The machine that was Daphne Mains advanced to the circle’s edge. The gargoyle queen strained against her razor web.

“Your Honor,” Daphne said. “Kos’s off-books relationship with Seril is doubly insidious. Kos’s exposure to her undermines his own operations and poses a serious threat to global thaumaturgy. Even when limited by contract, such off-books dependencies are dangerous. This bond, however, depends not on obligation or performance but on a reasonable facsimile of sentiment. Of love.”

She gestured, and Aev floated toward her in the air. The gargoyle reared against her bonds. A crack opened in her left bicep, so deep that moonlight flowed through.

“The Craft recognizes noncontractual relationships between competitors only. As Justice Iron Hand affirmed in the Antitrust Cases, thaumaturgical dynamism requires the existence of free entities in competition. There is no direct competition between Kos and Seril. The equipoise of opposites leads to stagnation. Nor does this theological juxtaposition even qualify as equipoise, for the positions of these opposites are not equal. Kos shelters this moon goddess, this memory of a dead age, in her weakness. He has embroiled his creditors and shareholders in a risk with no demonstrated reward—a risk that might well be infinite, for no matter how Seril is attacked, he will always come to her rescue. And rescue will be required, because she is weak.”

Aev roared.

“Objection,” Wakefield said, “on relevance.”

The Judge frowned. “Counsel. Please decide. Do you stand for Seril, or not?”

“I do not. But as Ms. Mains’s argument touches on my client, I believe I am entitled to speak.” With one hand Wakefield indicated the gargoyles, the crystal towers, the broken sky and cringing city. “We hardly seem to have stood on courtroom procedure thus far.”

“Proceed.”

“Ms. Mains has introduced evidence documenting Kos’s previous onetime infusions of soul into the moon goddess Seril. But two instances do not establish a pattern.” Wakefield pointed to the snared gargoyles. “These theatrics might have been saved for a juried case. Despite the torment Ms. Mains is inflicting on Seril at the moment, my client has not intervened. I for one would appreciate it if Ms. Mains either arrived at a point, or stopped wasting our time with procedural pretense and cut to the villainous guffaws. If she wishes a mustache to twirl, I imagine the city below contains a costume shop willing to provide one.”

“Counsel has a point, Ms. Mains,” the Judge said. “What do you plan to accomplish by tossing these war machines around my courtroom?”

The moonlight that dripped from the gargoyle queen’s wounds smelled like honey and would taste so sweet. Daphne ached to cross the circle and tongue the broken stone. “I am sorry for the delay, Your Honor. My argument requires one further step.”

“Take it.”

“I will show you how vulnerable this off-books relationship makes Kos,” she said. “Now.”