The Golem's Eye

afterward, leaving the spectators whispering excitedly among themselves. Ms. Fitzwilliam brooded a while on her throne, occasionally bending down to exchange whispered asides with the Clerks of the Court. Finally, she tapped the table. The room fell silent.
    "This is a difficult and distressing case," the judge began, "and we are hampered in it by the lack of witnesses. We have only one person's word against the other. Yes, Miss Jones, what is it?"
    Kitty had put up her hand politely. "There is another witness, ma'am. Jakob."
    "If so, why isn't he here?"
    "He's not well, ma'am."
    "His family could have made a submission on his behalf. They have chosen not to do so. Perhaps they feel their case is weak?"
    "No, ma'am," Kitty said. "They're scared."
    "Scared?" The judge's eyebrows arched. "Ridiculous! Of what?"
    Kitty hesitated, but there was no help for it now. "Reprisals, ma'am. If they speak out against a magician in court."
    At this, the room erupted with a barrage of noise from the spectators' benches. The three clerks ceased typing in amazement. The young man in the green cap was gawping in his corner. Ms. Fitzwilliam's eyes narrowed. She had to bang the table repeatedly to quiet things down.
     
    "Miss Jones," she said, "if you dare utter such nonsense I shall have you up on a charge myself! Do not speak out of turn again." Kitty saw Julius Tallow grinning openly. She fought to hold back the tears.
    The judge stared at Kitty sternly. "Your wild accusation only increases the weight of evidence that has already built up so heavily against you. Do not speak!" Overcome with shock, Kitty had automatically opened her mouth again.
    "Each time you speak you further damn your case," the judge went on. "Quite patently, if your friend was confident with your story, he would be here in person. Equally patently, you were not hit by the Black Tumbler as you have just claimed, otherwise you could hardly—how shall I put it?—be so well turned out today."
    The judge paused to take a sip of water.
    "I almost admire your audacity in taking your claim to the court," she said, "together with your temerity in challenging such a prominent citizen as Mr. Tallow." She gestured across at the magician, who wore the complacent expression of a stroked cat. "However, such considerations cannot carry the day in a court of law. Mr. Tallow's case rests on his good reputation and the expensive garage bill required to pay for the damage that you caused. Your case rests on nothing except wild accusations, which I believe to be fabricated." (Gasps from the crowd.) "Why? Simply because if you are mendacious with regard to the Tumbler—which you say hit you, when clearly it did not—there is no reason for the court to accept the rest of your story. Moreover, you can produce no witnesses, not even your friend, the other 'injured party.' As your outbursts have proved, you are clearly of a passionate and turbulent nature, liable to erupt in a rage at the slightest opportunity. When I consider these points, it can only lead me to a glaring fact that I have done my best to ignore. It is this: when all is said and done, you are both a minor and a commoner, whose word can hardly stand against that of a trusted servant of the State."
    The judge at this point took a deep breath and a subdued cry of "Hear, hear," rose from the public benches. One of the clerks looked up, muttered, "Well said, ma'am," and buried his nose in his computer again. Kitty slumped in her chair, weighed down by leaden despair. She could not look at the judge, the clerks or, least of all, the odious Mr. Tallow. She stared instead at the shadows of the raindrops trickling across the floor. All she wished for now was to escape.
    "In conclusion"—the judge assumed an expression of the utmost dignity—"the court finds against you, Miss Jones, and rejects your charge. If you were older, you would certainly not escape a custodial sentence. As it is, and since Mr. Tallow has already applied his own appropriate punishment to your gangland group, I will restrict myself to fining you for wasting the court's time."
    Kitty swallowed. Please let it not be much, please let it not be—
    "You are hereby fined one hundred pounds."
    Not too bad. She could cope with that. She had almost seventy five pounds in her bank account.
    "In addition, it is customary to transfer the winner's costs across to the losing side. Mr. Tallow owes five hundred pounds for his late arrival. You must pay this, too. The