In truth, he wasn’t absolutely sure how she’d answer that question.
“I don’t like it,” Abelard said, rising and pacing back and forth. “It’s a permanent appointment. A street thief ruling the council. Living hip to hip with the queen.”
“It’ll break Gavan Bayar’s heart,” Han said, tilting his head back and peering down his nose at Abelard. “He’d rather have you in that role than me.”
Abruptly, she laughed. “I do believe you are right.” She turned and studied a row of spines, running her fingers over the titles. She must have decided he wouldn’t attack her if he needed her vote. “What, exactly, do you intend to do as High Wizard?” she asked.
“I intend to ruin Gavan Bayar,” Han said.
Abelard looked up at Han, the smile disappearing. “You are a snake, Alister, a devious liar and a thief. I don’t trust you an inch.”
“So it’s good that we share the same enemies, right?” Han said.
“Yes,” Abelard said. “For now.” She paused. “If Mordra deVilliers hasn’t arrived, and if we cannot prevent the vote from going forward, I will support you for High Wizard,” she said. “Otherwise, not a chance.”
“Thank you,” Han said.
“I hope you are right—that Adam Gryphon will vote for you,” Abelard continued. “It’s one thing if I stand for High Wizard and lose. Bayar and I have been rivals for years. He expects it, and I am powerful enough to protect myself. I have allies. You, on the other hand—if you try to humiliate the Bayars, if you stand for High Wizard and lose—you will have no friends at all. I won’t be able to protect you. Gavan Bayar will shred you, and incinerate anything that remains.”
C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N
FROM THE
SNAKE PIT INTO
THE FLAMES
It was easier getting into Gray Lady a second time. This time, instead of a rote list of barriers and keys to memorize, Crow had taught Han how to detect a trap, determine its nature, and choose a charm to disable it. He’d given him a permanent key that allowed Han to bring Willo and Dancer into Gray Lady with him.
Han had left them just inside the Council House, in the cellar storeroom area, aware that he might be leading his friends right into a trap.
“It’s going to be tricky,” he said, draping his wizard stoles over his fine jacket. “Timing is important. If you come in before the vote for High Wizard is taken, it will scrap everything.”
“I’ll give you half an hour, and then wait for you in Aediion,” Dancer said. “When the vote’s done, give me the signal. We will come right away.”
“Any questions about how to disable the locks on the council chambers?” Han asked, stuffing his travel clothes into his carry bag. When Dancer shook his head, he added, “And, remember—make sure you glamour up before you get into the main hallways.”
Dancer put his hand on Han’s arm. “I won’t forget,” he said.
“If I don’t come to Aediion, the whole thing’s off,” Han said. “Don’t wait for me. Go back the way you came and get off the mountain as quickly as you can.”
“Don’t worry,” Willo said. “All will be well, Hunts Alone, you’ll see.” Both she and Dancer seemed confident, serene, determined.
Only one way it can go right, Han thought as he snaked his way through the basement corridors. A thousand ways it can go wrong. Worries niggled at the back of his mind. He’d not heard back from Fiona. Had she succeeded in getting to Gryphon? Or was she crewing for her father? Maybe all the Bayars were having a chuckle over Han’s pathetic schemes.
He tried to put Abelard’s warning out of his mind.
Gavan Bayar will shred you, and incinerate anything that remains.
If Han didn’t have Gryphon’s vote, it would be best not to stand for High Wizard at all. Raisa would be disappointed, and Han would have no strategy. But he might stay alive a little longer.
He reached the wide, elaborate corridor of the Council House without further incident. This time, he was a half hour early, which he hoped would discourage any more Bayar games.
Hammersmith greeted him warmly. “Lord Alister, so good to see you again. Lord Gryphon, Dean Abelard, and the Lords Bayar are already seated. We await only Lord Mander.”
“Thank you,” Han said. He pushed open the doors, and all eyes turned to him.
The tension in the room was as thick as late-summer honey.
Gryphon was dressed all in black, in mourning for his parents, his face unreadable. Abelard’s expression seemed to say, Let’s see what you’re made of, Alister. Even his so-called allies weren’t exactly pulling for him.
Micah was sprawled back in his chair, somehow looking down his nose though he was sitting down and Han was on his feet.
“Alister,” Lord Bayar said. “On time, I see.”
I was on time last time, Han wanted to say, but didn’t. As he walked past Gryphon, he paused next to his former teacher, groping for something to say.
“I was sorry to hear about what happened to Lord and Lady Gryphon.” He cleared his throat. “I lost my mother a year ago. It must be even more difficult to lose both parents at once.”
Gryphon raised his blue-green eyes to Han, his pale face as hard as marble. “One would think so, wouldn’t one?” he said.
What in blazes does that mean? Han made his way around the table to his seat.
Lord Mander arrived only five minutes early, surprised and flustered to find everyone seated. He greeted his brother-in-law Gavan warmly, patted his nephew Micah on the back, and seated himself next to him.
“Let’s come to order, shall we?” Lord Bayar said. He took a long look around, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “On behalf of the council, Lord Gryphon, may I express our sincere sympathy at the tragic and ruthless murder of your parents. This is a huge loss to the council and the assembly. Your mother contributed a great deal to the council during her tenure here.”
A muttering of agreement rolled around the table.
“We have tolerated lawlessness in the city slums long enough,” Bayar said. “Although it cannot bring your parents back, it may be some comfort to you to know that we do not intend to allow this criminal activity to continue.” His gaze slid over each council member, lingering a moment on Han.
Han sat up straighter, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Could you elaborate, Gavan?” Dean Abelard said.
Bayar surveyed the council gravely, like a pudding-sleeve priest delivering the bad news about damnation. “We don’t know who is responsible for the murders, though we have our suspicions,” he said. “It may be the copperheads. It may be someone else, someone with more experience in street violence.” Again, his eyes settled on Han long enough for everyone to take notice. “Or it may be a collaboration between the two.
“We do know this: all of the murdered gifted have been found in Ragmarket. And so it stands to reason that whoever is responsible must be based in that squalid quarter. Or, at least, they are being protected and abetted by residents of the slums.”
Bayar leaned his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. “In the past, when the Queen’s Guard could not or would not effectively address the criminal element in Ragmarket and Southbridge, the council has intervened. As some of you know, a year ago, we launched an operation that cleared the gangs out of Southbridge and Ragmarket. It was temporarily effective. Gang activity diminished—at least until recently.”
Heads nodded around the table. Including Abelard’s.
Han kept his street face in place, while his insides roiled like a pot on the boil. He waited to speak until he felt confident he could control his voice.
And succeeded. When he spoke, his voice was low and even. “You’re saying that Queen Marianna agreed to that? Who was her representative on the council?”
“I served in the dual role of Queen Marianna’s representative and High Wizard,” Lord Bayar said, his voice as silky as blue-blood smallclothes. “Which makes better
sense than the current arrangement. Of course the queen was informed. She agreed—something needed to be done.”
Han had suspected this was so, but now it was confirmed. The demons that had murdered the Southies. That had tortured and murdered all of the Raggers they could find. The bluejackets that had torched the stable with Mam and Mari inside—that had been an official operation of the Wizard Council and the queen. Not just a secret campaign of the Bayars.
The Bayars were the Wizard Council. This was their gang, and they called the shots.
Bayar’s voice broke into Han’s thoughts. “Although we disposed of and dispersed members of the most prominent criminal gangs less than a year ago, it appears that Southbridge and Ragmarket have been reinfested. One cannot exterminate rats without flushing them from their dens. And that is exactly what I propose.” He looked at Han directly as he said it.
“That is an excellent idea,” Lord Mander said. “We need a permanent solution to this problem.”
When Han looked around the table, he saw nothing but agreement there.
“What do you mean?” he said, tasting metal on the back of his tongue. “What are you suggesting?”
Bayar smiled. “If the council approves, I will assume responsibility for the task. I think the less the council knows, the better—that way, there will be nothing to deny.”
And no way for Han to intervene.
Bayar stroked his twin falcon amulet, looking sleek as a cat in cream. “Know this—we will teach them a lesson they will never forget.”
Anger thrilled through Han as his colleagues murmured agreement. Bayar knew Han couldn’t possibly support such a move, and that would put him on the outs with everyone else on the council. Especially Gryphon, who would welcome a plan for revenge on those who had murdered his parents.
Taking it further, the bodies in Ragmarket and Southbridge might have been left there in order to ensure this outcome. It was even possible that the Bayars had cold-bloodedly murdered their colleagues in order to cast suspicion on Han and have an excuse to destroy his base of power. The sugar on the bun was that they’d set up a vote that Han couldn’t possibly win.
But he had to try. Otherwise, there was no reason for him to be here.
“As Queen Raisa’s representative on this council, I can tell you right now that the queen won’t approve this,” Han said. “She’s known for her programs to feed and educate the residents of the neighborhoods you mean to target.”
“We are not asking for Queen Raisa’s approval,” Lord Bayar said. “This council—all except for you—represents the gifted in the queendom.” He paused to let that sink in. “Our primary charge is the protection of those we represent. If the queen’s guard cannot protect us, we will take matters into our own hands.” You’re on my turf now, his expression said.
“There is no proof that street gangs are responsible for the murders,” Han persisted. “They could have been done by—by political rivals.”
“Come, now, Alister,” Lord Mander said. “Don’t be naive. It’s hardly likely that the gifted are being targeted by other gifted.”
“Who’s being naive?” Han shot back. “Who stands to gain from this?” And who stands to lose? he added silently to himself.
Han thought of the ragpickers, the street hustlers, the vendors in the markets. He pictured the mumpers, the fancies, and the street musicians; the ’prentices that came to Southbridge Temple though they worked full days besides. The old women who sat in doorways, smoking leaf and gossiping. They wore their lives on their faces—and were far younger than they looked.
“If we are wrong, there’s little to be lost by taking aggressive action,” Mander continued, undaunted. “If the murderers are, in fact, the Demonai, it will bring it out into the open.”
Lord Bayar nodded. “If the residents are not directly responsible, they are sheltering those who are. It would benefit the public good if they left the queendom altogether. They would scarcely be missed. And the land would be valuable once cleared of the ragtaggers and their hovels.”
Han envisioned the swarms of children who ran the streets—children that Jemson struggled to save. Whose desperate lives Raisa had tried to change.
“And if the queen says no?” Han asked, his words falling soft and deadly into the silence.
“The Gray Wolf queens have always been practical when it comes to looking the other way,” Lord Bayar said.
“Do you think so?” Han said. “Do you think Queen Raisa will take a practical view this time, when I tell her that you plan to destroy half of Fellsmarch and murder old people and small children?”
“Nobody said anything about murder,” Lord Mander blustered.
But Han was watching Micah. Lord Bayar had never bothered to get to know Raisa well enough to anticipate what she might do. Micah, on the other hand, had tried to get to know her very well. And had maybe succeeded.
Micah’s eyes narrowed, and his expression betrayed a trace of doubt.
Han followed through on the thrust, knowing he was opening himself up to a return blow. “How about it, Micah?” he said. “How well will you be received the next time you knock on the queen’s door? Just how much is she willing to forgive?”
Micah’s face went sheet-white, set with the coals of his eyes.
“If the council votes in favor, then we will proceed,” Lord Bayar said, in the same calm, reasonable voice. “No doubt the queen will realize the advantages of a solution to this problem that does not involve getting her own hands dirty.”
“Father,” Micah said, licking his lips, “couldn’t this wait until our next meeting? That would give us time to approach Queen Raisa and see what she—”
“The queen has nothing to do with the deliberations of this body,” Lord Bayar said, giving his son a withering look.
“I realize that,” Micah said. “But wouldn’t it be better to let her know our plans, to prevent any misunderstandings later?”
“Queen Raisa need never know about this,” Lord Bayar said. “That will prevent any misunderstandings.” Shifting his gaze to Han, he added, “If you choose to tell her about this project, then we will deny that this discussion ever took place.” He smiled. “Whom do you think she will believe?”
Han’s pigeons had truly come home to roost. He’d purposely convinced the Bayars that Raisa had been strong-armed into putting him on the council—to protect the both of them. Consequently, the council assumed they could smooth over any trouble he might cause.
Han said nothing. He knew he’d been outplayed.
“Is there further discussion?” Lord Bayar looked around the table. “No? Then let us put it to a vote.”
There was one big surprise when it came to the vote. Han voted against it, of course. Abelard, Gryphon, and Mander for it. But when it was Micah’s turn, he voted against it, too. That earned him another blistering look from his father.
It didn’t matter. The motion still carried, three to two, so that the High Wizard’s tiebreaking vote wasn’t needed.
“How soon is this going to happen?” Han asked, hoping for some hook to hang a strategy on. “And who’s going to do it?”
Bayar scratched a few notes on the tablet in front of him. “As High Wizard, this operation is my responsibility. I will report back to the full council when it is done.”
Han felt sick, distracted, desperate to leave the Council House and race back to Fellsmarch Castle, to alert Raisa to intervene, to warn his friends in Ragmarket.
Then something echoed in his ear—something Bayar had said. As High Wizard, Bayar would have responsibility for seeing it done.
But Bayar wouldn’t be High Wizard for long. Weren’t they going to take a vote on that?
As if privy to Han’s thoughts, Bayar moved on to the next topic.
“Our second item of business is the election of a High Wizard to serve with our new queen,” Lord Bayar said. “As you will recall, we had tabled that matter at our last meeting in the hopes that Lady deVilliers would be
able to join us. Alas, she has not yet arrived.”
“Then we must go forward with a vote,” Lord Mander said. “We all agreed that we would.” He managed not to look at anyone in particular as he said this.
Adam Gryphon leaned forward. “I am comfortable with Lord Bayar as High Wizard for the present. I say we should wait for Lady deVilliers.”
Han’s flame of hope was quenched by worry. It was an odd thing for Gryphon to say if Fiona had gotten to him.
Abelard’s head came up in surprise, and the glum look on her face abated a bit. “I agree. We should wait until we are all here. Perhaps we should take a vote on the matter.” She had counted noses and concluded that they could stall the selection of a High Wizard if Han, Abelard, and Gryphon voted to wait.
But Han couldn’t wait. If they waited until Mordra arrived, Ragmarket and Southbridge might be gone. Han needed to be High Wizard right now.
“I think we should go ahead and vote,” Han said.
He’d surprised everyone with that. Lord Mander’s jaw dropped, and he let go a high, nervous bray of laughter. Micah looked startled, and then his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to puzzle out what Han was up to. Gryphon looked disappointed.
Lord Bayar smiled thinly. “Very well,” he said. “We will proceed. Are there any nominations from the council?”
Abelard gave Han a look that said, I’ll deal with you later.
“I nominate Micah Bayar,” Lord Mander said promptly. “He has inherited his father’s talent for charmcasting, and is politically savvy despite his years. Because he is young, he will be able to serve alongside the queen for all of her days. And he is well respected among both peers and elders. He will skillfully guide this body in these treacherous times. Service as High Wizard has been tradition in the Bayar family. Young Micah was raised for this.”
Lord Bayar looked gravely at Micah. “Do you agree to serve if elected?”
“I will serve,” Micah said. “I would be honored to serve both council and queen.”
Han wondered—if Micah were High Wizard, would he proceed with the plan to destroy Ragmarket and Southbridge? When he’d voted against it?
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