“We don’t know. That’s the problem. Thrane disappeared nearly seventy years ago, without a trace,” Penhallow replied. “He was not the type to avoid attention, so his absence—while not minded—was frequently remarked upon.”
“And now he’s back? Why?” Connor asked.
“That, m’lad, is the problem,” the Wraith Lord said. “There have been rumors that Thrane has stepped in to take advantage of the opportunities now that Lysander, Quintrel, and Rostivan have been killed.” He paused. “It’s also likely that he’ll try to enable Reese to escape. Reese has been a valuable servant.”
“Can he do that? Reese, I mean. Can he get loose?”
Penhallow shrugged. “You were in the oubliette with Lorens. Despite the most stringent mortal precautions, Lorens managed to slip his bonds. Few of our kind supported Lorens. I suspect that Reese’s support is somewhat broader, though many would hesitate to speak of it aloud.”
“What does Thrane want from the Elders?” Connor asked.
“Knowing Thrane, he’s got a long list of demands,” Penhallow observed drily. “But I’m sure he will insist that Reese be released. He’ll try to get sanctions against the Wraith Lord and me for having brought Reese to the Elders’ attention.”
“Would the Elders support him?”
“Doubtful,” the Wraith Lord replied. “But if you recall, in the last vote among the Elders they were hardly united. Out of thirteen Elders, five voted to merely punish Reese and not require the final death, while three would have freed him without sanction and punished Penhallow and me for having brought the matter up.” His spectral figure shook its head. “That’s a thin margin.”
“Are any of the Elders on our side?” Connor asked.
Penhallow chuckled. “On our side? Only Kierken here that we’re sure of,” he replied. “The others vote primarily for their own self-interest.”
“But aren’t the Elders supposed to rule for what’s best for talishte as a group?” Connor asked. Yet he remembered the often-contentious debates within the King’s Council, when nobles fought over petty issues when they, too, were supposed to be responsible for the welfare of the kingdom as a whole.
Penhallow looked resigned. “When the kings of Donderath ruled, the Elders had a purpose. Under mortal rule, we needed a governing body of our own to enforce a code of conduct designed to avoid the kind of slaughter that happened when the Knights of Esthrane were banished, or when Lorens went on a rampage.”
He shook his head. “Now there’s no single mortal ruler. No recognized authority. The threat of organized extermination is not imminent. And some among our kind are thinking that it would be good if that situation remained permanent.”
“It can’t,” the Wraith Lord replied. “Mortals outnumber us by too large a number. We will always be vulnerable. But there are fools who forget those constraints and dream of a world without rules.”
Penhallow raised an eyebrow. “Any man who rails against the need for government bears watching very closely. Honest men appreciate the constables. Only those who wish to do something they should not be doing fear and hate the rule of law.”
“So why are we going before the Elders again?” Connor asked.
“We’re going before the Elders because someone has to stand against Thrane,” Penhallow replied.
“We do have allies,” the Wraith Lord said. “Silver, Onyx, and Gold all voted for death. They’re the least likely to change their vote.”
“It’s the ones who voted for punishment we need to watch,” Penhallow added. “Had Merrill still been on the throne and the kingdom been as it was, I am certain that several—maybe all—of those votes would have changed to ‘death.’ ”
“And if Thrane gets his way, he’ll try to change enough of those votes to get Reese released,” Connor said. “Won’t he?”
Penhallow and the Wraith Lord nodded. “And if he does, that means Reese will be out for revenge,” Penhallow said.
Lundmyhre, the estate of the Wraith Lord, was a two-candlemark ride from Westbain. Connor rode alongside Penhallow, too preoccupied with his thoughts for conversation. Several talishte bodyguards followed them. The Wraith Lord had gone on ahead, unencumbered by the need for transportation.
I’m tired of nearly dying or being killed every other day, Connor grumbled to himself. I just came back from battle, and then the ritual and Mirdalur, and here we go, riding into a confrontation with ancient talishte, who could squash me like a bug.
The Wraith Lord’s men were waiting for them when they reached Lundmyhre’s boundaries. “My soldiers and I will wait for you here,” Penhallow said. “And if we’re needed, Kierken will be able to summon us.”
The Wraith Lord materialized next to them. “The others will be here in a few moments,” he said. “Connor—I fear this may go badly. That’s why Lanyon has his soldiers present, and why I need your help.”
Connor nodded. “If it keeps Reese locked up, count me in.”
Connor gave his reins over to the talishte soldiers. He opened himself to the Wraith Lord’s spirit, no longer surprised that the possession did not tax his energy as quickly as before his strengthened bond with Penhallow.
How will they know I’m you? Connor fretted as he walked on foot along the narrow path to the circle of standing stones where the Elders would convene their session.
Kierken Vandholt chuckled. Ask your friends sometime whether they can tell the difference between us. I may share your body, but our mannerisms are quite different.
The standing stones were large hand-hewn monoliths that had been raised in their circle in a time long forgotten, even by talishte. Their builders were a matter of legend and argument. Mages, astronomers, and scholars debated their origin, but the common folk went out of their way to avoid the circles.
One by one the Elders assembled, each masked and robed figure standing in front of one of the thirteen standing stones. Connor watched as they took their places. Behind their jewel-toned masks, it was impossible to see the faces or expressions. Their masks made them even more intimidating, and far less human.
“Who summoned us?” Emerald was the first to speak.
“I did.” A broad-shouldered man Connor had never seen before strode into the circle. He had dark hair and coarse features, with black eyes that missed no advantage. The man had a powerful chest and muscular arms, but he looked more like one of the ruffians hired to keep the peace in a disreputable tavern. “I am Thrane, but perhaps you know me better as Hemlock.”
None of the masked figures spoke, but from their stance, Connor could see that the names were known to them. Some turned toward Thrane, eager to hear what he might say. Others leaned back, wary. Still more crossed their arms or turned away.
“Why have you asked for this convocation?” the Wraith Lord asked.
Thrane eyed Connor as if trying to figure out what to make of him. “What right does a mortal have to be here, let alone know my reasons?” Thrane retorted.
“He is my servant, my spirit-bearer, and it is my right to know,” the Wraith Lord replied in a tone that made his anger at Thrane’s lack of respect clear.
Thrane had the good sense to make a low bow in concession. “My apologies, Lord Vandholt. I did not recognize you.”
“You have not answered my question,” the Wraith Lord replied, sweeping aside the apology.
Thrane stood to his full height, and his chin rose. “You’ve imprisoned my blood son, Pentreath Reese,” Thrane said, turning to take in the masked figures who encircled him. “I ask you to reconsider, and free him.”
“Are you aware that it is a penalty worthy of death to convene the Elders without cause?” Onyx asked.
Thrane made a low bow. “Yes, m’lords. And I am quite fond of my neck. I do not risk it lightly. Yet here I am.”
“We have already considered the evidence against Pentreath Reese and determined his fate.” This time, it was Silver who spoke.
“We do not reconsider our judgments lightly,” Gold a
dded. “And we have rarely reversed our rulings. Why should we now?”
For someone whose fate hung on the forbearance of a group of immortal talishte, Thrane looked very much at ease. Connor watched Thrane, sizing him up as he paced back and forth in the center of the circle. The arrogance in Thrane’s mannerisms reminded Connor of many nobles he had met when he was in Lord Garnoc’s employ.
“Because times have changed, m’lords,” Thrane said. “The Elders were gathered to protect talishte against powerful mortals.” He turned in a circle, one hand out, palm up, as if to gesture toward the world itself. “Behold. There are no more powerful mortals. The kings of the Continent are dead, and there are no heirs. Much of the nobility is dead, and what remains is impoverished and disorganized. If the threat for which the Elders were gathered no longer exists, why are we bound by rules from a time that is no more and never will be again?”
As much as Connor disliked Thrane, he had to admit that the man’s natural charisma made it impossible to ignore him. He wondered if Thrane’s charm might be a form of magic.
“Reese attacked me on my lands, and Penhallow in his crypt,” the Wraith Lord countered. “Those actions alone are punishable by death.”
“Yet we are so few now, aren’t we?” Thrane asked, hands clasped in front of him like a barrister making a plea to the court. “So many of our number lost in the Great Fire, and before that, to mortals who hated and feared us. So many of our broods unable to sustain themselves after the Cataclysm. We’re not as numerous as we once were—and we were never many. Can we afford to destroy our own kind?”
Thrane was eloquent, and his arguments came across as reasoned and sincere, yet Connor’s intuition tolled a warning that grew more frantic with every word Thrane spoke.
“We have not ruled to destroy Reese, although many of our number believed he earned such a penalty,” Silver replied. “If all is forgiven when centuries have passed, then what is a few decades’ imprisonment? Merely a chance to reflect upon one’s missteps and find resolve to do better, is it not?”
Connor could not see Silver’s expression, but from the Elder’s tone, he could have sworn Silver was enjoying baiting Thrane.
Is it possible that some of the Elders know Thrane? Connor asked the Wraith Lord silently.
Almost certain, the Wraith Lord replied.
Does Thrane know—or guess—that he has allies among the Elders? Aren’t their identities supposed to be secret?
Connor heard the Wraith Lord’s silent chuckle. Immortality doesn’t change human nature. All of the games, the intrigue, the petty competition that went on at court go on among talishte—only they play out over centuries, and at a much higher cost.
“I did not vote for punishment, or death.” Aubergine spoke up. There was a tone in the Elder’s voice that presumed vindication.
“Nor did I,” Sapphire added. “Reese was impertinent, and he has been censured. As for his ‘crimes’—this is a new era. New rules apply.”
“I don’t think we went far enough by half,” Gray replied. “This isn’t the first time Reese has overstepped his boundaries. He serves no one but himself, and his dealings will cause grief for all of us. I’d like nothing better than to see him turned to ashes.”
“Kings are not the only ones who can wield power,” Jade said, with apparent indifference. “The Knights of Esthrane have returned, and while their numbers are small, they are a powerful force to return the kingdom to stability.”
“Lord Blaine McFadden, Lanyon Penhallow, and I have already made an alliance with General Dolan and his Knights,” the Wraith Lord argued. “Together with McFadden’s allied warlords, more than half of the kingdom is being returned to the rule of law, including Castle Reach. Reese has tried, and failed, to prevent that from happening. If you desire stability, there is no benefit to freeing Reese.”
“The situation is still fluid,” Thrane argued. “Why not allow Reese and his allies to fight for their vision of the future of Donderath and let the decisions about the future fall to the victor?”
“You mean, winner take all.” The Wraith Lord’s voice was cold. “Much like the ‘decisions’ that brought the kingdom to its knees in the Meroven War.”
Thrane wheeled to face the Wraith Lord, and for an instant, Connor could see his geniality slip, revealing a canny predator beneath. “Yes, if that’s the way you wish to put it. Let the strongest survive. Remove the most dangerous predator, and you have a war among the weak. That proves nothing. If the others wish to fashion the kingdom in their own mold, then let them emerge victorious.”
“If the Elders had followed your logic, Reese would have been destroyed, not imprisoned,” Silver replied disdainfully. “Reese’s forces lost decisively at the Battle of Valshoa to McFadden and the Knights. By our own law—talishte law—Reese compromised himself when he sent his men to attack the Wraith Lord.” Connor felt the Elder’s anger and contempt for Thrane. “We have been merciful in our judgment. You are not wise to press for more.”
“I agree with Thrane,” Saffron said. Her voice was cold with anger and impatience. “The time of the Elders has ended. Talishte will find their place in this remade world, and we will not need to have a ruling body to keep our people from offending mortals. This time, we claim a seat at the table, instead of being the lackeys of the king.”
“The last time magic failed, there was a century of bloodshed until the kingdom became stable once more,” Brown replied. “I have no desire to return to constant warfare. I like being civilized, and civilization requires stability. The sooner Donderath’s forces find balance, the better our existence becomes.”
“If you’ll recall, we existed on the edges of that civilization,” snapped Amber. “Sometimes tolerated, often hunted, and our lands confiscated, our homes and resting places burned. I’m tired of looking to mortals for permission to exist. I welcome a change.”
“As do I,” Aubergine replied. “I see no further reason for the Council of Elders to exist.”
“Then dissolve,” Thrane challenged. “Your purpose was to protect talishte by making them invisible and harmless to mortals. We have no king left to fear. How can we emerge to own the future unless we seize our opportunity?”
Connor could feel the Wraith Lord’s anger. Thrane’s arguments were having an effect. Those among the Elders who had been unwilling to put Reese to death were clearly in support of Thrane’s vision for the future. Even those who had voted to punish Reese seemed to be giving serious consideration to what Thrane said.
It was equally clear that others were growing increasingly angry with Thrane. “Enough,” said Onyx. “You petitioned to speak to the Elders. You have made your argument, but we are not obliged to reconsider our decision. As for the role of the Council of Elders, that is not your concern.”
“Maybe not,” argued Emerald, “but he’s only said aloud what we have each wondered privately. Without a king to persecute us, there is no central authority to fear. We need not dread the judgment of mortals; they are not strong enough to threaten us. That makes the Elders unnecessary. Let circumstances sort themselves out, and if there is need of us, then we can reconvene. I move to disband the Council.”
Can they do that? Connor asked the Wraith Lord silently.
Technically, yes, the Wraith Lord replied. Any member of the Council can bring up a matter for a vote.
“I agree. Disband the Council.” The second vote came from Aubergine.
“Our role in this new landscape may be different, but we are still a force for order, which is necessary even for talishte if we are not to become savages.” Onyx crossed his arms across his chest.
“I rather like savages,” Saffron replied. “They’re tasty. I welcome the chance to operate openly, making no secret of who we are, using our abilities to carve out a piece for ourselves. I vote to disband.”
“You are voting for your own downfall,” Silver argued. “Even talishte need rules. No one is honest enough to remain civilized without some kind
of sheriff waiting to punish wrongdoers.”
“Who’s to say what we do is wrong?” Red challenged. “Is the wildcat wrong because it kills a deer? We are the superior beings. We determine what is right and what is wrong. I vote to disband.”
“We are not gods,” Gray countered. “And whenever we have forgotten that, we have paid dearly. The Council keeps the actions of a few from jeopardizing the rest of us. I oppose disbanding.”
“The Council exists because we will it to exist, and it ceases to exist if we declare it so,” Sapphire said. “And I declare the Council disbanded.” With that, Sapphire left the circle.
“Agreed,” Red said, and walked off.
Saffron, Amber, and Emerald followed them without a word. Thrane glanced around at the empty places by the standing stones, and walked away, chuckling as he went.
Aubergine remained behind to savor the broken circle. “What becomes of your rule of law now?” he taunted. “You are no longer needed.” With that, he headed into the darkness beyond the standing stones. Jade lingered a moment, and then followed.
Six of the original thirteen remained in their places. Connor did not need to see their faces to read the shock and confusion in their posture.
“What now?” Silver asked. Her voice was carefully neutral, but Connor could see the uncertainty in her stance.
“We could do exactly what Aubergine dared. We who remain are the Council. No one legitimized the Council’s formation; we need no one to validate our continuance,” Gray replied. It was clear to Connor that several of the remaining Elders were angry and ready for a fight.
“Even if we remain a body, our influence is diminished,” Brown said. “We became Elders because we were the oldest of the talishte,” Brown continued. “And because we had the largest broods, and controlled the most talishte. What we banned or what we permitted became the law to our own get. That accounted for the majority of talishte in the kingdom. And it still does.”
“We can still exert influence, and that may be enough to change the tide,” Onyx replied. Onyx was angry, as was the Wraith Lord.
War of Shadows: Book Three of the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga Page 55