fingers. “You’re late.”
“Couldn’t you have cleaned up for the court?” Richard growled.
“What wrong with the way I look?”
Grandmother Az slapped him on the back of his shaggy head.
“Ow! Hello, Meemaw.”
“Did you bring the map?” Richard asked.
Kaldar’s face turned panicky. He patted himself down, reached under Cerise’s hair, and pulled a folded paper free. “I knew I put it somewhere.”
Richard looked like a man who’d bitten into a lemon. “This isn’t a circus.”
“Look around you,” Kaldar said.
“A circus has more elephants,” William told him. He’d gone to the P.T. Barnum show once in the Broken, and his scent had scared an elephant half to death. For all their size, they were hysterical creatures.
Kaldar squinted at him. “Who are you?”
“His name is William. He’s my guest and the reason Urow is still breathing,” Cerise said.
Kaldar glanced at her, then back at William. He had sharp eyes, almost black, and William felt like the man had just sighted him through the scope of a rifle. Clown act or no, Kaldar would try to slit his throat if he stepped an inch out of line.
“Try” was the key word.
A hint of a knowing smile passed across Kaldar’s lips, as if he had figured out some secret, and then his face split in a happy grin. “Welcome to the family.”
“Are you her brother?” William asked.
“Cousin.” Kaldar nodded at Richard. “I’m his brother.”
Richard looked at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me.”
“You and I are going to be friends,” Kaldar told him. William caught a hint of threat in his voice, but Kaldar’s face remained blissfully happy.
Clyde stepped forward, leveled a hard stare at the audience, and bellowed. “All rise!”
THIRTEEN
THE audience stood up in a shuffle. Somewhere in the back a thud announced a fallen chair and a woman cursed.
A middle-aged man scurried into the room. The billowing blue robe hung off his shoulders like a sheet drying on a clothesline. The face above the robe was brown, weather-edged, and sun-dried like a raisin. Two enormously wide eyebrows severed his face, like two fat, hairy caterpillars. His jaw moved as he walked to the seat, as if he were an old, decrepit bull chewing cud.
“The Angel County of the Edge District Court is now in session,” Clyde boomed. “Judge Dobe presiding. Be seated.”
Everybody sat.
Clyde stepped toward the judge. “Case number 1252, Mars versus Sheeriles.”
Judge Dobe reached under his desk, took out a small metal bucket, and hacked into it. “All right,” he said, sliding the bucket back in its place.
William wondered if Kaldar was right and this was a circus.
“Advocates, rise,” Clyde barked.
The blond woman stood up and so did Kaldar.
The judge’s massive eyebrows crept up. “Kaldar. Are you the one speaking for the plaintiff today?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Well, shit,” Dobe said. “I guess you’re familiar with the law. You hit it over the head, set its house on fire, and got its sister pregnant.”
A huge grin sparked on Kaldar’s face. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
The blonde cleared her throat. “With all due respect, Judge, this man isn’t qualified to serve as an advocate. He’s a convicted felon.”
Dobe’s gaze settled on the blond woman. “I don’t know you. Clyde, do you know her?”
“No, Judge.”
“There you have it. We don’t know you.”
“I’m here to represent the Sheerile family.” The blond advocate stepped forward, holding out a parchment. “I’m a practicing Jurist in New Avignon. Here are my credentials.”
“New Avignon is in the Weird,” Dobe said.
The blonde smiled. “I’ve made an extensive study of Edge law for this case, Judge.”
“What’s wrong with local talent that Lagar Sheerile has to go into the Weird to find himself an advocate?” Dobe squinted at the row of empty chairs. “Where is Lagar? And the rest of his kin?”
“He waived his right to appear,” the blonde said. “The Code of the county gives him that right in Statute 7, Section 3.”
“I know the Code,” Dobe told her. His eyes gained a dangerous glint. “I wrote half of it. So Lagar thinks he’s too good for my courtroom. Fine, fine. Kaldar, this Jurist over there says you aren’t qualified, because you’re a convicted felon. You got anything to say to that?”
“I’m a convicted felon in the Weird and in the Broken,” Kaldar said. “In the Edge I was only fined. Besides, the same statute also states that any Edger can serve as his own advocate. Since the matter concerns the communal property owned by the Mar family and I’m a member of that family, I contend that I’m representing myself and, therefore, may act as my own advocate.”
“Good enough.” Dobe waved his hand. “Proceed.”
Kaldar cleared his throat. “The Mar family owns a two-acre parcel named Sene, consisting of land and the Sene Manor house.”
Kaldar passed the maps to Clyde, who passed them to Dobe. Dobe squinted at them for a while and waved his hand again. “Proceed.”
“On the seventh of May, Cerise Mar, Erian Mar, and Mikita Mar traveled to the aforementioned manor house and found Lagar Sheerile, Peva Sheerile, Arig Sheerile, and several men in their employ on the premises. Cerise Mar voiced a polite and a nonviolent request that they get the hell off our land, which was refused.”
Dobe peered at Cerise. “And you let it go why?”
Cerise rose. “We’re a peaceful family, and we let the court handle our disputes.”
The spectators guffawed. Dobe cracked a smile. “Come again?”
“They had rifles and we had riders,” Cerise said.
Dobe’s silver-dusted eyebrows performed some sort of wiggling maneuver. “Noted. And why do you look like something an ervaurg stored for a lean day?”
“Tough day in the swamp, Your Honor.”
“Noted. Sit your behind down.”
Cerise sat.
Dobe glanced at Kaldar. “So what do you want from the court today?”
“We want the Sheeriles off our property.”
“Fine.” He looked at the blonde. “Your turn. Just to be fair, I’ll bring you up to speed. I run a clean hearing, no long speeches. Don’t quote me precedent, argue from the law. I don’t give a pig’s ear for precedent—they let any idiot be a judge nowadays.”
The blonde muttered, “No kidding,” under her breath.
Chuckles raised his head and hissed. His yellow eyes locked on the blonde. William smiled to himself. He’d seen that intense look before. He wore it from time to time. If he could crack the big cat’s skull and search it, he would come up with one clear thought:
How fast can you run?
How fast can you run?
“You said something?” Dobe asked.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Good, then. Proceed.”
The blonde’s lips stretched in a flat smile. “The property in question was legally sold to the Sheerile family by Gustave Mar. Here is the Deed of Sale and the Deed of Ownership to the Sene Manor and the land attached to that dwelling.”
She held up two papers. Clyde ambled over, took them to Dobe. Dobe squinted at them and waved the papers at Kaldar. “Looks good to me. And I don’t suppose Gustave is around to dispute it since his daughter is sitting at the table.”
“We haven’t seen him since that morning,” Kaldar said. “But we’ll find him.”
“That’s fine and dandy, but meanwhile we have these deeds here. You got anything to say about this?”
Kaldar looked down.
The room fell silent.
So that’s it? William wondered. This was how it ended. She’d risked the Hand and raced through the swamp for this?
“Well?” Dobe asked.
Kaldar’s dark head drooped. He rummaged through the tangle of his hair.
“Answer the court,” Clyde boomed.
Kaldar raised his head. “Your Honor, Gustave couldn’t have sold Sene.”
“And why is that?” Dobe asked.
“Because this parcel was purchased by the Dukedom of Louisiana from Angel Roost County twenty-seven years ago under the Exile Relocation Act. It was subsequently awarded to an exile, one Vernard Dubois, who then became related to the Mar family through the marriage of his daughter, Genevieve Dubois, to Gustave Mar. As such, Sene Manor and its land constitutes a nontransferable Senatorial grant. It can’t be sold, in whole or in part, only inherited by the exile’s offspring. Since both Vernard and his wife had passed away, and their offspring, Genevieve, is missing, the parcel rightfully belongs to her daughter Cerise Mar. Even if Gustave did sign those deeds, his signature has no power. He doesn’t own the parcel. Cerise does and she isn’t selling.”
Someone gasped.
Kaldar raised his arms, holding folded documents in a fan. “Copy of original Deed of Sale to Louisiana, signed and stamped. Copy of Senatorial Grant, with Genevieve listed as an heir. Copy of Gustave’s and Genevieve’s marriage certificate. Copy of Vernard Dubois’s and Vienna Dubois’s death certificates. Copy of Cerise Mar’s birth certificate.”
He bowed with a flourish and dumped the papers into Clyde’s hands.
Dobe scanned the papers and cackled. It was a gleeful snide kind of cackle, and as he laughed, his eyebrows bounced up and down. “Blondie, you’ve been buggered.”
The blonde advocate’s face twitched. “I want to examine the papers.”
“Examine all you want. I’m ready to rule. I love them when they’re that simple, don’t you, Clyde?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Cerise rose.
“The Sheerile family has one day to vacate the Sene parcel. If by the morning of the second day, they fail to do so, the Mar family can use whatever they’ve got to get their property back. If the Mars fail to handle the Sheeriles on their own, they may appeal to the Mire Militia for assistance. That’s it.”
Dobe picked up his robe and scurried off.
They had won the right to attack the Sheeriles, William realized. Now there would be a bloodbath.
“Show-off.” Cerise slumped onto her chair. He read exhaustion in the curve of her spine.
“Oh, everyone enjoyed it. Let me have my fun.” Kaldar patted her shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”
“Just really tired,” she said. “It’s been a while since I slept. Or ate.”
“We should go home,” Richard said.
“Yes.” Cerise rose and immediately dropped back into her chair. “Emel.”
A man in a long crimson robe was making his way to them from the back of the room. He was dark-haired and very lean, and looked a bit like Richard, if you took Richard’s face and stretched it a couple of inches. William riffed through his memory. Emel, her cousin, the necromancer who supposedly would eat a hole in her head over the fish on legs.
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