Free The Innocent Mage by Karen Miller Page A

‘Yes. Well. If you’ll come with me?’
    He followed her up the left-hand staircase. Behind the shrouding red velvet was a screened gallery complete with comfortable chairs and an excellent view of the Hall.
    ‘You can observe from here,’ said Lady Marnagh. ‘Please remain absolutely silent while the hearing is in session. It would be best if you stayed seated once His Highness has commenced the proceedings. To all intents and purposes anyone in the gallery is invisible to the Hall, but movement can be distracting.’ She frowned. ‘In fact, choose a seat now and don’t leave it again until His Highness gives you permission.’
    Disconcerted, Asher stared. ‘And how long’ll that be? I mean, what time’s all this malarkey s’posed to end?’
    ‘That depends entirely upon the matter at hand,’ said Lady Marnagh, her plucked eyebrows raised.
    ‘Well, but, what if I need to … you know …’
    The eyebrows rose higher. ‘Then I suggest you cross your legs — Asher, is it?’ She smiled; he’d seen friendlier sharks. ‘Now I must attend to my duties. I trust you will find this afternoon’s …’ She paused and looked down her nose at him. ‘Malarkey, educational. Certainly I hope you know how privileged you are, being invited to watch the hearing from the Royal Gallery, as His Highness’s personal guest.’
    Oh aye, he was privileged all right. Stuck in a box halfway up a wall with no way down again till the prince had finished his business, being told to cross his legs — ha! — if nature called, all for reasons that nobody saw fit to tell him! Privileged? Put upon, she should’ve said. Used and abused and taken advantage of, and what Matt was going to say when he came back to find none of the mangers scrubbed clean, like he’d ordered, and the yard only half swept; raked, and the lads doing evening stables without him …
    Lady Marnagh was waiting for an answer. Ha eyebrows had climbed so high they’d nearly disappeared into her pale yellow hairline, and her lips were thin with disapproval.
    Asher sighed. ‘Aye, Lady Marnagh. Reckon there ain’t been a body so privileged as me in all the history of Lur.’
    Lady Marnagh left the gallery. The way she twitched tk velvet curtain closed behind her suggested that she wasn’t amused. Oh well. Too bad. The prince wasn’t paying him near enough to cover extra duties like keeping snooty shark-impersonating Doranen women smiling. He heaved another sigh and leaned his arms along the screened gallery’s railing so he could get a decent look at what was happening down below.
    Justice Hall was split down the middle by a wide aisle, and from side to side two-thirds along with a solid wooden barrier, maybe waist high on a man. Behind the barrier there was nothing but rows and rows of benches. For the public Asher guessed, seeing the smattering of folks, mostly Olken, dotted about the Hall. The few Doranen all looked young. Students, most likely, from the university. They had an older Doranen with them, wearing a chivvying face. Asher grinned. Poor bugger. Be a good bet he’d happily change jobs with the prince’s boot polisher, any day. Everyone, Olken and Doranen, was dressed up in their holyday best, Most of them wore hats, plain and flat for the men, tall and nodding with flowers and feathers for the women.
    In front of the barrier there were chairs, and a wide wooden table on each side of the aisle. There were Olken sitting there, too, and seeing how serious they looked, he supposed they were the — what had Lady Marnagh called them? — the parties, their speakers and witnesses. So. The folks doing the brangling.
    At the top end of the Hall, set into the wall, was a door. On the other side of it, he suspected, was the chamber where he and the prince had come in. Set some six paces in from the wall was a crimson dais. On it stood a high-backed wooden chair, padded and covered in crimson and gold velvet. Beside it, a slender wooden stand bearing a golden