by Mark Henwick
The captain clearly didn’t know. One of his team came forward with a notepad, trying to be efficient. “Thirty-seven, Captain, Diakon.”
“And how many have been dealt with?”
“They’ve all been looked into, Diakon.”
“That means you’ve answered the phone and entered it into your database. Not a single one resolved. Not one. You’ve sat on your backsides and watched Matlal flood the city with his people.”
“We raised it as a concern—” began the Captain.
She turned her back on them.
“They have formal guidelines on their side,” she muttered in my ear. Her eyes almost pleaded with me. “There is no going back now, Amber. Not for any of us. This is just shit, but we have to compromise. What can you accept? Cuffed to me?”
She could tell my heart rate was through the roof, even if she couldn’t see exactly what was causing it. For that matter, neither could I. I shouldn’t react so extremely.
Get a grip!
I closed my eyes and forced myself to nod.
She turned back. “You.” She pointed at one of them. “Give me those handcuffs.”
“But the requirement—”
“Is dealt with if she’s handcuffed to me. Or are you going to claim, here in House Altau, that I am not sufficient? That the Diakon of House Altau is not acceptable? Because if you are, I’m calling you out, right here, right now.”
No one said anything. I kept my eyes closed. The chill of the metal circled my wrist, and the snap of the lock was loud in the silence.
I let Bian lead me stumbling forward. I was trying to stop the wailing inside from slipping out.
Chapter 52
They split us up. Bian and I went forward while the others were kept in the back of the Assembly room. I twisted around, but the rest were all but lost in the gloom around the entrance.
In front of us was a brightly lit arena. We sat, handcuffed together, on conference chairs at the edge of this open space in the middle of the room.
So this was the Assembly of the Athanate. Forty-two seats arranged in three tiered rows on either side of the central area. The body that had my life in its hands.
Skylur sat at the head on his peacock throne, his face completely unreadable. Matlal was in the middle on the right. That was the Basilikos side. Arvinder sat three seats away from him, still part of Basilikos.
I recognized a number of the representatives. A little of the tension leaked from me. I had danced with most of them at the charity ball. Was it just a week ago? Was that going to count in my favor?
Maybe not, the way you dance.
Thanks, Tara!
She helped. I took deep breaths and tried to focus.
Eight seats were empty. To either side of Skylur were screens for absent representatives to join the Assembly by teleconference. Three were blank. Maybe Romero and two others?
Behind us, a huge projection screen hung from the ceiling.
To our right sat an elderly couple, casually dressed and largely ignoring the proceedings. The Adepts, I assumed.
Bian nudged me and looked upwards. Cameras were mounted above the four corners of the seating, looking down onto the representatives.
“Skylur’s little surprise,” murmured Bian. “Secure real-time broadcast of the proceedings to every Athanate House in the world. That’s why things have been delayed. He had to bulldoze it through.”
I guessed that meant Basilikos couldn’t misrepresent the proceedings, but it struck me as a risky move.
There was a buzz of discussion which did not die away. I felt almost every eye in the place was on me, but in here, I couldn’t read the faces as I had with their staff outside. I gave them back what they gave me, fighting down the panic, keeping my face as blank as theirs.
This had gotten beyond an oath ceremony long ago, with complaints from Matlal about me. But the intensity of the inspection, here and outside, made me realize that every single one of them had heard there was something to be discussed about my Blood, and what that meant to them. I brought change to the changeless. Behind the masks, there would be the same emotions I had seen outside.
It was cold, and I shivered a little in my wet, stained clothes.
Trying to focus on what they were saying, I realized all the conversation was in Athanate. The bar just got higher.
“Basilikos are trying to disrupt this before we even start,” Bian whispered to me. “It’s important you don’t speak until I tell you. And keep that blank face, Round-eye.”
That was easy. Think court-martial.
Skylur nodded to her. Bian stood and waited while silence slowly fell.
“This issue will be discussed in English,” she said and sat back down.
The place erupted. I think even her own party—our party—were affronted by her statement. I sat there and kept quiet.
When the shouting died down, a Basilikos representative spoke, in Athanate.
As soon as he finished, Bian stood. “Precedent,” she said and sat down.
Before they could restart their complaints, Skylur cut in. “Diakon Trang is correct. The oath of House Karamazin to House Spasenieva, held before this assembly in 1931. That was in English at Basilikos request.” He looked around and added, almost as an aside. “It’s not as if you don’t all speak English to each other any time you meet another House outside of this Assembly.”
The representatives looked as if he’d slapped them across the face, but the first discussion ended there, and the blank faces returned.
We had made a first step, and gotten the proceedings in English. But I wondered how many Panethus Bian and Skylur had just pissed off. What were they doing?
The Basilikos representative from Brazil stood. House Correia, I remembered from the ball. She’d refused a dance. Her sleek black hair lay artfully about her shoulders and she wore the sort of elegant business suit that Jen did.
Correia looked at us, drawing everyone’s eyes back to the contrast. Bian and I dripped bloody water onto the floor and stared back.
There was an absolute silence now, and despite their indifferent expressions, I had the sense that every representative was straining forward to see how this would go.
“The agenda item is the proposed oath of allegiance, from the newly proposed House Farrell to House Altau. Basilikos contend this item and advise they will expand the scope,” she said.
“House Correia, there is no ‘proposed’ about House Farrell. In my authority, I have set up and formally approved the creation of this House. There is no discussion to be had about that. As to your other comments, linked or open scope?” Skylur asked.
Bian tensed, and Correia’s eyes flicked to Matlal for confirmation. The room held its breath.
“Open,” she said.
Skylur nodded and a quiet sigh flowed out from the seats.
“Anything can be discussed now,” Bian breathed in my ear. “Risky. He should have restricted it.”
“Then I will commence with a complaint against House Altau,” Correia said. “That you infiltrated an Aspirant into the McIntire-Harriman Foundation Charity Ball for the purpose of spying on the Assembly.”
“The Assembly only exists as a body when you’re in a room and an Assembly is in progress,” Skylur said pedantically.
“No defense,” Bian whispered. “What is he trying to do?”
“The collected representatives then.”
“House Farrell was not an Aspirant,” Skylur countered.
“So you’re at least admitting to the spying.” Correia sounded exasperated, but I sensed they both played behind masks.
Skylur shifted his weight. “No. I was requested by another House to have someone attend. Obviously, that couldn’t be someone from House Altau, by the rules of the Assembly. I contracted House Farrell in her capacity as an investigator.”
“But she was Athanate and unregistered. That’s—”
“No, not at the time.” Skylur cut across her.
Correia smi
led as if he’d made a mistake.
“We’re all well aware you’re a supporter of Emergence, but this is untenable. On your own decision, you risked exposing the entire Athanate. You’ve admitted that you contracted a human, not kin, not Aspirant, not Athanate and briefed her on Athanate matters to attend the ball.”
Air hissed between Bian’s teeth.
“No.” Skylur seemed unconcerned. An usher delivered messages to him and he was scanning them before placing them in a pile.
At his denial, heads swiveled to the Truth Sensors, but they stared blandly back.
“She was in the process of becoming an Athanate,” Skylur explained, putting the last of his messages aside. “But not aligned with a House, so not Aspirant. And so none of the categories you mentioned. A risk, yes, but not as you’ve portrayed it, and well within my rights.”
I could feel the unhappiness from the Panethus side. It was all great fun for Skylur to play Correia as a fool, but his own side wanted more answers than he seemed willing to give. Maybe he wanted her to keep digging, so he could reveal Matlal’s connection to Tucker.
Correia declined to pursue the thread and moved on. “So, then this Aspirant-without-a-House became Athanate. And then you established a House for her. In a week. I mean, I assume you established the House, since she can’t even speak Athanate?”
“Correct.” Skylur shrugged. “This is my mantle and such decisions are within my authority. There will be no discussion about that.”
“I hardly need point out, there’s not time for crusis in that.”
“Normally, no,” Skylur admitted.
The representatives rustled in their seats. A couple nodded to neighbors—so, the rumors were true. Tension ratcheted up.
Correia voiced it for them all. “The whispers about this woman’s Blood would seem justified.”
“Possibly, House Correia.” Skylur settled back and steepled his fingers. “Is there a point to all this?”
“The point, House Altau,” she snapped back, “is that you’ve been making questionable decisions that risk Emergence without the authority of the Assembly, and have lost control of your mantle. I propose that you be removed from your positions, both within the Assembly and within this mantle.”
Skylur chuckled. “You have a long way to go before your allegations add up to any sort of grounds for the actions you suggest.”
“House Farrell has been acting with your authority and approval?” She waited for him to nod. “Well, let’s see what an affiliate of yours has to say.”
She pressed a button on her seat controls and a screen behind Bian and me showed Oscar Jaworski, Diakon of House Romero. Crap. Altau had let him go and he enjoyed recounting all the things I’d done to him. Made him undress, tied him up. Yes, it had been in broad daylight, but to hear him you’d have thought most of the population of Denver witnessed his treatment.
Jerk.
“Is that controlling your mantle?” Correia asked.
Panethus representatives remained blank, but there was a stir of discomfort.
“What about this?”
She showed some shaky video footage of me jumping off the Nexus building and being flown off clinging on to a chopper’s landing skid.
“Demonstrating Athanate abilities,” Correia claimed, her voice rising. “In front of witnesses. On camera. Risking revealing the Athanate, risking Emergence. Is that control?”
Absolute crap. I was doing that kind of thing all the time in Ops 4-10.
Bian gripped my forearm and kept me in my seat.
This wasn’t a slam dunk, but again, there was more concern building on the Panethus side. Skylur had to bring out a counter.
“And now, I would like to question one of your own House,” Correia said. “Marlon Pruitt. Under the protection of the Assembly and the Warders.”
I frowned. What would Marlon have to say? Refusing to be brought to see Skylur by the Fang team? Surely that was nothing. Unless…unless he’d also found out about David and me compromising Altau security. He hadn’t been at David’s house that night, but he would have talked to the others. Bian might even have briefed him about it. But why would he do it? He was the spy? How?
Bian’s head fell. She closed her eyes. “My second in command,” she whispered. “I trusted him completely.”
“Are you sure, House Correia?” Skylur said, his voice silky. “You want to unmask your spy before the Assembly?”
She was sensible enough to worry, but Matlal made a brusque gesture. Get on with it.
“Not our spy,” he was smart enough to add.
They brought Marlon in. His face was completely relaxed, unconcerned.
Bian’s hand gripped my arm. They weren’t accompanying him, they were guiding him, supporting him. His face wasn’t just unconcerned, it was utterly emotionless.
“We pass him to the protection of the Assembly,” Skylur said. Marlon stood in the central area, swaying slightly, eyes wandering uncomprehendingly over the Assembly.
Correia recovered quickly. “What have you done to him?”
“We have done nothing, House Correia, except confront him with evidence of his spying. You say he’s not your spy. Well, whoever managed to recruit him and program him, managed not only to control him so finely we could not detect it, but also planted a self-destruct compulsion in his brain.” Skylur sat forward. “This man was second only to my Diakon. He was a good man, an honest man, who put his trust in the wrong place. Who in your Houses, my colleagues, do you trust now?”
A ripple ran through the room. All Correia’s work to unsettle Panethus was swept away.
But Bian’s head stayed down.
Skylur gestured to the ushers and Marlon was taken to one side and sat down on a chair between us and the Adepts.
Skylur went on to the attack. “Your main case, House Correia, which you’re having difficulty setting up, seems to be that Amber Farrell is unfit to be Mistress of a House, is behaving incorrectly, and that in appointing her, I am similarly unfit. And since you’ve also brought up Emergence, we will discuss that in the process of this debate.”
Matlal and Correia stiffened, but they recovered quickly.
“Unfit to be Athanate,” Matlal said. “And thus unfit to be Mistress of a House.”
Skylur snorted. “Your presentation has run aground, and I doubt you want a vote now?” He raised eyebrows at them. “What assessment of fitness would you accept? An expert?”
“Yes,” Correia said, too quickly.
Skylur shrugged and indicated she should continue.
“I request the ushers bring Judicator Philippe Remy before the Assembly.”
I recalled Diana saying something about trusting him only to behave as expected. My nervousness increased. I wished Diana were here to give me advice.
Remy came in and I didn’t like him any more than I had before. He refused to look at me as he walked into the central area and peered at the controls for the presentation system. We swiveled to watch the screen behind us.
He got a picture of his cart of equipment up on the screen and then he spoke in bursts about what it could do and how it worked.
It was a development of the latest systems available anywhere in the world; it was almost perfect, all it needed was someone trained to interpret it. Here were some more slides.
I tried to focus. I had the feeling there was an unpleasant shock hiding in here. Correia and Matlal had been just too eager to get him in. They must know what was coming.
When it came, it started deceptively dully.
“On the left, one can see the average outline pattern for healthy Athanate. Do not worry about the shape of the pattern, simply that there is a pattern. This is gathered from many tests I have done in many Houses.” A second pattern slid in from the right. “Now, on the right, one sees a different pattern, from fewer subjects, very different.” He paused. “All these subjects on the right failed to pass through crusis, and became rogues, or passed and still became rogues.”
<
br /> I didn’t like the direction this was going. Remy himself looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“One now overlays the shape obtained from Ms. Farrell.” He pulled a shape to the left, then to the right.
My stomach dropped. I felt nauseous. It was closer to rogue than normal, far closer. Even I could see that.
“Judicator Remy,” Skylur cut through the buzz. “Is House Farrell rogue?”
I sat there, struggling to keep my face clear, while every eye turned to me.
“No.” He dragged out the word. “That is not what I am saying. Merely that there is a predilection. Statistically, she will become rogue.”
“I see,” said Skylur. “Statistically. Altau don’t use this machine or your undoubted expertise. Tell me, are you familiar with our success rate?”
“Yes.” Remy had to admit it.
Oh gods, you go Skylur!
“Well, we put our trust in our methods, and they tell us differently in this case. Still, very interesting, all these new gadgets. I shall be so impressed when you’re getting as good a prediction rate as we are. Tell me, just out of interest, are Basilikos culling Aspirants on the basis of these results?”
“I do not know. I merely do the tests, sir. I am within the mantle of the Warders.”
“Hmm.” Skylur smiled at him like a crocodile. “And tell me, would a different set of tests or a different order of displaying produce a different result, a different shape? One which maybe everyone approximated to?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thank you. Proceed, Judicator Remy.”
My stomach settled.
I forgive you everything, Skylur. Nearly everything.
“But of course, Altau did not infuse Farrell,” said Matlal. “We do not know the House that did. Altau merely…adopted what had been started. There was no preliminary assessment.”
Basilikos around him nodded in agreement. Panethus stared blankly back at them.
Remy stopped to wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Sweat marked his jacket. I was shivering with cold.
“The next feature I wish to present is not entirely from my own work. This equipment is starting to be used in the wider world to assess mental conditions. Using guidelines developed there, I have assessed Ms. Farrell’s mental condition.” Remy started to load images on the screen, his fingers clumsy on the controller.