uncle flanagan never told us how the araluen justice system works on the circuit level so i do that mySELF


Will led Harley inside the cabin, where the smell of coffee was strong and the main room was toasty from the fire. Alyss, sitting close to the hearth with a shawl around her shoulders, looked up.

"Good morning, Harley," said Alyss cheerfully, but hoarsely. "Don't get too near me. I've got that headcold, wouldn't want all of Castle Redmont catching it."

"Oh, that really wouldn't do," Harley replied, reaching into her satchel for her things. "I was wondering why I hadn't seen you around as much."

"I'll be back soon. I do miss the recent brouhaha with Lord Fenley and his secretary."

"Indeed."

"There's coffee on the stove, if you'd like, Will's got it."

"Thank you, madam. But I'm here on business."

Will went to the stove and poured a third mug of coffee, exhausting the rest of the pot. The women kept talking even as Will and Harley sat down at the wooden table.

"I heard," said Alyss, raising an eyebrow. "He was strangled, you said?"

"Right around the neck with a twisted sheet. He was sleeping, at least, they say that he was," replied Harley, sipping her coffee.

"And it was his wife?" said Will.

"Well, here's all I know of it." Harley reached to her bag and pulled out a pair of tiny reading glasses and worn leather folder practically bursting with papers. She set the glasses on her frankly quite large nose and held one paper out to read it.

"The first witnesses were Benny and Joan Playford, the Gibbons' neighbors. Joan woke up at about three this morning because, and I quote, 'I sleep light and I'd been woken up by something that sounded like a man yelling for help.' She roused her husband and they ran to the Gibbons' house, but before they could enter, Mrs. Gibbons, and I quote again, 'crashed through the door like the demons of hell was after her, hair all wild, nightgown all torn up, her hands over her face.' Benny Playford tried to stop Mrs. Gibbons, but she slipped past him, ran to the stable, and fled barebacked on a horse. The Playfords then called for Jack Gibbons, but received no response, and found Jack lifeless in his bed with a sheet twisted and knotted around his neck. The Playfords left him there and went immediately to Baron Arald."

"Have you been to the house?" Will asked.

"No one has, besides the Playfords."

"Then why come to me first?"

"Because if I didn't, another attorney would."

Will couldn't help but sigh at that. The parts about being a Ranger that he could never bring himself to like were the legal squabbles. It was one thing tracking down a troublemaker, shooting some arrows, and foiling some evil plans. It was another thing testifying in court as lawyers screamed at each other. Every once in a while, another "race for the Ranger" would come up, where the prosecution and defense would both scramble to get the insight of the Ranger to help them win. What they always seemed to forget was that in a criminal defense trial, all the evidence had to be on the table, and it was not up to the Ranger to take a side or reserve evidence for one side alone.

"Harley, we've been over this," said Will. "You're not going to get a leg up just because I'm helping you — "

"With all due respect, Ranger, but I'm afraid that's not true," Harley cut in, setting down her folder. "As I told you, Mrs. Verity Gibbons is missing."

"I understood that."

"Both the prosecution and I will be searching for her, and the difference in me — for lack of a better term — in me CLAIMING you is the difference between working with you and working with a squadron of bumbling castle footsoldiers who might intimidate her, scare her off. Pardon me, but I would much rather trust you to find a missing client."

Will rubbed his chin. He couldn't say he approved of the partisan nature of this investigation, especially as Harley seemed to be taking the defensive stance. The Ranger loyalty was primarily to the kingdom and its laws; the job was to gather the cold and hard facts in order to protect the people. The cold and hard fact here was, or at least it seemed to be, that a farmer's wife murdered her husband and ran away in fear. Of course someone had to find her. And of course someone had to eventually defend her, weaseling her out of as much punishment as possible. Will just did not like the prospect of creeping out of the first job and into the second.

Harley seemed to sense this. "I know it seems like I'm asking you to be biased, but it's not that. At least, I hope it's not. But for now, all I need is for someone to come with me to the house and take a closer look at things."

"Oh, Will," Alyss put in, "you're going to have to get involved eventually. At least it's for a friend."

"At least it's not George again," Will murmured.

"I wouldn't wish that upon you either," Harley said gravely.

"Fine," Will replied after a moment, "I'll go. But it's for my duty and for the safety of Araluen as a whole, NOT to help my wife's friend win a case."

Pointedly, he stood and went back to his room to get his Ranger cloak and weapons. Harley smiled thinly and sipped her coffee.

"He was more of an idealist when I last worked with him," Harley remarked to Alyss. Alyss shrugged.

"It's age. He likes to pretend that he's so indifferent and grim, just like Halt seemed when Will first met him," Alyss replied. "But there's a little vigilante justice in all Rangers. He'll have picked a side before the sun goes down."