“Now, according to ancient fey tradition, you must be tried by the laws of your own kind,” Judge M’Tusk said. “So we’ve put everything in order. Two lawyers with knowledge of human ways, one to defend you–Muhrot–and another to prosecute–Ojrah.”

“What about a jury of my peers?” Weatherall said, gesturing to the group empaneled–emtoadstooled?–nearby. “There’s not a human being among them!”

“Oh, I’m rather proud of this,” the fairy prosecutor, Ojrah, said. “These are all your peers. They’re all authors! X’xxxgax there writes curses, McWildie is a poet, and of course old Tweat is weaving together the threads of fate that bind the universe together.

“Charmed,” the strange creature said, pausing its knitting for a moment to lift its cap, which was a black-eyed susan. Weatherall might have been imagining things, but he felt like the world stuttered for a moment until Tweat took up its needles again.

“All very above-board and very much done in the human fashion, I’m sure you’ll agree,” said M’Tusk.

“This is ludicrous!” cried Weatherall.

“Thank you,” M’Tusk said. “We really tried to get human justice right, even though it doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!