The traffic court was in the very middle of the hold of the Dagoda. Here the people of the city were tried for minor and major traffic offenses – crossing streets at night during a power out, impeding the progress of the Enchanter’s limousines, failing to yield to emergency vehicles, walking instead of riding when the man-made power was working. But the charge made no difference in this courtroom of the Enchanter. No one was ever declared innocent.
Amanda stood trembling in a darkened corner of Traffic Court. She couldn’t help herself; she had never felt the tremendous power of evil so forcefully. She had to labor to catch a breath, as though in this stronghold of the fire wizard, air smothered her lungs. The evil power made her shoulders ache; it pressed against the backs of her eyes, pushed hard against her stomach. She needed all the strength she could muster to withstand its insistent oppression.
The King had been captured the night before, after the leading the sad and the sorrowful Great Celebration. He had been charged with a felony, organizing the taxi resistance; with high treason in proclaiming another kingdom; with heinous insurrection – pretending to be the King! All charges bore the penalty of death by burning a Burning Place.