Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [72]
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