#MTG #fanfic:Â âPlea Dealâ
âIs there a telepath here?â
 Ceilia Levont looked up from her cups to see one of the first-years â a worried-looking man called Dryden â standing in the door to the lawmageâs canteen. At least, Ceilia thought it was Dryden. Sheâd gone off her shift several hours ago, and since then had been playing citations. Citations was a game the lawmages devised, in which they were challenged to recite obscure statutes â the penalty for failure was drink.
 Ceilia â who had had a long day â had been playing to lose. She had emptied a half bottle of brandy, and was feeling pleasantly warm.
 Frustrated by the non-response, the man in the doorway â she was now fairly sure it was Dryden â repeated his question.
 âKaskaâs a telepath,â Ceilia said, and was pleasantly surprised to hear the words come out unslurred. âBut sheâs already gone home for the night.â
 âNo good,â Dryden said. âI need someone here.â
 âSo send a bailiff to get her,â Ceilia said. âIt wonât take more than an hour.â
 âNo, you donât understand,â Dryden said. âI need a telepath now.â To emphasize the last word, his hand chopped the air in frustration.
 Ceilia shook her head â a gesture she immediately regretted. âWhatâs the rush?â she said.
 âRush is, Iâve got a squad of arresters just busted a riot over in Parha, and now the docketâs backed-up worse than a Rix Maadi privy,â Dryden said. âThereâs more Rakdos down in holding than a diversion club â itâll be a miracle if we get them all processed tonight. And now Iâve got this gorgon mute jamming up the works.â
 âYeah, gorgon,â Dryden said, kneading his temples in frustration. âJust a kid, really â came in before all the Rakdos. Now sheâs in the dock, and refusing to plead to the charges. At first, well, we thought she was just being obstinate, but nowâŠ?â Dryden shrugged his shoulders. âNow we figure that maybe sheâs deaf.â He sighed. âSo I need a telepath, now. The whole docketâs stuck unless someone gets the gorgon to plead.â
 âCeilia can sign,â another of the citation players said, drunkenly. âThat good enough?â In reply, Ceilia aimed a kick under the table, but missed.
 âYeah, should be,â Dryden said, and he motioned for Ceilia to follow. âCome on.â
 âHold on,â Ceilia said. It was true she could sign â her best friends in school had been twin homunculi â but it was also true she was drunk. âI can barely stand. And, unless thereâs two of you, Iâm seeing double.â
 âSo what?â Dryden said. âIâm not asking you to prosecute. All you have to do is translate the charges, and plead the gorgon out. Itâll take all of a minute.â
 âFine, fine,â Ceilia said, deciding it would be quicker not to argue â and less painful, too. She got unsteadily to her feet. âBut youâre going to have to help me,â she said.
 Dryden took her arm, and helped her to the assizors.
 âDonât throw up on my boots,â Dryden said.
 The three judges looked up as Ceilia entered the courtroom, their hooded faces showing varied degrees of impatience. The procureur â a bespectacled vedalken, who Ceilia knew, but did not like â was shuffling scrolls at her table. The prisoner sat stooped in the dock.
 When Dryden had called the accused gorgon a âkid,â Ceilia had pictured a sullen-eyed teen. But the girl cowering in the dock couldnât have been more than ten, and something about her made Ceiliaâs heart bleed. She just looked so small, against the scale of the courtroom, and she visibly shivered from fright. Her hands and ankles were both bound with glowing injunctions, and an opaque hood was pulled over her head.
 âYour honors, I object,â Ceilia said, taking her place next to the client. âThe girl is deaf, and canât see. Without the chance to read lips, how can she possibly plead to the charges?â
 The procureur cleared her throat. âAnd â for the record â you are?â
 Ceilia silently cursed the brandy, which was making her forget procedure.
 âCeilia Levont, appearing for the defense,â she said, and then hastily added, âif it please the court?â
 âSo recognized,â the procureur said, and noted as much in the record.
 Ceilia looked up at the three judges â two humans, one sphinx â seated high up above on the dais. The judgesâ marbled elevation, combined with their gold and azure robes, leant them an air of graven authority.
 âYour honors, I renew my objection,â Ceilia said. âMy client must see the proceedings.â
 âOverruled,â the sphinx said, who was the chief of the three. âThe hood is for the courtâs safety â lawmage Levont, you know better.â The judge nodded to the procureur. âOfficer, reread the charges.â
 The vedalken cleared her throat, and consulted a scroll. âThe prisoner,â she said, âan undercity resident â name unknown â is hereby accused of the following charges,â and she held up three fingers, before counting them off. âOne, on the charge of unlawful trespass. Two, on the charge of resisting arrest. And, three,â the last finger dropped, âon the charge of willful murder.â
 Ceilia felt her blood run cold â why the hell hadnât Dryden told her the charges? Just plead it out â like hell, Ceilia thought to herself. This was a murder, and she was half drunk.
 She turned around to look for Dryden, but the first-year was already gone â which was probably a good thing, Ceilia thought. Otherwise, there might have been a second murder.
 âHow does the accused plead?â asked the gravel-voiced sphinx.
 Ceilia squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to will herself sober. Standing next to her, the gorgon shook and shivered.
 Since the hooded gorgon could neither hear nor see, there was only one thing for Ceilia to do. Kneeling down, so that she was roughly the gorgonâs own height, Ceilia reached out, and tried to take the gorgonâs left hand.
 At the first brush of contact, the gorgon jumped back, and instinctively tried to pull away. But the injunction spells bound her, and Ceilia held firm, and â working as calmly and as gently as she could, given the circumstances â Ceilia wrapped her own hands around the gorgonâs, and softly molded the girlâs thin fingers into the sign for the word âsafe.â
 Once again, the girl started, though less violently this time. Ceilia herself shivered â the girlâs fingers were cold.
 The gorgonâs hand relaxed, and â again â Ceilia formed the word: safe.
 Then Ceilia let go, so the gorgon could sign back.
 After a momentâs hesitation, the gorgon repeated the word: safe? Ceilia took the gorgonâs hand, and this time the girl did not resist.
 Yes, Ceilia signed. Safe.
 Who are you? the gorgon signed.
 I am a lawmage, Ceilia signed back. My name is Ceilia. She spelled the word out. I am here to help you.
 Slowly, the gorgon nodded.
 Do you know where you are? Ceilia signed. Do you know why youâre here?
 No, the gorgon signed, twice.
 Ceiliaâs signing was rusty, and she didnât know words like âassizors,â but she did her best to explain.
 As the silence wore on, the procureur cleared her throat. Ceilia could sense the judges growing restless.
 âHow does the accused plead?â the sphinx asked again, its wings beating one impatient beat.
 The gorgon was signing rapidly, telling her side of the story. Her knees shook as she spoke â Ceilia wanted to hold her. Although she could feel the judgesâ collective glare, the lawmage refused to be rushed.
 When the gorgon had finished signing, Ceilia stood up, and put resonance into her voice. The spell was a simple one â and old lawmageâs trick â but it worked. And, as an added bonus, it helped her to steady her nerves.
 âYour honors,â Ceilia said, âmy client contests all the charges.â
 Ceilia caught the quick flash of annoyance which flickered across the three judgesâ faces. The procureur â less covert â sighed aloud, and glanced openly up at the clock. The four of them had clearly expected Ceilia to plead the case out, as lawmages routinely did. Virtually no prisoners brought before the assizors chose to contest the charges. Azorius justice â while by no means predetermined â placed a premium on order, and the procureurâs charges were accorded great deference.
 Arresters, it was understood, were not in the habit of detaining the innocent, and procureurs, it was equally understood, would bring no charges if there were no crime. Thus any prisoner appearing in the dock did so with the overwhelming presumption of guilt. Still, the accused were entitled to representation â on that, the law was quite clear â and were entitled to make their own case.
 And that was just what they would do.
 âVery well,â the procureur said, rearranging her papers. âWe will assize the charges in order. On the first count â that of unlawful trespass â what is the prisonerâs defense?â Speaking to the judges, the procureur said: âI will remind the court that the accused was arrested in Ovitzia Market, which â after dark â is strictly off-limits. She was inside an upholstererâs storeroom.â
 Is that true? Ceilia signed to the gorgon, after repeating the charges.
 Yes, the gorgon signed back.
 Why were you there? Ceilia asked her.
 The gorgonâs shoulders drooped. I wanted to feel the silks, she said.
 âYour honors, my client was unfamiliar with that district,â Ceilia said, which was likely enough. âShe had no idea that the area was under curfew.â
 That, Ceilia suspected, was likely not true. But she hadnât asked, and therefore didnât know, and therefore could not knowingly perjure. Thatâs the ghost of the brandy talking, she thought. It was making her reckless.
 âFor the record, the court does not stipulate to the prisonerâs defense,â the procureur said. âBut it is immaterial either way. Ignorance of the law is no excuse; the statute on trespass is quite clear. Your honors, I call for the verdict.â
 Ceilia and the procureur both looked up at the judges, who shifted in their seats on the dais. In front of each judge, there was a small, silver box, divided in two equal halves. On the half on the right, a white rune was etched. The rune on the left was dark red.
 After a perfunctory momentâs deliberation, each of the judges raised their left hand, and the three left-side runes lit up red.
 âGuilty on the first count,â the procureur said, and noted as much in the record. In the dock, the gorgon gave no reaction â Ceilia hadnât the heart to tell her.
 âMoving on,â the procureur said, âwe come to the final two counts, which we shall assize jointly, as the two are related.â The vedalken glanced up from her notes. âI enter into the record the sworn statement of the arresters, and â as your honors will see â it is quite clear.â The vedalken waved two of her arms, and duplicate copies appeared before Ceilia and each of the judges.
 Ceilia read the statement.
 âYour honors, this is ludicrous,â she said. âMy client was attacked from behind.â
 âIt is learned counsel who is being ludicrous,â the procureur said, pushing her spectacles up the brim of her nose. âWhat counsel calls âassaultâ was a lawful arrest â which the prisoner violently resisted.â
 âAccording to the statement, the arresters were off-duty,â Ceilia said. âThey were not in uniform.â
 âThey identified themselves,â the vedalken said.
 âMy client is deaf!â Ceilia shouted in reply. She was losing her cool, which she knew was a mistake â histrionics were counterproductive in an Azorius courtroom. But Ceilia was mad, and the brandy wasnât helping. âShe was scared â sheâs only a child.â
 âOnly a child?â The procureur scoffed, and looked down her nose. âA child who petrified an arrester.â
 Ceilia squeezed her eyes shut, and she took a deep breath. The room spun unhelpfully, but she counted to ten. Then, opening her eyes and again kneeling down, she took the gorgonâs small hand, and summarized as best she could what had been said.
 As Ceilia signed, the gorgonâs body shifted. She became tense, and her demeanor changed. As soon as Ceilia let go of her hand, the hooded gorgon started signing so fast that Ceilia could barely keep pace.
 âMy client says that three men grabbed her from behind,â Ceilia narrated, fighting to keep her voice level. âThey were strangers to her â she did not know their faces. Whatever they said, she could not hear it.â
 The gorgonâs hands flew, signing faster than before. And, as Ceilia listened, she felt her heart sink.
 I thought they would hurt me, the little gorgon signed. People have hurt me before.
 And then she stopped signing, and a great shudder racked her body, and, even through the barrier of the opaque black hood, Ceilia could tell that the gorgon was crying.
 Ceilia put her hand on the gorgonâs shoulder, in what she hoped was a gesture of comfort. A second, heaving shudder racked the small body, followed quick by a third, and then the gorgon signed five final words.
 I had to protect myself, she said, before her head dropped, and her hands fell silent.
 âYour honors,â Ceilia said, âmy client was attacked from behind by three men she did not recognize. She defended herself, as any reasonable person would.â
 âPetrifying an arrester hardly constitutes reasonable self-defense,â the procureur said.
 âWith all due respect to the court,â Ceilia said, trying â and failing â to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, âlearned counsel is not a three-foot-tall girl.â
 âA gorgon does not have to be tall to be a menace,â the procureur said, and in that moment, it was all that Ceilia Levont could do to keep from throwing her copy of the statutes.
 Ceilia Levont was a New Prahv lawmage. She believed in order. She believed in the law. But this was neither of those.
 âYour honors,â she said, feeling horribly resigned, âthe defense has made its case clearly. The accused has committed no crime.â
 âAn arrester is dead at the prisonerâs hand,â the procureur rebutted. âThe facts of this are not in question.â She addressed the bench, her voice almost disinterested: âYour honors, I call for the verdict.â
 As the judgesâ heads bowed, Ceilia shifted her body, positioning herself between the gorgon and the bench. But the gesture was meaningless, and there was nothing Ceilia could do to shield the small, sobbing gorgon from the three runes which all lit up red.
 The bailiffs had come for the gorgon before Ceilia could explain what had happened.
 The docket â Ceilia thought bitterly â was full, and the assizors were already behind schedule.
 They frogmarched the gorgon out of the courtroom â no fewer than six bailiffs, in full armor. The gorgon â clearly terrified â thrashed and screamed. She had no idea what was happening to her, who was dragging her, where they were taking her. No one had bothered to explain. Her black hood was still pulled tight.
 Before she even knew what she was doing, Ceilia was running after them. She elbowed her way past the rearmost pair of bailiffs, and squeezed herself between the two massive guards dragging the gorgon by the arms. Then, before, the bailiffs could object, Ceilia helped the gorgon so that she was at least standing on her own feet. Ceilia held the gorgonâs hand, and she felt the little girlâs shaking subside â not a lot, but at least a little.
 Safe? the gorgon frantically signed.
 No. Not safe, Ceilia signed back, pointedly ignoring the bailiffâs stares. Stay calm. I will help.
 The lead bailiff drew his sword. âGet away,â he said. âThe lawmages have no jurisdiction now.â
 âDo you want to have to drag her â kicking and screaming â all the way down to detention?â Ceilia said. âOr would you rather she walked?â
 For a minute, the bailiff just stared at her, stone-faced, and Ceilia thought he was going to argue. But, at last, he sheathed his sword, and motioned for her to follow.
 âFine,â he said. âBut keep pace. Weâre running behind already.â
 âVery sensible of you,â Ceilia said, as she fell into step with the knot of armed men. She put one hand on the tiny gorgonâs back to help guide her. With the other, she squeezed the gorgonâs hand tight.
 âWhere are you taking her?â Ceilia asked, as they descended down stairs into the network of tunnels which linked the assizors at New Prahv to the massive detention compound which sprawled beneath the Tenth District.
 âDetention sphere,â the lead bailiff grunted. âSolitary.â
 âThatâs madness!â Ceilia said. âSheâs a kid!â
 âShe killed an arrester,â the bailiff said.
 âAnd thatâs all that matters,â Ceilia said bitterly. âIsnât it?â
 The bailiff said nothing.
 Safe? the gorgon signed. Ceilia did not know how to reply.
 Ceiliaâs mind raced. She had to do something â but what? She was mostly sober, now, but that hardly mattered. She couldnât attack the bailiffs. They were armed, and she was not. They were soldiers, and she was not. It would be six on one â suicide.
 That didnât matter. She had to do something.
 Her repertoire as a lawmage was of painfully limited utility, and Ceilia cursed herself for not going into the justiciars. They had more martial spells. Still, she gathered in her mana, thinking.
 They were coming to a bend in the corridor. Ceilia made up her mind. When the first two bailiffs turned the corner, she would dispel the gorgonâs bonds. Then she would try to get the lead guardâs sword. Hopefully, that would buy the gorgon some time.
 Not much time, Ceilia thought ruefully. But it would have to be enough.
 The lead pair of bailiffs were approaching the corner. Ceilia felt her muscles grow tense. Get ready, she signed to the gorgon.
 Then â before Ceilia knew what was happening â all hell broke loose.
 Arrows whistled around the corner, along with a blast of dark magic. The first volley of arrows bounced ineffectually off of thick, Azorius plate, but the darkblast staggered the man that it hit, and, as he dropped to one knee, a cloud of living shadow seemed to envelop him, and, with a flash of steel beneath the unlight, some unseen hand cut his throat. Blood splashed briefly across the figure of a shadow-shrouded woman, before the outline vanished, and the air grew cold.
 âArms, arms!â the bailiff captain was shouting, and he went to draw his sword.
 Ceilia forgot all about her spell. Instead, she dove at the captain, hitting the back of his knees with all her weight. Her attack was clumsy â amateurish â but she caught the man unprepared, and he toppled, losing his balance. Ceilia went down, too, and the bailiff landed on top of her, crushing her beneath fifteen stone of solid muscle, and half as much again of hardened steel. All the air exited Ceiliaâs lungs in a single, explosive gasp. Her head hit the stone, and her vision swam red. The captain tried to roll off her, but he was on his back, now, and the plate made it hard for him to move. He was still fighting to work his sword free, but on his opposite hip was a small, double-edged dagger, and Ceilia grabbed it from his belt.
 Ceilia heard the captain shout, but the throbbing in her head muddled the words. Giving up momentarily on his sword, the captain lashed out, kicking at her with steel-capped boots. But the tangled state of their bodies restricted his range of motion, and he couldnât put real force behind the blow.
 Just inches away from her face, Ceilia saw the narrow slit between the captainâs helm and armored shoulder. She could hear his curses echoing inside the helmet.
 Ceilia levered the point of the double-edged dagger into that narrow gap between the armor. Then she pushed it as far as it would go.
 Ceilia heard the captain scream. It was a terrible, animal scream, that started out as a bellow of rage, but soon became a wet, gurgling choke. The bailiffâs whole body convulsed, and he rolled off her, onto the ground. Ceilia scrambled to her feet, wincing as she tried to suck air through crushed ribs. The bailiff was flopping on the stone floor, like a dying fish. The hilt of the dagger was sticking out from the gap in his armor, along with several inches of blade. The manâs hand was scrabbling for it.
 Ceilia kicked the exposed end of the dagger. The blade slid all the way in, with a final cry of steel scraping steel, and the bailiff stopped moving.
 Frantically, Ceilia looked around, trying to get her bearings. The two bailiffs in front lay motionless â the one face-down with his throat cut, the other on his back, his arms and legs splayed at horrible angles. Behind her, Ceilia heard the sounds of fighting. The little gorgon stood pressed against the wall, her back to the cold marble, her chest heaving with fright. She was trying to pull off her hood, but the knot was pulled tight, and the gorgonâs wrists were still bound. Blood was splashed across the front of the gorgonâs shirt. Ceilia hoped that the blood was not hers.
 âStand still â let me help you,â Ceilia said, before shaking her head in frustration as she remembered the gorgon couldnât hear. So she scrambled over to where the little girl stood, and, taking the gorgonâs hand in hers, she signed, stand still! Then she set to work on the knot.
 The fighting noises had stopped, and Ceilia had almost gotten the hood loose, when she heard the sound of a sword being drawn behind her. Ceilia spun round to see that the bailiff who had been lying on his back earlier was less dead than she had assumed, and was now looming over her and the gorgon, with his sword in his hand, and murder in his eyes.
 Ceilia went to raise her dagger, then realized sheâd left it in the dead captainâs neck. She swore.
 The bailiff took a step forward.
 âFirst, Iâm going to kill the sewer snake,â he said, levelling the point of his sword at the quivering gorgon. His eyes moved to Ceilia. âThen Iâm going to kill you.â
 Ceilia pulled the little gorgon down, and covered her with her body. She doubted it would make much difference, but it was all she could think to do.
 Her hand found the gorgonâs, as she shielded her with her body. Be brave, Ceilia signed, be brave, as she waited for the flash of pain that would be the last thing she ever felt.
 Ceilia waited, and waited, and waited. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, could feel her heart beating in her throat, could feel the gorgon clinging to her.
 Still Ceilia waited, but still the blow did not come.
 âGet up,â said a hard voice. Not the guardâs.
 Slowly, warily, Ceilia got to her feet. Slowly â warily â she turned round.
 The bailiff was still standing behind her, his face frozen in anger, the point of his sword barely an inch from her chest. Only he did not move. He did not speak. He did not even breathe.
 The bailiff had turned into stone.
 Ceilia glanced back at the little gorgon. The heavy hood still covered her head.
 âTurn around,â the hard voice said. Ceilia did as she was told.
 The corridor was empty. Just a maze of bodies and shadows.
 Then, as Ceilia watched, one of the shadows started to move. It detached itself from the wall, and slithered slowly towards her. And, as it moved, the shadow took form. It became shimmery and translucent, like a pane of smoked glass, and its shape grew distinct and more clear, taking on the outline of a woman. Then, as though some unseen curtain had been parted, the shadows drew aside, and the woman herself appeared.
 She was a tall, powerful gorgon. The claws on her right hand were like razors; in her left, she held a bloody knife. Writhing snakes wreathed her head like a profane halo; her eyes glowed yellow in the halflight. She was clad in soft, leathery armor, which tapered to many sharp points, and gave an aggressive silhouette. Her skirt hung in artful green tatters, which swayed like windblown reeds as she walked.
 Everything about the gorgon looked both deadly and regal. She moved silently, like a predator, but carried herself like a queen.
 Ceiliaâs mouth went dry. She knew who the gorgon was.
 âGet away,â Vraska said, and motioned for Ceilia to step back from the kid.
 Without hardly daring to breathe, Ceilia did as she was told.
 Vraska moved to stand next to the girl, who was now struggling to work herself free. Vraska waved her hand, and the detention spells around the girl shattered.
 Then, in a gesture of supreme contempt, the assassin turned her back on the lawmage, and â with a single, deft swipe of her claw â she cut the drawstring and pulled the hood free.
 For the first time, Ceilia Levont saw the face of the gorgon sheâd tried to save. Her snake hair was matted and tangled. Her eyes were puffy and red. Tear tracks stained the scales on her cheeks. She looked small, and exhausted, and scared.
 She looked like a kid, Ceilia thought. She looked like a regular kid.
 Human, gorgon, Azorius, Golgari â none of it mattered. Ceilia saw that now. She saw it all in the face of that kid.
 Just a kid, like any other, who deserved to live, who deserved to be free.
 Are you alright? Vraska signed to the gorgon.
 Yes, the little gorgon signed back.
 Did they hurt you? Vraska signed, glancing back at the lawmage.
 No, the little gorgon said.
 Good, Vraska signed. Weâre leaving. And she took the little gorgon by the hand.
 Then, to Ceilia, Vraska gave a withering stare. âDonât try to follow,â she said.
 âWait,â Ceilia said, and moved to go after the gorgons, before Vraska froze her with a yellow-eyed glare. âI want to help.â
 âYouâve helped enough,â Vraska said, her voice cold and hard. âNow leave before I change my mind.â
 The little gorgon tugged on a strand of Vraskaâs skirt. The assassin looked down, and a stream of sign language passed between the two gorgons more quickly than Ceilia could follow.
 When the assassin looked up, she fixed Ceilia again with her unblinking eyes, and Ceilia saw the same intensity there as before. But, this time, some of the hard edge was gone.
 âEesha says you tried to help her,â Vraska said. âFor that, you have my thanks.â
 The little gorgon â whose name must have been Eesha â looked up at Ceilia, and waved. Ceilia smiled and waved back.
 âSo, thanks,â Vraska said. âNow leave.â And, putting her hand on the little gorgonâs back, she moved to shoo her away.
 âWait,â Ceilia said again. âI want to do more.â
 Vraska turned around, and then â faster than Ceilia could blink â the assassin was standing right before her, so close that Ceilia could smell the scent of death.
 âIf you really want to help,â Vraska said, holding Ceilia transfixed in her gaze, âthen go back to New Prahv. Go back to your job. Keep your head down. Forget about Eesha. Forget about me.â Her hard, yellow eyes didnât blink. They stared straight through the back Ceiliaâs skull. âWhen the day comes that I need you, that you can be of use to me?â Vraska said. âThen youâll see me. Not a moment before.â
 âBut I canât go back,â Ceilia said. âI killed a bailiff. Iâm a traitor.â She pointed down at the captain below, lying in motionless in a pool of blood. âIf I go back to New Prahv, Iâll end up back down here â in a very small detention sphere.â
 Vraska glanced down at the dead body, then back up at Ceilia. Then, faster than Ceilia could react, she punched the lawmage â hard â in the jaw.
 Ceilia went down, head reeling. As she lay stunned on her back on the cold marble floor, feeling the dead guardâs blood soaking into her robes, the assassin knelt down over her, and, with all the precision of a surgeon, she raked two sharp sets of claw marks diagonally down Ceiliaâs torso. The slashes cut cotton and silk, and went deep enough to draw blood, so that Ceilia gritted her teeth with the pain. But the gorgon placed her wounds carefully â they did not sever anything vital.
 Then Vraska snapped her own dagger in half, and dropped the blade next to Ceiliaâs head.
 âNow youâre no traitor,â the assassin whispered in the lawmageâs ear. âNow youâre an Azorius hero. So wait to be rescued, and do what I say.â
 Ceilia nodded. Her jaw hurt like hell.
 Vraska stood up and left. Her feet made no sound as she went.
 Through the haze of pain, Ceilia propped herself on her elbow, and raised her head far enough to see Vraska and the little gorgon walking off down the hall, stepping over corpses as they went. Then, just before they disappeared around the corner, the little gorgon â Eesha â looked back, and make the sign for goodbye.
 Goodbye, Ceilia signed back.
 Then lawmage Ceilia Levont lay back on the floor, in a puddle of cooling blood. She picked up the assassinâs broken dagger, clutching it tightly in one hand.
 âNot guilty, your honors,â she said, for no one to hear but the dead. And, when she passed out, she passed out with a smile.