Jeff overheard me telling Keir my thoughts on the subject one night and said his girlfriend was a sprite with an upbeat personality and also an expert in PC applications. I’d asked if she was looking for a job, and he said he thought she’d be over the moon about such an opportunity.
He was right. She was perfect.
“I’ll go first,” Lochlan continued as if I wasn’t having an internal meltdown. “Keir will come after. You already know where to sit. If anything comes up that we didn’t anticipate, just turn aside and ask me.”
With a nod, I said, “Got it.”
Intellectually I knew there was no reason to be overanxious. Why? Because Esme told me everything was going to be fine, and I’d learned to believe her when she makes definitive pronouncements. Now if I could only get my nervous system to trust Esmerelda with the same conviction as my mind.
I let out a long slow breath then began putting one foot in front of the other. If being alive for almost half a century had taught me anything, it was that. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. “There will be a bottle of water out there?” I asked Lochlan for the eighth time.
“Bottles of room temperature water are within our reach, lined up like little plastic soldiers,” he said.
“Lochlan. This is not the time to try to be funny. What do I do when I need to visit the ladies’?”
Lochlan assumed that confused look the fae get whenever I’ve thrown one of them for a loop.
“She means how does she signal that she needs a visit to the toilet?” Keir supplied.
“Oh.” Lochlan had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Just turn to me and signal that you want a recess.”
Recess. It was my favorite thing in elementary school. It might be my favorite thing as a magistrate as well.
“Okay.” For a moment I thought I was out of reasons to stall, but fortune was with me even if bravery wasn’t.
“Wait!” I almost shouted, realizing I’d forgotten the most important thing. I dashed for the navy blue velvet box in my oversized bag and pulled out the medallion I’d gotten from the Silver Braid before the dwarf master smith, Bradesford Skeech, passed on. I squeezed the intricately formed wolf’s head in my hand for a few seconds before draping the chain of state over my shoulder.
As I adjusted the chain, the calm of supreme confidence settled over me. I said a silent, “thank you,” to Brad.
I had no way of knowing the beautiful jewelry had such profound magical powers, but I was grateful beyond measure. When I graced Keir with a big smile, he said, “What just happened?”
“Brad.” No time for lengthy explanations.
Turning to Lochlan, high beam smile still in place, I said, “Show time!”
Lochlan’s good-natured chuckle was even more comforting than usual. Being sandwiched between two fae officers of the court, who’d held their jobs for centuries, was further comfort. He stepped through the door and held it open.
“It can’t hurt to begin by making them wait for a couple of minutes.”
Keir nodded his approval. “Right. Send a message. Let them know in no uncertain terms who the most important person in the building is.”
I confess that I felt my ego swelling as I soaked that into my core, then vowed for the thousandth time to refrain from believing my own press. The magistrate’s office would not be well-served by a person who actually believed she was the ‘most important soul in the building’.
When I turned the corner so that the cathedral-sized courtroom came into view, I could see that it was packed. So much so that the most creative of engineers couldn’t have devised a way to get more people inside, unless they were given permission to rearrange the VIP seating enjoyed by high-ranking members of the seven fae monarchies in attendance. These roughly, though not precisely, corresponded to territories known in modern times as England and Wales together, Ireland, Scotland, Scandinavia, France, the Germanic Commonwealth, and Italy. My jurisdiction included Slavic regions, but since they weren’t named in any cases on the docket, they’d chosen to stay home.
A hefty, red-headed man in full kilt, plaid, and bonnet drew my attention when he pounded the floor with a walking stick as tall as himself and announced in a loud, clear tone, “All rise. Court is in session.”
I supposed that was the fae version of “Here come da judge.”
As we passed the Celt, Lochlan said, “Well, Hen, I see you’re wearing the warrior tartan today.”
“The mornin’ brought a feelin’ with it, lad. And MacLeods are always prepared.”
“Prepared for a fight, you mean.”
The big man shrugged to indicate that went without saying.
Hundreds of people getting to their feet all at once was noisy, but voices were absent from the sound. All attendees seemed to know that “all rise” meant get up and shut up. To my surprise. I half-expected a revolt in the form of, “You expect us to get to our feet for her? Seriously? Go get the real judge.” But no such protest was in evidence.
The faces turned toward me were openly curious, but not unfriendly so far as I could tell.
If I had to sum up my overall first impression of the crowd in one word, it would be easy. Costumes. They were colorful as Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras and fashionable to a fault; so long as you put the fashion in context of the era it represented. The long-lived fae clearly had individual preferences for clothing styles across the spectrum.
Togas, medieval robes, belle epoch hats and multi-layered dresses, psychedelic SoHo hotpants, ripped jeans and bandanas (thanks to a misunderstanding that the Guns N’ Roses signature look was cool and not poverty), and everything in between. It looked like a choose-your-fashion-moment themed party and I wondered if I was going to be able to focus on matters before me with such a spectacle assaulting my undiagnosed ADD.
My own style choices wouldn’t be up for the gossip mill because of the magistrate robes and thank goodness, because I was wearing my favorite running shoes underneath. The hem of the robe was just long enough to cover everything, but not drag on the floor. Brilliant design!
Today my priority was not fashion. It was calm and authority.
I once knew a tennis player who told me that half the game was about the cute outfit. She said, “Get the right clothes and you’ll feel like you can win.” I’ve since found that sentiment generalizes to just about everything in life. For instance, on this occasion, a pair of old, ratty-looking sneakers made me feel strong and steady.
Plus, it never hurts to know you can run if you need to.
I took my seat, which was as comfortable as if it had been custom designed for my tush, and pressed the wolf’s head medallion against my palm. My chair was on a riser, which put my head higher than every other person in the room and looked out over the room. My eyes were first drawn to Maeve, possibly because she was a familiar, if not entirely friendly, face. She was seated in the seat nearest the bench, in the first row of the Irish gallery with people who bore a striking family resemblance.
Lochlan’s writing surface was to my right, more or less an extension of my workspace, except that it was stepped down, on a lower dais. He stood and began speaking. “Now comes before the court, the Bureau of Behavioral Oversight versus Pais Alexilia of House Sforza.”