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The of­fice be­hind him was tiny and square, most­ly tak­en up by a wood­en desk that looked old and well-​used; it had grooves and scratch­es here and there, and it just bare­ly left room for a cou­ple of chairs that were ug­ly and met­al. There were white spaces on the wall where some pic­tures or some­thing had once hung, and there was some sort of framed of­fi­cial doc­ument hang­ing promi­nent­ly above and be­hind his chair. I said, “You were rec­om­mend­ed to me by La­dy Ard­we­na. My name is Vladimir Tal­tos. I’m here on be­half of Aliera e’Kieron.”

“Oh. Come in, then.” He stepped out of my way. He looked at Loiosh and Rocza again. “In­ter­est­ing pets you have.”

“Thank him for me, Boss. I al­ways love hear­ing my pets com­pli­ment­ed.”

I ig­nored Loiosh and stepped in­side. “New of­fice for you?” I said.

He nod­ded. “Just re­cent­ly per­mit­ted in­to the House from an out­side of­fice.” Then he stopped halfway in­to his chair. “How did you know that?”

He sat be­hind the desk. I sat in one of the chairs. It was ug­ly, but at least it was un­com­fort­able. “Aliera,” I prompt­ed.

“La­dy Ard­we­na for Aliera e’Kieron,” he re­peat­ed. “That’s an in­ter­est­ing jux­ta­po­si­tion. But then, I think I’ve heard of you.”

I made a sort of noise that could mean any­thing and let him talk. All the ad­vo­cates I’ve ev­er met are per­fect­ly will­ing to talk from Home­day to North­port. The best of them are will­ing to lis­ten, too.

He nod­ded as if to some in­ner voice. “You have pa­per­work?”

“None,” I said.

“Oh. Are you reg­is­tered as a friend?”

“Yes, but not con­firmed.”

“Hm­mm,” he said. “She doesn’t want to see her friends, and doesn’t want an ad­vo­cate.”

“Well, you know Drag­onlords.”

“Not many, not well. I’ve nev­er had one as a client.”

“Drag­onlords think there are two ways to solve any prob­lem, and the first is killing some­body.”

He nod­ded. “The sec­ond?”

“Most of them nev­er need to come up with one.”

He fold­ed his arms and sat back. “Tough sit­ua­tion,” he said. “Do you have mon­ey?”

“Yes.”

He named a fig­ure that was a sub­stan­tial per­cent­age of what I used to charge to kill some­one. I bor­rowed his pen and ink and blot­ter and I wrote out a draft on my bank and passed it over. He stud­ied it care­ful­ly, blew on it, then set it aside and nod­ded.

“Where can you be reached?”

“Cas­tle Black.”

“I know the place,” he said. He steepled his fin­gers and stared at noth­ing for a bit. “Am I cor­rect that you don’t know why she re­fus­es an ad­vo­cate or to see any­one?”

“I can spec­ulate,” I said, “know­ing Aliera.”

“She’s out­raged, of­fend­ed, and more full of pride than her fa­ther was be­fore he de­stroyed the world?”

“Oh, you know her?”

“Heard of her, of course.”

“Drag­ons,” I said.

“In­deed.”

“Can you ex­plain the laws that ap­ply here?”

“There isn’t much to ex­plain. El­der Sor­cery is for­bid­den by Im­pe­ri­al Edict.”

“Yeah, what does that mean?”

“That it isn’t a Cod­ified Tra­di­tion. Cod­ified Tra­di­tions are more fun.”

“Fun?”

“For an ad­vo­cate. With a tra­di­tion­al, we can al­ways find in­ter­est­ing ways to rein­ter­pret the tra­di­tion, or find an his­tor­ical con­text for its cre­ation that has changed, or ques­tion how it was cod­ified. That sort of thing is al­ways fun. Me, I work most­ly with Edicts.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I don’t know. I fell in­to it, I sup­pose. It suits me, though. If I were a Drag­on, I’d say it was be­cause they’re more of a chal­lenge. In fact, I sup­pose what I en­joy isn’t the in­ter­pre­ta­tion of the law as much as es­tab­lish­ing and ar­gu­ing about the facts. Most of the law in­volves de­tail work and sub­tleties of in­ter­pre­ta­tion. Edicts are yes or no, did or didn’t.”

In this case: did, I thought. “That this was an Edict means what, ex­act­ly?”

“It means it was ex­plic­it­ly de­clared by an Em­per­or at some point. Like a Statute, on­ly with the force of the Em­pire be­hind it. That one in par­tic­ular is about as old as the Em­pire.”

“What does it mean for us? In a prac­ti­cal sense.”

“It means there’s no way to at­tack the law it­self; the on­ly ques­tions are: did she do it, and if so, how harsh should the sen­tence be.”

“Can’t get any­where on the in­ter­pre­ta­tion?”

“How can you when the Em­press can just con­sult the Orb and ask?”

“Oh, right. Death is the max­imum sen­tence?”

“Yes.”

“You have to ad­mit, Boss; it would be fun­ny if Aliera end­ed up on the Star be­fore you did.”

“Yeah, I’ll just laugh my­self sick over that one, Loiosh.”

“What is the min­imum?”

“The min­imum? I sup­pose the min­imum would be the Em­press say­ing, ‘Don’t do that any­more.’ ”

“I see. And what would you ex­pect?”

“No way to tell. The Em­press knows Aliera, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “If they’re friends, it will be hard­er for the Em­press to be le­nient.”

I nod­ded. Pol­itics.

He said, “It’s go­ing to be dif­fi­cult if I can’t get her co­op­er­ation, you know.”

“I know. I think I can get you her co­op­er­ation, if I can man­age to get in to see her.”

He brushed his hair back. “I might be able to man­age that.”

“I’m lis­ten­ing.”

“I’m not say­ing any­thing yet. Let me give it some thought.” I was good with that. He could do as much think­ing as he want­ed. His voice didn’t seem as odd af­ter you’d been lis­ten­ing to it for a while.

Af­ter a mo­ment, he said, as if to him­self, “Yes, that should work.”

“Hm­mm?”

“One op­tion is to pe­ti­tion, in your name, to have her de­clared in­com­pe­tent to man­age her af­fairs.”

I laughed. “Oh, she’ll love that!”

“No doubt.”

“I’ll tes­ti­fy, Boss. I’ve been say­ing for years—”

“Shut up.”

“Think they’ll go for it?”

He frowned. “Go for it?”

“I mean, will you be able to con­vince the Em­pire that she’s in­com­pe­tent.”

“Oh, of course not. That isn’t the point. The point is to con­vince her to ac­cept an ad­vo­cate. If she won’t in the dis­pute with the Em­pire, she might to prove she isn’t mad. If not, it might con­vince her to be will­ing to see you, and give you a chance to talk her in­to ac­cept­ing coun­sel.”

“Ah. Yes, that might work. Or it might just make her more stub­born. She’ll see through it, of course.” I con­sid­ered. “It’s hard to know how she’ll jump.”

“Hm­mm. There’s an­oth­er thing I might try first. It would be quick­er, at any rate.”

“If it’s al­so less like­ly to get me killed, that would be good, too. What is it?”

“Pro­ce­du­ral com­plaint to the Em­pire. If we start out at­tack­ing, we can al­ways back off; if we start on the de­fen­sive, it’s hard­er to change di­rec­tion.” He drummed his fin­gers on the desk­top. Then he nod­ded. “Yes, I’ll try that first. I should be able to get the pe­ti­tion writ­ten up and sub­mit­ted in an hour. We might get re­sults by the end of the day.”

“They don’t waste time.”

“Not with this. For what­ev­er rea­son, they’re in a hur­ry with this case.”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “So it seems. Why is that?”

“Good ques­tion. If you want to do some­thing use­ful, find out.”

“What makes you think I’d be able to do that?”