Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Stole them did she?” Chester frowned down at me. “Well what do you want me to do about it? Sounds to me like she’s guilty.”
“No, no, Chester!” I said desperately. “You’re supposed to be my attorney! You have to defend me!”
“Send you? Send you where?” he asked, frowning.
“No, not send—DEFEND,” I bawled at him. Unfortunately he was quite tall—all Centaurs are, due to being half horse—and I couldn’t get anywhere near his ear. He did seem to get the idea, however.
“Defend you? But the judge says you’re guilty of stealing! I don’t take guilty clients, Missy,” he said.
“But I’m NOT GUILTY!” I shouted desperately. “The pears I picked were on branches outside the Ogre’s land!”
“Got a lot of sand, does he?” Chester demanded. “Did you steal that too?”
This was hopeless! I was beginning to get horrible visions of being thrown in a magical jail to rot forever. Chester, who had always seemed nice, if a little vague, was turning out to be no help at all. In fact, I was pretty sure he was making things worse for me.
“Please, Your Honor, I need another attorney,” I said, turning to look up at Grand Wizard Henkelman. “This isn’t working out at all.”
The judge looked incensed.
“Absolutely not! I got you the finest legal mind in all of the magical world and you have the nerve to ask for a different counselor instead? Preposterous!”
“But he can’t hear me! He can’t understand!” I exclaimed. “And he might have been the finest legal mind before he retired but he’s three hundred years old now!”
“What is your point?” Henkelman snapped. “I will have you know, witch, that I am six hundred years old myself! Age does not dull one’s knowledge of the Law. In fact, it rather refines it—a good legal mind ages like fine wine!”
“What sign?” Chester asked, looking around. “I don’t see any sign. Does it have anything to do with the hairs and the sand?”
Henkelman looked miffed.
“Enough of this,” he declared. “I’m ready to rule.”
“What? But—” I began.
“Silence!” Grand Wizard Henkelman thundered, glaring down at me from the judge’s bench. “One more word out of you, witch, and it’s Contempt of Court!”
I didn’t want that. Reluctantly, I held my tongue and waited for the sentence. What else could I do?
“I judge this witch guilty of stealing the personal property of Mr. Goremouth and declare that she must pay just recompense for her theft,” Henkelman announced. “Counselor Heketate,” he said to the Harpy lawyer. “What is your client asking for in terms of compensation?”
“Well, Your Honor, the Golden-Skinned Warbler pears are extremely rare and valuable,” she said, frowning. “Some experts have judged them to be worth as much as a thousand gold apiece. And since she stole at least a hundred of them…”
My heart nearly stopped in my chest. A hundred thousand gold? I didn’t have that kind of money—I would have to mortgage The Lost Lamb to pay even half such a large amount!
I couldn’t keep silent anymore.
“If it’s money you want, I can pay for the pears!” I exclaimed. “But a thousand apiece is crazy!”
“Silence!” Henkelman pounded on his podium again—BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!—(the ear trumpet had turned back into a gavel) and gave me the nastiest look imaginable. “You will pay whatever the plaintiff in this case asks for!” he shouted at me.
Suddenly Goremouth the Ogre, who had been silent up until now, spoke up in his low, grating voice.
“Don’t you worry, sweety-sweet—I don’t want money, only meat.”
I frowned at him.
“What are you talking about? What meat?”
Instead of answering me, the Ogre bent down and murmured in his attorney’s ear. I watched with apprehension, wondering what he was saying. I was also wondering how in the world the Harpy lawyer could stand to be that close to him when he was so smelly.
After a moment he straightened and his lawyer looked up at the judge.
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but my client has explained what form of compensation he desires.”
Henkelman nodded importantly.
“Please state it for the record, Counselor.”
“Very well, since the witch stole a rare and valuable food commodity from my client, he wishes to be recompensed in kind. To wit, he wants food in return.”
“I see. That sounds reasonable. What kind of food does he desire?” Henkelman asked.
“I want witch meat—good and sweet!” Goremouth grated.
“Witch meat? What does that mean?” I demanded. The tight fist in my midsection was getting even tighter but I told myself not to panic. Surely he didn’t mean what I thought he meant.
The Harpy lawyer didn’t answer me—instead, she kept talking to the judge.
“Since the witch stole and ate my client’s valuable magical pears, we feel that it would be just compensation for my client, Mr. Goremouth, to be allowed to eat the witch who stole from him,” she said.
“Hmm…” Henkelman frowned. “Is there legal precedent you can site for such a ruling, Counselor?”