Algernon had stepped into the Office of Document Analysis and Authentication. It was a rather nice office, a lot of furniture was mahogany, everything seemed either brown or red. The case that had been given to Algernon was a very confusing case, it had been passed around the office for about a week until it landed on his desk. It had come to be known as the Estate case by his co-workers, it's official name was the Anu Bi Jema Estate case.

Algernon walked up to the desk and surprisingly saw a familiar face, the man from the opera. "Umm... Hello, sir. I am wondering if you could help me find a very specific document. It is fairly important."Algernon smiled, not wanting to make the man think he is impatient.

It had been a mercifully quiet day. The usual carnival of fools and self-important buffoons which tended to infest the Archives like highly unwelcome flies had moved along to plague some other venue and thus Shrikeweed was left more or less to his work. Why they even bothered to come to the Archives, and especially to Shrikeweed was something that no amount of studious analysis of even the most obscure and forgotten documents could explain. It was not as though the Archives existed for the public benefit or to make the lives of meaningless politicians easier. No, the Archives, and thus the archivists, existed to serve the Paperwork. People and politics came and went, they were by nature ephemeral, but Paperwork was eternal.

And so, for most of the day Shrikeweed had sat in quiet contentment pouring over a number of seemingly unrelated reports and deriving the greatest satisfaction in slowly tying them together in the most remarkable and quite frankly most inexplicable way. First a report written by one Nedward Prynn on the subject of trout fishing in the southeast, turned out to mention a certain earlier report on the effect of the weather on insect populations which in turn lead Shrikeweed to consult a number of quite dusty old volumes on agricultural pests. That, naturally, lead to an in depth perusal of reports concerning the cultivation of the larger varieties cucumbers. Eventually, and somewhat surprisingly, this all lead to a fascinating document concerning some of the finer points of judicial etiquette (with a rather lengthy appendix on the proper use of the gavel) and before long Shrikeweed was reading dozens of case histories on a variety of important and possibly mildly sensitive topics. All without having to go through the more usual channels.

This had given him the most delicious idea; namely to develop a cross referencing system that was very carefully constructed to allow a dedicated and cautious researcher to acquire almost any file or paper by means of judicious key words and carefully constructed chains of seemingly unimportant connections. Around about noon the very beginnings of this system were being sketched out on a large sheet of linen paper in a variety of cryptic symbols but certain complications (arising mostly from the sadly finite state of the paper) forced Shrikeweed to abandon that noble project and to turn his attention to the composing of an index of difficult-to-classify documents.

It was while engaged in this latter task that someone entered the office, without knocking Shrikeweed noticed, and began to ask questions about acquiring some piece of documentary effluvia.

Shrikeweed looked up and was mildly surprised to see the the man with the locks-of-sheep hair standing on the other side of the desk and looking disgustingly earnest and cheerful.

"All paperwork in important," droned Shrikeweed in his finest, dustiest, tone, "so that is of no real help. I assume you have details? Otherwise you are going to be heading towards your office or wherever carrying the whole archives on your back which I cannot say I wholly recommend."

The man talked with a mild annoyance, for a not so obvious reason. Algernon never had to deal with anybody like this at his office, well there was Timothy but his wife had just died, so he had an excuse. This man did not seem to have an excuse. Algernon did not want to press the matter, he had come to the office for a specific matter.

"Ah yes, sorry. I am looking for documents on a case called Jema V. Jema. This mans first wife had filed a lawsuit trying to annul the marriage of his second wife. She said that they were never officially divorced or something like that." Algernon smiled. The man looked smart enough to at least know where the file was, even if he had never heard of the case.

"Jema v Jema. . . .ah yes I recall the case dimly now. How long has it been plaguing the courts? Years it would seem. And you want the files? All the files?"

Without waiting for a reply, any reply was likely to be dull and formulaic, Shrikeweed produced from the bookshelves behind him a number of large and imposing volumes and began to leaf through them, muttering under his breath.

"Ah," he said after what seemed to be an age of little more than dust and the sound of dry paper, "Jema v Jema. The main files are located in our civil actions section, cabinets XCIV, XCV, and XCVI. As the case is, I presume, still active I cannot permit you to take the files away, but they can be sent to the reading room for your inspection or you may peruse them in the Cabinets with an authorized attendant and guide. You may also have copies made, but I advise against this latter course of action, the cost would be prohibitive.

"Might I inquire, sir, as tothe purpose of your inquiry? Surely there are no new developments in the case?"

Algernon listened as the man told him where the case files were. So many sections, could there really be so many files in one place. Algernon was slightly displeased when he was told he could not take the files with him. The man did seem mildly interested in the case, though, he hoped he would be a good help to him with the searching.

"I'll peruse the files with an attendant. It's much better picking the files you need, then being given files you don't need and adding to the pile." Algernon gave the man a smile. "As for the case, there has been a development, Anu Ba Jema has died. It's up to my office to settle this will dispute now."

Well, thought Shrikeweed when he heard the remark about not wanting needless files, you're not a complete woolen-headed fool, despite all visual evidence to the contrary.

"Jema's died then? Good for him, gets him very neatly out of what I understand is a rather sticky situation. Still, the law grinds on, as it its proper purpose."

Shrikeweed stood up, straitened an almost invisible rumpling of his waistcoat with a species of quick tug to the bottom of the garment, and began to collect items from a variety of draws, nooks, pigeon holes, and other assorted places. These items, mostly books and papers along with a few stranger items were placed into a large cloth bag which Shrikeweed slung over is left shoulder with the easy fluidity of long years of practice. The combination of this bag, with its eccentric contents and elaborate brocade work, and Shrikeweed's habitual mode of dress made him look rather like some native guide to a vast and carpeted desert.

He glanced at the man with the woolen hair, "Well, come on then. Or are you going to stand there all day taking up space on my rug?" and with that Shrikeweed crossed over to a door, crafted to look like just another panel in the wall, and opened it.

Algernon followed the fiery haired man into the secret room. He stepped into a labyrinth of paper and cabinets, it was quite the site. Algernon would have remarked on the orderless mess, but he was preoccupied with the case.

Well at least he didn't die by poisoning like he always thought he would. I feel for the man, crazy life.

He looked up at his guide. "Lead the way, my good man. I don't think I would be able to maneuver my way around this place even if I had a map." He chuckled a little, patting the man on the back.

Shrikeweed flinched, and then stood there for a moment in utter shock and disbelief. The man, whom he had encountered at that ghastly opera but otherwise would not know him to inquire as to the time of day, had actually slapped him on the back in a manner that could only be described as shockingly familiar and disgustingly convivial. Then Shrikeweed recalled the man's offering of a shaking of hands and come to the conclusion, probably erroneous, that Master Sheepshead here was probably raised by oddly verbose goats goats or something similar. It would certainly account rather well for the man's truly astonishing lack of tact. Also, there was something to be said for the hilarious image of the man on his hand and knees placidly chewing at a tuft of grass. Still, the man was savvy enough to know at least something about how to work the Archives, and for that Shrikeweed felt obliged to lead him on the files he requested.

the stairway to which Shrikeweed led the uncouth man was of the spiral sort. The walls of the shaft around which this path wound were composed almost entirely of alcoves and pigeon-holes stuffed with all manner of papers and files that were yet to be classified or which defied all previous attempts to do so. A descent of some dozen or so turns took Shrikeweed and the uncouth man to the bottom of the shaft and to a room possessed of a number of doors; through one of these Shrikeweed pasts and entered into yet another room, heptagonal in shape.

Looking about the room for a moment, Shrikeweed fished what appeared to be some kind of map or chart from the recesses of his bag and consulted this for a brief moment.

"This way sir," said the archivist, "I do not often come down this way, very few of us do in point of fact, and the map is an unfortunate necessity. However, I believe I have found the way, so if you will follow me closely we will get you to your files."

And so saying, Shrikeweed passed through a third door which led, presumably, into the depths of the Archives.

"If I may inquire, why have you been dispatched on this errand; and why the seeming rush to have it resolved?"

Algernon followed the man through the door and into the depths of the archives. The man seemed slightly interested in the case, maybe law was a side hobby for him. He couldn't find the best words to describe why he had been given the case and why it needed to be resolved so fast, but he would try.

"Well the case was passed around my office for about two weeks, no one else could handle it. Finally my boss gave it to me this morning. I don't know why he thinks I can handle it, I'm Hessean not a mug." Algernon chuckled slightly. "This case is a doozy, though. Since the case is undecided, and neither party will get anything. The estate might be doomed to accumulate and rest with the courts."

"A bit of a boon to the courts if it doesn't get resolved then. The whole estate eaten up in legal fees, lawyers growing fat and investing in new courtroom attire, mountains of paperwork being created by innumerable clerks." Shrikeweed smiled the sly smile associated either with dealers in rare books about to swindle nice old men out of a library of first editions or the more intelligent class of jackal. "If the estate is large enough it could form the basis of a whole pocket industry down 'round the courts. Think of what a boon it would be to stationers and copyists alone . . .but I digress."

They had been walking for some small way through a seemingly endless series of rooms. Most were hexagonal in shape and lined with cabinets and alcoves filled with all manner of papers and documents. Occasionally a silent clerk would pass on their own business, ferrying papers hither and yon, and once or twice a younger species of clerk would be seen traversing the halls with a slowly unwinding spool of carmine thread trailing off behind them.

"Still," said Shrikeweed after a moment or two had passed, "it sounds to me as though someone slightly higher up the food chain than you has his nose out of joint over this affair. Possibly some professional embarrassment would attach to the case should a resolution not be forthcoming? So it was passed around like an unwanted fruit cake, the only kind in my experience, until it came to the desk of a man either too foolish or too honest (they amount to the same thing) to refuse it. Tell me, did whoever it was that gave this thing to you speak of the great potential for professional advancement?"

"Nobody mentioned a promotion. I am the newest employee, I don't think I will. I was probably given it because I am the youngest and I guess I wasn't smart enough to refuse it. Maybe I will have an advancement though. My boss is a very understanding man, if I ask him for a promotion, I think he'll do it. If only a minor advancement." He shot the man a smile. "Of course I might need some help with this. Maybe someone who has some knowledge of the legal world could help me.

Shrikeweed shook his head in an abstracted fashion. The man was a near perfect example of that special class of educated fools who seem to be uniquely drawn to the lower level of the civil service like moths to a flame. He had probably accepted this charge without looking too far into things; all earnest zeal and eagerness to please. Very obliging and with very little sense. By the living grasshopper but I was never that naive. I had some sense, some proper cynicism.

This may not have been a perfectly accurate observation on the part of Shrikeweed for he had taken on his share of unfortunate projects when he was just starting out. There had been that disastrous affair of the card-cross-reference filing system; a project whose debris could still be found in some of the less frequented portions of the Archives. Oh they all had a laugh about it now over the tea, but for a time the very mention of the thing would send shudders through even the gravest of clerks.

"Never count on advancement. The whole notion is a fabrication created by the jacks-in-office to squeeze every increasing amounts of work out of the gullible. If you are ever presented with 'an opportunity for advancement' I advise that you steer well away.

"Ah," said Shrikeweed after a short pause before one of the seemingly endless cabinets, "here we are, civil cabinet XCIV. Now then, what, specifically, do you really need?"

"Hmm..." Algernon thought, he never really thought of the papers he needed. His boss just told him to get any papers involving the divorce case and second marriage case. "Well all I need are documents on the divorce and when the original family challenged the second marriage. Is that all here in this cabinet?" Algernon marveled at the giant wooden monster. "I've never done much filing before. All I really do is take appointments and, I guess, finish cases. Do you think you can help me? You do seem to know the system than me.' Algernon smiled, hoping to gain the man's sympathy.

All you need? thought Shrikeweed upon hearing what the foolish fellow no doubt though of as a simple request. All you need? Oh yes such a commonplace sort of inquiry, no trouble at all to produce escapement-knows how many years of complex and contradictory legal documents containing who knows how many thousands of pages. Such a modest request, such a kind request

"Could you, perhaps, be a bit more specific? It is such a very old case that showing you all the sorts of documents you requested would have us here among the dust and ink till nigh on the end of the third full moon from next. I pleasing prospect for me of course, nothing finer than carefully sifting through a mountain of paperwork, but I suspect your superiors would look askance as a clerk so tardy in the execution of his duties."

Shrikeweed opened the great wooden cabinet and began to riffle through the contents of a number of drawers. After a moment, he drew forth a paper of moderately ancient appearance and gave the other man a dry smile.

"Here, for example is on of the earlier documents pertaining to the dissolution of the first marriage, some rare species of formal complaint it seems. This might be a fair point of departure; familiarize yourself with the origins of the case, build a working understanding of what has been said and done and so come to a conclusions in the manner of the law itself. A magnificent conclusion, one of gravity and sober deliberation; an unhurried conclusion which cannot be questioned.

"Or perhaps something more current might be more to your taste? These political cases no doubt have considerable pressure brought to bear and activity is perhaps prized over correct conclusions."

Algernon was dumbfounded when Shrikeweed spoke. Algernon didn't think there was going to be so much paperwork. The most he thought he would have to trifle through was maybe twelve pages, not hundreds.

"Umm ... I think I'll start from the beginning of the case. I want to see if I can create a timeline for myself. See if I can find a loophole somewhere. I don't think his first wife went through the proper channels, well I hope she didn't." Algernon chuckled. "I wish I had a friend who had an amazing knowledge of the law. My knowledge is only elementary." Algernon was talking to know one in particular but he hoped the clerk would maybe know someone, referrals were a great way to get business.

"Ah," said Shrikeweed idly riffling through what appeared to be the earliest of the files. They were elderly looking things, yellowing nicely, drawn up in a pleasant though somewhat fanciful hand and most were tied up in bundles with red ribbon. "indeed. Caution before expedience is ever the wisest path."

A minor armada of silverfish scuttled along one of the papery bundles. Shrikeweed brushed them aside and sighed the sigh of one who has long fought the battle against these and other agents of entropy. The appearance of these vile insects had distracted him from the babble proceeding from the direction of the woolen headed gentleman and so it was that he only half heard the man's remarks concerning his lack of legal acumen.

"Hmm? What was that?" there was a slight pause as Shrikeweed tried to recall what the other man had asked, "Oh, a lawyer, yes, well not really my line per se, but I did spend a few years as a sort of supernumerary law clerk. Which more or less means I possess that highly specialized form of legal ignorance which might well do more harm to a case than the opinion of any half-way informed man selected at random from off the street. Still, I do have the honor of the acquaintance of a shockingly large number of lawyers, that being the family business for some time now, so I might be able to locate such a person as might prove useful.

"My own expertise lies in the organization of documents and their formal qualities rather than with the minutiae of their contents. If you suspect a documents was improperly drafted or infer so heinous an affair as a forgery, then I'm your man. But as to the making of legal decisions I am very much afraid that is beyond the scope of my office.

"In the meantime, begin with these and see if you can derive any sense from them." Shrikeweed conducted the other clerk to a small desk in the middle of the room and placed the papers before him. "Well now sir, I shall attempt to remain unobtrusive for the moment and leave you to your work."

So saying, Shrikeweed retired to a shadowy alcove wherein a large chair was set. Upon this article of furniture he perched himself and waited.

Algernon fiddled through the papers, there were less then he would have been originally given, but it was still a fair amount. He read the legal documents like they would tell him the secret to eternal youth. He read the permit papers as though they could tell him all everything. He was intent on finishing this case. He needed to.

"So, you might be able to find someone who could give me legal advice? That would be much appreciated." He said, reading a document about how the second marriage was appalling and illegal. "I'll give you my calling card if you need to contact me." Algernon pulled out a small white piece of paper out from his bag. "Here." He smiled at the man and then went back to the papers.