conversations. People edged too close to him, trying to make it through the doors.
A nervous giddiness squirmed through him. Crowds were dangerous and exciting, and usually he made it a point to stay away from them.
“We’re a bit provincial. Nothing ever happens here,” Richard said. “A court hearing is a big event.” He smiled.
Cerise smiled back.
“Did I miss a joke?” William asked.
“We’re going into battle smiling,” Richard said.
“To show that we aren’t worried,” Cerise added. “The Mire is watching and here reputation is everything.”
William leaned to her. She smelled like mud, but he caught a mere whiff of her real scent underneath and it made him want her. “Are you worried?”
“If I didn’t have to smile, I’d be pulling my hair out with both hands,” she said softly.
“Don’t. You have pretty hair, and it will take a long time to grow back.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she bit her lip, obviously trying not to laugh.
Inside the air proved colder than on the street. A fresh pine scent floated on the draft. Several pine saplings grew from barrels set in the corners. Opaque lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains. As they made their way through the crowded aisle, the lights came on in yellow electric glory.
William looked at Cerise.
“We have a power plant,” she said. “It runs on peat.”
This had to be some sort of human joke he didn’t get.
She looked at his face and grinned. “Seriously. Peat burns really well once you dry it. We heat the house with it.”
That had to be the craziest thing he’d heard. At some point they must’ve looked around and said,
What the hell? He supposed if fish could have legs, then mud could burn. Spider or no Spider, if their cats started flying, he would be out of here like a rocket.
Cerise took a seat in the front row, behind a table. Richard stopped by the row directly behind her and offered him a seat with a short bow. “Please.”
William sat. The other side of the courtroom had an identical table. The accused’s side, he guessed. Past the two tables, a raised platform supported the judge’s desk and chair. Two small lecterns, one for the plaintiff and the other for the defendant, faced the judge. The arrangement was familiar enough. He’d gotten intimately accustomed with the way courts were laid out at his court martial.
His memory served up another courtroom, a much larger sterile chamber he’d viewed through the bars of his cage. They had locked him up like an animal at the court martial. Even his advocate took care to stand outside of his reach. William recalled being pissed off about it at the time. Looking back, it might have been for the best. He’d been bitter and so full of pain, he didn’t care whom he hurt.
He caught Cerise looking at him and pulled himself back to the present.
A gray-haired woman, wizened like a dry apricot, slipped into a chair to William’s left and smiled at him. Her small black eyes sat like two pieces of shiny coal on her wrinkled face. Barely over four feet tall, she had to be pushing a hundred at least—some Edgers lived as long as people in the Weird.
Richard leaned forward an inch. “Grandmother Az, this is William. He’s a friend of Cerise.”
William bowed his head. Older people had to be treated with respect. “Honored, my lady.”
Grandmother Az raised a tiny hand. Her fingers grazed his hair. A spark of magic shot through William. He recoiled.
“Such a polite puppy you are,” Grandmother Az murmured softly and petted his arm. “You can sit by me anytime.”
She’d made him. Alarm shot through William. He opened his mouth.
Cerise turned in her chair. “Hi, Grandma.”
“There you are, sweetie.” Grandmother Az reached over and petted Cerise’s hand. “Your friend is a very nice boy.”
Cerise smiled. “I’m not sure about that …” She surveyed the building. “Half the county showed up to see us lose.”
“I was just telling William that our court hearings are our entertainment,” Richard said.
“It’s not that bad.” Grandmother Az snorted. “You should see the funerals. All those old geezers, glad they aren’t dead themselves, gloating over the poor deceased. When I die, I want you to burn me.”
Cerise rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“Why burn?” William asked.
“So they can make a big bonfire and get drunk,” the old woman said. “Hard to sit there moping with a big fire going.”
A tall blonde entered the room, wearing a yellow sash that marked her as an advocate. Two men followed her, carrying papers. She was lean and long-legged, with a graceful neck and nice ankles, and William took a minute to watch her come down the aisle. She looked high-strung and difficult. Still, good legs.
Mmm, smelled of mimosa, too. Expensive scent. Cerise smelled better, when clean.
“It appears the Sheeriles obtained a Weird lawyer,” Richard said. “Bringing out the big guns.”
“Where the heck is our lawyer?” Cerise grimaced.
“I told him the time,” Richard said. “Twice.”
A small door on the side swung open. A huge bald man shouldered his way into the courtroom, planted himself to the right of the judge’s desk, and crossed his arms, making his carved biceps bulge. His face broadcast “Don’t screw with me” loud and clear. All that was missing was a big tattoo across his chest that said BACK OFF.
A bodyguard. William took his measure. Big. Probably very strong but not young, approaching middle age. With that kind of man, you’d have to keep your distance. He’d break bones with one lucky punch. William scrutinized the legs. If he had to get past him, he’d go for the knees. All of that muscle made for a lot of weight to drag around. His knees were probably shot, and he wouldn’t react fast enough to block.
“That’s Clyde, our bailiff.” Grandmother Az wiggled her fingers at the giant.
Clyde winked at her without breaking his scowl and looked straight ahead.
A large beast trotted through the side door. At least thirty-five inches at the shoulder, shaggy with greenish fur sprayed with brown rosettes, it resembled a lynx. The beast sauntered over and lay at Clyde’s feet, surveying the crowd with yellow eyes.
Great. A green cat. Why the hell not? This place came in two colors: green and brown, and the beast had both.
“That’s Clyde’s pet bobcat, Chuckles,” Grandmother Az said helpfully. “Clyde, Chuckles, and Judge Dobe. Three peas in a pod.”
A man dropped into the chair next to Cerise and grinned, black eyes slightly wild. Lean, quick, with the sure movements of a born thief, he wore a mud-splattered shirt over mud-smeared jeans. His brown hair fell on his shoulders, and a two-day stubble stained his chin. A silver hoop earring shone in his left ear. He looked like he’d spent the night in lockup after a drunken binge and was up to no good. “Did I miss anything?”
“Kaldar,” Cerise reached over and poked him with her fingers. “You’re late.”
“Couldn’t you have cleaned up for the court?” Richard growled.
“What wrong with the way I look?”
Grandmother Az slapped him on the back of his shaggy head.
“Ow! Hello, Meemaw.”
“Did you bring the map?” Richard asked.
Kaldar’s face turned panicky. He patted himself down, reached under Cerise’s hair, and pulled a folded paper
