‘You do not need to sit on the Council to go hunting around for lost items,’ Alma said. ‘Perhaps a position in the Keepers would suit your temperament better.’
‘I’d argue that you don’t really understand a situation until you’ve seen it on ground level,’ I said. ‘But again, that’s not my point. My point is that out of all of the members of the Council to attempt to remove, you’ve selected the one who’s doing the most to resolve this crisis. Now, as you say, I may be inexperienced, but to me this rather suggests that resolving the current crisis is not, in fact, your highest priority.’
‘The proposal concerns Morden, not you,’ Alma said smoothly. ‘We don’t mean to make any judgements about how qualified you may be for the position.’
Bitch, I thought. She was lying through her teeth, but I couldn’t call her on it. ‘For months, we’ve been hearing a constant stream of reports about how bad it is out there,’ I said, looking around at the rest of the Council. ‘Missing persons are at an all-time high, casualty rates with the Keepers and security personnel are enormous, and the Order of the Cloak are strained to breaking point trying to keep it hidden. At the risk of sounding naïve, this strikes me as the absolute worst time to get rid of the Council member most involved with the recovery efforts. Particularly for something that’s going to happen anyway. To the best of my knowledge, none of you have the slightest doubt that Morden will be convicted. Why the rush?’
The table was silent, and looking around, I knew I hadn’t changed anyone’s mind. Morden once told me that Council meetings mostly consisted of sitting around listening to reports, and that all of the real decisions took place outside. Since taking his seat, I’d learned he was right.
But then, that was why I’d come prepared. I reached into my pocket and took something out.
‘Enough wasting time,’ Sal Sarque said. ‘Let’s vote on this.’
Alma nodded. ‘I vote for the proposal.’
‘So do I,’ Sal Sarque said. ‘Should have done this months ago.’
‘What, get rid of anyone Levistus has a grudge against?’ Druss said. ‘I say no.’
‘I agree, but for different reasons,’ Bahamus said. ‘Once again, this sends all the wrong messages. It will damage our political credibility, not to mention the war effort. I also vote no.’
There was a pause. The secretary had been tallying the votes, and the scratch of his pen now stopped as he glanced towards the head of the table. One by one, everyone else did the same.
Vaal Levistus is one of the newer members of the Senior Council, but possibly also the most influential. He’s a man in his fifties with European looks, thin white hair, a patrician cast of face and pale, almost colourless greyish eyes that fade into the background. Like Bahamus, he rarely shows expression and never raises his voice, but the two men give off very different impressions. There’s a coldness about Levistus, something dispassionate that comes through in his manner and bearing.
From the moment I’d walked in, Levistus had watched the debate without saying a word. Quite possibly he hadn’t been speaking before I came in either, and I knew why. Levistus might not have been the one to put forward this proposal, but it was his creation, and he didn’t want to be associated with it any more than he had to. So he’d sat back, letting Alma and Sarque do the work for him. He’d already counted his votes and knew how this was going to play out. Or at least he thought he did.
‘Councillor Bahamus makes valid points,’ Levistus said. Levistus has a measured, almost atonal manner of speaking, smooth and precise. ‘In ideal circumstances, we would prefer not to take actions that could be seen as pre-empting the trial’s verdict. However, these are less than ideal times, and I believe that given the current crisis, security should be uppermost in our minds. We must remove not only Morden, but his appointees. Thus, while acknowledging Verus’s service, I must agree with Alma. I also vote yes.’
Three to two, I thought. Everyone turned to look at the last Senior Council member sitting at the table.
Like Levistus, Undaaris had stayed quiet throughout the meeting, but for very different reasons. While Levistus is an empire-builder, climbing his way to power, Undaaris is a waverer who follows whatever current seems safest. I’ve wondered sometimes how the guy even got on the Senior Council. My best guess is that he was a compromise choice from long ago that the other Council members all agreed was no threat.
Undaaris shifted, visibly uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze. ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well.’
Seconds ticked by. ‘Well, what?’ Druss demanded.
‘Ah,’ Undaaris said. ‘It does seem a little …’
Levistus made a very small movement, so tiny that I’d never have seen it if I hadn’t been watching. I knew that Levistus wouldn’t have called this meeting if he hadn’t bought Undaaris’s vote already. How he’d done it I didn’t know – promises or gifts or threats – and honestly, I didn’t much care. I raised my hand above the table and into plain view.
‘But I think we do need to …’ My movement caught Undaaris’s eye and he stared, his eyes fixed on what I held between thumb and finger.
‘Need to what?’ Druss said in annoyance. He glanced at me, saw nothing of interest and turned back to Undaaris. ‘Get on with it.’
‘What …?’ Undaaris swallowed. ‘What’s that?’
I was looking into the distance over Undaaris’s shoulder, pretending not to hear. After a moment I feigned surprise. ‘What?’ I said. I held up the item. It was a small green marble, about an inch in diameter. ‘This? Just a storage focus.’
‘Is there a reason you see it as an appropriate item to bring here?’ Alma asked, her voice cool.
‘Well, I did learn about this meeting at short notice,’ I said. ‘It caught me in the middle of something. Still, it might be useful. If the proposal goes through and I’m removed from the Council, I’ll need to disseminate some information. Pass it on to my successor, that sort of thing.’
‘Fascinating,’ Alma said, in a tone of voice clearly indicating it was nothing of the kind. She turned to Undaaris. ‘Councillor, your vote?’
Undaaris hadn’t taken his eyes off the marble. ‘Ah …’ He took a breath, then tore his eyes away, staring down at the table. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I vote no.’
There was a pause. Sal Sarque stared at Undaaris, then shot a look at Levistus. ‘Perhaps you need time to consider,’ Levistus said, his voice cool. ‘If you require—’
‘I don’t need any more time to consider,’ Undaaris snapped. He didn’t look up at Levistus. ‘All right?’
‘Something wrong with your ears?’ Druss asked Levistus.
Levistus stared at Undaaris, not looking at Druss. Undaaris didn’t lift his eyes off the table. ‘Well then,’ Bahamus said when no one spoke. ‘Unless we hear from Spire, the resolution is rejected. Does anyone have any further comments?’ He glanced around the table. ‘In that case, the next order of business is the ongoing situation with the adepts. Our reports still indicate that there should be room for a negotiated settlement, but it’s proving difficult to bring them to the table …’
The meeting was over, and the Council members were filing out into the anteroom. ‘Ah, Verus,’ Bahamus said, walking up to me. ‘Can I have a word?’
‘Of course,’ I said. The two of us were standing off to the side by one of the booths, close enough to benefit from its privacy wards. Some of the other mages shot covert glances at us. ‘Thank you for your support, by the way.’
Bahamus nodded. ‘I must apologise for not giving you an earlier heads-up. We were notified as to the meeting, but for some reason Levistus felt it appropriate to leave his proposal off the agenda. I wasn’t aware you hadn’t been informed until the doors were closed.’