“Where do we go now?” the Proselyte asked. It seemed as much a philosophical question as anything else; his previous certainty had wavered. Arad felt for the man; he had lost everything that was home to him, and all that was his guiding force. He knew what it was to be lost and alone, and considered what to tell the man.
“I must go back to see my family,” Sayri said. She moved to stand before him, and placed her hand on the monk’s chest. “And your place is with me, Proselyte. More now than ever. Who else can advise me? You alone are my sanctuary, now,” she finished.
Arad looked on her with bursting pride. What a woman she had become, to have the wisdom and compassion to say such a thing! It was precisely what a man in pain needed to hear.
The Proselyte nodded solemnly, and Arad imagined that he seemed more calm. More focused. Methodically, he removed the tunic he had borrowed and tossed it aside. Then he placed his satchel on the ground and opened it, removing a Proselyte’s brown stole. “There is a village not far north,” he said as he donned it. “We should be able to buy horses there. I have enough coin.”
Arad nodded. “Then we’d best get walking if we want to make it by dusk,” he said.
At that, Sayri and Arad began a brisk pace up the road, with Wissa and the Proselyte behind, and the crouching beast-man trailing them all.
They had a long way ahead.
60 LLORY
Contrary to what most Collectors believed, the Chamber of the Spire did not always meet in the Hall Ascended. The roofless chamber was drafty and cold in winter, and often rained upon in spring and autumn. Thus, unless a formal hearing or reception was in order, the Chamber Seats generally gathered when the weather was poor in one of their spacious apartments to discuss significant matters over an evening meal or afternoon tea. Typically if all Seats were to attend, the Speaker’s apartments would be the first choice, being the largest.
Llory’s destination as she swept into the courtyard of the Spire was, therefore, set by the conditions. Spring rain was falling heavily and showed no signs of abating, meaning the Chamber would convene in the Speaker’s apartments. The only question was when. She suspected midafternoon on a rainy spring day would be just about right.
The courtyard was empty, save a few Caretakers going about the necessary maintenance duties that could not wait until a drier day. That suited her, since her return would no doubt bring considerable attention, and she wished to remain unnoticed if at all possible until the time was right.
She whistled at one of the Caretakers, a short, hunched man with a narrow ring of black hair above his ears. He came over; she handed the reins of her steed to him and drew her hood back just enough for him to see her face.
His expression brightened as he recognized her. “Chamber Seat Llory,” he said in a hushed voice. The rain that drizzled down the inner walls throughout the courtyard was more than enough to conceal their voices to any hidden ears, but she appreciated his reticence nonetheless. His addressing her as Chamber Seat—and not Collector—she also appreciated, as it was a clear demonstration of solidarity.
“Hello, Kellid,” she said. “Please see to my horse and have my luggage brought to my apartments. Also,” she added, “I will need you to summon Collector Tirraen Kuhn to me after I visit the Chamber. And the girls as well.”
The middle-aged man nodded at the first requests, but he stared blankly at her for a moment after the final one. Then his eyes widened and he nodded slowly. “It shall be as you say, Chamber Seat,” he acquiesced, bowing tentatively away.
The halls were relatively quiet; no doubt the weather had every Collector subdued, and all were hunched over tomes in study or puzzling over games of strategy in pairs. That suited her well, as she was able to ascend the spiraling ramp with little contact. Caretakers and maintenance bowed as they passed her; Collectors she did encounter greeted her coolly, paying no heed to the hood she kept pulled up, obviously still dripping with rain. She did not meet any Chamber Seats, unsurprisingly.
The door to Speaker Sitren’s apartments was closed, and a Collector stood outside to announce visitors; as she had suspected, they were meeting inside.
Seeing her travel robes, the Collector, tall, broad and dark haired, bowed his head formally but blocked the door. “Collector, the Chamber is in session.” His voice was a deep rumble.
Llory took her hood down. Recognition only took a moment, then the Collector bowed deeply. “Shall I announce you, Chamber Seat Llory?” he asked. Though she had officially given up her seat, he clearly decided to err on the side of deference, just in case. She mentally commended him for his choice.
“I shall announce myself, Collector,” she replied to his surprise. “Open the door, please.”
The Speaker’s apartments were spacious but not luxurious. In the Spire only the Hall Ascended could boast a towering space overhead; all other rooms were limited by the available rise between floors, so the ceiling was barely out of reach above Llory’s head. The foyer to the Speaker’s apartments was separated from the sitting room by a wooden screen, perforated by shaped holes that allowed the light through from beyond. She recognized common animal forms such as horse, gazers, ravens, and boxcats, as well as exotic mythic creatures, including the monstrous lizards said to roam the mountains beyond the White River, and the sea beasts told of in stories around the Mountain of Fire. The latter had a large eye hole that Llory put her own to, in order to peer into the room beyond.
The Chamber was indeed convened within, seated in comfortable leather-wrapped arm chairs arranged in an ellipse before a number of large windows. Llory spied each of the Chamber Seats that concerned her seated there, including the Speaker Sitren, Triptoak, whose head she recognized from behind, and Koelide, a quiet, lean sharp-featured man in his early fifties who had a reputation for seeing and knowing everything, but only doing what was absolutely necessary. She had successfully prevented him from knowing the depths of her machinations, but he had, and could be in the future, a stumbling block in her plans. Removing him was an option, but an undesirable one; she appreciated his capabilities as an intelligence master, and wished to keep him around if she could.
The remaining three Chamber Seats were of little consequence to her. Fuerin-Galt was a short, rat-faced fellow who had few friends, though he liked to consider himself social; he was easier to manipulate than the greenest recruit. Michta, a rotund, red-cheeked fop of a man, was a coward, and easily took a back seat to whoever truly seized power. The third woman of the Chamber, Elsleen, though intelligent and insightful, saw her duty as a Chamber Seat to be training and guiding the next generation. She had no ambitions and faithfully followed the current Speaker, whoever that might be. Since Llory intended to be just that sooner rather than later, Elsleen would work out well enough.
The Chamber was discussing taxation on the valley below Mount Crush. Llory waited until the Speaker announced the issue decided and opened the floor for further business, then she straightened and, making certain her robes were properly adjusted, walked around the screen into view.
“Chamber Seat Llory!” Elsleen said immediately, sitting in clear view facing her. Her face lit up; the two had always gotten on well, mostly due to Llory’s small favours to stay in her good graces.
“Collector Llory,” Speaker Sitren corrected, turning to face her. Triptoak likewise rotated in his chair, frowning at the sight of Llory, though in surprise, not displeasure. “Collector, this is a closed Chamber meeting, and you have rescinded your status,” Sitren said.
Llory inclined her head in the Speaker’s direction. “What you say is true, Speaker Sitren. And I shall withdraw if that is your desire. However, my presence here is for the purpose of begging favour of the Chamber and requesting reinstatement.”
That brought a murmur from the Chamber, and Triptoak clearly displayed an aspect of shock. Llory was well aware that her reputation was one of stubbornness and pride; she was not known for acknowledging her mistakes. It was an image she had carefully cultivated
over the last few years in particular, leading up to this moment for maximum impact.
Speaker Sitren cleared her throat. “The Chamber will accept your appeal, but may not rule in your favour. This you know.”
“So it may be, Speaker.” Llory paused a moment, taking on the subtlest aspect of humility, yet retaining an air of pride about her; these were Chamber Seats, not Lord’s Councilmen, and she had to be far more careful with her posture. Any attempt to twist or make use of personas would be instantly detected. “Chamber Seats, my departure took place under intense emotions, and I regret that occurrence. I offer my deepest regrets for the words I put forward at that time, though even then, as now, I held only the highest respects for all of the Chamber.”
The Speaker looked around her at her fellow Chamber Seats, her lips pursed, and one by one they nodded to her. “Very well, Collector Llory. Your apology is accepted. The circumstances were difficult and we all felt the weight of the grave decision presented to us. Then, as now, we all sought to do best by the Spire, as well as for the people of the Lands. Your emotions rose from compassion for the girl’s plight, and for that you may be forgiven.” She inclined her head slightly at Llory, who returned the gesture with a deeper one of respect, directing it at first to her, then the others. “However, you understand that the situation has not changed,” the Speaker added.
“Very much, Speaker. It is for this reason that I have returned and seek reinstatement as a Chamber Seat,” Llory replied.
Speaker Sitren frowned. “If you no longer oppose the Chamber’s ruling in this matter, it is understandable that you should return. But why specifically does this motivate you to ask for reinstatement, Collector?”
Llory maintained her supplicant posture, but stood slightly taller. “Speaker, I had hoped the Lower Valley girl would be approachable, and that a negotiation might be possible to bring her into our fold. However, new developments have convinced me that this will not be the case.” She left it there, dangling the proverbial rat before the gazer’s den.
Speaker Sitren frowned and the others rustled in their seats, but it was Chamber Seat Triptoak that took the bait. “What new developments do you speak of, Chamber Seat Llory?” Probably it was more a slip of the tongue than an intended statement, but the effect was undeniable; the Speaker narrowed her eyes at Triptoak and Koelide cleared his throat, but Elsleen only smiled.
Llory inclined her head to Chamber Seat Triptoak, creating the immediate impression that she was expressing gratitude for the apparent vote of confidence. “In response to the Chamber Seat’s query, I officially inform you of the demise of two of our order.” The looks of outrage she had expected; before the others could rise or begin an inevitable political debate on deference due the Spire, she continued. “In attempting to initiate negotiations, they were murdered in Somria by Arad Sherzi, son of Commander-General Sherzi of the North Province, against whom the Lord’s Council has recently declared a state of war.”
“How is this relevant to the girl?” asked the Speaker, attempting to retake leadership of the meeting.
Llory, however, already had her greatest thunderclap to sound, and her clouds had gathered. “My sources in Somria inform me that she is betrothed to Arad Sherzi.” Before the question could come out, she clarified, “In some cultures, a couple is announced prior to siring children, and the match is approved by the state. It is a tradition not uncommon among Somrian patricians. Essentially it means that they belong to each other, and that the girl is thereby heiress to the ruling seat of the North Province.”
There was a long, dull silence. Finally Koelide broke it, albeit hesitantly. “The Commander-General’s post is one of military assignment, not a hereditary one.”
“It is not uncommon for the Overlord to make it so,” Llory replied, “particularly when the commander has ruled with exception success, and in times of war to enhance stability.”
“Then she is lost to us,” Speaker Sitren lamented. “Even if war had not broken out between the two nations and we could send agents freely into Somria, the girl will be protected by the Commander-General’s elite warders. She will be impossible to get to.”
“Not precisely, Speaker,” Llory said, unable to resist the slightest upward curve to her thin lips. Once again, the others turned to her for enlightenment; she was rapidly stealing their attention from the Speaker. “You see, my local agents inform me that the girl has only just recently returned to the Lord’s Lands. I presume that she intends to visit her family.”
“Your assortment of spies is most—impressive, Collector Llory,” Triptoak observed. This time he made no mistake in addressing her.
“We must locate her family immediately,” Fuerin-Galt said intensely. Triptoak narrowed his eyes, but nodded slowly.
“Agreed. That must be our primary goal now,” consented Speaker Sitren.
“I have already done so,” Llory asserted absently.
All stared at her for a moment, then Chamber Seat Elsleen spoke out. “I propose reinstatement for Chamber Seat Llory.”
Michta raised a hand to chest height, palm down. “Second.”
“Any in objection?” asked the Speaker, looking around the table; none spoke out. “Chamber Seat Llory, you may be seated.”
Llory held her lips firm, but a warm conceit flushed her face. Act One complete, she mused to herself as she slipped into a plush, empty chair.
・
Rain was running down the outer window in a continuous sheet, so that despite the spectacular view from her apartment, Llory could not see anything of the valley below.
She shrugged and, ruffling a towel through her long, brown hair, smoothed it back over her head and worked the ends. In the silvered glass mounted on the wall opposite her vanity, she saw an aging yet still attractive face, framed in distinguished grey on either side. No woman relished the effects of aging, but she felt confident that she had achieved a fair balance in it so far.
There was a knock at the door, and a girl stepped in; Harrelie, Michta’s aide, a tall and lithe specimen with an ever-present, mysterious smile. She was followed by five other girls of varying attributes, but all young, beautiful, and unique. They were also all hers.
At the back of the impressive line of beautiful young women came Collector Tirraen Kuhn. He was a man of presence, and one that she preferred to distance herself from, due to the attention he garnered. Easily two hands taller that the average man, he was covered in thick, corded muscle that was easily distinguishable even under the heavy folds of his Collector’s robes; she often wondered how he found time to maintain the physique. He wore his dark, curly hair oiled back so that it was no more than a black wave across the top of his head; despite his nearly forty years, he had not lost any hair. He was not a particularly beautiful man, but a ruggedly square jaw invested his stare with power. His eyes were, however, his most unforgettable feature; they were a bright, icy blue, with dark rims about their circumference, giving him an otherworldly, hypnotic appearance.
He stalked in behind the girls and stood at their backs. Six other young girls would have been experiencing a mixture of arousal and terror with him hovering there, but these were Llory’s elite spies and assassins. They would be as cool as death under their innocent, irresistible exteriors.
Llory paced the length of their impromptu lineup, examining each in turn. She was wearing only a white bathrobe, but she was unconcerned for her image, as all these before her were utterly loyal. The girls she had raised as her own before they were brought to the Spire, and Tirraen Kuhn . . .
She stopped before Marrah, a tiny, curvaceous vixen. “Tell me what you have found on Triptoak,” she ordered.
The girl curtseyed. “Chamber Seat Triptoak suffers from digestive problems,” she answered immediately. “He requires elixirs of oil to help him eat, excrete, and sleep. He is highly sensitive to strong smells, particularly perfumes, which he despises. He has difficulty performing the sexual function, and this is a source of some consternation for him.�
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Llory nodded. She strolled past, then halted in front of Senclere, a round-faced, straw-haired girl with great saucers for eyes and a voluminous bosom. “Elsleen,” she said.
“Chamber Seat Elsleen is barren,” the girl said, her voice high and thin. “Her partner left her without ever knowing she was a Collector. In contrast to her cheery personality, she has come to disdain men and releases herself sexually alone, rarely with my assistance. She is, however, secretly in love with Collector Ullisar, and deftly manipulates events to keep him at the Spire though he desires to travel.”
“Good,” Llory commended. “If any of you have not uncovered comparable intelligence, speak now, for I will have you use it soon.”
All were silent. Llory nodded and allowed herself a kindly smirk. “You have done well, my daughters. Know this. One among you has turned against us, murdering a Collector.” The girls were too well disciplined to fluster, but she saw shock in all of their eyes. “One day soon you have the opportunity to confront Wissa on this. I suggest you consider that future event. Now go and see to your charges, and do not forget to reward yourselves. I am pleased with your work.”
The girls curtseyed and filed out; as always, they closed the inner door first, which Llory had had installed as a sound barrier, then the outer, more secure door.
When the second door thumped shut, Tirraen Kuhn took a step toward Llory; she turned and sat on a bench beneath the rain-distorted window pane. He approached and kneeled before her, one hand in a fist at his chest.
“Princess, how I have longed for ya return,” he droned in his deep resonation, his eyes on her feet.
“It please us na view our loyal servant,” she murmured, dropping her carefully intoned false accent. The words rolled off her tongue luxuriously. “Tell me, have ya news from na homeland?”
Sayri's Whisper: The Great Link Book 1 Page 74