by Matthew Ward
"Where?"
"The day's a-wasting. There's one more stop I want to make before the council meeting."
*******
A short while later, Emmeline and I entered the guardhouse to find a less-than-happy Nierev waiting for us.
"I might've known you'd show up now," the captain grumbled, taking me to one side of the room. "Your timing is a thing of beauty."
The guardhouse was unusually crowded. "I'm sorry, I wanted to know if you'd made any progress with our friend in the cells."
"That's just it," Nierev growled. "He's not here anymore."
"You've let him go?" I asked incredulously.
"What do you take me for? Of course I didn't release him, but he's gone all the same."
"How did he get out?" Emmeline asked. "He bribed a constable?"
Nierev looked at her coldly. "The constabulary may not be the Sartorov Paladins, but we're not for sale. Besides, I had the only key to the cell. I have it here now." To prove it, the captain fished in her pocket and held up a battered iron key. "Apparently solid stone and iron bars couldn't hold him. I don't like that. Not one bit."
I didn't like it much either.
Four
"So, Ambassador Saran, I understand you claim to have consorted with angels?" The tone of the question was just a hair shy of disrespectful, though it was edged with enough politeness that it would have been seen as bad form to challenge its intent.
The speaker was a sharply handsome young man, less than thirty summers old, though his hair was already greying. He had a charismatic manner, a clear gaze and the kind of quiet dignity that was as much natural as it was affected. This was Councillor Dravko Magorian, rising star of the Tressian Republic and, so far as I was concerned, a particularly venomous species of snake. I'd expected to be questioned by Lord Karov, but it appeared that he'd delegated these duties to his loyal attack dog.
Magorian already knew the truth, of course. This was all a game played out for his amusement, and for that of the lords and ladies who were his fellow councillors. The Tressians had a term for this kind of behaviour: 'political theatre'. So far as I could tell, it was placed in far higher esteem than the actual business of running the republic.
That, presumably, was why the council chamber resembled a stage of sorts. Magorian and I were the chief players in this particular drama, and stood in the wide open space at the centre of the room. Other councillors, as befitted their rank, had the best seats in the house: several dozen richly-upholstered tiered chairs that ran around three sides of the room.
A massive statue of Sidara dominated the fourth wall, her head just shy of the vaulted ceiling. At the statue's base were three elegant chairs. In the long ago days when the Tressian Republic had fancied itself a beacon of civilisation, these had been set for representatives from the other major realms: the Hadari Empire – much smaller though it was at the time – the Thrakkian kingdoms, and the realm of the Ithna'jim.
So far as I knew, Tressia had never succeeded in luring an Ith'najim kalphi away from Athreos, and Ivor Dan, the Thrakkian representative, had returned home without explanation shortly after I'd left for Tregard. As a result, their seats had been given over to Torev and Emmeline – the former with his beard trimmed to some semblance of control – saving them the inconvenience of descending the long stair from the public gallery, should they be required to give further testimony.
In its way, the council chamber resembled the Courts of Heaven. A pale and petty shadow, imitating something long forgotten.
At least I didn't have to worry about Magorian playing to the public galleries above. Given the portentous nature of events, the common citizens had been barred from the observation galleries.
"Ambassador?" Magorian prompted.
"I'm sorry, I thought it a rhetorical question," I replied.
I wasn't in the least reluctant to share what I knew with the Tressian council, but I was damned if I'd play Magorian's games. Arianwyn shot me a warning look from her seat in the front row. She'd already cautioned me against antagonising Magorian and Karov.
Not that Magorian seemed antagonised in the least. "My apologies, Ambassador, but you will have to bear with us. Even after Commander Torev's lurid account of Tarvallion, this is a lot to take in."
In truth, Torev's testimony had fallen far short of the colourful narrative Magorian suggested. This was simply a barb aimed at the paladin's pride. I couldn't see Torev's face – he, like Emmeline, was directly behind me – but I could well imagine his expression.
"I can still scarcely believe the events of the last week myself," I said, "but I can assure you that the serathi are real, and they are coming here."
"And you assert they come in friendship?"
"That is what they say, but..."
Magorian cut me off with a wave of his hand. "What could be more natural? After all, scripture tells us that creatures such as these were Sidara's servants. It's only right that they would seek out her people."
"Councillor Magorian will forgive me for interrupting." Arianwyn's icy tone contained no apology. "But it would serve us well to remember that religious tradition is hardly the same as historical fact. Even assuming these are the same creatures referred to in scripture, we cannot make assumptions about their motivations."
Murmurs rippled around the chamber as the lords and ladies considered Arianwyn's words – and not altogether favourably. The roots of Sidarism went deep into Tressian society, and the return of angels spoke even to the most staid and unbelieving heart. It didn't help that few of the current crop of councillors had aspired to high office. They were, after all, the offspring, the younger siblings – or, in one case, the great uncle – of the councillors killed by Malgyne. With perhaps three or four exceptions, they looked to Karov – and thus by extension, to Magorian – for guidance. This was the uphill battle Arianwyn had fought since joining the council. Her victories had been few and riven with frustration.
Karov's flat expression was impossible to read. Calm eyes. Unmoving face. Granted, he'd heard nothing new in the council chamber, but I'd have expected some reaction, if only at Arianwyn's breach of protocol.
"I confess I'm surprised at your caution, Lady Trelan." Magorian addressed the chamber at large, rather than Arianwyn directly. "I'd have thought Sidara's last living relative would welcome this turn of fate."
"It is for that very reason that I strive for objectivity." The temperature of Arianwyn's voice dropped another few degrees. "My ancestor wouldn't wish us to leap to precipitous conclusions in her name."
I smiled with approval. This was a far cry from the woman who'd once done everything she could to distance herself from Sidara in both private thought and public eye. Nonetheless, there was nothing in Arianwyn's statement to suggest she believed her ancestor to have been some kind of deity.
Magorian bowed. "Of course, Lady Trelan. That is the purpose of this meeting, is it not? To determine what is truth and what is the product of wishful thinking?" He rounded on me. "You claim to be the angels' emissary. Do you have any proof?"
"What proof would you have me show?" I asked calmly. "Documentation is easily forged. Perhaps a seal or some other unverifiable trinket? Such things would hardly confirm my words." I decided it was time to tweak Magorian's tail a little. "Besides, as the Hadari Empire's official representative to this council, I don't expect my word to be questioned."
"Please understand, Ambassador," Magorian replied smoothly. "I don't question your integrity, I simply wonder if the events of the last week – events you agree stretch credulity – might not have placed you under a great deal of strain."
"In other words, I'm no liar, but I might be a fantasist?"
"Those were not my words, Ambassador. But I wonder why these angels would choose a Hadari to serve as their representative in Tressia." He was back to addressing the whole room again, though his eyes never left me. "I could understand it if they intended to visit the Empire first. After all, a friend in high places is always
valuable, and I think it fair to say that there are few more highly placed in the Empire than you, Ambassador. But here, in Tressia? Your influence is but a fraction of..."
"Yours?" I interrupted.
"Not I, Ambassador," he corrected. "But Lord Karov, Lord Avion..." He leaned forward. "...even Lady Trelan. It makes me wonder what provoked the angels to choose you?"
"I don't really know myself," I replied, determined not to give Magorian the satisfaction of seeing my rising annoyance. I could have told him how Azyra had claimed to perceive the mark of Great Powers upon me, but that would hardly have helped me seem more credible. "I don't believe they sought me out, if that's what you're asking, but the serathiel – the archangel, I suppose you would term her – was most determined that I accept."
Magorian's eyes gleamed. "So you didn't want to accept?"
I swore silently, but the damage was done. "Not at first, no."
"Might I ask why not?"
"Like yourself, I don't seek to serve in a position where another would be more appropriate."
Quiet laughter echoed around me. Despite – or perhaps due to – his cleverness, Magorian had no shortage of enemies on the council.
Magorian waited until the hubbub had died away. "Yet ultimately you chose to accept. Might I ask why?"
Images of Myrzanna's bloody rampage at Salkard danced behind my eyes. "Because I feared what would happen if I did not. The world we knew no longer exists – the events of the last year prove that without doubt. I believe that the Republic and the Empire must face the future together, whether it brings good or ill. That is why I accepted the serathiel's offer."
A ripple of quiet agreement swept across the chamber. I relaxed a little. Twice now I'd deflected Magorian's attacks. With a bit of luck he'd tire of his game, and we could all get out of this place. When the meeting had begun, I'd held hopes of passing on the serathiel's warning about the Reckoning. That was now impossible. I could speak of the Reckoning in only the vaguest of terms, and Magorian would have no difficulty in picking my words apart. Better the serathiel handle that one for herself.
Magorian raised his voice to be heard above the hubbub. "I don't believe you've yet told us how you first encountered the angels."
A fist closed around my heart. There were many places this could be going – none of them good. "One of their number came to my aid under difficult circumstances. Without her help, I and my companions would have died at the hands of cultists in the Contested Lands."
"And she just 'happened' to stumble across you?"
"So far as I know." I still wondered about that coincidence myself.
"A happy accident we should all be thankful for." Magorian almost sounded as if he meant it. "The Contested Lands are a long way from Tregard, Ambassador. Might I ask what you were doing there?"
"I heard reports of travellers going missing. I chose to investigate."
"And this cult was responsible?"
"Indeed. But it was far larger and better organised than I'd foreseen."
"But you and your companions escaped?"
"With assistance, yes."
"You're too modest, Ambassador. I'm sure you gave a good enough account of yourselves."
"We did our best, as I'm sure you'd have done in our place."
As far as I knew, the closest Magorian had come to any kind of peril was reading reports sent in by Torev and others like him. My veiled insult was not lost on the councillor, but he had better self-control than to show anything more than a brief pursing of the lips. "And where in the Contested Lands did this all take place?"
Here it came, but there was no avoiding it now. "Salkard."
"Salkard." Magorian turned his back on me to address the rest of the room. "My illustrious peers will no doubt recall that Salkard no longer exists. It was destroyed less than a week ago, and every man, woman and child who lived there was slain. We believed it the work of the fallen, just as the destruction of Edrost and Teravor was their doing." He turned back to me. "But Salkard wasn't, was it Ambassador?"
"No," I admitted. "It was the serathi. One of their number decided the only way to end the cult's predations was to destroy Salkard entirely." How in Ashana's name had Magorian found that out?
Outrage swept the room, dozens of angry voices speaking at once. Arianwyn's expression twisted with worry. I knew it wasn't the news that concerned her, but the manner in which it had been broached. Karov's face, even now, betrayed no emotion – he had to have known in advance as well. What was going on? I'd warned Azyra that the Tressians would react badly to the destruction of Salkard, but I hadn't anticipated this. Karov couldn't reap the political rewards of the serathi return if the council were afraid of them.
Magorian raised his voice over the din. "The serathi did this unbidden?"
"They have a code of law. It required them to seek justice."
"So the deaths of innocents alongside the guilty is considered justice by them, and by you?"
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "I tried to stop it."
Magorian gave another thin smile. "I'd like to believe you, Ambassador. Really, I would. But look at the situation from our point of view. A Hadari prince, investigating alleged crimes in Tressian territory, is humiliated by what? A rabble of nihilistic cultists?" His voice hardened. "Why shouldn't we believe you made the destruction of Salkard your price of service? Pride can be a terrible thing."
"That's not what happened!"
In a trice, the chamber was in uproar, with half of the councillors on their feet. There was anger aplenty in their voices and their gesticulations. My own temper rose in response. It was bad enough the accusation had been made at all, but it was all the worse because it had the facts directly backwards. I'd joined the serathi to prevent other massacres like Salkard, not that there was any point in saying as much.
Arianwyn rose, her voice cutting effortlessly through the racket. "I demand to know what Councillor Magorian hopes to achieve with these accusations."
"I want only the truth, Lady Trelan, and justice for the murdered dead. We cannot let the matter lie just because of the Ambassador's position – nor, if I might say, because of his involvement with a member of this council."
The chamber fell silent, the tumult extinguished like a flame doused by a bucketful of water. All eyes were on Arianwyn. She stood rigidly still, one fist clenched at her side. Small wisps of white light – so faint as to be invisible unless you looked for them – danced around her head. They faded after a heartbeat, but it was enough to show me that Arianwyn's magic was still there, even if it had only manifested from frustration.
"I would advise you to choose your next words very, very carefully, Councillor Magorian," she said dangerously.
"I merely wished to reinforce the idea that no one can be above justice, Lady Trelan," Magorian replied. "I, of course, apologise without restraint for any offence you feel I've caused."
Arianwyn didn't look at all mollified. She opened her mouth to reply, but this time it was my turn to shoot her a warning look. There was no point making Magorian's life any easier than we already had. For a moment, I thought she'd speak anyway. Then she nodded, gathered her skirts, and sat down.
I decided I'd be silent for far too long. "Let me state again, I did not ask the serathi to destroy Salkard. I would have died to prevent it. The serathi wish to make amends. Even now, they hold the perpetrator under lock and key so she might answer for her crimes."
"So you say Ambassador, so you say," Magorian said easily. "If only the council had not had to find out this way. I know you've spoken to Lord Karov since your return. Why keep this a secret unless you've something to hide? You must know how guilty this makes you look?" He turned once more to address the council. "We will learn more of this tragedy when the angels arrive, of course. Until that time I think it would be improper for Ambassador Saran to remain in post, whether our imminent guest trusts him or no."
At last, I saw Karov smile, and I knew that Magorian h
ad finally shown his hand. I didn't know how he knew so much about Salkard, but he'd played the cards he'd been dealt with admirable skill.
He'd never be able to prove his accusations – he probably didn't believe them himself – but they were damning enough to have me expelled from the city for a time. It wouldn't be long before I was politely asked to return, of course – I doubted Azyra would be fooled for long, if at all – but it would be long enough for Lord Karov to strike his deals without my interference. Alas, it didn't help to know the shape of the scheme – I'd no way to stop it.
Malgyne take them all anyway. I'd go back to the Empire, take my rightful place on the throne, and...
Torev, uncharacteristically silent to that point, cleared his throat. "May I have permission to address the council?"
"We have your testimony, Commander," Magorian pointed out. "I don't believe we need anything more from you at this time."
"Nonsense," Torev rejoined cheerfully, his dark eyes gleaming. "You don't know what I have to say."
"I would hear him."
The speaker was Lord Avanov, one of the handful of councillors who'd survived Malgyne's attack. He owed me a debt from that time, and perhaps he thought he was repaying it now, though I couldn't see what Torev could do change things.
Magorian's eyes flicked to Karov, who gave an almost imperceptible nod in return. "Very well. Commander?"
Torev was on his feet almost before Magorian had finished talking, and strode across the room to stand at my side. "You should have told me about Salkard," he said, too softly for anyone but me to hear.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I believe you had something to say, Commander?" Magorian asked, with a note of impatience.
"Indeed," Torev agreed jovially. "No, actually it was two things. First of all, it was I who asked the Ambassador to investigate Salkard."
Magorian wasn't fooled, but as Torev was lying through his teeth, that was only understandable. "If you had concerns about Salkard, why didn't you bring them to this council?"