Monument (novel)

21

In the course of his legal career, Submaster Jarvis Jarnes often had experienced despondency—any attorney who lost a close judgment experienced despondency—but what he felt now was bleak despair. The sugary visage of Master Khan Khorwiss, eminent counsel of Wembling and Company, who faced him across the chamber’s computer consoles, added another measure of bitterness for the quaffing.

Khorwiss was waiting patiently, hands clasped behind his head, robe thrown back carelessly, the merest flicker of a smile playing on his lips, and occasionally he shot a scornful glance at Jarnes, who was rechecking his reference disks and arranging his notes. Like most masters of the old school, Khorwiss disdained such last-minute priming. Prepare your case in your office and play it in the chamber. Obviously his case was prepared to the last reference code, and he was as confident of winning as Jarnes was certain of losing. Jarnes’s own case was as thoroughly searched and briefed as human effort could make it, but the most he could hope for was that Khorwiss might be guilty of overconfidence. In that unlikely event Jarnes would have the pleasure of slipping him a nasty jolt or two, but he had no illusions that this could possibly affect the outcome.

He could not imagine any attorney, much less Master Khan Khorwiss, playing a case as strong as that of Wembling and Company so carelessly as to lose it. Jarnes’s only chance lay in tricking the computer, a reckless gambit much discussed among young attorneys but as far as he knew never employed successfully. Since his case was lost, he had nothing further to lose by gambling.

His despair was not brought on by the prospect of defeat— what was one more defeat after so many? Every attorney knew that one sometimes had to concede points to win a case and lose first cases to win the last. But following this defeat he would take the one blundering step that would destroy the Langri cause utterly. He had protested and argued frantically, but the natives insisted, and they were his clients, and he had no choice. It was part of the Plan, they said.

They would not tell him their Plan.

The justice in session sign glowed to life at the back of the room, and a moment later the scowling, brightly robed image of Justice Figawn appeared. Clerk Wyland jerked to respectful attention, and the two attorneys arose and bowed. Figawn bent low in acknowledgment—without, however, relinquishing his scowl. As soon as they had seated themselves, he faced Jarnes and spoke his mind with more than his usual bluntness.

“Again we have the People of Langri versus Wembling and Company. Submaster Jarnes, my patience—which I never claimed to be limitless—has long since been exhausted by these baseless actions and petitions. Once again I offer my entire sympathy to those poor, starving natives, but—”

The justice turned his irritated gaze on Khorwiss, who had got to his feet and stood waiting. “Well, Master Khorwiss?”

“May I speak, Your Eminence?”

“You have leave, Master Khorwiss.”

“Your Eminence, I beg permission to present the petition of Wembling and Company against the People of Langri.”

Figawn stared at him for a moment before turning incredulously to Clerk Wyland. “Wembling and Company are suing the natives?”

“They are, Your Eminence,” the clerk murmured.

“At least it’s a change. You may proceed, Master Khorwiss.”

“This morning, Your Eminence, the Federation Congress granted the world of Langri independent status and membership in the Federation. Naturally this alters the status of Wembling and Company.”

A flicker of a smile touched the justice’s face. “No one will ever accuse you of overstatement, Master Khorwiss. It does indeed ‘alter the status.’ Wembling and Company’s charter is automatically voided.”

“Wembling and Company are petitioning for confirmation of ownership of lands properly and legally developed by them under the charter,” Khorwiss said. “There is of course substantial legal precedence for such a petition, Your Eminence, as we are prepared to demonstrate.”

He seated himself with a smug glance at Jarnes.

Justice Figawn turned. “Have you a challenge, Submaster Jarnes?”

Jarnes got to his feet. “Your Eminence, the people of Langri naturally challenge the claim of Wembling and Company to lands usurped under an illegal and corruptly granted charter.”

Khorwiss leaped to his feet. “Exception!”

“Silence!” Figawn snapped. He turned to Jarnes. “Surely I need not inform you again, Submaster Jarnes, that this court has no jurisdiction over the status of that charter. You may play your cases, gentlemen.”

The attorneys resumed their seats, and Clerk Wyland spoke. “Do Wembling and Company stand ready to present their petition?”

Khorwiss bowed deeply.

“Do the people of Langri stand ready to answer that petition?”

Jarnes bowed. Clerk Wyland activated the computer; Jarnes leaned forward intently, hands alert on his own console, waiting for Khorwiss’ initial reference.

It came with a sharp ping, and the symbols appeared at the top of the left, the plaintiff’s screen. Jarnes absorbed them with a glance; regretfully he matched the reference from his own slender stack of reference disks. Another ping sounded, and his reference appeared in symbols atop the right-hand screen. The third ping followed almost at once, and both references vanished; the computer had rated them equal.

Jarnes glanced across at Khorwiss and found Wembling’s attorney watching him with a faint smile on his face—perhaps a surface reflection of the old attorney’s pleasure in playing a case that could not lose. In his own comparatively brief career Jarnes could not remember having experienced that pleasure.

Khorwiss disdainfully posted three references in rapid succession and then sat back to see what Jarnes would make of them. Tongue firmly in cheek, Jarnes posted one of his feit disks —a reference of dubious value. It appeared and instantly swept Khorwiss’ references into oblivion, leaving the left screen blank. But almost immediately a gong sounded, Jarnes’s feit reference disappeared, and Khorwiss’ references were restored.

Clerk Wyland spoke. “The computer disallows it, Submaster Jarnes. Reversed by decision of Higher Court.”

Jarnes nodded with feigned apology. Khorwiss’ momentary consternation offered some slight compensation for the ignominy of having to play a case with such slight support. He touched the keys that directed more of his slender stack of reference disks into the play. It cost him five of them to match Khorwiss’ three postings, and two more to match another.

With an eye on his diminished references, he played again from his stack of feit disks. Again the gong sounded, and Clerk Wyland observed laconically, “Voided by legislative act, Submaster Jarnes.” Another feit disk, another gong. “The computer says irrelevant, Submaster Jarnes.”

Khorwiss, scenting an easier victory than expected, began to pile up unanswered references. Jarnes waited until the lengthening list reached the eighteenth line. Then, with the stage set, with Khorwiss’ plump, smug face radiating victory, Jarnes stroked the keys.

The ping sounded; his reference symbols appeared on the right screen. Almost instantly came the ping of response, and Khorwiss’ entire list disappeared.

All of it. For a suspenseful moment the master attorney was too dumbfounded to protest. Then he came to his feet screaming. “Exception! Exception! What reference is that?”

Jarnes answered calmly, “The reference is as stated: Rulings of Governmental Commissions, 5/19/E/349/K.”

“That’s no reference!” Khorwiss proclaimed indignantly.

“Shall we permit the court to decide?” Jarnes asked him politely.

Justice Figawn was consulting his own computer. After a moment he turned toward them. “I find no indication that the commission intended its ruling to have legal precedence. The reference is denied because of single-case applicability.”

With a ping Jarnes’s reference was wiped out and Khorwiss’ list restored. He shrugged philosophically; a gamble with a feit reference was excusable only when one didn’t expect it to work.

He played his remaining references with deliberation, one at a time. When he succeeded in reducing Khorwiss’ list to six, Wembling’s attorney insolently added another dozen.

Finally, his references exhausted, Jarnes turned to the most promising of his feit disks. The computer greeted each one with a gong, and Clerk Wyland’s voice took on an edge of impatience that matched Justice Figawn’s deepening scowl as he observed, “The computer says irrelevant, Submaster Jarnes.” Khorwiss was grinning broadly.

Finally Jarnes got to his feet and faced the justice. “That’s all I have, Your Eminence.”

Justice Figawn nodded politely. “The court confirms the ownership by Wembling and Company of land on the world of Langri properly developed by them under charter. Does your petition include the required legal descriptions, Master Khorwiss?”

Khorwiss arose. “It does, Your Eminence.”

“It does? Yes—I have it here.” Figawn paused to skim through the descriptions. “Master Khorwiss,” he asked politely, “how many golf courses does one resort require?”

Khorwiss remained discreetly silent.

Figawn turned to Jarnes. “May I have your counterpetition, Submaster Jarnes?”

“I have none, Your Eminence,” Jarnes told him.

Figawn stared at him. “Do you mean to say you’re going to accept these claims as stated?”

“That is the wish of my clients, Your Eminence.”

“Anyone but a nitwit could tell with one glance that many of these claims are preposterous,” Figawn announced.

“Your Eminence!” Khorwiss exclaimed.

“Surely you’re not going to let this petition stand without protest,” Figawn said to Jarnes.

“I have no choice but to observe the wishes of my clients, Your Eminence. They do request, however, that Wembling and Company be required to file a certified and attested statement of investment for each parcel of land claimed so as to demonstrate the validity of the claim to this court’s satisfaction, I shall insist on an accounting of Wembling and Company’s expenditures for each parcel.”

Figawn regarded him gravely. “You are of course bound by the wishes of your clients.” He turned to Khorwiss. “I so rule. Wembling and Company are instructed to prepare the desired certified and attested statements, and I myself will then carry out the wishes of the people of Langri by allowing such claims as the developmental investment justifies—in accordance with legal procedure, of course. Is there further comment? None? Let justice be done.”

His image faded. The justice in session sign darkened. Khorwiss quickly gathered his disks and records and went out grinning. Jarnes wearily began the methodical packing of his own reference disks.

Clerk Wyland leaned over and spoke to him. “Submaster Jarnes—a word, please. My understanding was that even one resort on Langri would seriously deplete the natives’ food supply.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Surely the people of Langri can perceive that Wembling and Company will use this lavish gift of land for the construction of innumerable resorts.”

“I’m sure that they can,” Jarnes said politely. “In fact, I brought that possibility to their attention very forcefully. However, they not only requested the action taken, they demanded it, and I had no choice but to carry out their wishes.”

“Surely if you had explained to them…”

“I did explain,” Jarnes said.

“…and demonstrated to them…”

“I did demonstrate.”

“…and described the inevitable result…”

“I did describe the inevitable result, not once but repeatedly.”

“Well!” Clerk Wyland drew back and regarded him indignantly. “I’ll be interested to see what happens, and I’m certain that I’ll find out. The people of Langri will soon be back here screaming for relief. Unfortunately, that petition will come much too late.”

He stomped away angrily. Jarnes felt like weeping, and he turned away for a moment before resuming his packing. Saltwater corrosion in an attorney’s reference disks was a sure sign of immaturity.