Free Shadowhunters and Downworlders by Cassandra Clare

like being told what to do, little Shadowhunter.”
    â€”
City of Bones
    Just one problem: You’re not
forced
to play the game. You can ignore the rules; you can make up your own. Magnus Bane is a living example, the closest thing the Mortal Instruments has to an anarchist, and certainly he’s in no mood to be told what to do. His resistance to obey is no surprise here. The surprise is that a seventeen-year-old with no magical powers would think he could issue commands to the most powerful warlock on the eastern seaboard. But Jace can and does, without a second thought, because he’s not just speaking for himself: He’s speaking for the Clave, with the full power of the Law.
    The trilogy is packed with the (relatively) powerless using rules and laws to control the powerful—warlocks controlling demons and magical forces, Valentine controlling his demon army with the Mortal Cup, controlling Clary herself with binding runes—in all these cases, power imbalances don’t matter. No matter who’s stronger, the one with the rules on his side wins. And the Shadowhunters in particular seem to conflate the laws of magic with laws
about
magic (i.e., the Law), assuming that both are immutable.
    This is a big reason why even a self-proclaimed rebel like Jace might be perfectly happy there are so many rules: He’s figured out how to use them to his benefit. The Law can be a more powerful weapon than a sword. No matter how young you are, no matter how relatively weak you might be, if you have the power of the Law on your side, you can push anyone around.
    Well, almost anyone.
    The problem with the Shadowhunter Law is that it’s
not
a law of physics. It’s a social contract, and as with all social contracts, its only magic is the magic of mutual agreement. Its power derives from belief in the impossibility of defying it—which means there’s nothing more threatening than an outsider who can see the Law for what it is.
    A choice.
    Think about it in the high school context: A group of people—let’s call them the popular crowd—ostensibly have no more power than anyone else. They have to go to the same classes, do the same homework, serve the same detention when they step out of line. But by mutual, unspoken agreement among the entire student body, this group has accrued a specific kind of power: the power to admit or reject other students from its ranks. But popularity gives you power only overpeople who care about being popular. Ostracism gives you power only over those who fear being ostracized. A queen bee mean girl can decimate her prey by insulting their outfit, refusing to sit with them at lunch, denying them an invitation to the most exclusive of parties…but what does that matter to the freethinker who could care less about fashion critiques, prefers lunch in the library, and would rather gouge out her eyes than party with the populars? And what would it do to the queen bees of the high school world if the student body, as one, decided that “cool” was worthless, and royal favor even more so? This is why the outsider, the rebel who rejects the social hierarchy—who doesn’t care what anyone in so-called power thinks of her—is so threatening to the powers that be. It’s true for the cheerleaders and it’s true for the Clave.
    The very existence of someone who defies the Law renders defiance a possible option. Something that Jace is the first to understand, when, in
City of Glass
, he realizes that the Clave will read Clary’s rune-creating ability as a portent of doom. After all, the only thing more dangerous than a willingness to ignore the Law is an ability to change it.
Rebels Without a Law
    â€œI should have warned her about your habit of never doing what you’re told.”
    â€”
Jace Wayland to Clary Fray,
City of Bones
    But rebels do exist—in mundane high schools and Shadowhunter Institutes alike. And Jace and