“Then the children taught the adults, and the villages close by taught others. They did this thing themselves, and they did it secretly, and in all of human history few people can have worked harder or achieved more. Ninety per cent literacy. And they were beaten before they started. The poor devils!”
21
In the course of his legal career, Submaster Jarvis Jarnes often had experienced despondency—any attorney who lost a close judgment experienced despondency—but what he felt now was bleak despair. The sugary visage of Master Khan Khorwiss, eminent counsel of Wembling and Company, who faced him across the chamber’s computer consoles, added another measure of bitterness for the quaffing.
Khorwiss was waiting patiently, hands clasped behind his head, robe thrown back carelessly, the merest flicker of a smile playing on his lips, and occasionally he shot a scornful glance at Jarnes, who was rechecking his reference disks and arranging his notes. Like most masters of the old school, Khorwiss disdained such last-minute priming. Prepare your case in your office and play it in the chamber. Obviously his case was prepared to the last reference code, and he was as confident of winning as Jarnes was certain of losing. Jarnes’s own case was as thoroughly searched and briefed as human effort could make it, but the most he could hope for was that Khorwiss might be guilty of overconfidence. In that unlikely event Jarnes would have the pleasure of slipping him a nasty jolt or two, but he had no illusions that this could possibly affect the outcome.
He could not imagine any attorney, much less Master Khan Khorwiss, playing a case as strong as that of Wembling and Company so carelessly as to lose it. Jarnes’s only chance lay in tricking the computer, a reckless gambit much discussed among young attorneys but as far as he knew never employed successfully. Since his case was lost, he had nothing further to lose by gambling.
His despair was not brought on by the prospect of defeat— what was one more defeat after so many? Every attorney knew that one sometimes had to concede points to win a case and lose first cases to win the last. But following this defeat he would take the one blundering step that would destroy the Langri cause utterly. He had protested and argued frantically, but the natives insisted, and they were his clients, and he had no choice. It was part of the Plan, they said.
They would not tell him their Plan.
The justice in session sign glowed to life at the back of the room, and a moment later the scowling, brightly robed image of Justice Figawn appeared. Clerk Wyland jerked to respectful attention, and the two attorneys arose and bowed. Figawn bent low in acknowledgment—without, however, relinquishing his scowl. As soon as they had seated themselves, he faced Jarnes and spoke his mind with more than his usual bluntness.
“Again we have the People of Langri versus Wembling and Company. Submaster Jarnes, my patience—which I never claimed to be limitless—has long since been exhausted by these baseless actions and petitions. Once again I offer my entire sympathy to those poor, starving natives, but—”
The justice turned his irritated gaze on Khorwiss, who had got to his feet and stood waiting. “Well, Master Khorwiss?”
“May I speak, Your Eminence?”
“You have leave, Master Khorwiss.”
“Your Eminence, I beg permission to present the petition of Wembling and Company against the People of Langri.”
Figawn stared at him for a moment before turning incredulously to Clerk Wyland. “Wembling and Company are suing the natives?”
“They are, Your Eminence,” the clerk murmured.
“At least it’s a change. You may proceed, Master Khorwiss.”
“This morning, Your Eminence, the Federation Congress granted the world of Langri independent status and membership in the Federation. Naturally this alters the status of Wembling and Company.”
A flicker of a smile touched the justice’s face. “No one will ever accuse you of overstatement, Master Khorwiss. It does indeed ‘alter the status.’ Wembling and Company’s charter is automatically voided.”
“Wembling and Company are petitioning for confirmation of ownership of lands properly and legally developed by them under the charter,” Khorwiss said. “There is of course substantial legal precedence for such a petition, Your Eminence, as we are prepared to demonstrate.”
He seated himself with a smug glance at Jarnes.
Justice Figawn turned. “Have you a challenge, Submaster Jarnes?”
Jarnes got to his feet. “Your Eminence, the people of Langri naturally challenge the claim of Wembling and Company to lands usurped under an illegal and corruptly granted charter.”
Khorwiss leaped to his feet. “Exception!”
“Silence!” Figawn snapped. He turned to Jarnes. “Surely I need not inform you again, Submaster Jarnes, that this court has no jurisdiction over the status of that charter. You may play your cases, gentlemen.”
The attorneys resumed their seats, and Clerk Wyland spoke. “Do Wembling and Company stand ready to present their petition?”
Khorwiss bowed deeply.
“Do the people of Langri stand ready to answer that petition?”
Jarnes bowed. Clerk Wyland activated the computer; Jarnes leaned forward intently, hands alert on his own console, waiting for Khorwiss’ initial reference.
It came with a sharp ping, and the symbols appeared at the top of the left, the plaintiff’s screen. Jarnes absorbed them with a glance; regretfully he matched the reference from his own slender stack of reference disks. Another ping sounded, and his reference appeared in symbols atop the right-hand screen. The third ping followed almost at once, and both references vanished; the computer had rated them equal.
Jarnes glanced across at Khorwiss and found Wembling’s attorney watching him with a faint smile on his face—perhaps a surface reflection of the old attorney’s pleasure in playing a case that could not lose. In his own comparatively brief career Jarnes could not remember having experienced that pleasure.
Khorwiss disdainfully posted three references in rapid succession and then sat back to see what Jarnes would make of them. Tongue firmly in cheek, Jarnes posted one of his feit disks —a reference of dubious value. It appeared and instantly swept Khorwiss’ references into oblivion, leaving the left screen blank. But almost immediately a gong sounded, Jarnes’s feit reference disappeared, and Khorwiss’ references were restored.
Clerk Wyland spoke. “The computer disallows it, Submaster Jarnes. Reversed by decision of Higher Court.”
Jarnes nodded with feigned apology. Khorwiss’ momentary consternation offered some slight compensation for the ignominy of having to play a case with such slight support. He touched the keys that directed more of his slender stack of reference disks into the play. It cost him five of them to match Khorwiss’ three postings, and two more to match another.
With an eye on his diminished references, he played again from his stack of feit disks. Again the gong sounded, and Clerk Wyland observed laconically, “Voided by legislative act, Submaster Jarnes.” Another feit disk, another gong. “The computer says irrelevant, Submaster Jarnes.”
Khorwiss, scenting an easier victory than expected, began to pile up unanswered references. Jarnes waited until the lengthening list reached the eighteenth line. Then, with the stage set, with Khorwiss’ plump, smug face radiating victory, Jarnes stroked the keys.
The ping sounded; his reference symbols appeared on the right screen. Almost instantly came the ping of response, and Khorwiss’ entire list disappeared.
All of it. For a suspenseful moment the master attorney was too dumbfounded to protest. Then he came to his feet screaming. “Exception! Exception! What reference is that?”