The World of The Gateway Boxset

by E. E. Holmes

  “Someone better hurry Bertie along, or else he is going to get a chair to the back of the skull courtesy of Fiona,” I whispered to Hannah, who smothered a giggle with the back of her hand.

  Most of the people in the room were using the roll call as an opportunity to turn around and stare at whomever was being introduced, and then whisper conspiratorially to their neighbors. I could only imagine what they were saying; exchanging clan gossip and commenting on appearances, probably. And then it was our turn for the general scrutiny.

  “Would the representatives from Clan Sassanaigh please rise and state your names for the official record?” Siobhán called.

  As Hannah and I nervously rose to our feet, we were met with an obvious increase in the muttering and whispering, so much so that I actually felt the need to raise my voice when I stated my name. When we sat again, it was with scarlet faces and a serious desire to sink through the floor.

  In an effort to distract myself from all the unwanted attention, I dropped my eyes to the table in front of me and picked up a folder that lay there. It was imprinted with a gold Triskele and contained a large stack of papers that had been stapled together into a packet. I started to flip through it, just for something to do, and saw that it was a summary of what would be covered in the session that day. The whole thing was divided into sections and subsections, with addendums and footnotes, like an outline for the most tediously boring research paper of all time. Oh God, this was going to be torture.

  “The Council would like to acknowledge Deputy Priestess Celeste Morgan,” came Siobhán’s voice, cutting into my document-induced horror. I looked up. Everyone around us had begun murmuring again, but the focus was no longer on anyone in the crowd. Every eye seemed to be drawn to the empty seat in the Council benches. They must have reached the point in the role call when Catriona’s clan ought to have acknowledged itself.

  “Thank you, Siobhán,” Celeste said as she reached the podium. Siobhán stepped aside so that Celeste could stand before the microphone. “I wish to address the absence of one of our Council members, Catriona Worthington.”

  The assembled Durupinen went silent, clearly eager for an explanation.

  “Catriona has fallen very ill and could, under no circumstances, attend the meeting today. Our hospital ward staff is hopeful that she will make a full recovery, though they do not yet understand the exact nature of her illness.”

  A woman a few rows back stood up. “What do you mean, the exact nature of her illness? Is this a physical ailment or a spirit-induced issue?”

  Celeste threw a quick glance at Siobhán, who gave a tiny nod. “I wouldn’t like to speculate too much—after all, I am not a medical professional—but the incident does appear to be spirit-induced.”

  “But what’s happened? What’s wrong with her?” another voice called from the back of the hall.

  Celeste put up a hand. “As I’ve said, I really can’t speculate about—”

  “Why are we so concerned?” a third, harsher voice added. “Her clan has disgraced itself beyond recovery. Why have we allowed her to maintain her Council seat, anyway?”

  A great number of voices rose in reply to this question, and Siobhán actually had to step back to the podium and use the gavel there to silence them. I glanced at Hannah. Her eyes were wide, though she kept them trained on her clasped hands in her lap.

  “It is not up for discussion or debate at this moment,” Celeste said in a commanding voice, “whether Catriona should or should not continue as a member of this Council. That matter has already been thoroughly discussed, investigated, and voted upon.”

  “But not by us,” the third voice continued. I turned to look at the speaker. I had never seen her before. “We were never consulted.”

  “You were consulted when you voted on your Council representatives,” Celeste said. “The women sitting up on this platform now are your chosen delegates, and they have been entrusted to make decisions on your behalf. If you do not trust their judgement or fitness, by all means, vote them out at your next opportunity, and I include myself in that. The Trackers and International High Council investigated this matter and found Catriona to be innocent both of any wrongdoing in this matter, and also of any knowledge of her cousin’s wrongdoing. Do you suggest their investigations lack merit?”

  The woman mumbled something about, “… never said that…”

  Celeste took advantage of the woman’s momentary embarrassment and went on, “Unless you have further evidence to provide us, we must rely upon the thorough investigations that have already been conducted. The guilty party, Lucida Worthington, has been tried, convicted, and sentenced to spend her life imprisoned at the príosún on the Isle of Skye. We are not in the habit of punishing one of our sisterhood for the crimes of another. We will not begin to do so now. If you take issue with this policy, I suggest you take it up with the International High Council. I’m sure someone there would be delighted to explain it to you.”

  The dissenting woman flushed pink, but her expression remained defiant as she lowered herself slowly back into her seat. Several other people around her were casting stony looks up at Celeste, but she had already turned away from them.

  “As I was saying,” she went on, “Catriona is still a voting member of this Council and her absence will impede our proceedings. In the interest of avoiding delays, I move that, though we press forward with discussion and debate of issues, we hold off on any formal voting until we can ascertain if Catriona will be able to join us. It may save us the trouble of having to nominate and vote in a temporary replacement for her.”

  “Seconded,” Fiona called from the stands. Celeste nodded gratefully to her.

  “Very well, then,” Siobhán said, stepping forward to the podium again. “A simple majority carries. All in favor of the motion proposed by Clan Turascuain that formal voting be postponed pending the health status of our Councilwoman?”

  Hands went up all around the room. I was rather alarmed at being asked to vote on something so quickly, but after a moment of surprise, and a silent consultation with Hannah, I raised my own hand tentatively into the air. It seemed silly not to accomplish what we could while waiting for Catriona to recover. Many others seemed to agree; most of them, in fact, although I noticed the woman that had challenged Catriona’s continued seat on the council had declined to raise her hand, as had several of the women sitting around her.

  Hannah looked at me and raised her eyebrows as though to say, “This might be more interesting than you thought.” I conceded with a nod of my head. She might just be right.

  “Motion carries,” Siobhán called after the votes were counted. She took a moment to be sure that Bertie had recorded the correct tally, and then nodded to Celeste.

  “Very well. Let us move then to the first order of business, which can be found on page one of your session agenda,” Celeste said with a faint air of relief.

  It was tedious for a time. First, each clan had to confirm any deaths and births in the bloodline. Then each clan had to officially record any transference of a Gateway from one generation to the next since the previous Airechtas. I couldn’t imagine that they didn’t already keep track of these kinds of things; I mean, how else would they know who was coming to Fairhaven for training in any given year? But apparently, it was the formality of it that mattered, so we sat through round after round of clan updates.

  Then Celeste stood again and read a sort of proclamation announcing the opening of new Gateways since the last Airechtas. At this point, Savvy and Phoebe were asked to stand and be officially welcomed into the Northern Clans. A few of the Durupinen stood, including Hannah and me, but the reception was lukewarm at best. Savvy, already looking uncomfortable at being made to stand up, looked downright curmudgeonly as she sat back down.

  “What is their problem?” I asked Hannah under my breath.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “You know the Durupinen by now. It’s all about tradition, and Savvy has none. Is it any surprise they show
disdain for new Gateways? They probably resent that the old Gateway had to close.”

  “Yeah, I bet you’re right. It’s like the old money versus new money prejudice,” I said. “Your status is somehow higher the longer you’ve had it.”

  “Exactly. Some of these clans have existed as far back as recorded Durupinen history. You can tell which ones by where they’re sitting. The ones toward the front are the oldest clans, and the ones toward the back are the newest.”

  I glanced around. We were in the second row from the front. That made us one of the oldest families in attendance. Again, I felt Agnes Isherwood’s gaze upon me, full of judgement and expectation. It was so tangible that I wondered if her ghost were about to appear beside me whispering heavily weighted words about legacy and duty and tradition. I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. To dispel the feeling, I took a deep breath and looked up at Celeste who had begun to speak again.

  “Next up for discussion is the open seat on the Council,” Celeste said. She reached a hand over to Siobhán, who was not paying attention, but instead rubbing distractedly at her temple.

  “Madame Secretary? The Council Seat declaration, please?” Celeste prompted her.

  Siobhán looked up, confused. “What? Oh, yes. Apologies. Here it is.” She extracted a paper from the pile in front of her and handed it to Celeste. Celeste took it from her with a look of mild concern.

  “Here we are,” Celeste said. “As every clan is aware, having been formally notified of the decision, Clan Gonachd was stripped of its Council seat as punitive action for its involvement in events surrounding the fulfillment of the Isherwood Prophecy.”

  These words, which she spoke unflinchingly, were met with a ringing silence. The tension in the room, sporadic thus far, was suddenly stifling. Every eye shifted to the middle of the room, where Marion sat, poker-stiff in a seat beside the center aisle. Her expression was supremely unimpressed, as though Celeste’s words were barely worth her notice. A woman sitting near Marion gave a snort of disgust. Marion betrayed a tiny smirk and acknowledged the sound with an ironic inclination of her head. It was one of those smug expressions that you just wanted to slap off of someone’s face. I clenched my hands together in my lap to suppress the urge. Assault was probably not the smartest choice I could make in this situation, even if it would be the most satisfying one.

  I could tell we were hovering on the edge of a confrontation, and perhaps Celeste knew it too, for she plowed on forcefully before anyone else had a chance to speak. “That punitive action has left a seat on the Council open for filling on the event of this Airechtas. Anyone wishing to nominate a clan may do so by submitting a formal written nomination letter to myself or Siobhán by the end of sessions tomorrow. On Wednesday, all nominees will have the choice to accept or decline their nomination. A formal debate for remaining nominees will take place on Thursday, and a binding vote will take place on Friday afternoon. All votes will be submitted anonymously, per Airechtas guidelines, and the announcement of the seat will close the final session of the Airechtas on Saturday evening.”

  My insides in a tight knot, I stole a glance up at Finvarra. She was looking right at Hannah and me, her gaze steely with resolve. I couldn’t imagine what kind of unpleasantness was going to be hurled our way when she formally nominated us.

  A woman stood up on the Council bench. She was tall and statuesque, with mahogany hair swept back in a twist and lips pulled back in an ingratiating smile. I recognized her at once as Róisín and Riley’s mother, and one of Marion’s closest cronies; Marion had been speaking with her in the dining hall on the day she had arrived.

  “The Council recognizes Patricia Lightfoot,” Celeste said, pointing to the woman. Bertie’s quill began scratching loudly as he recorded the exchange.

  “Thank you for the opportunity to speak. I would like to state, for the record, that many among us are truly disappointed that Clan Gonachd was stripped of its seat without a full vote of the assembled Northern Clans. It seems inherently unequal that Clan Soillseach maintains its seat on the Council while Clan Gonachd is barred from ever serving again. In the first case, the punitive action has been applied solely to the guilty party, leaving the seat unaffected. In the second, the punishment has been extended to the entire clan. I have a hard time seeing the logic in two such disparate decisions.”

  Several people around her nodded their heads and murmured their agreement. Marion crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, her smirk spreading across her face like poison through veins.

  “Your remarks are duly noted. If you take issue with the punishments handed down by the International High Council, I suggest you take it up with them,” Celeste said coolly.

  “I assure you, I intend to,” Patricia said, and she held up a scroll of parchment. “I have prepared a formal complaint, signed by no less than fifteen clans present here. I would like to file a copy as part of the proceedings today.”

  Celeste looked to Siobhán, who was now massaging her forehead, eyes closed. Celeste cocked her head at Bertie, who leapt to his feet at once and bustled down the aisle to retrieve the scroll, then turned back to Siobhán. I watched as Celeste leaned away from the microphone and whispered quietly into Siobhán’s ear. Siobhán shook her head and waved her away.

  Patricia plowed on, ignoring the exchange. “Furthermore, I submit this motion for voting, that the Council of the Northern Clans dispute the ruling, and request that the Clan Gonachd be reinstated with its full rights to run for the Council seat again in the future. If Catriona can continue to serve, in the face of Lucida’s staggering betrayal, surely future generations of Clan Gonachd cannot be excluded over what was little more than a political squabble.”

  I laughed incredulously. The sound echoed around the hall, drawing all eyes to me, but my indignation far outweighed my embarrassment. Marion had also looked up at the sound, and I met her eye unflinchingly, hoping that she could feel every ounce of my loathing for her burning through my gaze.

  So, this was why she wanted to be here so badly. This was the reason the rest of her family suddenly and mysteriously couldn’t represent their clan this week. She wanted to be front and center for this; to orchestrate her family’s reinstatement into the hierarchy, or at least, to make them eligible to rise again. And it seemed she had a great deal of support, just as she did three years before when she attempted to orchestrate a coup in this very room.

  Celeste was not to be trampled in this exchange, however. “You have every right to file this motion, and the clans here assembled have every right to debate and vote upon it. However, as a Council member, you are well aware how the punitive process works. Matters of this nature must be handled by objective outside votes from a higher court, so as to avoid personal relationships from interfering with due process. Nevertheless, the motion is on the table. Who will second the motion?”

  “Seconded,” Marion’s voice called out over the crowd.

  I felt my outrage bubble up toward my lips but Savvy got there first. She jumped to her feet.

  “Are you havin’ us on? Does she seriously get to do that?” she blurted out.

  Celeste turned to face Savvy, her expression stern. “The Council recognizes Savannah Todd of the Clan Lunnainn and urges her to remember that we are in a formal meeting.”

  “Right, yeah,” Savvy said, clearing her throat and standing up straighter in an attempt to appear more dignified. “What I mean to say is, how is it she’s allowed to second that motion? It’s about her family, yeah? So, shouldn’t she be excluded?”

  Many of the people sitting around Savvy, who had looked disapproving a moment before, now looked as though they thought she had a fair point.

  Celeste sighed. “I see the basis of your objection, but as a voting member here, Marion has every right to—”

  “Seconded,” another voice called out. It was another of Marion’s entourage, seated a row behind her. “Just so there is no contention.”

  Savvy snorted in disgust and sat down a
bruptly.

  “Very well, seconded. A majority carries. All in favor?” Celeste asked. A slim majority of hands went up; of course, mine and Hannah’s were not among them. “The motion carries,” Celeste said. “We will hear further discussion on this proposal of a formal complaint, and will vote on it along with the other measures. We move then to the question of—”

  A soft whimpering sound drew her attention, and she looked over at Siobhán, who had covered her face with her hands. Celeste dropped her papers and hurried to the other side of the podium.

  “Siobhán? My goodness, are you quite well?” Celeste asked. She placed a hand on Siobhán’s shoulder, but Siobhán shook it off, stumbling a little as she did so.

  “Get it away,” she whimpered. “Please, I beg you. Get it away from me.” She pointed to the edge of the platform. There was nothing there except for a tall candelabra aglow with tapers and a large Triskele banner on a flagpole.

  Celeste looked over at Finvarra, who was leaning forward in her chair. Siobhán’s Caomhnóir stepped forward as well, a hand outstretched to help.

  “Siobhán?” Celeste repeated, and then called over her shoulder, “Seamus, go and fetch Mrs. Mistlemoore in the hospital ward. Immediately.”

  Siobhán went suddenly quiet. She pulled her hands from her face and stared at Celeste with wide, terrified eyes. Celeste froze.

  “Siobhán?” she asked again.

  “Who is Siobhán?” she cried.

  I stood up. “Oh, my God.”

  But even as I stood, in the same moment that I realized what was happening, Siobhán staggered toward the podium. She snatched up the book there and then ran with it to the edge of the platform, shaking off her Caomhnóir’s restraining hand. With a wild cry, she swung the book with all her might at the candelabra. I grabbed Hannah by the arm and pulled her under our table as flaming candles and melted wax rained down on the first few rows. We listened as the candelabra fell with a deafening clatter upon the stone floor. I leapt up just in time to see Siobhán taking off across the room, heading straight for a second candelabra. She only made it a few steps, though, before two of the Caomhnóir who had been stationed nearby pulled her to the floor and restrained her.