Interior. Kind of like an old bank, lots of desks, lots of clerks. The lighting in here isn’t great – getting a lot of warm browns and lamp/lanterns used for illumination.
DRAKE and DRUM are on a beeline through the main clerk’s space, to a flight of stairs heading up to the Judge’s Chamber.
A FRAZZLED CLERK is trying to stop DRAKE without actually blocking him or touching him. Which means he stands no chance at all. DRAKE is staring doggedly ahead; DRUM is looking about, taking it all in.
1.CLERK: Marshal Drake, his Honor is—
2. DRAKE: Here for the Judge.
On DRAKE and DRUM, now on the second floor, pushing open the DOOR into the Judge’s Chamber.
Interior of the Judge’s Chambers. This is a room that is trying very hard to be more important than the time and place permits. This is a room that wishes it was back in Coeur, the capital of the Lands of the Feuille. This is a very self-important room in a frontier city in the ass-end of Tanitin. It is a room that may very well be flirting with the absurd. The FURNITURE – desk, chairs, a settee – are all very nice and refined and were clearly brought from Coeur at great cost and great care. The Fueille Royal Crest is prominently placed high on the wall, between windows, as if to overlook everything that occurs within the room. The crest, as discussed, is a multiple-star motif, in a shifting swirl.
The far end of the room – the end opposite our entrance – has WINDOWS partially covered by heavy curtains that. The FIGURE from Day One, Screen 2, who was watching Drake and Drum, stands there, still looking out at the street. This is PAYNE – well-dressed, quiet, smart, handsome, restrained… nothing about him says that he’s terribly, terribly dangerous… except that everything about him says exactly that.
The JUDGE himself is named MODESTE D’ARRABAS, and dressed in the most refined fashion, wearing a ROBE or DRAPE of some sort befitting his office, and indicating his position as the ultimate legal authority in Mainetoille and its surrounding regions. He’s a traditionalist, conservative, in his late-fifties; that odd-cross between self-made colonist and privileged prat. He sits behind the desk, which has the unfortunate effect, for him, of making him appear far less impressive than he’d like.
3. D’ARRABAS: Marshal Drake. Your Aethergram reached us over ten days ago.
4. D’ARRABAS: A remarkably terse communiqué, even by your standards.
On the JUDGE. Sour-faced and superior. Past him, PAYNE remains as before, staring out the window, apparently absorbed by action on the street below.
1. D’ARRABAS: Where is the fugitive, Elmer Johns?
Angle, all four – DRAKE, DRUM facing the JUDGE, at the DESK; PAYNE still at the window, as before, not looking at them.
DRUM is really trying not to grin.
2. DRAKE: Still in Tumbledown, I expect.
3. D’ARRABAS: What? What’s he doing there?
4. DRAKE: Not much.