The Seven Realms- The Complete Series

by Cinda Williams Chima

  Likely his father would see that he did. The motion had passed, after all.

  “Are there any other nominations?” Lord Bayar asked, tapping his fingers on the table. “Anyone else we should consider?”

  Han waited. Abelard said nothing. She sat, looking straight ahead, a muscle in her jaw twitching. She was letting him stew in his own juices.

  Would she really allow Micah to be chosen High Wizard by acclamation? Would he have to nominate himself?

  Lord Bayar raised his gavel. “Well, if there is no one else, then…”

  “I nominate Hanson Alister,” Abelard said, grinding the words out as if they tasted bad.

  If Han had surprised them, it was nothing next to what Abelard had just done.

  Micah leaned his head forward, looking out from under his dark brows at the dean. Then gave a slight shake of his head and sat back, refusing to look at Han.

  Gryphon, on the other hand, stared at Han, head cocked, as if his former student had grown a long furry tail. Interesting, and worthy of further study.

  But Gryphon shouldn’t be surprised, Han thought. Gryphon should have been expecting this. Unless…

  “Mina, be serious!” Lord Bayar exploded. “While I realize you are opposed to proceeding with this vote, the will of the council is that—”

  “I am serious,” Abelard said, straightening her stoles and glaring daggers at Bayar. “Completely.”

  “This is preposterous,” Lord Mander said, his chins quivering with indignation. “Why would you squander—”

  “I accept the nomination,” Han said, loud enough to carry down the table. “I will serve if elected.” His gaze locked onto Lord Bayar’s, a streetlord challenge.

  Bayar sat very still for a long moment, looking back at Han. Then he pulled his notes toward him and picked up his pen. “Alister agrees to serve if elected,” he said, heaving a sigh as he scratched another note. “We will take a short recess,” he said, tossing down his pen. “Mina, please see me in my chambers.”

  The High Wizard rose and stalked through the door leading to his private office, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

  Dean Abelard pushed to her feet and followed Bayar, her robes swishing over the marble floor. The door clicked shut behind her. Nobody else moved.

  Eager to leave the stifling room behind, Han rose and walked out into the reception area.

  “Did you need something, Lord Alister?” Hammersmith asked anxiously. “Is the food and drink not to your liking?”

  “How long have we been in session?” Han asked.

  “An hour,” Hammersmith said.

  “Where is the privy?” Han said. “We’re taking a little break.”

  Hammersmith pointed. “Down that corridor. I’ll ring the session bell when the meeting resumes.”

  Han hustled down the hallway, wondering what was going on in Bayar’s office, if some kind of deal was being cut to his detriment.

  He ducked out the side door into the privy courtyard. He couldn’t afford to spend much time in Aediion, just long enough to alert Dancer. There was always the chance Bayar would send someone to murder him. He was the kind to have an assassin at the ready.

  But when Han materialized in the bell tower, Dancer wasn’t there. “Dancer!” he called. “I can’t stay long,” he warned, even though he knew that Dancer was either there or not.

  Another minute or two of calling, and Han had to return to his session.

  Where was Dancer? Had he given up? It had been a long session, longer than Han expected, due to the debate about Ragmarket.

  When Han reentered the building, he heard the session bells echoing down the hallway.

  “There you are!” somebody hissed, right by his ear.

  He whirled, clutching at his knife. It was Fiona Bayar.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I waited for you at the stables, but you never showed.”

  “I came a different way,” Han said. “Look, I have to get back.”

  “I wanted to tell you that I never talked to Gryphon,” she said. “I tried, multiple times, but he refused to see me.”

  “What?” Han stared at her, his last hope shriveling. “This is a fine time to tell me.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Fiona flared. “What with his parents dying and all, he was busy. I tried to pull him aside at their memorial service, but he insisted on staying with his family.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s been closeted up, so I couldn’t even intercept him in the garden. There’s no use opposing Micah for High Wizard since there’s no way you’ll win.”

  “Too late for that,” Han said. “I’ve accepted the nomination.”

  “Well, that’s a very bad idea,” Fiona said, her fingers digging into his arm. “My father will kill you, and all for nothing.”

  “I have to go. We’ll talk later.” Han pulled free, leaving Fiona standing alone.

  How many times can Lord Bayar kill me, anyway? he thought.

  When Han entered the council room, Lord Bayar looked up from a conversation with Lord Mander. “I thought perhaps you had reconsidered, Alister,” he said.

  “Not unless you managed to change Dean Abelard’s mind in there.”

  “No,” Lord Bayar said. “It seems we must proceed with this farce.” He sighed. “Now, as most of you know, the election is by simple majority, voice vote. I vote only in the case of a tie. We will go clockwise around the table. Lord Mander?”

  “Micah Bayar,” Mander said promptly.

  “Micah?”

  “I vote for myself, of course,” Micah said.

  “Dean Abelard?”

  “I vote for Han Alister,” she said.

  “Alister?”

  “I vote for myself, of course,” Han said, mimicking Micah, and thinking, At least now the meeting will be over and I can get out of here.

  “Lord Gryphon?”

  Gryphon smiled crookedly. “When I came to this meeting, I had no idea that we would be presented with such an…interesting choice. I had no idea that we would have any choice at all.” He paused, basking in the heat of everyone’s attention like a cat on a hearth.

  “I vote for Han Alister,” he said.

  C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N

  PAST

  CRIMES AND

  MISDEMEANORS

  For a long moment, Han thought he’d misheard. He blinked at Adam Gryphon, then looked around the table at the other stunned faces. Which made him realize that he must have heard right.

  “Excuse me?” Lord Bayar said. “What did you say?”

  “I vote for Hanson Alister for High Wizard, to replace you,” Gryphon said. “I believe that means he wins.”

  “Why would you vote for the street thug who murdered your parents?” Mander shrilled. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

  That’s Mander’s role on the council, Han thought. He blurts out what everyone else is thinking, but won’t say.

  Gryphon turned chilly eyes on Mander. “I haven’t heard any evidence to suggest that Alister was involved in my parents’ deaths. If and when he is charged with that crime, I assume the usual judicial procedures will apply. If convicted, he will, of course, be replaced.”

  “You—you—you voted for someone with no bloodlines, with no history, with no connections at court?” Mander wailed. “He hasn’t even been a wizard for that long. Everyone knows that this boy is in league with demons.”

  I suppose that’s true, in a way, Han thought. He was amazed, almost giddy, and was having difficulty following the conversation.

  “It occurred to me that the introduction of new blood into the office might be…refreshing,” Gryphon said.

  “Lord Gryphon,” Lord Bayar said, struggling to be diplomatic. “Is it possible that the recent deaths of your parents may have inspired a rash and rather foolish choice?”

  “On the contrary, I would call it a brave and creative choice,” Abelard said, smiling gleefully. Maybe she wasn’t High Wizard herself, but she was sticking it to her en
emies. She and Gryphon were the only ones who seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  Abelard, of course, had no idea that Han’s plans to win over Gryphon had fallen into a shambles.

  “Perhaps we should table this vote until Lord Gryphon has regained his senses,” Lord Mander said hastily. “It was a mistake to allow him to attend a meeting so soon.”

  “Actually, I have never been clearer in my mind. And this discussion is reinforcing the wisdom of my decision.” Gryphon straightened, his mouth hardening into a thin line.

  Han finally came to his own senses. “It seems to me that the vote has been taken in a fair fashion, and the results should be accepted. We should leave off second-guessing Lord Gryphon and move on to other business.”

  “Of course you would say that,” Mander said bitterly.

  “I suggest we adjourn for now and allow cooler heads to prevail,” Lord Bayar said, raising his gavel. “We can reconsider this at our next meeting.”

  “I thought it was extremely urgent that we decide,” Abelard said. “And we have. I am taking my own notes of the proceedings, Gavan, and I’ll make sure your minutes are honest.”

  “It is the will of the council,” Gryphon said, nodding. “Now—how do we go about this? Are you supposed to give Alister your gavel, Lord Bayar, or does he need to purchase one of his own?” His eyes gleamed with suppressed glee.

  Han got ready to duck, in case Lord Bayar flung the gavel at him. But Bayar had regained his street face. He slid it across the table to Han.

  “Thank you, Lord Bayar,” Han said. “I am humbled by your confidence in me, and will do my best to reassure those of you who voted for my opponent.” He nodded at Micah, who glared daggers back. “I have a little more business before we adjourn. First, as to the—ah—the Ragmarket project. As High Wizard, I will assume responsibility for that, Lord Bayar, and will report my progress back to the council.”

  It might have been Han’s imagination, but Micah actually looked relieved.

  Still, something in Lord Bayar’s face unsettled Han. He didn’t look beaten—not by a long shot. A chill settled deep into Han’s bones. I’ve got to get out of here, he thought. I need to talk to Raisa.

  Abelard’s acerbic voice intruded into his thoughts. “Given our vote in favor of proceeding, we will tolerate no foot-dragging on this, Alister, despite your personal feelings in the matter.” She paused. “If need be, we’ll give the task to someone else.”

  It was clear Abelard meant to keep him on a tight leash.

  “I understand,” Han said. Maybe he’d delayed the destruction of Ragmarket and Southbridge, but he’d have to find a way to stop the murders or he’d be put into an impossible position. “Before we adjourn, I would like to announce my replacement on the council.”

  Micah finally found his voice, though it was hoarse and rather strained. “Your replacement? Isn’t that the queen’s decision?”

  “I discussed it with her before the meeting, just in case,” Han said. “Of course, I never dreamed that it would actually happen.”

  “You’re saying the queen has chosen a replacement for you already?” Micah said skeptically.

  “Queen Raisa has chosen Hayden Fire Dancer,” Han said.

  “Hayden?” Gryphon blinked at Han. “Who is—?” Then understanding dawned. “She’s chosen a copperhead as her representative to the council?”

  Heads were shaking all around the table. Abelard glared at Han, eyebrows raised, as if to say, Have you gone mad?

  “Did Raisa really choose a copperhead?” Micah sneered. “Or did you?”

  “Hayden is of clan blood, it’s true,” Han said. “But he carries wizard blood as well. Obviously.” Han pulled Raisa’s writ from inside his jacket and pushed it across the table to Abelard, since she seemed least likely to rip it up.

  Abelard broke the wax seal, unfolded the page, and scanned it quickly. “Well,” she said, tossing it down on the table. “He has it in writing, by the queen’s hand.”

  Gavan Bayar rose, triumph glinting in his blue eyes, as if scenting a rich victory to be snatched from defeat. “If this is true, which I sincerely doubt, then it appears that either Queen Raisa has taken leave of her senses, or that you have somehow seized control of her.”

  Han rose also, straightening his stoles. “Queen Raisa intends to bring the peoples of the Fells together,” he said. “How better to do it than by introducing a diverse voice to the council?”

  “Diverse is one thing,” Bayar said. “Diverse, we have. Unnatural is quite another.” He drew himself up. “We have tolerated Queen Raisa’s missteps, realizing that she is young and naive. Despite our misgivings, we welcomed you to the council and attempted to instruct you in our traditions and procedures.”

  He turned, his stoles swinging in a great arc around him. “Did you humble yourself, listen to your betters, and work hard to earn a place among us? No.” He shook his head. “No. You apparently hatched a plot to seize control of this body at your—what—your second meeting.

  “But this—this is intolerable. To think that we would admit this mixed-blood issue of a criminal act into our most powerful body. That we would allow him to sit down at table with us and participate as an equal here—that is not to be tolerated.”

  Han raised the gavel. But before he could bring it down, he heard voices in the outer room, Hammersmith protesting that the council was in session, that no one could enter.

  He heard Dancer say, “I believe Lord Alister is expecting me.”

  Dancer and Willo had come. And now Han had to act—to carry through the plan despite his desire to return to town. Despite his worries that it might be too much, too soon.

  Han tried not to look at the door, which he expected to open at any moment. Wait, wait, wait, he tried to message Dancer. Let Bayar speak first. Let him destroy himself first. If there is a god in heaven, wait.

  Bayar’s voice rang out from the head of the table. “For centuries, our ancestors have met here, making decisions that have shaped history. And one of the decisions made was that congress between wizards and copperheads is forbidden. Is anathema to us. It presents a danger to the purity of the gifted race. This is just the kind of situation that the rules are meant to prevent—rules that have been enforced for a thousand years. We would have been better served if the mongrel had been drowned at birth.”

  “Hayden Fire Dancer may be a chance child,” Han said, “but he carries the blood of one of the most prominent gifted families in the realm.”

  For a split second, Bayar’s arrogant expression faltered. Then he turned away from Han, to the rest of the council.

  “Here is what we will do,” Lord Bayar said. “We will declare Hanson Alister unfit to serve on this council, and send word to the queen to that effect. We will set aside the results of our recent vote, since Alister’s participation in it renders it null and void. I will continue to serve as High Wizard until Alister is replaced on the council. I can suggest any number of capable replacements to…”

  Hammersmith pushed open the door. “I am so sorry, Lord Bayar, but these…people say Lord Alister is expecting them. They insisted on being admitted.”

  Fire Dancer and Willo Watersong stepped past him into the council chamber.

  Willo wore a divided skirt in embroidered wool, a feather-light shawl around her shoulders, fine painted and stippled boots. Her hair was caught into a long braid, threaded through with feathers and talismans. She had never looked more beautiful, more serene.

  Dancer was dressed like a clan prince, his Bayar Stooping Falcon stoles draped over his shoulders, the Lone Hunter amulet displayed overtop. They walked forward together, within a few feet of the astonished Bayars.

  Now that Dancer and Lord Bayar stood side by side, the resemblance between them was unmistakable.

  “Lord Bayar,” Willo said, in clear, carrying Common. “Do you remember me?”

  And he did. Han could tell. His street face slid away momentarily, revealing naked fear, desire, and guilt.


  “How dare you?” Bayar began, but his voice had lost some of its force. “How dare you come into this sacred hall, flinging accusations?”

  “I have not yet made any accusations,” Willo said. “Perhaps it is your own guilt clamoring in your ears.”

  She turned toward the other council members, who sat gaping. “I have something to say.”

  Bayar groped for his amulet, extending a trembling hand toward her.

  Dancer moved between them, his knife glittering in the torchlight. “Let go of that amulet,” he said quietly. “And let my mother speak. Or I will cut your throat.”

  Lord Bayar stood, breathing hard, eye to eye with his son for a long charged moment. Then let go of the jinxpiece.

  As Willo spoke, even Bayar’s allies seemed enthralled. Micah stared at Willo, then Dancer, then Willo again, shaking his head, his face a potent mixture of nausea and fury. Lord Mander licked his lips repeatedly, staring down at the table. Gryphon rubbed his chin with his palm, forehead creased in thought, his eyes on Willo.

  Abelard sat back in her chair, by turns looking amazed and vastly entertained. Now and then, she remembered herself, and adopted an expression of horrified disapproval. But anyone could tell she was the happiest person in the room.

  Finally, it was finished. “I am not ashamed of Hayden Fire Dancer,” Willo said. “Though he was given a difficult path to walk, he is the blessing of my life. But it is time that Lord Bayar is held accountable for this thing that he has done—one crime among many, I believe. What is particularly reprehensible is the fact that he holds others accountable for acts he himself has committed.”

  By now, Bayar seemed to have mastered himself. Han suspected he hadn’t even been listening—he knew the story, after all—but was preparing his own.

  “Are you quite finished?” he said pointedly.

  “I am not finished,” Willo said, “but I would like to hear you speak to what I have said.”

  Bayar looked around the table and shook his head in a woe-some way, as if the world had once again disappointed him.

  “This…this woman,” he said, as if thinking of another word. “This woman has borne a chance child, and thinks to take advantage of a faint resemblance between me and her byblow offspring to make this preposterous claim.