Free Werewolf Parallel by Roy Gill Page B

other matters entirely.
    The air in the Court shimmered with heat, and visibility across the chasm was poor. Cameron screwed up his eyes, trying to ascertain how Grey’s speech was going down with the jury. Several were from daemon clans he recognised: a Cervidae with towering antlers pawed at his bench, while a Weaver glowered from a flag strung between knitting needles. He doubted he could count on either to be sympathetic.
    Others were unfamiliar, their attitudes harder topredict, like the column of light that held a single floating eye, or the metal beetle with mandibles that clattered like an agitated typewriter. A couple were even human, or at least human-shaped: a twinge of his wolf-senses told him the girl in the ragged dress was Were. She looked as nonplussed as he felt by Grey’s lengthy spiel. He wondered if he’d met her before, in the rundown cinema Morgan used to hang out in with the other pack teenagers…
    The wolf girl caught his eye and pouted her lips in an ironic kiss.
    He blushed and looked away.
    “You need to pay attention,” the lamp chided, “in case there’s anything you object to.”
    “How would I even know?” Cameron hissed back. “He might as well be talking Japanese. At least then I’d recognise ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘help, our city is being attacked by a giant lizard’.”
    The lamplight turned a curious green.
    “Old Godzilla movies. It doesn’t matter…”
    “And finally,” Grey held aloft another bundle, “I would draw Your Honour’s attention to the case of Helenus versus Jackson in 1897 –”
    “Yes, Grey. I am fully aware of such precedent. I set much of it myself, before reaching my current exalted position,” the judge rumbled, his talons clacking on the lectern.
    While the jury, prosecution and defence had all been lowered into the Court, the judge had made his entrance from the opposite direction. A rush of air had set the cradles swaying as a dark shape spiralled up from below. He had circled the pit, coming to rest with a thump ofleathery wings on a ledge that projected from the rock wall.
    The judge seemed more bat than human: his ears were pointed and his mouth lifted up into a peak. His ancient face was bleached, the eye sockets dry and withered. White needle-sharp fangs projected from under his upper lip.
    “The Lord Justice is blind,” the lamp had explained. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re human or daemon, rich or poor, magically adept or inept. All citizens of the Parallel are equal before him.”
    The judge’s truncated bat-nose lifted, as though sensing Cameron’s wary gaze. “Well, Mr Duffy, do you have a response to Mr Grey’s opening speech? Do you contest the validity of the will?”
    “I don’t, Your Honour.”
    “Then the case shall be brief!” Grey oozed. “My Lord, I move to –”
    “I don’t contest it,” said Cameron, his voice echoing across the chasm, “because I wouldn’t know how to. I’d never even
heard
of this thing until three days ago, when these two came pushing their way into my shop. And more than that, I don’t understand it. I can’t read a word –”
    “Outrageous! My Lord Justice, this is dissembling of the highest order!” Grey huffed. “The will is
entirely
comprehensible. It is written in a long-established and very simple
human
tongue –”
    “Which I don’t speak! No one does –”
    “Ignorance is no defence, as I’m sure my Lord would agree –”
    “ENOUGH!” The judge thumped his lectern. “You will conduct yourselves in an orderly manner! Mr Duffy,I am satisfied that Grey’s account of the document is both accurate and relevant. The tenancy of the business is limited to the lifespan of the human named. Will you accept my judgement on this matter, as a Justice Lord of the Parallel?”
    “Careful now,” the lamp muttered, its light fluttering.
    “Yes.” Cameron’s grip tightened on the rope-lattice around him. “I suppose I’ve got to.”
    “Very well then. Mr Grey,