Mhalir flies up to join her at the nest. It's still tiring but maybe a little less than before. He waits, suddenly and mysteriously unable to make himself ask. 

"It didn't take very long because lots of people have heard of him," she says. "I have a friend who does trials -we send someone to every trial, to try to argue they should get Nirvana. He's been helping with that. I - didn't understand the details but I can repeat them to you in case they make more sense to you?"

He nods hopefully. 

"There have been about thirty billion trials. They have transcripts of all of them. They have a big library of them, because you can use the judgment in any trial as an argument for a similar situation. But you can't possibly keep track of that many, even with magic, so they mostly have people review cases and find good examples to illustrate various situations that come up a lot and then most of them are forgotten. Alloran built them," a confused fluttering of wings, "a ...search...engine?"

"Oh! Yes, I know what that is - it is exactly what you would want for finding particular cases out of thirty billion." What an incredible number. "Implementing the system would be a major production, I am surprised if it was done so fast, but I suppose maybe some if it could have been done with magic..."

Mhalir is suddenly so curious to hear all of the details. And probably won't have a chance, because why would he. Also he's near to bursting with half a dozen different shades of emotion, pride and relief and obscure regret and others even harder to name. He curls up against the bottom of the nest. 

"Do you want me to ask if you can drop by to learn more?"

He does and also the prospect is nerve-wracking; he has to assume that anyone who's interacted with Alloran has heard how Evil he is. "Yes." 

"They were really happy about it. They said it makes it go way faster, to prepare for court, they can make a stronger case and it's easier to keep up with the caseload and they might not be desperate for personnel, after the current surge is over. They're always desperate for personnel."

"I am not surprised, that is a lot of trials. The current surge is - because of the war?" He shivers a little. Some part of him wants to apologize for it but that's kind of stupid on multiple levels. 

"Yeah. I think it's really bad, out there. Lots of new people." 

He wants it to not be happening, and he has no levers left to touch the situation - at most, he theoretically has the ability to help a little in Nirvana, greeting the newly dead people. 

Mhalir curls up into a small tight ball, tucking his head into his feathers again, this is probably rude but right now it's very hard to care. 

She doesn't seem bothered. She takes off a few minutes later. "I'll ask if they'll have you over," she says as she leaves.

Mhalir doesn't manage to speak, even to thank her. He stays curled up in the nest and does not, currently, feel inclined to ever leave. It feels safe, here, which is a mostly-unfamiliar feeling to him, and he doesn't really trust it, but he can still appreciate it a little. 

She is gone longer this time. The not-sun gets high in the sky. There's a light afternoon rainshower. She comes back as it's ending. 

"You are welcome if you'd like to go," she says. "The nearest lawyer training site has a thing for the search engine and they're showing it off in the hopes of getting more people interested in being lawyers."

"- Thank you. Maybe I will go later." Given the givens, one of his better options here is to offer to train as a lawyer, except probably that takes a long time and he won't be much use during the war, and also it sounds exhausting. 

He curls up again. 

"There is no hurry," she says, watching him concernedly and putting a wing over him for protection from the rain. "You are very badly injured. You will need lots of time to recover."

"I do not think I am injured?" 

"Your -" flutter - "soul, not your body. It is injurious to the soul, to live in a world with so many terrible things in it."

He's not sure what to say to that. Empirically, it does seem like he's been - behaving in ways that don't not look like some kind of metaphorical injury. He wishes he could stop doing that. It was easier to just - do the sensible thing and not wallow in the terribleness of the world, when there were urgent problems to solve. Which there are. He's just stuck here, dead, small and nearly helpless and pinned down with weariness. 

He stays under Caroline's wing. That one part is sort of nice. 

"Do you want to learn birdsongs?"

"...All right, sure." 

Then she will teach him some birdsongs! Birds do not sing with the same voices they speak in; their speech sounds ordinary and human but their birdsongs sound like they come from birds.

"Where're you from?" she asks, once they've sung for a while.

Learning birdsongs is surprisingly pleasant and relaxing. 

"I am from another world," he says. "A different one from where Alloran is from, but nearer to it than either is to Golarion. I - our worlds were at war, before. I had almost finalized the peace agreements but then the attack on Hell went badly and I died. I very much hope the peace between our peoples worked out." Sigh. "I suppose I cannot do anything to affect it now." 

"That sounds like it might be difficult, or upsetting..."

"Obviously it is upsetting! I want - I had a responsibility to my people and I cannot do anything and I thought that Aroden would raise us but now I am not sure if something went very badly wrong such that he cannot or if he does not even care!"