CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cevo
A rodent absconded from under my heel on its way to a hole in the groundwork. Behind my back, I pinched my thumb to my forefinger. With a squeak, the rodent rolled onto his side, bursting into flames. I did not realize what I had done until the smell of burning rat reached my nose. Pretending to wipe my feet, I stomped it out, watching the Regents' eyes to ascertain their ignorance. Cevo, you must be more careful. Remember your vow. I swept ash under the table with my foot.
The Regents sat at a large oval table, staring at me. I glanced around, having not been in this room for nearly thirty years. Time had not been kind. A grand, round hall surrounded us with two wide staircases winding up the walls on either side and long gaudy curtains covering the windows. And above, a ridiculous chandelier that was likely as horribly out of style on the day it was installed as it is today. I stood in the Requestor's Booth, a chintzy, three-sided, waist-high enclosure at the foot of the table, where people from the city came to petition government officials. Do not lean on it Cevo; the whole booth might collapse.
"Vice Regent Mahalelel, is it now?" I smiled at him. Grandiose delusions for such a simple man.
Mahalelel glanced sideways at the elevated throne at the head of the table. "You didn't say the Chancellor would be absent from this special session of the Regency, Cevostramos."
I shrugged and wiped my feet on the rug.
He nasalized on, his mustache twitching like it always did when he was nervous, "Some people might get the wrong idea if they discover the Regency is meeting without the Chancellor."
I rubbed my white-gloved finger along the dusty edge of the Requestor's Booth. "Tell me Mahalelel, does this city have a cleaning staff?" From the dingy curtains to the tarnished brass hardware to the rampant mold below the windowsills, this place would better serve as a brothel than a judgment hall. A greenskin manservant brought a purple velvet stool for me.
I suppressed a shudder at the sight of it. "I am not so old I cannot stand." Imagine the bath I would have to take after sitting on that thing. I turned my attention to the fourteen olive-skinned men—like my adopted family. Humans born on this side of the mountains are not ebony skinned like me.
Cevo, you are an onyx sapphire walking atop a salt sea. This is why Mahalelel hates you, and he always will. The Regents stared with imbecilic eyes as I searched for just the right verbiage to pry my city back from their filth-crusted hands.
"Megestanis, let me get straight to the point," I said. "This city, obviously, needs money, and I am willing to provide it." I leaned over and picked up the table's dusty runner to illustrate my point.
"If you're finally willing to pay your share of the taxes," Mahalelel said, "you didn't need to waste our time by calling us here to say so."
Thirty years ago, I received a letter of absolvement from the previous Chancellor which indefinitely excluded me from my obligation to pay taxes on a city block that I had retained ownership of. I had, after all, been responsible for the entire city's existence in the first place—it seemed only fair to avoid paying taxes. But my role in founding El Qir had become mere legend to those at the table; humans have such short, pathetic memories. Especially when someone like Mahalelel is around, working day and night to make this city forget me. The terms of the Chancellor's tax absolvement letter had been disputed, but according to the agreement, the only one with the power to revoke it was the authoring Chancellor. And he happened, quite tragically, to die a few days after signing it.
Vice Regent Mahalelel stood up. "If you want to purchase one of the city's assets, you will find the bursar's office more than adequate."
"I'm afraid that will not do."
Mahalelel gestured to the Regents. "Good day gentleman. I have more pressing business to attend to."
I held up my hand to stop him. "I wish to purchase something a little out of the ordinary."
"Out with it then."
"The Chancellorship."
There was a moment of silence followed by an eruption of laughter. When Mahalelel seemed to realize I was serious, he coughed. "We already have a Chancellor. Quite popular with the people and only forty years old. We expect him to be Chancellor for some time."
And you would like to be Chancellor after him, would you not Mahalelel? Is that not why you want El Qir to forget me? "That is acceptable. I will wait."
"You'll wait?"
I looked behind me, pretending to search for the source of the echo. "Yes, I will wait."
The Regents shuffled in their chairs, trying with their limited mental facilities to figure out my angle.
"But the Chancellor has children," Mahalelel said. "The Regency chooses a successor only if there are no remaining heirs."
"Your terms are acceptable. Do we have an agreement then?"
"An agreement for what?"
"If the Chancellor should die while I am alive, and if none of the Chancellor's children are still living, I simply request this Regency to choose me as the successor. In advance."
"But the Chancellor has seven children. The odds are impossible that you would outlive them all."
"That is my problem, I believe."
I took a slip of papyrus from my lamb-skin satchel and handed it to Mahalelel. "My offer." His eyes grew large. A palpable buzz moved through the room as each Regent read my terms.
"You're a rich man to be sure Cevostramos, but—"
"I will have the money delivered tomorrow morning. Would you like it in gold or maladeum coin?"
"No one can afford to waste this much money on such a ridiculous gamble."
"I can."
"The people would never support the Regency selling the Chancellorship."
"Ahh, yes, that is the thing." I held up a single finger. "That is why you will all be sworn to silence. The purchase will be our secret."
"And all we have to do is promise to make you Chancellor if the existing Chancellor and all his children die?"
"Not a promise. A contract. I just happen to have it with me. Each of your signatures is all that is required. Just think, all the city's financial problems will be solved and you will have lost nothing."
I placed the paper, written in my own exquisite handwriting, outlining the details of our arrangement on the table.
"This says there are no circumstances under which the contract can be revoked?" Mahalelel said as he scanned the document, his mouth moving as he read. I remembered when he used to count on his fingers. Perhaps he still does.
"As you said, the odds are insurmountable that I will outlive the Chancellor and his seven children. Therefore you have no risk."
"Forgive me for being blunt, but what if they are...," he paused to clear his throat.
I raised my eyebrows. "Murdered?"
"We don't mean to be impolite," another Regent added. He didn't know Mahalelel as well as I do.
"Hmm... You do have a point." Several Regents murmured in agreement. I pretended to think, letting the hook sink in before speaking again. "Vice Regent Mahalelel"—I winked at him—"has an excellent point. Let us add a provision that states, 'As of today, if the Chancellor or any of his seven children are murdered, our agreement will be considered completely null and void.'" I handed the revised contract back to the Vice Chancellor.
Mahalelel stared at the contract like a Gylinn tax collector. "If there's no chance of Cevo getting the position through malfeasance, I don't see any reason to leave good coin on the table."
"We're nearly bankrupt," said another. "What choice do we have?"
One of them grabbed the papyrus. "Then sign the thing and be done with it." The others got in line. Mahalelel signed last, sealed it, and handed the contract back to me.
I smiled, but after a moment of reflection, my smile faded into disappointment.
Mahalelel turned his head slightly, as if he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. "You have your contract. We expect you to follow through with your end of the agreement, or we'll lock you up for failure to
comply with an official ordinance. Gold coin will be sufficient. Easier for us to trade in." Mahalelel tidied up a few papers before him.
I put my hand on my heart. "I swear on the grave of my mother, it will be done." Mahalelel's eyes narrowed at me.
A door slammed open.
A rotund man ran in, huffing, his face red and soaked with sweat. "Regents!"
Chairs screeched on the brick groundwork as the city's leaders turned.
"I've just come from the..." The man leaned over, sucking in air.
"Breathe son," I said. "You are going to suffocate yourself."
"I have... very bad news..."
Mahalelel glanced at me with the eyes of a man who realizes he's just been checkmated.
The man took a long breath. "The chancellor and his seven sons are dead."
Evan Burl and the Falling, Vol. 1-2 Page 18
