Peter Hamilton - The Dreaming Void

'One coming out, Edeard's longtalk told his squadmates.

'Are you all right? Dinlay demanded.

'Never better. He hadn't taken his eyes off the hooded thief.

The man held up the ruined knife, and gave an admiring grin. 'Tough guy, huh. Are you smart with it? There's enough precious metal in here to make everyone happy.

'You want attempted bribery added to the charges?

'Idiot. The thief turned his back on Edeard, and walked casually towards the doorway out to the passage.

'Stop right there, Edeard ordered.

The thief s third hand lifted one of the small bottles into the air behind him. Edeard frowned uncertainly. Another bottle rose, accelerating to crash into the first. Glass shattered.

A fireball spewed out, dazzling white in the gloomy storeroom. Edeard twisted away instinctively, his shield hardening. Flaming globules splattered against it.

'Edeard! the squad longtalked in unison.

'I'm all right. He was blinking his eyes furiously, trying to get rid of the long purple glare-blotches. An acrid smell was growing strong, yet his farsight revealed just a few flickers of flame on the racks closest to the fireball. His third hand swatted them, snuffing the flames before they posed any real danger. Then he noticed the black holes in the boxes scattered across the floor, as if flames had burned through very quickly. The raw edges were still smouldering. When he looked closer, he saw they were coated in some kind of tar which was bubbling away. He shook his head in bewilderment.

'Got them, Macsen announced victoriously. 'Lady, that last one's an arrogant bastard. You sure you're okay, Edeard?

'Yeah, I'm fine. He started to walk out of the storeroom. Some deep instinct made him tread carefully round the patches of hot liquid glistening on the floor. Thin wisps of vapour were layering the air close to the ceiling, producing a stench which made his eyes water. When he passed the bulky metal door he trod on some of the packets containing metal thread. The thief had thrown them all away. Edeard picked one up, frowning.

Why did he do that?

Mystified, he hurried up the passage and out into the alley where his squad was waiting with the subdued prisoners. Now he had time to think about what he'd done, and what the squad had achieved, his elation was rising with the potency of a dawn sun.

The court was convened in Makkafhran's Parliament House which dominated the Majate district. Technically one building, its component structures had amalgamated into a village of huge halls, assembly rooms, auditoriums, and offices, with cloisters instead of streets. Right at the centre was the elaborate Democracy Chamber where the Grand Council met to debate policy and laws. Wrapped protectively around that were tiers of offices for the Guild of Clerks who worked to administer the city's regulations and collect taxes. A whole wing contained well-appointed offices for each district representative, where they could be lobbied by their constituents about every perceived and actual injustice. Somewhere inside (underground it was rumoured) were the Treasury vaults, containing mountains of gold and silver, where the coins were minted. The Chief Constable was also based in one of the five conical towers, along with a modest staff. For centuries, the outermost tower, closest to the City Gate, used to house the militia barracks; but they had long departed, the serving soldiers to several barracks within the city, while their General and senior officers had taken up residence in the Orchard Palace next door. The vacated barracks had been eagerly taken over by the ever-expanding Guild of Lawyers.

Although democratically open to anyone, it was the interconnecting domes which ran alongside the Centre Circle Canal which the average Makkathran citizen was most likely to be familiar with. They housed the Courts of Justice as well as the constabulary's main holding cells. Edeard and the rest of the squad had been shown round by Master Solarin who explained the history of every corridor and room at inordinate and boring length. Part of their training was to attend trials so they could accustom themselves to the procedures, and listen to the verbal sparring of the lawyers. Edeard had been looking forward to that part, but in all the trials they watched the lawyers had confined themselves to simple questions to those in the witness stand. Though there had been an obscure argument about interpreting a precedent established four hundred years ago to settle a dispute between two fishmongers and their supplier about who got priority on the catch based on the length of the contract. Edeard barely understood the words they used, let alone followed the logic involved. The only criminal trial they'd seen was one where the constables had arrested a bunch of minor family sons during an altercation in a theatre late one night. The young men had all been sheepish, never challenged the senior squad sergeant's account, pleaded guilty to all charges, and accepted the fine without question.

As preparation and experience went, Edeard was beginning to realize how useless it had all been.

Two middle court judges and a Mayor's Council judge had been appointed to preside over the case against the trio of thieves they'd arrested. They sat together behind a raised wooden podium which ran along the back of the oval courtroom, clad in flowing scarlet and black robes, with fur-lined hoods hanging over their right shoulders. The Mayor's Council also wore a golden chain, signifying his high-ranking status.

Arrayed in the dock on their left the thieves stood with two court constables in dress uniform standing guard. They had finally given their names. Arminel, the hooded leader called himself. No more than forty, with a drawn pale face and thick sandy hair that he wore long to cover large ears. At no time did he ever look worried. If anything his expression indicated ennui. His accomplices were Omasis and Harri. Harri was still in his teens, the one they'd told to stand guard in the alley. He'd only been charged with complicity to steal. Arminel and Omasis were both charged with theft and aggravated trespass. While Arminel had to face the additional charge of assaulting a constable. The jewellery shop owner had swiftly identified the contents of the two bottles Arminel had smashed together as a highly volatile spirit-based cleaning fluid and acid. Edeard had shivered at the thought of what could have happened if his shield wasn't strong enough to ward off the fireball. He'd wanted Arminel to be charged with the attack on Kavine in the Silvarum market, but Master Vosbol, the lawyer that Captain Ronark had retained to prosecute the case, had said no. It was too long ago for witnesses to be considered reliable. 'But I recognized him immediately, Edeard had cried.

'You saw someone behaving suspiciously, Master Vosbol said. 'You believed him to be the participant in the previous crime.

'Kavine will identify him.

'Kavine was stabbed, quite badly. The defence will argue that makes him unreliable. Let's just go with these charges, shall we?

Edeard sighed and shook his head.

It really should have served a warning as to the methodology of Makkathran's legal affairs. Instead, the first inkling that their case wasn't as watertight as they imagined came when the defendants all entered a plea of not guilty.

'They can't be serious, Edeard hissed as Master Cherix, the defence lawyer, stood before the judges and entered the plea. The squad was sitting along the rear wall, all in their dress uniforms, waiting to be called by the prosecution. Captain Ronark sat on one side of them, with Sergeant Chae on the other.

Just about all of the seating was empty. Edeard didn't know if he was pleased about that or not. He wanted the city's citizens to see his squad had helped bring a small part of their troubles to justice. Show them that the law hadn't deserted them.