Stealing the Elf-King's Roses: The Author's Cut Read Free Page A

retain this semblance during the pleasure of inward and outward Justice, here manifested. Upon the end of sentence, the court will be informed whether the defendant desires the optional restitutory stage. Otherwise, here and until the end of sentence, Justice is served.”
    The courtroom was very quiet now, that initial rustle of shock and horror having died away. Lee was still blinking hard and trying to get her normal, unaugmented vision back.  Boy , she thought, some of the   sketch artists in here are going to have a field day with  this  verdict.
    “Your Honor,” said Blair’s counsel, “we desire to lodge an appeal at once, on the grounds that the sentence is excessively severe.”
    Mr. Redpath looked down again into the containment area, where the weasel was now trying to sit up on its haunches, and failing. It came down hard on its forefeet again, staring at the long delicate claws and breathing fast. “I so allow. See the court clerk for scheduling. However, Mr. Hess,” said Mr. Redpath, looking down at him rather dryly, “I think the verdict’s severity is secondary to your client having perjured himself. You may want to take advice from your client’s family to discover whether they really want to proceed.”
    “Yes, Your Honor,” said Hess, looking glum.
    “Then I declare this proceeding to be complete, and I adjourn it  sine die ,” Mr. Redpath said, and banged his gavel on the desk. “Open the doors; and thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” He got up and headed for his chamber, shrugging his gown back into kilter as he went.
    “Please clear the court for the next proceeding,” the bailiff shouted, and people started to file out. In the middle of the courtroom, a uniformed security officer arrived with a large wheeled protective carrier, and there followed an unfortunately humorous interlude while the court security staff tried to get the weasel, presently flinging itself against the walls of the containment area, into the carrier and out of the court.
    Lee had been bracing herself against their table. Now Gelert came up beside her and put his cold nose against her neck. “Stop that,” she said, and pushed his snout away, not half as hard as she would have under less casual circumstances, or if she’d had the strength. She wobbled.
    “You need the retiring room?”  he said privately, implant to implant.
    Lee shook her head, still trying to get her breath back. She would pay the price tonight, in sleep, when the reaction set in and her dreams reflected that inexorable gaze concentrating, not on Blair, but on her. Tomorrow, abashed and sore with yet another reminder of her own many failings, she’d ache all over and not be good for much. But the price was worth paying.
    From the other side of the aisle came the shuffle and snap of paperwork and a laptop being put away. She glanced over at Hess, stood up straight as her breathing got back to normal, and reflected that at least she wasn’t the only one here who looked completely wrecked. Alan was pale under his tan, and the resultant color made him look very unwell. But “Nice one, Lee,” said Hess to her, polite as always, despite the circumstances.
    Lee nodded to him. “Thanks, Al. Look, you did good work, too…Good luck with the appeal.”
    He nodded back, went out. “Give me five minutes for the ladies’ room,” Lee said to Gelert.
    It was closer to ten, for Lee’s mascara was nowhere near as waterproof as the manufacturer claimed. But the repairs would suffice for the waiting cameras. She slipped out of her silks with a sigh of relief, took off her chain, folded the silks around it, and stowed everything in her briefcase.
    Shortly Lee was out in the echoing glass-and-terrazzo main hall again, where Gelert awaited her, and together they went out through the glass doors into the blinding light of a ferocious afternoon, the temperature now pushing above a hundred. The Santa Ana wind was up, blowing so fiercely that the palm trees