Outreach

I was very excited. Today I would see Londrail!

Breakfast was another huge meal for Daddy, again all meat, some milk and some vitamins.

“One thing seemed strange, I didn’t need the toilet this morning,” Daddy commented when we were finished eating.

“I used everything that was available. I do mean /everything/.”

I wanted to say “Ew.” But after a second’s thought just shrugged my shoulders. Nallen knew far more about thaumaturgic healing, I hadn’t even had the formal course yet - only the single lesson on self-healing.

Nallen chose to continue with Daddy’s left leg, he ended up just a little short of the ankle. “It’ll probably take one-and-a-half more of these sessions and your left leg’ll be done. The foot’s complicated. We do need to wait ‘til this evening, it might not seem like it but this is tough on both our bodies. Tomorrow morning you’ll have a foot again. And the next night you’ll have both. And then you have a helluva lot of exercise.”

“Don’t care. I /really/ don’t care. This is an incredible gift.” Daddy was beside himself while Mom just looked weepy. Debbie looked incredibly relieved, like she had been carrying the weight of Daddy’s injury around this whole time - maybe she had.

My first view of Londrail, I’m not sure what I expected. I was thankful most of the people were dressed. There were a few naked but they were vastly outnumbered by those clothed. Nallen had opened a door into an area reserved for incoming travelers. Thankfully the way the doors work doesn’t allow for them to be placed on top of each other. It was just a city street, not nearly as busy as I was used to from Manhattan but still, just an ordinary city street. The buildings ranged between three and five stories, the ground floor almost always retail, or at least walk-up business of some kind. Above that there might be one or two floors of more private establishments, and then space where the ground-floor shopkeepers lived.

There were shops open offering their wares, people going about their business. Even a very few loitering looking for handouts. If I had not been warned I would have been terrified seeing so many people obviously armed. Now I was one of those obviously armed people, wearing my Krungflung forty-three lit in a hip-holster. Nobody else paid the weapons any mind.

We had arrived next to a bakery, the smell was mouth-watering from the moment we showed up. Nallen took me in, I got something very like a maple bar, Aneeka getting some kind of doughnut.

“Thank you, Lord t’Laptrour,” the shopkeeper wasn’t exactly obsequious but was clearly both nervous about and excited by Nallen’s presence. Our treats had been about a quarter Dronnie together. Nallen paid the posted rate, no special discount - I was glad for that, that Nallen’s family didn’t use their position to bully people simply trying to make a living.

It was also interesting seeing that the t’Laptrour family obviously subscribed to the ‘broken windows’ approach to crime fighting. There was no graffiti, the sidewalks were clean. Even the panhandlers were subdued. Maybe it was just this one street, that this street being special was why Nallen had chosen it, but somehow I thought not.

The reason Nallen chose this street became apparent as we approached a massive building, obviously a government edifice what with how it stood out from everything else. Unlike other buildings this was only two stories and was set away from the street, a wide stone staircase leading to a columnated entryway. There was a plaza in front, a monument or statue a bit off-center.

“Linda, you once asked about whether you are just a baby factory, I’ve been on vacation but do have work to do. You can watch if you’d like.”

“Yes, please!”

It turned out that Nallen’s ‘work’ was being one judge for the Counsel Aneeka had mentioned at the training center - placed there by his father to get some sense of the scrapes the ordinary citizens of Londrail get into. My presence was actually to serve a purpose, a purpose Aneeka had been filling - just none too happily on the part of some of those forced to appear, given how she was no longer officially a t’Laptrour. That purpose was to be Nallen’s voice of conscious, I was to ensure that justice be tempered with mercy - but not to any foolish extent, if someone were a repeat offender it was obviously time to use sterner measures.

The only case waiting for Nallen’s attention was a serious matter indeed. Larurus Petroux had raped a slave -not his own - and left her nearly dead. Betian law may provide slaves few - if any - protections against their lawful master or mistress but that is not the case concerning others. Rather the master has the entire weight of law behind them when it comes to protecting their property, investment, in many cases simply a different family arrangement.

The slave in question, a woman named Dalla, was present along with her master Likabee. Today she had been allowed clothes, the briefing papers had mentioned by way of explanation her being naked during the attack had not been punishment, that she simply enjoyed sunlight on her bare skin, that Likabee saw no harm in indulging her this free entertainment.

Larurus Petroux was brought forward bound naked in a prisoner rack, like Neil at the training center his ankles were bound in addition to his wrists. As Aneeka had told me the facts had already been determined, thaumaturgy at work again. This hearing was strictly to decide upon his punishment.

A screen rolled out, descending from the ceiling. We were actually to watch memories, sight, sound and even internal thoughts. It wasn’t quite like watching a movie - not even one shot with a very shaky camera. But it was good enough to convey what had happened.

First came Dalla’s memories, the first she had known anything was wrong was when Larurus grabbed her shoulder spinning her around. She had been humming while hanging clothes on a line in the yard to dry.

“No, no!” It was very strange, I could not tell if she had spoken these words or if we were only hearing her thoughts. The memory of the blood pounding in her ears was very clear. “My Master...” this definitely had been spoken out loud, only to be interrupted.

“Shut up, bitch!”

Dalla had made a point of staring right at his face. The next words were just as obviously only a thought, “got to remember.”

Dalla kept struggling, trying to get away, a punch to the face had her seeing stars. Larurus had obviously come prepared, he bound her wrists with a cord he had brought.

Thankfully whoever had put together this exhibit fast-forwarded over the rape itself. When Larurus Petroux finished with her he stabbed Dalla in the gut and walked way like nothing had happened.

Next came Likabee’s memories. He had been a few houses down the street chatting with an elderly couple. He wasn’t worried at first when he came home and couldn’t find Dalla. This presentation was even choppier than the first, it showed the man becoming concerned after a few minutes, his going to look for Dalla; His finding her. She had almost bled out by the time he stumbled over her sprawled body. It took all of his meager power to keep her alive until a more capable healer could attend. Likabee could do nothing to help with the investigation itself but did instantly swear out the complaint that set the wheels in motion. Dalla, being a slave, could not do that in her own right.

Most of that investigation was skipped - this was about punishment, not determining guilt. The only point from the investigation that did make it to the presentation was a comment by one of Petroux’s aquaintances about Larurus from the day of the attack. He’d been drinking later, bragging about the ‘fine piece’ he’d bagged earlier in the day. He was smart enough to not say where, only that it wasn’t any of the girls at Mama’s Club - the brothel he usually frequented.

Then it was time for Larurus’ memories. He had been walking by on his way to his favorite bar, he heard Dalla’s humming and looked over to see her hanging clothes.

Memory is a tricky thing, in Larurus Petroux’s memory Dalla knew he was there, was taunting him twitching her hips. He watched for a little while, getting more and more turned on watching this fine woman dancing just for him - so much better than the clubs with all the other guys throwing money around getting the girls to fall all over them!

It was only when Dalla was done, about to leave that he approached. ‘Give me a hard-on with no payoff, will she?’

He turned her around by one shoulder, trying to think of what line to use.

“No, my Master!”

This was just too much, ‘Just like all them other bitches, already owned.’

Larurus Petroux had learned early on that you had to keep stupid bitches in line. A punch to her face, ‘Her pussy’ll still work’, gave him time to fish out a bit of rope he carried just for situations like this.

I glanced over to see how the man was taking this now. Incredible, Larurus Petroux was naked, in a prisoner rack - being judged - and he was erect just watching his memories.

This time the rape was not skipped over. Petroux’s thoughts were vile, lots of ‘Oh yeah’s, ‘Take that, bitch’ - or ‘Take it, bitch’, he seemed unable to decide which thought was more exciting- ‘How’s it feel to have a real man?’. He could have been fucking a sponge for as little that he cared that it was a living breathing woman beneath him.

The stabbing was more of an afterthought than any carefully thought out plan. His cock was dealt with for now, this was just one more way to penetrate the whore!

“She had it comin’, stupid slit kept shakin’ that ass,” Larurus sounded petulant, like he should be the aggrieved party. “Wouldna hurt her none but she kept tryin’ get away.”

If I was supposed to be Nallen’s voice of moderation I was going down as a failure. I kept imagining myself in Dalla’s place, it really was a miracle she wasn’t dead. And this wasn’t Larurus Petroux’s first trip before the Counsel - nothing anywhere as major as this but still ... The man didn’t even understand that what he did was wrong! I had a brief thought wondering how he’d managed to graduate from the training center - although that had been a decade earlier so maybe he simply changed in the meantime.

I looked over to see Dalla’s reaction to the just-concluded presentation, she was shaking in her master’s arms, her face buried in his chest. He was combing fingers through her long hair, rubbing her back with the other. Likabee was glaring at Petroux, if looks could kill there would be a corpse hanging in the prisoner rack.

Nallen met Likabee’s gaze, “I am certain you will say ‘no’ but I am required to offer, do you want him?”

“Not just ‘no’ but fuck no.”

“Thought not.” Nallen placed a hand over mine, “Anything to say, love?”

“Whatever he gets, it won’t be enough.”

I held Aneeka, thinking about a man like Larurus Petroux getting his hands on her.

“I can’t argue with you there.” Nallen took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping the small crowd. “First, Larurus Petroux, you are stripped of Betian citizenship.”

“Can’t do this, not over a bitch! A stupid slave bitch whore!” Larurus kept muttering to himself.

“Second, you are remanded to the Guild, your memories will be examined to the smallest detail, any other crimes you’ve committed, any accomplices, will be found out.”

“Ha! Those pussies!”

“Only after the sordid details of your life have been uncovered, you will be taken to the field and impaled.”

“You can’t! Stupid bitch ain’t even dead!”

As I understood Betian law even now someone could save Larurus from the stake, it would cost a fortune. But it would only save him from the stake, he would still be a slave - would still have his memories forcibly extracted. I could see a possible accomplice buying Larurus if it would have kept him from the Guild’s not-so-tender mercies. But with that not an option? Better to find some way to kill the man before he reached the killing field.

Nallen turned to Likabee, “Sir, Is the punishment sufficient?”

Likabee bowed low - Dalla following suit moments later, “It is, Lord t’Laptrour.”

Nallen whispered, as an aside to me, “I’m amazed we had one of these your first day. Case like this, there will only be two or three a year.”

Larurus Petroux also still technically had a right of appeal, it was only after that his name would truly be Larurus - for what remained of his short life. Nallen did tell me that even were an appeal filed - about even odds, he thought - the outcome wouldn’t change. Well, the full Counsel might change the manner of death. If that happened, Nallen told me, it would likely only be even more gruesome. That risk was a large part of why he was uncertain about an appeal.

After finishing with the paperwork needed to make his ruling official Nallen led us back to the small office he rated as a Counsel judge. It had room for a desk with a couple reasonable chairs in front, two couches - more like love-seats - facing each other with a low table between and not much else.

When Nallen sat on the love-seat facing the door this time I got his lap, Aneeka rested her head at the side of his chest.

“What’d you think, love?” he asked, his voice soft. “Is that something you’d like to continue?”

“Yes! That was just amazing, seeing their memories like that ... made it so much more real. Can that ever be faked? Make people forget things, remember things that didn’t happen?”

“It’s difficult. Pretty much always leaves a trace. Just like the teacher can’t erase ‘real’ memories.”

“So does Mern do anything similar? I mean part of the courts?”