He obeyed mechanically, knowing with a terrible sense of fatalism that his hopes of swaying the Council to his way of thinking were all but gone. They had already been told enough to bias them; looking at the ranks of faces he could almost read their minds behind the carefully controlled expressions -- were he the world's finest orator, he would balk at the idea of winning them over now.
And so Tarod listened silently while the full story of the encounter with Yandros was told. Keridil was scrupulously thorough and accurate in his account, leaving out not one detail of the entire story from its very beginning, but as he spoke Tarod saw the faces of the Councillors closing, hardening. Often they would make the sign of Aeoris before their own faces, as though to ward off some evil presence, and it was all Tarod could do not to get to his feet and walk out of the chamber. He controlled the impulse, knowing that any ill-tempered behavior now would damn his cause.
At last Keridil finished, and for what seemed a very long time the hall was silent. Then, gradually at first but with increasing intensity, the questions began.
"A Lord of Chaos -- and we have heard that you consciously and deliberately summoned this being! Is that true?"
Tarod stared at the old Councillor who had snapped out the question. "I did. But I didn't know at the time who -- what -- I was evoking."
"But now you have no doubts?"
"I have no doubts." A dangerous admission, but he had to convince them that Yandros's threat was real.
"How can you be so certain?" The speaker pounced quickly on Tarod's reply. "There have been documented cases of even the highest ranking Adepts being deceived by astral entities, yet you seem utterly sure of your ground..."
Answering these questions was like trying to walk on broken glass. Tarod said carefully, "I believe, sir, that you have already heard the High Initiate's personal view about the -- authenticity of the manifestation. Neither he nor I nor Themila Gan Lin doubted Yandros's nature for a moment -- and with respect, had you been present, neither would you!"
The questioner pursed his mouth and muttered something to his neighbor, and another man spoke up.
"And yet, knowing the nature of this entity as you say, when the High Initiate began the Seventh Exhortation and Banishment, you prevented him from completing the rite. Why?"
"Because I wasn't about to stand by and see him killed!" Tarod retorted angrily. "Yandros could have destroyed him without even thinking about it, and he would have done if -- "
"Ah, so you have a privileged insight into the mind of a Lord of Chaos, Tarod?'' a new and familiar voice interjected. From the lower platform Rhiman Han was staring with hostility at his old rival, and when Tarod didn't answer immediately, the red-haired man continued, "I think, my friends, that we are now approaching the heart of this matter. Tarod claims inner knowledge of Yandros's ways -- and Yandros, as we have heard, claims kinship -- literal kinship -- with Tarod. If that's true, there is simply one question to be answered, and that is, what manner of serpent have we been harboring in our midst all these years?"
Tarod's face whitened with fury, and Themila rounded on Rhiman. "How dare you say such a thing! If you've no more constructive comment to make, Rhiman, then hold your tongue!''
"My dear Themila, I am being more constructive than all our respected colleagues put together!" Rhiman retorted. "And I repeat -- if Tarod is kin to the demon Yandros, then he is no true mortal man!" He rose, and Tarod realized that everyone in the hall was listening intently. He half expected Keridil to put a stop to Rhiman's outburst, but Keridil still sat motionless, his expression tight and uneasy.
"What man," Rhiman went on, "carries his soul in a piece of jewelry? What man is visited in dreams by monstrosities which haven't walked this world since the days of the Old Ones, and consorts with them as easily as two old friends in idle conversation?" He pointed accusingly at Tarod, who had also risen to his feet. "We have never known where our seventh-ranking friend came from. He was a foundling, a stray, with no clan name and no kin to claim him. No human kin! Well, my friends, it seems that now we have solved the conundrum. Tarod is no man -- he's a demon!"
There was sudden pandemonium as every Councillor seemed to be trying to speak out at once. Many were standing, gesturing angrily for attention, and a good few onlookers added their voices to the confusion. Over it all Keridil shouted, striving to make himself heard, but only when he snatched up his staff of office and smashed it down like a club on the table did the uproar finally subside.
"I will not tolerate such disorder!" Keridil's voice was controlled but everyone heard the fury underlying it. "This is a meeting of Adepts, not a tavern brawl! Rhiman -- I don't for a moment challenge your right to speak, but you must keep yourself under better control! This is not an emotive issue, and I'll have no personal prejudices brought into it."
"Rhiman Han does not understand you, Keridil," Tarod interjected, his voice carrying clearly. "In my experience, he knows of no other standard by which to judge anything!"
Keridil turned and stared at him. Tarod was standing, left hand resting on the hilt of his knife as if at the smallest provocation he would draw it and attack. The stone of his ring glared in the light of the torches, and his face was venomous. Never had Keridil seen him look more dangerous, and he was suddenly and unwillingly reminded of the brief glimpse Yandros had shown him of the seven colossal statues in the Marble Hall, their faces restored and all too recognizable.
"Sit down," he said savagely.
Tarod's green eyes challenged him, and Keridil repeated, "I said, sit down!"
He had the gathering under control again, but only just. And he knew now that what he had expected and dreaded was true -- almost to a man the Council was ranged against Tarod. Rhiman's words had struck home, and even Keridil found himself asking whether the red-haired man could be right in his implication that Tarod was, by his very nature, untrustworthy. That ring... he could have destroyed it, abandoned it -- but he hadn't. And if he had the power to banish Yandros, then it followed that he also had the power to summon him back, if he should ever wish to.
But Tarod didn't wish to. He had pledged his loyalty to the Circle, and in spite of his errant nature Keridil couldn't deny that he had always been scrupulously honorable. He was in fact shocked by his own doubts -- they had been close friends since childhood, and to begin to mistrust a close friend was tantamount to full-blooded betrayal.
But Tarod wasn't truly human... Nothing could wipe that fact from the slate. And Keridil's first duty must always be to the Circle....
He realized suddenly that the crowd was waiting for him, and hastily shook off the confusion of unhappy thoughts. Tarod had seated himself again, as had Rhiman, and Keridil looked tiredly around the room.
"Has anyone a further question or comment?"
"Yes, High Initiate." Themila stood up, a tiny but determined figure.
"Speak, Themila."
"I have heard Rhiman condemn Tarod out of hand, and I wish to reply to his accusation. I think perhaps no one here tonight knows the full truth about Tarod and the kinship claimed by Yandros. We have no direct experience of Chaos, for we've been free of its taint since the Old Ones were destroyed. But we do know Tarod, and have done since he was barely thirteen years old. Can even his enemies," and she looked sternly at Rhiman as she spoke, "deny that he is a man of honor? Can they deny that he has never once failed to stand steadfast in his loyalty to Aeoris and to the Circle?"
Rhiman, realizing that his advantage was being eroded by Themila, intervened quickly.
"I cast no aspersions on honor, Themila. My argument is plain -- Tarod is not one of us. And whatever he claims to the contrary, we can't trust him -- for the sake of the entire Circle, we daren't trust him!"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall, and Tarod felt his skin break out in a cold sweat. Themila's efforts were failing; the vast majority of the crowd were in agreement with Rhiman, and Rhiman knew it. Themila, however, was not about to give up.
"
You can't conveniently set aside the evidence of so many years!" she protested. "Tarod may have power that we can't match, but -- "
"And if some day he chooses to use it against us, and call back his infernal brethren to rule this world? What then, Themila Gan Lin? Will you welcome him with open arms? Will you embrace your precious adopted son while Chaos tears your land apart?"
"That's ridiculous!" Themila was almost in tears. "Tarod would no more bring harm on our community than -- "
"Can he prove that?" Rhiman roared.
"He doesn't need to prove it! If your jealousy has blinded you to the truth -- "
"No, Themila! You are the one who's blinded! That creature -- " and Rhiman pointed again at Tarod, his hand shaking with rage and emotion, "is a demon, incarnate among us! You've seen for yourself what he's capable of -- are you willing to risk allowing him to remain in this Castle?"
"No!" The word came from many throats together, both on the Council dais and in the crowd of spectators.
Keridil stood up once more. He looked exhausted, but this time didn't have to shout to make himself heard.
"Rhiman, you run too far and too fast!" he said. "Tarod is not on trial here."
Rhiman's confidence had grown to new heights with the weight of opinion so firmly behind him. "Then perhaps, High Initiate, he should be!" he countered.
"He hasn't even had a chance to speak ten words, let alone defend himself against your accusations!" Themila protested.
"Very well." Rhiman held up both hands. "I've no wish to be unjust -- Tarod must be allowed to say whatever he believes will exonerate him. But before we proceed, High Initiate, I -- and I think the majority of those here -- would be grateful for your ruling on the nature of the decision to be made."
It was the one question Keridil had dreaded most, and he saw that Rhiman had maneuvered him skillfully into a corner. He couldn't evade the issue -- as High Initiate and head of the Council he dared not -- but to speak it aloud, while Tarod watched him...
Playing for time, he said, "I hardly think that's necessary at this stage, Rhiman."
"But I -- we -- " Rhiman indicated the other Councillors at the tables, most of whom nodded emphatically, "think that it is."
He was trapped... Keridil licked his lips. "Very well. The decision to be made by this Council is whether Tarod should remain as an Adept of the Circle, or be formally expelled, and asked to leave the Star Peninsula."
He couldn't look at Tarod, but he felt the stunned intensity of his stare. Rhiman smiled coldly. "And what of the third option, High Initiate?"
"Third option... ?"
The red-haired man walked slowly out from behind the table. He had the full attention of the entire gathering once more. "Unpleasant though it is to contemplate, there have been precedents -- and none, I submit, as grave as this! If this meeting should find against the Adept, Tarod, I formally request that the option of execution should be considered."
"Execution?" Keridil echoed, barely able to believe what he had heard. "You can't be serious -- that's insanity, and by the Gods I'll not tolerate it!"
"You may have little option, Keridil." Rhiman dropped the formal mode of address to emphasize his point. "We're all aware of your long-standing friendship with Tarod, and understand that you are unwilling to consider such drastic measures against him. But your position is such that you can't stand against a majority verdict. Nor, I believe, would you wish to for one moment." He bowed slightly as though paying a compliment, and Keridil knew he was defeated. Rhiman smiled, and added his final barb. "As High Initiate, we look to you for guidance on the matter."
The threat was all too clear. They had contrived this turn of events, Keridil realized, out of a combination of fear and envy -- and though Rhiman was clearly the prime mover with the most personal motive, he had gathered enough support from the superstitious Councillers to gain the victory that he wanted.
When the High Initiate didn't speak, Rhiman said gently, "Perhaps you would agree to put the question to a vote, before we proceed any further?"
At last, Keridil forced himself to look in the direction of the solitary chair in the aisle. Tarod was deadly pale, motionless, only the green eyes showing any animation. And Keridil had never seen such a cold rage in anyone before.
He couldn't veto Rhiman's request. Though -- as he had said last night to Themila -- he had the theoretical power to overturn any decision made even in full Council, to do so now would be tantamount to self-destruction. By allying himself openly with Tarod in the face of so much opposition he would be admitting to a partiality which, as High Initiate, he dared not show if he wanted to keep the respect and confidence of the Circle. Whatever the moral obligations of friendship, the vote had to be allowed -- and Keridil must live with his conscience as best he could.
He stood, his fingers closing round the staff of office as though to draw strength and comfort from it. "Councillor Rhiman Han requests that a vote be taken on the issue of whether execution is to be considered. The request is granted -- I ask all Councillors to make their views known in the formal way."
A steward who had been standing behind Keridil's chair moved forward, took the staff from him and carried it carefully around the table. He stopped before the first Councillor, who glanced quickly at Keridil and then laid his hand on the staff.
"Aye for Councillor Rhiman."
People began to whisper, the sounds rising, sussurating. The steward moved on.
"Aye for Councillor Rhiman."
"Aye for Councillor Rhiman."
"Aye for Councillor Rhiman."
One after another, and each answer was the same. Tarod couldn't move, couldn't think; he could only continue to stare at Keridil in disbelief. In the short space of time since the meeting began his most trusted friend had stepped back, cast aside the bonds of friendship and put on the mask of a High Initiate with, it seemed to Tarod, no attempt to compromise. Even the formality of the meeting was a safe barrier behind which Keridil could shield himself. The will of the majority... Keridil alone had the right to stand against that will, override it, and speak out for reason. And he had done nothing.
The vote ended at last, With only three exceptions including Themila, every member of the Council of Adepts had sided with Rhiman Han. And Rhiman was relishing his triumph. He turned as the staff of office was returned to Keridil, and said, "I am indebted to you, High Initiate. Perhaps now you would like to continue with the proceedings of this meeting."
"No." Keridil stood up abruptly. His head ached fiercely, and the stir of murmurings around the hall reverberated in his brain. He had to have time to think -- Rhiman had forced his hand thus far, and he was not prepared to be pushed any further.
"I intend to recall this meeting tomorrow at noon," he said, raising his voice to ensure that all present heard him. "This entire situation has sprung up too quickly for us to be able to assess it clearly in the space of one night -- especially when emotions are running high. Thank you all for attending -- this session is now ended."
Rhiman, nonplussed, seemed about to argue, but the look on Keridil's face changed his mind. Instead, he remained in his chair, frustratedly tearing at sheets of paper, while the surprised and disappointed crowd began to drift out of the hall. At last, only a handful of people were left -- Keridil, three of the older Councillors. Rhiman, Themila -- and Tarod.
Tarod had moved to the Councillors' dais, away from the others, and was scoring grooves in the old wood with the point of his knife. He had to speak to Keridil -- but with Rhiman present, he couldn't trust himself even to turn round. He heard low, urgent snatches of talk, dominated by Rhiman's voice, but paid little attention until Keridil suddenly said, "Rhiman, I am tired! We'll reconvene tomorrow -- until then, be satisfied that you've made your point!"
"Making the point isn't enough, Keridil!" Rhiman persisted angrily. "By all that's sacred, we know the truth about Tarod now -- he's no more human than his cursed friend Yandros! Are you telling me that you're prepared to stand
by a demon of Chaos? The same evil travesty that murdered your father?"
Something black and uncontrollable went through Tarod like fire, fuelling the hatred and the sense of betrayal until he couldn't contain it. He turned, and Rhiman swung round, alarmed, as Tarod's voice cut savagely across his own.
"Rhiman Han!"
Rhiman tried to look unconcerned, but his insouciance wasn't quite proof against the murderous expression on Tarod's face. Tarod raised his left hand, so that the stone of his ring glittered, half blinding the other man.
"I once took an oath. Rhiman Han, that I would remain true and loyal to our Circle." Tarod spoke softly but with a terrible menace. "I do not break my oaths, for I don't make them lightly. Remember that, for I make another oath now. If ever I should call upon the powers that I control, you will be the first to understand what it is to be the plaything of Chaos!"
Abruptly the rage that had taken hold of him loosed its grip, and he realized what he had said. With a single sentence he had condemned himself; but the words had been out before he could stop them. The others were staring at him. appalled. Themila made as if to move towards him. but Keridil pulled her back.
"Tarod... you must retract that!"
Tarod took a deep breath. He couldn't save the situation now. "Would anyone here believe my word if I did?" he replied harshly.
"Of course they would! But by this behavior you add fuel to the accusations -- I can't stand by and allow it to go on!"
"Then do what you know is right, Keridil!" Rhiman took a pace towards Tarod, his confidence returning. "You've seen for yourself now what he is! You heard what he said! Is this creature to be allowed to go on living, so that he can unleash his filthy kind on our world when the mood takes him? The Circle can't tolerate a devil in its midst -- and by Aeoris. if you won't have him killed, I'll do it myself and be damned!" He had half drawn his sword, and as he came forward again like an enraged bull, Tarod whipped the knife out of its scabbard in a single, rapid movement.
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