each hoping the other would supply an answer.
“Let me ask another way. At what age would a fae be considered fully mature?”
“Five hundred? Or so?” Lochlan ventured.
“That sounds about right,” Keir agreed.
“So, let’s work backward and come up with a formula. I assume fae go through puberty?” My lunch companions nodded while chewing. “At around what age?”
After hemming, hawing, and trying, unsuccessfully, to change the subject, Keir and Lochlan agreed that puberty onset, which was my definition of adolescence, begins around two hundred sixty.
After a half hour of questioning and calculating I had a conversion equation. Twenty fae years was equal to one human year. I had a calculator on my now-silenced phone if needed.
“Thank you both. I know this information will be very helpful going forward, not just for this case but others to come.”
We talked about this and that, the new precedents I’d already managed to set in a single morning at work, some that were, as I was given to understand by Keir and Lochlan, borderline shocking.
“Lochlan, do we aim for a time to adjourn court for the day?”
“It’s up to each magistrate, of course, but we don’t want to go past mid-afternoon. Even the people who are curious about you or have a personal interest in one of the cases on the docket for today, want a chance to attend the fair.”
“So, three?”
“It’s a guideline.”
“Not a rule. I know. But if we’re reconvening at one thirty and haven’t finished this case, that doesn’t leave much time.”
“Why don’t you quit early today?” Keir offered. “Give people a chance to gossip about you.” He winked as he took a bite of beef medallion covered in mushroom sauce and piled-high mushrooms.
“Gossip?” I asked, looking between them.
“In a good way.” Lochlan was quick to reassure. “People will be talking about your very innovative approach to the office.”
“Do I want to know what they’re saying?”
“Are you suggesting employing a spy to wander the fair, eavesdrop, and report?” Keir asked.
“Well…” I wouldn’t have put it that way, but since he said it out loud, I couldn’t find fault with the plan.
He laughed. “Easy enough.”
He made fast work of the rest of his steak, pushed back, and said, “I’ll be back. I shouldn’t be late, but I’m not expecting any trouble from that fop.”
I smiled at his use of the word “fop.” It wasn’t something that came up in conversation often. Or ever.
“Are you positive this is a good idea?”
“What concerns you?” Keir asked.
Lochlan was hesitating and I caught anxiety when he glanced at me.
“You’re worried about my feelings being hurt.” I took a deep breath. “That’s a legitimate concern.” I started to say, “I’m only human,” but remembered that was no longer entirely true. “I trust Keir to exercise good judgment in filtering out comments about my hair, my weight, my voice, my humanity, or anything else that’s unnecessarily unnecessary.”
“You do know how to turn a phase, Magistrate,” Lochlan quipped about my word mess.
Keir chuckled on his way out to initiate Rita-style espionage. I had to face it. The boy was multitalented and invaluable on so many levels. The unbidden exploration of that thought sent heat radiating up and down my torso until I was trying to manage a respectably surreptitious squirming in my chair.
“Regarding the scheduling for today…”
“Yes?”
“We have a case that should be heard during the first three days, but it’s an unusual situation. Court must convene after dark to accommodate the plaintiff.”
“After dark? Why’s that?”
“The suit is being brought by a young gargoyle against a Deutsch noblewoman. It’s practically impossible for gargoyles to move about during the day. That’s especially true of the young.”
“Oh. Am I going to need a gargoyle-to-human age equation?”
Lochlan pursed his lips. “Possibly. We should have asked Merle the Mathemagician to provide a table of species.”
“Merle is still alive.”
“Oh yes. He’s desmatochelon. I don’t think anyone knows their life span. But it’s very, very long.”
“I’d like to meet him.”
Lochlan laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s impossible, but it’s not easy either. He lives in the sea.”
I sighed. “Okay. What’s a desmachotle…?”
“Desmatochelon. He shares some characteristics with giant sea turtles, but has hands with webbed fingers and is capable of speech.”
My curiosity was aroused. “How does he do math in the water?”
“In his head.”
“That’s… impressive. What does he do when he has something new to convey?”
“Sends a message by marilus.”
“Are you going to make me ask?”
“Marilus are sea fae. Similar to merpeople in folk legend except that marilus are equally at home on land or water.