"You do recall my saying that candidates for a Bloodname are selected by nomination from within the House, Quiaff?"
"Aff. Or by combat."
"Well, bringing an unblooded aide to the Clan Council, especially one convened to elect the Khans and the Loremaster, is an endorsement of sorts. It lets others see who an individual favors. Conal favors Vlad and I favor you."
Phelan bowed his head. "I am honored."
"And when the opportunity arises, you will honor me by winning a Bloodname."
"I hope to prove myself worthy of your support." Phelan chewed on his lower lip. "Why would it be a breach of honor for a Kerensky to bring an unblooded aide to a Clan Council meeting if everyone else does it?"
Cyrilla shrugged. "The Kerenskys are supposed to hold themselves above this political infighting. It is a tradition that began with Nicholas, but apparently, ends with Natasha. Those years in the Successor States have changed her, honed her to an edge that I think will cut away at the heart of the Clans."
"When she tests out as a Warrior, it will certainly start some tongues wagging, Quiaff?"
"Aff, in a very big way. If Natasha can regain status as a warrior, we will have to question the idea of retiring warriors at an age when they may not yet have reached their peak. And if you test out, we will have to question the superiority of our ways over those that shaped you."
"I will do my best to make you proud."
Cyrilla nodded. "I anticipate no problems. I have more confidence in your ability to win than I do in my ability to figure out what Conal is up to. I am beginning to think he has some plan in mind here."
Phelan frowned. "It seems obvious to me. He wants to defeat Ulric and become a Khan. His desire must have outweighed your warning to him."
"Perhaps that is what we are supposed to believe. I do not like the fact that all the speakers attacking Ulric and backing him are fringe members of the Crusader cadre of our Clan. Those I would have assumed to be Conal's strongest supporters have been the least vocal during this debate."
"Maybe Conal is saving his big guns for later. Perhaps this is his way of bidding away supporters so the fight will not escalate into something he cannot win."
"An interesting analysis." The old woman's eyes narrowed. "While we do bid away troops when staging a battle, our political fights have never operated in that way before. He has to be up to something."
Cyrilla fell silent as her eyes focused beyond Phelan. He spun around and saw Conal Ward rising to speak.
"Loremaster, my Khans, and colleagues. I have heard many people castigate Khan Ulric for his conduct during the first stage of the invasion of the Inner Sphere. They note that by conquering more worlds than did any of the other Clans, he has violated an agreement under which the invasion was begun. They suggest that by pushing further than any other Clan into the Successor States, he has disgraced and dishonored us. They say that by prematurely launching waves, he has goaded other Clans into disastrous acts of daring that resulted in serious defeats for the Jade Falcons and Smoke Jaguars."
Conal's voice was strong, and he knew how to shift the tone and speed of his delivery to catch his audience in his rhythm. An engaging speaker, he had a warrior's dignified bearing to emphasize that his substance was equal to his style.
"I have also heard these same speakers extol my virtues and set me up as the man to replace Khan Ulric. They cite my experience in leading our Heavy Cavalry Galaxy and my past successes in campaigns against the Snow Raven and Ghost Bear clans. They remind you that I won my Blood-name at the age of twenty-seven and that four Clans have offered to trade for my genetic material. They point out that my offspring, though only ten and fifteen years old, already dominate their sibkos.
"I have heard these words and I must plead guilty to the vanity that makes me take pride in them. I will not, however, let anyone suggest that my actions make me worthy to replace Khan Ulric. There are others here—Cyrilla Ward, Natasha Kerensky, and Anton Fetladral, for example—who are far more suited than I to the position of Khan. Indeed, both Cyrilla and Anton have served in that role before and should be considered for service again."
Phelan heard Cyrilla chuckle. "Oh, he is good, is he not, Phelan?"
"I guess so..." Phelan gave her a hard look. "Do you know what he is doing?"
She shook her head. "No, but at this rate, I imagine he will succeed."
Conal rested his hands on the hips of his gray jumpsuit. "Of course, saying they are suitable to replace Khan Ulric sounds as though I endorse Ulric's removal as Khan. I do not!"
That statement brought shocked cries from some Council members and battered others into betrayed silence. Phelan saw more than one member who had spoken of Conal in glowing terms blush deep crimson, though several others turned purple with rage. Through it all, Conal smiled, as did Vlad, and waited for the furor to die down beneath the pounding of the Loremaster's gravel.
"I do not support the removal of Khan Ulric because the arguments against him are foolish. How can we reject a man who has brought our Clan closer to fulfilling the goal of this invasion than any other? Can we fault him for taking an unfair advantage when the Wolf spearhead was directed at a heavily populated and heavily defended portion of the Successor States? Can we listen to the cries of foul by other Clans when their plan to hobble us failed, quineg?"
Conal looked around the room, his dark eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "You seek to rebuke him, but I say we should exalt him. He isa man of vision, and he looks beyond the goal of the invasion to the time beyond. He sees into the future, and it is one in which the Wolves occupy their rightful place within the history of both the Clans and of mankind. To oppose him, to vote against him, should be considered high treason against the Clan.
"Politics is a necessity, yet must it blind us? Ulric and I have had our differences in the past, yet I acknowledge him as an excellent leader. This is a time for the Wolves to come together, lest the other Clans destroy us on the eve of our victory. Let us not deliver ourselves to our enemies. Let us present such a united front that they would not dare think to attack us."
Thunderous applause greeted Conal's speech, and some of his closest supporters rose to give him a standing ovation. When Phelan turned to see Cyrilla's reaction, he found the white-haired woman shaking her head.
"He is amazing, quiaff,Phelan?"
The young man nodded. "If he had not taken himself out of the running for Khan, that speech would have won him the spot instantly. Even some of those he embarrassed have recovered and are applauding him wildly. If he is only planning for the short term and wanted to reap adulation, he got his wish."
"Yes, but is that all he wanted?"
As the applause gradually died down, Carol Leroux stood. "Loremaster, though the request may seem ill-mannered, I have no choice. After hearing that speech, Conal Ward has shown us all that he is, indeed, worthy of our trust. As he declines nomination as Khan, I ask that his name be placed in nomination for Loremaster of the Wolf Clan."
A hundred voices seconded that nomination, and Cyrilla punctuated it by hammering her fist into the bench top. "Oh, crafty dog. Conal, I underestimated you."
Phelan felt confused. "I am missing something. Does not this mean an end to the threat to Ulric?"
Cyrilla shook her head resolutely. "Far from it. It just means the battleground has shifted from the Wolf Clan Council to the Grand Council. There they can vote to censure Ulric for his conduct, and within their confines, strip him of his power. He would still be a Khan of the Wolf Clan, but the Loremaster would fulfill all duties, including voting."