Monument (novel)

23

Master Khan Khorwiss pompously struck his most dramatic pose. “Confiscatory and punitive taxation, Your Eminence,” he thundered.

Justice Figawn leaned forward. “Ah! So that’s the tactic. The people of Langri made their bargain, Submaster Jarnes. They cannot unmake it through the agency of taxation.”

“Ten-to-one taxes, Your Eminence,” Khorwiss proclaimed. “Langri presumes to assess Wembling and Company with an annual tax equal to ten times its total investment. If it fails to pay, its holdings will be confiscated. If it pays it will be forced into bankruptcy. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Now I have,” the justice said angrily.

Jarnes leaped to his feet.

“I know, I know, Submaster Jarnes. Those poor natives—but they lose sympathy rapidly when they practice such a flagrant illegalism.”

“The references, Your Eminence,” Jarnes said politely. “Those tax rates were set properly and legally by the duly elected Congress of the World of Langri, and no Federation court can claim jurisdiction over them.”

The justice studied Jarnes quizzically for a moment, and then he said, “Very well. Do you both stand ready? You may play your cases, gentlemen.”

Clerk Wyland activated the computer. Jarnes sat back comfortably and waited for Khorwiss to build his case, and Wembling’s distinguished counsel did not hesitate. He quickly built a column of references on the left-hand screen. Jarnes, comparing them with his notes, watched patiently; and at the console opposite, Khorwiss’ expression gradually became a smirk as he posted one unanswered reference after another.

At one point Figawn, intrigued by such unusual tactics, interrupted with a question. “Are you going to let him play his entire case, Submaster Jarnes?”

“What there is of it, Your Eminence,” Jarnes said politely.

Finally Khorwiss slowed his pace, and after each entry he began to eye Jarnes uneasily. Then Jarnes stirred himself, stroked his console, and posted a single reference.

A ping sounded, followed instantly by another, and all of Khorwiss’ references vanished. Staring at the screen, mouth open, Khorwiss half rose to protest, thought better of it, waited for the computer to correct itself, and finally asked for time and searched the reference.

While they waited, the justice asked, “Have you other references, Submaster Jarnes?”

“Yes, Your Eminence, but I doubt that they’ll be needed.”

The justice did some searching of his own, read the result, and smiled, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen that case posted before, Submaster Jarnes. How did you happen to find it?”

“I didn’t, Your Eminence. The people of Langri brought it to my attention.”

The justice looked skeptical, and Jarnes did not blame him. He found it difficult to believe himself. He’d had the devil’s own time tracking the case down even after he’d been told about it, and when he located it he thought at first that he’d been victimized by a joker. The case was almost identical to Langri’s, concerning a world’s right to impose uniform taxes, and on appeal to Higher Court the legal principles were laid down firmly for all time in the most comprehensive review of a world’s powers of taxation that Jarnes had ever seen. Apparently a world’s right to impose taxes had never before been challenged in Federation court, and obviously it wasn’t challenged again until now, and a case never cited eventually was dropped from current references.

But someone had remembered it—someone not an attorney, because it was not a legal reference that Fornri passed to him on a soiled scrap of paper, but a scrawled eyewitness recollection of an event remote in time and space. And how did Langri find out about it, when the world’s discovery took place long after the event had been forgotten?

Fornri volunteered no information, and Jarnes, not being aware that the scrap of paper might be important, did not ask. If he had asked, probably he would not have been answered. From the beginning the natives carefully told him no more than he had to know, and though this sometimes tried him sorely, he now felt that they had been wise.

And though there were many other references he could have used, though he thought he could have won without this one, it pleased him to let the people of Langri win their own case.

Khorwiss resumed play a moment later, posting reference after reference, and each appeared on the screen momentarily and then vanished. Eventually he began to resort to feit references, and the pings were replaced by gongs and Clerk Wyland’s reproving voice, “Reversed by decision of Higher Court, Master Khorwiss.”

Finally Khorwiss slumped back dejectedly.

“Your reference stands, Submaster Jarnes,” Figawn observed. “The tax rate is the local government’s prerogative, but it cannot be selectively applied. It must apply equally to all.”

Jarnes got to his feet. “It does apply equally to all, Your Eminence.”

Khorwiss leaped up, arms waving. “Exception! Exception! First, the valuation bases for these taxes are wildly inflated.”

“Exception!” Jarnes shouted. “Those values were attested to this chamber by Wembling and Company!”

Justice Figawn imposed order with a gesture. The merest flicker of a smile touched his lips as he inclined his head to Jarnes. “My congratulations, Submaster Jarnes. Your exception is allowed. Wembling and Company did indeed certify the valuations that their counsel now calls wildly inflated, and I can and do accept them as a proper basis for taxation. Further, I affirm the right of the people of Langri to set their own tax rates. But I must consider Wembling and Company’s charge of selective taxation.”

“There is none, Your Eminence,” Jarnes said. “The ten-for-one tax rate is applied equally to all.”

“Exception!” Khorwiss bleated. “No citizen of Langri owns more than a grass hut. What is ten times the value of a grass hut? Whereas Wembling and Company—”

“Silence!” Figawn roared. He sat back to contemplate the situation. “Will the natives in fact be paying taxes, Submaster Jarnes?” he asked finally.

“Certainly, Your Eminence. The same tax rate applies to all, and I have the tax rolls here for your examination. Further, I object to that term, ‘grass hut.’ These are well-constructed dwellings, requiring several days’ labor by a crew of highly skilled workers to build them, and no grass is used in their construction. I would like to see my eminent colleague produce an example of the woven fiber matting that is so well suited for dwelling walls on the world of Langri. Only the most skilled of the natives are able to weave it. I offer in evidence a report from one Aric Hort, a trained anthropologist and a deputy marshal on Langri, concerning his own efforts to build one of those maligned grass huts. I further point out that these dwellings are also taxed according to their locations, a variable land-value factor that applies only to community dwelling sites and thus is not imposed on the landholdings of Wembling and Company.”

“Accepted as stated,” the justice said. “I’ll now take your cases on the subject of selective taxation.”

This time Jarnes posted a single reference and sat back to enjoy Khorwiss’ perspiring efforts to dislodge it. The other counsel’s postings appeared, one after the other, and the computer consigned them to oblivion with its mocking ping. Khorwiss frantically shuffled his reference disks and frequently turned to the reference console to search something new.

Another posting, and a buzzer rasped. “Duplicated reference, Master Khorwiss,” Clerk Wyland said.

Khorwiss shrugged and posted another reference. Again the buzzer sounded. “Duplicated reference, Master Khorwiss.”

Justice Figawn leaned forward. “Come, Master Khorwiss. Submaster Jarnes is extending every courtesy and I am permitting unlimited challenges. Have you a case?”

Khorwiss tried again; again the buzzer sounded. Clerk Wyland laughed aloud and then clapped a hand over his mouth in consternation; the justice’s tight lips suppressed a smile. With difficulty Jarnes contained his own laughter.

Khorwiss leaped to his feet. “We won’t tolerate this. We’ll appeal. It’s an outrage, and if this court won’t take proper action to prevent it, then Higher Court will. And further—”

Listening to him, Jarnes suppressed a yawn. There would be an appeal, and then another, and with them all of the legal gymnastics the firm of Khorwiss, Qwaanti, Mllo, Bylym, and Alaffro could devise, but he knew that he had won the judgment.

So did Justice Figawn. He had been busily searching references while the case was played, and now, while Khorwiss raved, he studied the results. Then he inclined his head toward Jarnes and closed one eye in a deliberate wink.