Fallen Magic

Tara and I make an efficient team. She's a big believer in lists, I discover; she produces a long one of everything we need to do for the project with a priority assigned to each item. We work together to look at the precise details of the law and what we'll need to prove in court: that John's killer could not have reasonably thought it likely that the boy would have been a danger to others if he'd lived.

"The one thing I'm wary about," Tara says, "is the lack of precedent."

"If there were precedent, we wouldn't need to do this," I point out.

"Fair point. But I mean – what arguments have been made in previous cases of this nature, and how did they fare? That's what we need to know to work out the best way of presenting our case. Most of the previous cases are buried in obscure archives – I've only managed to find two. Do take a look at the files if you have time – which reminds me, I should show you where I keep the papers relating to this case."

She opens her filing cabinet and points out a corner in the lower left. There are three manuscripts there: one must be a copy of the report of John's murder, and the other two are presumably the previous cases Tara mentioned. "You're welcome to read anything from that section while you're here. Obviously don't touch anything else, and don't take it out of the office – I suppose if you make your own copies and don't share them it would be acceptable, but that seems like more effort than it's worth."

It does, at least without access to a copy-quill. I could probably source one as quickly as I could get in touch with Edward, but I'm still not comfortable relying on my Blackthorn connections to solve all my problems.

"And I suppose we should see about your workspace, since it looks like you'll be sticking around at least for a couple of weeks. We don't have enough offices for you to take your own, but I can at least have a spare key to mine made so you don't have to sit around in the reception if I'm not around. Probably you'll need to swear by starlight not to abuse that privilege – that's okay, I assume?"

"I – yes." I'm a little surprised by how casually she seems to accept that I'm here to stay, at least for a couple of weeks. "Though actually – it's just occurred to me that once I'm back at the Academy it'll be tricky to work together. I don't know about you, but I don't much like the idea of paying portal tolls every time we need to meet."

Tara nods. "Not to mention you'll be juggling it with lessons, which… I'm guessing that won't be easy?"

"I can make it work." Hopefully.

"I don't want you to sabotage your education for this."

"I wouldn't – " I stop myself before saying something I might regret. It would be hard, dealing with the project as well as lessons, especially since I have no doubt that lessons won't be the only thing I have to worry about once term starts again. It doesn't particularly appeal, to be honest. But…

"What's the alternative?" I ask. "Me just… not being involved after the new year?"

Tara pauses for a moment. "I wouldn't go quite that far. I'd still make sure you're up to date on everything, of course, but… there's the practicalities to consider. I doubt you could schedule court dates around classes, or conversely."

There is the Academy's second class, designed to work around its students' other obligations. But it doesn't contain any of my friends, and does contain a certain Lady Cavendish. I'm not doing that to myself if I have better options. So I have to admit that Tara has a point.

"Besides, you'll be most useful at this stage, when we're still researching and planning. Once we actually get to court, there's only so much you can do without having been to law school."

She's right. I learnt that the hard way at Greenwood and Sons last summer. "Okay. A week or two's research. Depending on if you want me to work over Holy Days, I suppose."

"Stars, I wouldn't ask anyone to work over Holy Days. But if that's what you want to do, I'm not going to stop you, as long as you don't expect me to respond to anything until the new year."

I shrug. It'll depend on what my grandmother is like, and whether I can make meaningful progress on my own without even access to a library. I am tempted, though. "The other question, I suppose, is which of us actually files the case."

"Your dad would want it to be me," Tara says. "Especially after the weekend."

But he's not working on the project any more, and he hasn't said anything about that since backing out.

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"It won't change anything about the case."

"It will change everything about how people perceive it."

Tara nods. "I've never learnt much about how to handle the kind of publicity this could attract. Never wanted to, if I'm honest. But it seems fairly obvious that having your name attached would attract a lot more attention."

"What if that's not a bad thing? What if we can use that to teach people what Malaina really is?"

Tara sighs. "Stars, Tallulah. I want that as much as you do, but… it might not work. And I'm afraid of failure."

"Too afraid to try?" I regret my words a second later. "I – sorry – I didn't mean – "

She shakes her head. "It's a fair point. I… I won't stop you. But only if you're certain. And only if your father agrees. I'm not getting involved in that particular conversation, incidentally."

I grimace. I don't much want to get involved in it myself. But while my dad is in the middle of meetings for his actual paying clients, that can't be done regardless.

Instead, we work on a response to Electra. Tara is insistent that we decide exactly what we want from her, that we don't let her overstep and take over the project. I don't think it's likely that Electra would do that, but after the weekend I can't blame Tara for being concerned. There isn't much I'd put past Electra, after all.

It's more work than I'd expected at this stage. Between us, we come up with a list of the likely questions Electra could be asked in court: to justify her knowledge and experience, to explain what she would have done in the position of John's killer, to give an estimate of how likely John was to become mala sia… that list alone comes to nearly half a page of parchment.

I'm concerned about Electra's last message, saying the killer is well-connected. We need to know what that means and what problems it could cause for us. Tara wants details of the public perception of Malaina that will help us craft the most appealing arguments, and any knowledge Electra has of previous cases of this nature. Or personal insights into how the law is applied, I add with her approval.

Our list has enough crossings-out and insertion into different places that it can't be sent as it is, so I copy it out and add a brief note explaining that my dad no longer wants to be involved but that we would appreciate her thoughts on the enclosed questions. We mark it as sent by Tara rather than me, because it would be foolish not to when I know my letters are monitored. Lord Blackthorn probably won't care all that much about this particular letter, but there could well be others reading it who would.

By the time that's done, it's nearly lunchtime. Simon, Tara, my dad and I all eat together. We don't talk about the project except to briefly mention that's what Tara and I have spent the morning working on.

Simon has apparently been filled in on the weekend's goings-on; he and my dad have made a new office policy that Electra isn't allowed in the building without all of us being informed of where she is and what she's doing, and she's not to interact with clients at all. And my dad has been researching trespassing laws to determine whether this arrangement is legally enforceable. It would be legal for her to be banned entirely from the office, but he grudgingly admits she might well have legitimate cause to enter it, either for the project or if there's an emergency once I'm back at the Academy.

Regardless, though, it's a grim reminder of just how seriously my dad is taking this and how determined he is that Electra will face at least some consequences for what she did. I know the idea that she has power over me must be eating away at him. I wish there were something I could do to convince him that it's fine. Stars, I wish I could convince myself that it's fine.

But Roberts and Bryant's business goes on as normal. My dad summarises his meetings with the clients and asks for second opinions (mostly Simon's, but he still respects Tara's input) on next actions. One of them was a woman who asked for a consultation about the divorce she's considering. My dad observes that he found it surprisingly hard to be detached, considering his present circumstances.

"I'm happy to take on more of those clients, if you don't think you can give them the right perspective," Simon offers.

"Thank you, but… you've picked up so much of my slack already recently. I can't expect anything more."

"If you took on some of mine in exchange, then?"

"Maybe. It's not so much that I can't give them the right perspective… I don't think I knew what the right perspective was, before. Divorce was always something that happened to other people. Not – not to me. Not something I would have contemplated before – well."

I'm grateful that he stops there. I'm curious about it now, but the conversation I'd want to have would be just the two of us, without Simon and Tara there. Maybe I should talk to him about it, actually.

"Well," Simon says to break the awkward silence. "Life always takes unexpected turns, doesn't it? There's a Temple proverb about that, isn't there?"

"The paths of our lives, like the paths of the stars, cannot be known by us mortals," Tara quotes softly. "It took a few unexpected turns to bring me here, after all. I never thought I'd be so glad for them."

"And we're very glad to have you here, Tara," Simon says.

"I – yes. Yes, we are," my dad says, speaking strangely quickly. "Simon and I would have long since drowned in paperwork without you."

Tara laughs. "I suppose we have Tallulah to thank for bringing us together."

"I – all I did was ask her to deliver a message. That hardly counts." It did occur to me that she would fit in well with Simon and my dad, but that thought would have meant nothing if they hadn't come to that conclusion themselves.

"Regardless," says Tara, "thank you."

"You'll forgive my abrupt departure, I hope?" Simon asks. "I have an appointment in the prison at one and thirty, and it's quite the walk over there."

His departure is indeed forgiven. I wonder if now would be a good time to bring up the project with my dad. But I watch him: he's exchanging banter with Tara, looking almost relaxed for the first time since Electra drew her knife on me. I can't bring myself to ruin the moment.

It ends, as all moments do. My dad returns to his office to deal with paperwork and prepare for the next day's work, and Tara and I return to hers. She has to focus on her actual paid work this afternoon, so I'm invited to read the court transcripts of previous cases that she's found.

They make for grim reading.