Edward's face was healed although badly scarred, but it did no desperate harm to his looks. He took the oath, his features glowering beneath the dark hair that hung in front of his face.

'Excuse me,' said the dormouse who was sitting closest to Rochester, 'would you sign my slate, please?'

Rochester gave a dour half-smile, took the stylus and said:

'Name?'

'Alan.'

Rochester signed and returned the slate and was instantly handed eleven more, all wiped clean of their carefully written notes.

'Enough!' roared the King. 'I will not have my court turned into a haven for autograph hunters! We pursue the truth here, not celebrities!'

There was dead silence.

'But if you wouldn't mind,' said the King, passing his notebook down to Rochester and adding quietly: 'It's for my daughter.'

'And your daughter's name?' asked Rochester, pen poised.

'Rupert.'

Rochester signed the book and passed it back.

'Mr Rochester,' said the Gryphon, 'I wonder if you might expound in your own words on what Miss Next's actions have done for you?'

The court fell silent. Even the King and Queen were interested to hear what Mr Rochester had to say.

'To me alone?' replied Rochester slowly. 'Nothing. For us, my own dear sweet Jane and I — everything!'

He clenched the hand that carried his wedding ring, rubbing the band of gold with his thumb, trying to turn his feelings into words.

'What has Miss Next not done for us?' he intoned quietly. 'She has given us everything we could want. She has released us both from a prison that was not of our making, a dungeon of depression from which we thought we should never be free. Miss Next gave us the opportunity to love and be loved — I can think of no greater gift anyone could have been given, no word in my head can express the thanks that are ours, for her.'

There was silence in the courtroom. Even the Queen had fallen quiet and was staring — quite like a fish, I thought — at Rochester.

The Gryphon's voice broke the silence.

'Your witness.'

'Ah!' said Hopkins, gathering his thoughts. 'Tell me, Mr Rochester, just to confirm one point: did Miss Next change the end of your novel?'

'Although I am now, as you see, maimed,' replied Rochester, 'no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut tree in Thornfield orchard, I am happier than I have ever been. Yes, sir, Miss Next changed the ending, and I thank her every evening for it!'

Hopkins smiled.

'No further questions.'

'Well,' said the Gryphon after the court had been adjourned for the King to consider what form the sentence should take. The Queen, unusually for her, had called for acquittal. The word sounded alien on her lips and everyone stared at her with shock when she said it — Bill the lizard almost choked and had to be slapped on the back.

'The outcome was a foregone conclusion,' said the Gryphon, nodding his respect to Hopkins, who was organising some notes with the White Rabbit, 'but I knew Rochester would put a good show on for you. The King and Queen of Hearts may be the stupidest couple ever to preside over a court, but they are, after all, Hearts, and since you were undeniably guilty, we needed a court to show a bit of compassion when it came to sentencing.'

'Compassion?' I echoed with some surprise. 'With the Queen of "Off with her head"?'

'It's just her little way,' replied the Gryphon. 'She never actually executes anyone. I was just worried for a moment that they might try to hold you on remand until the sentencing, but fortunately the King isn't very up on legal terminology.'

'What do you think I'll get?'

'Do you know,' replied the Gryphon, 'I have absolutely no idea. Time will tell. I'll see you around, Next!'

I made my way slowly back to the Jurisfiction offices, where I found Miss Havisham.

'How did it go?' she asked.

'Guilty as charged.'

'Bad luck. When's the sentencing?'

'Not a clue.'

'Might not be for years, Thursday. I've got something for you.'

She passed me across the report I had written for her regarding Shadow the Sheepdog. I read the mark on the cover, then read it again, then looked at Havisham.

'A++ Hons?' I echoed, incredulously.

'Think I'm being over-generous?' she asked.

'Well, yes,' I said, feeling confused. 'I was forcibly married and then nearly murdered!'

'Marriage by force is not recognised, Next. But bear this in mind: We've given that particular assignment to every new Jurisfiction apprentice for the past thirty-two years and every single one has failed.'

I gaped at her.

'Even Harris Tweed.'

'Tweed was married to Mr Townsperson?'

'Apart from that bit. He didn't even manage to buy the pigs — let alone fool the vet. You did well, Next. Your cause-and-effect technique is good. Needs work, but good.'

'Oh!' I said, kind of relieved, then added after a moment's reflection: 'But I could have been killed!'

'You wouldn't have been killed,' she assured me. 'Jurisfiction has eyes and ears everywhere — we're not that reckless with our apprentices. Your multiple-choice mark was ninety-three per cent. Congratulations. Pending final submissions to the Council of Genres, you're made.'

I thought about this and felt some pride in it, despite knowing in my heart of hearts that this would not be a long appointment — as soon as I could return to the Outland, I would.

'Did you find out anything about Perkins?'

'Nothing,' I replied. 'Any news of Vernham Deane?'

'Vanished without trace. The Bellman's going to talk to us about it.'

'Could the two be related?'

'Perhaps,' she said, slightly mysteriously. 'I'll have to make further enquiries. Ask me again tomorrow.'

22

Crimean nightmares

'Ah!' said Gran as I walked through the door. 'There you are! How were things at work today?'

'Good and bad,' I told her, sitting on the sofa and undoing the top button of my trousers. 'The good news is I passed the Jurisfiction practical; the bad news is that I was found guilty of my fiction infraction.'

'What was the sentence?'

'I'll have to wait for that.'

'Waiting's the worst part,' she murmured. 'I was up for murder once and the worst part of it all was waiting for the jury to come back with their verdict. Longest eight hours of my life.'

'I believe you. Did you go home today?'

She nodded. 'I brought you a few bits and bobs. I notice there is no chocolate here in the WOLP — nothing worth eating, anyway.'

'Did you find anything out about Yorrick Kaine?'

'Not much,' replied Gran, eating the chocolate she had brought for me, 'but he's not in hiding or anything. He's bought another publishing house and at the same time trying to rebuild his political career after that Cardenio debacle.'

'Ah. Where are Lola and Randolph?'

'At a party, I think. You look all done in — why don't you get an early night?'