Jakob paced the floor. Though it would mean a break of several days, the others in Ha'Khun had agreed that the best approach would be to wait until Josh got back from Manuma City where he had been giving testimony at Keaton's trial, along with Ashford. He could only hope that they didn't look too closely into exactly how the ex-Commander had returned to the land of the living, or who was responsible for doing it. Otherwise things were going to hit the fan in a big way.
The wolf's musings were interrupted by a voice calling his name. He glanced around to see Daryil standing in front of a table with an expensive-looking china tea set laid out over it. He was holding the tablecloth tightly and the expression on his face cast a chill down Jakob's spine.
"Want to see my new trick?" Daryil asked. Before Jakob could say "no," the fox gave a short, hard tug and whipped the table out from underneath the cloth. Jakob stared in disbelief at the tea-set, which was hovering undisturbed in mid-air. As he opened his mouth to ask how it was done, the whole thing fell to the floor with a terminal-sounding crash.
"I managed ten seconds just now," the fox beamed and tying the ends of the tablecloth up into a ball, threw the remains of the tea-set out with the rubbish.
"Have you ever considered doing useful things with your new powers?" Jakob asked after a few moments.
"Yes," Daryil told him and began to count the molecules in a nearby glass of water.
As Jakob left, muttering imprecations under his breath, Daryil's ears suddenly pricked up. He could feel a new mind... fresh prey!
Crockery and water forgotten, he made his way over to the laboratory, playing hopscotch on the floor tiles as he did so.
Sitting bewildered on the usual hospital bed was a large, muscular dalmatian in a jerkin. Daryil's heart leapt. "Well hey there, big boy!" he beamed, running over to the dog and hugging him tightly.
"Woah," Das said, grinning appreciatively at the attention, "We don't even know each other yet!"
Daryil's eager expression suddenly changed to abject horror as he saw the tattoo on the other's shoulder. He let out a piercing scream.
"Niall!" he shrieked. "What have you done!?"
"What is it?" the younger fox squeaked. "What's wrong?"
"He's one of them! The enemy!"
"What enemy?" Niall asked, uncomprehending.
"One of the bastards who killed Timmy! Ti'Nera's clan!"
"You!" Dasgard whimpered, backing himself against the wall. "The Evil One! Oh gods... oh gods... please... not my soul..."
At this, Daryil's eyes brimmed with tears and he ran off sobbing.
"Now look what you've done," Niall said pettishly. "You've made our clan leader cry." There was no response and he glanced back at the terrified dalmatian. Niall sighed and put his hands in his pockets.
"So... You're of clan Ti'Nera?" he said. "Damn, I knew I should have looked up that clan mark."
"What are you going to do with me?" Das warbled.
"That's up to you, I think," Niall said. "Many Ti'Nera 'Cubi want to see Daryil die. As you may know, he is exceptionally powerful... so if that is in any way a part of your goal, I suggest you surrender here and now. It will make things easier all round."
"But my soul... he'll rob me of my soul... he'll destroy me for ever and ever and ever..."
"Oh, come now," Niall told him, placing a reassuring hand on the dalmatian's thick shoulder. "I wouldn't worry on that account. Daryil doesn't eat people's souls, hasn't done for at least a millennia."
"But he is the Evil One," the dalmatian said fearfully. "He ate our clan leader... He declared war against the whole of our clan... they say his own clan grew rapidly to raise an army that will slay us all!"
"Ti'Nera was the last soul he ever killed," Niall said with a grimace. "It was that... which drove home just what soul-slaying is all about. By then it was too late, of course. He suffered a nervous breakdown shortly afterwards and from what I hear tell was markedly less sane thereafter. But, the long and the short of it is this: Daryil might not like you, but he's not going to kill you. Unless you try to attack us, at any rate.
"We, as a clan, are not out to get your lot anymore. That said, I understand your clan still calls for the extinction of ours. We will, of course, defend ourselves by any reasonable means."
"You paint us with the broadest of brushes," Das said. He had stopped whimpering and now paced the floor nervously, glancing around as if Daryil might suddenly leap out of nowhere and feast upon his very sentience.
"When Lady Ti'Nera was... destroyed... her clan split into a number of factions. The radicals called for the death or soul-eating of the Ev... I mean, D-Daryil... and all his followers. Most of the rest of us, we renounced soul-eating entirely. It would make us as bad as Daryil Soul-Slayer. We just want to get on with our lives."
"...and it's the lunatics you always hear about." Niall finished for him, with some feeling.
Joshua settled into his seat. The trial had gone through with extraordinary speed. All that remained was for the final verdict to be pronounced, and it looked like that was about to happen.
"Katherine Beatrix Imenwati-Jyraneth," the judge began, "For the charge of murdering the late Commander P. Ashford, the jury accepts your plea of self-defence. I therefore find you not guilty of this charge. For the charges of falsely imprisoning his soul, breaking and entering in this court's own evidence chamber, three counts of murder and twenty-six counts of Grievous Bodily Harm, the jury has found you guilty. You will serve four life sentences in the maximum security unit at Pentathia."
Keaton's face soured. 'Life' meant 'Being life' and was typically around thirty years in real terms. Four life sentences would be at least 120 years, and boring as hell. Maybe her lawyer could get it reduced on appeal or something.
"This court accepts your contention that the latter charges were racked up in the course of attempting to restore the Commander to life. Therefore the aforementioned prison terms will run concurrently.
"Have you anything to say?"
The jackal shrugged. "It's a fair cop."
With a sigh, Ashford watched as they led her away. As he turned to leave, a firm restraining hand was placed upon his shoulder.
"Mr. Ashford?" the guard said, "You are under arrest for the attempted murder of Katherine Jyraneth."
"Dorcan," Jakob said, in a voice not dissimilar to when he'd offered to turn the Doberman into a killing machine, "It may just be my own paranoia, but I feel that too many people are starting to learn about the android project far more quickly than I had intended. I am becoming increasingly concerned that we're going to face a serious legal problem when the Being-Creature Commission finds out about this."
"You think they'd try to kill me?" Dorcan asked nervously.
"It's not impossible. It's more likely I could face some serious charges, though. And that itself might kill you in the long run if you can't get any replacement parts, servicing or refuel yourself. If I go down, the technology involved could be lost or suppressed.
"Either way, I must take the initiative. The Commission are going to send someone to audit us at the start of the month. Before then, I want to build a cast-iron legal case to ensure the continuation of the project."
"But where do I come into this?" the Doberman asked. "I'm not a lawyer. Nor are my parents. The closest I've got is 35 years studying middle-management at the Academy."
"No, I need you to find someone for me. Bring me the finest legal mind in this world. Ask around. Your Clan may know, or have contacts."
"I'll do what I can," Dorcan promised. "But it's a big job and you aren't giving me much to go on. Or much time, come to that. Do you have any suggestions where I should look or something?"
"Well, at the risk of setting you off on the wrong foot, I have heard rumours of a Master known as Quangyre. For all I know he may be dead by now, but if he lives, and if half of the legends are true, he's the man for the job. Or woman... the stories are somewhat unclear on that particular point. Indeed, he may be a shapeshifter."
"Let's back up a little," the Doberman said, and his headwings drooped. "Why me? Can't someone else do this?"
"Daryil has seen your soul," Jakob told him. "I have studied your reactions during your job interview and I know we can trust you.
"Understand, Dorcan... I need absolute secrecy on this, otherwise my legal team at Jayhawk would be dealing with it. Most of the others I would send are still in Ha'Khun. I can't recall them because I need that business resolved too. I can't have the spectre of Ha'Khun hanging over me... I need to appear squeaky-clean."
"What about Daryil, though? He seemed to handle his own defence pretty well. Can't you put him in charge of it?"
"He cheated."
"So? All's fair in love and war..."
"He used his Power," Jakob said heavily. "That may work on some half-assed judge out in the sticks, but it won't wash with the Being-Creature Commission. If the current 'Cubi representative isn't a tri-wing or subservient to one, I'll eat my trenchcoat. They'll be at least on par with him, given that he's still learning.
"Besides, after that little prank, they'd see it coming. No-one with half a brain is going to let Daryil within ten miles of a courthouse if they can possibly avoid it!"
"You, though... you have an advantage, if I send you to get legal aid. No-one knows there is a link between the two of us..."
"Actually, they might."
Jakob stopped cold at the Doberman's words. His wings fluffed out.
"What...?"
"I... during my second execution, I shouted out that... Johan Cross was responsible for my return. And Scruffs knew... if he recorded the wiretap, if anyone finds it, they'll know. Sethir knows, though it's in his interest to keep quiet about what he is too. My family knows, and everyone who saw Daryil's party knows. My lawyer knows."
"That's not good," Jakob agreed, and looked Dorcan deep in the eyes. "But you'd still attract a lot less attention than, say, Azrael. Besides, you're looking for legal aid anyway with your own financial problem. It's the perfect cover, and... I think you're the best I have. Will you do this for me?"
"Thanks," Dorcan said, looking at the floor with embarrassment the way dogs sometimes do. "I'll do my best. I do have one request, though. I want to confer with Salomere. While I guess it sounds a bit lame for me to run and get my mother, she's got one of the sharpest minds I've ever known. And she already knows about the project."