The business of council began; Luthian lost track of the mundane items being discussed as he marveled at the room. Created by strong bronze mages, the details were amazing. Pictorials of the first war were depicted on one wall. Opposite there was a vast tapestry depicting the day that Rydanth Guldalian had stood in the dragon’s blood, the transfer of magic depicted in a flash of outward spreading power. He loved that tapestry as he felt he looked a great deal like Rydanth. The rest of the room was no less grand. The large table was hewn from a single piece of wood and therefore had no planks to break its highly polished sheen. The room never failed to amaze him despite the many times he had been here.
Realizing he had lost track of the conversation, he forced himself to refocus on where the discussions were currently. As usual, there were many complaints about the trenches and what could be done about it and the stench that came from it on warm days. It was a common topic, and one that usually ended with a stalemate. One side wanted to put a roof over the trench, but it would be quickly pointed out the miners and those that saw to the sewers would be unable to work with the fumes that the trench put off. It was an old argument, and one he cared little about. He found himself again staring at the fine details of the tapestry, surrounded by flickering torches, the scene seemed to move.
“What are your thoughts, High Minister?” a feminine voice called out.
Startled out of his own musings, he looked up and realized that everyone was looking at him. He panicked for a long moment realizing that he had no idea what the question had been. Luthian looked slowly about the table, searching for some clue of what he had just been asked. He spotted Sordith leaning against the far doorway, arms crossed.
“I would defer to the Trench Lord on the matter as he lives within the dark confines and sees to its occupants,” he said. He waved a hand towards the man as if the matter had been beneath him. In truth, he was glad not to have been caught out. It would not do for him to lose grace when he was about to make a large move in his plot to unify the isle.
There was a collective intake of breath as all eyes swiveled towards the man in the doorway. Sordith gave a casual wave and moved forward. The only sound as Sordith approached the table was his boots casually tapping against the polished marble floor. He took the end seat opposite of Luthian. He scooted his chair forward, the sound echoing in the silent chamber. While a chair was always placed at the far end to represent the second ruling lord of the city, no trench lord had ever sat at council. The look of disbelief on the magi's faces brought a smile to Luthian’s.
A green-robed mage stood indignantly. “I must protest this man’s presence, High Minister.” The man sniffed and his face contorted as he had just sniffed a refuse car. “He has no skill in matters of magic and therefore does not belong here.” The man’s dark hair held only streaks of lightened brown. His face held a more youthful appearance than the High Minister’s hawk like features.
Luthian sat back in his chair, one hand toying with a quill as he smiled with amusement. “Odd you should say such since you bicker about a matter that has nothing to do with magic.” Luthian rose, leaning forward with both hands on the table. He fixed a cold look at the nature mage. “The Trench Lord, Sordith, has more sense than half at this table. I will hear no more dissension at his presence.” His voice was cold and commanding, clearly intending to end objection. Sordith grinned and toasted Luthian with the goblet that had been left at his place. In this situation, Luthian was grateful that the man’s confident manner and grace gave weight to Luthian’s words.
The heavy silence was broken by the same mage. His tone was equally hard. “You are not the council, Lord Luthian, this is a matter of vote and not your will.” The speaking mage said indignantly. He met Luthian’s eyes, clearly not willing to back down on the matter.
“Is that so, Valmere?” Luthian stated coldly. “Let the man speak and if his words are not wise, I will have him removed.” Luthian looked down the table. “Now, Lord Sordith, what say you to the council’s dilemma of the trench’s odor?” Luthian sat down calmly. This was the game he loved, and these little surprises only made it that much more enjoyable.
“I am honestly shocked that such a group of learned men and women have not been able to address this.” Sordith toyed with the goblet before him as he considered his words. “You do not need to close off the trench, merely send me some stone mages that are well skilled. We can close enough of the actual flow to diminish the stench.” Sordith glanced at a gray robed mage near him.
“It would help not only those with sensitive noses.” Sordith winked at the beautiful woman to his right as he spoke. He slowly looked to the upper end of the table to mages closer to Luthian. “But those that live within the trench might be less prone to illness and death. A workforce that is too ill benefits none of us.”
A murmur went around the table as his words made sense. “What if such a closed off flow became plugged?” asked a woman dressed in golden robes. “Such a backup would be bad for all those in the lower tiers.”
“I am pleased to see a healer has such concerns.” Sordith smiled at her charmingly, bringing a faint flush to her cheeks. “We install access hatches every few feet so a long pole can be used to dislodge any plugs.”
Many of the mages nodded and Valmere slowly sat down. “Does this council still wish me to remove the Trench Lord from our numbers?” Luthian asked, his words were cold. His condescending glance was for Valmere alone. There were many who now murmured their support of Sordith’s presence.
Luthian stood to make sure that he could see everyone as he finished the process. “It is rare that one rises to the position of trench lord with such schooling and sense. I say we take advantage of his presence while he lives to hold his position.” He looked around the table. “How many still wish the man removed?”
Valmere and three others slowly raised their hands. Luthian was quick to note that two of them were stone mages. He smiled warmly at those that had not raised their hands. “It is settled then, he stays.” He nodded with approval to Sordith.
He glanced down the table at the two stone mages siding with Valmere. “Lady Caterine and Lord Paelio, you two will work with the Trench Lord to see this matter resolved. I am sure you will be better able to find him the appropriately skilled stone mages..” He was pleased to see both take on an offended air. Luthian shrugged. “If not, you can do the work yourselves. After all, this is within your sphere.”
Both answered appropriately, “Yes, High Minister.” The sheer displeasure on their faces was amusing.
“Now that this matter is settled,” Luthian slowly sat down drawing all eyes back to him. “I have a matter I wish to propose to the council.” He began with, drawling out his words. He knew he had their attention as he was rarely the one to start a proposal. “I wish to open testing of tiers to Daezun blooded mages.”
The council burst into an uproar. Several rose from their seat in indignation or horror. Unlike before, Valmere was the one sitting quietly. Luthian took note of the nature mage. He had planned for this reaction. He knew it was going to be a battle.
Luthian stood once more putting his hands out to beseech them. “Silence and let me explain!” It took a moment before everyone slowly regained their seats.
He did not continue nor lower his hands till the room was silent again “I have consulted a seer at the temple of Dethara as I had heard whisperings of a hard winter for this isle,” he began in a consoling tone. “The seer has confirmed that he sees much starvation in the isle’s future.”
There were concerned whispers, and Luthian smiled reassuringly. “Our cities will be fine with the storage in the trench mines for one winter, but the outlying Lerdenian populace will not.” He paused, letting this sink in. Many of the ruling mages had come from pastoral regions.
“In addition, the Daezun people do not have cities with large holdings of storage. I expect that they will seek help, especially if there were to be more than one such winter.” He let a sy
mpathetic sigh escape for emphasis.
Seeing the looks between one another, he continued. “I know, what does that have to do with Daezun testing?” He waited as many nodded in agreement with the question. “Water mages are rare amongst the Lerdenian people, but not as rare amongst the half-breeds. To learn to turn such a storm aside takes a great deal of specialized training. If such half-breeds were eligible for this additional training, they could be released from the Blackguard and instead train solely to protect us from such natural catastrophes.” Many eyes drifted to the one blue robed mage at the table who nodded in agreement with Luthian’s points.
“Why can’t we just train such Daezun and send them out to help calm and divert the storms as best they can?” asked one mage curiously. Many around the table nodded in agreement.
“There are two reasons. The first one would be that these young mages are treated poorly by both the Daezun and Lerdenian people. They may not be highly motivated to protect us, especially if they were to find little value in it for themselves.”
He looked about the table. “Be honest, how many of you want to leave the comforts of our fair city to go out into the winter cold and try to turn aside storms of driving snow and ice?” Many of the mages shifted uncomfortably around the table. Luthian inwardly smiled, the one thing he knew about high level mages, most did not like to be uncomfortable or dirty their own hands.
“In addition,” he continued, “there is not enough of them to forestall what the seer predicted.” Luthian sounded very worried. “But… I have found a mage that, if he tested to have access to the fourth tier libraries, would be able to force the storm completely away from our own people.” He sighed. “However, it would make the Daezun suffer even more. Why, they may even have to seek our aid.”
“Why not just deny them that aid and let them die?” asked one bitter mage
Luthian moved around the table as he spoke. “Yes, that is an option. We would have the full island in our hands at that point. Or...We could annex them into our realm and still have the whole island,” he mused.
“I vote for letting them die out,” snarled Lady Caterine.
“Yes, I imagine you would.” Luthian smiled at her, but there was no warmth in his gaze. “Yet, Lady Caterine, I notice you wear an exquisite necklace, did you buy it from our local merchants?”
Lady Caterine's hand moved to cover the necklace as she flushed with color. “Well...N-no...” she stammered.
“Interesting.” He tipped his head as he took a hold of a council member’s chair back, knowing he was making the man uncomfortable. “Wherever did you find such a treasure?” His eyes were still on her hand which covered the necklace.
“I…I bought it from a Daezun trader,” she murmured.
Luthian went for the throat though his voice remained curious. “And why did you buy from the people that you would consign to a frozen death and not our local artisans?” he pressed.
“They do better work…” she murmured, barely audible.
“I am sorry, I did not catch that, what did you say?” Luthian turned his head as if he did not hear her. He knew that she would not relish making such an admission.
“They have better artisans for jewelry,” she admitted.
Luthian nodded. “I would agree.” He moved to the end of the table and looked down at Sordith. “Lord Sordith, what is the race of your best miners?”
“Daezun or half-Daezun of course. They are hardier, have better vision below ground, and seem to know stone as if it were part of their being.” Sordith answered factually.
Luthian nodded. “I see.” He looked at the council from the foot of the table. “We could kill them off, but we lose what they provide. They alone, can handle bloodstones without draining them. They excel in blacksmithing, stone work and mining.” He smacked his hand down on the table causing the lady next to him to jump and let out a small squeak of surprise.
Luthian put the other hand on her arm as if to reassure her. “Listen my dear friends, they are simple people with simple needs. I would prefer to have a measure of what they create in taxes than kill them off so viciously.” He sighed sadly. “Can we not let an ancient war rest?” He bowed his head, hiding his slight smirk at the murmurs of agreement. A sound of disgust brought Luthian’s head up as Valmere finally rose.
“You move like a cat circling and herding a mouse to where it wishes to pounce.” Valmere looked around the table arms crossed with a look of disdain.
He moved as well, taking Luthian’s place near the head of the table. “He does not tell you that this mage he has found to divert the storm is none other than his own nephew.” Valmere gestured to the empty seat of the high minister. “His motives are personal and not for the good of the city.”
Luthian shook his head sadly. “Valmere… Valmere…Valmere ... ever seeing plots where there are none.” He looked back to the curious faces now turned to him. “I do not deny this powerful half-Daezun is my nephew. I could have violated this council’s whims by personally training him as is my right as his uncle.” He moved slowly up the table drawing the eyes of those across from him and noting the squirms of those he moved behind.
“However, I wished to move with the council’s discretion. It is not the boy’s fault or mine that the gods seen fit to give him this power and that he is my brother’s son.” He put up his hands in defeat. “We can deny this testing and consign our own farmers to the miseries to come.” He looked at Valmere. “Or we can discontinue touting the banner of tradition and old ways till we are eventually so weak that one day the Daezun can overrun us due to lack of foresight and wisdom.” He moved back to the other side of his seat. He and Valmere now both stood at the head of the table.
The High Minister turned to Sordith and asked loudly to overpower the murmurs of dissension at the table. “How long could this city survive on our storage if the farmers cannot replenish it this next growing season, Lord Sordith?” Luthian did not miss the disdain on many faces at his use of title for the man.
Sordith quietly calculated on his hands, his eyes closed. The mages fell silent as they waited for his answer. “Three turns maybe with rationing.” He considered additionally. “There is already dissension in the lower tiers at the privileges afforded in tiers above them. Such rationing would probably lead to civil strife in less than one.” His eyes took on a hawk-like manner as he surveyed those staring at him. “I doubt I could get food past the second tier after two.” His admission brought gasps of concern from the high level mages.
Luthian turned back to the counsel. “Or we can train the Daezun who can pass at least a third tier test to help in this matter. I doubt few will ask to test.” Luthian laughed at the thought, his voice dripped with arrogance. “Even fewer will make a rank above the third tier. My nephew’s exceptional bloodlines are not his fault.” Luthian added a touch of Guldalian pride unconsciously as his chin lifted.
Valmere leaned forward as he placed his hands on the table and looked into the eyes of the attentive council members. “Do you not see how this man plays your emotions and mind? He is a snake in our midst,” his words held a hiss, emphasizing his disdain. “He might as well wear the robes of the priestess that he takes to his bed.” Valmere rose up. “I challenge for the seat of High Minister before this vote is taken." He indicated the empty chair that sat between them.
Luthian purposefully looked crestfallen. “Are you so hungry for my seat that you would use this matter of the survival of two races as your cause?” He put his hands out to his sides in a placating manner. “Valmere, you are hardly capable of removing me from office under the old laws.” His edge of mockery was thick so that it would not be lost on anyone.
Luthian could not have hoped for a better outcome. Valmere was casting him the villain, but by demanding office, he had just made Luthian the victim. Luthian glanced about the room as the heavy silence settled. Some would not look at him. Others were looking between the two men with wide alarmed eyes. Luthian took pleasure at the v
isible sweat on the brow of a few. Valmere finally found his voice.
“I have no doubt that I am quite capable of matching your skills. You have not fought in the testing ring in turns and, to be honest, I think you are a manipulative, power-seeking liar.” Valmere spat to the side of the chair to emphasize his vehemence.
“See, now you have gone too far and have challenged my personal honor.” Luthian sighed with mock distress. “Will the counsel allow this man to challenge for my seat and let the gods decide our fate?” He looked around as one by one the hands went up, every hand at the table except Sordith’s.
“You disagree, Lord Sordith?” he asked casually.
“I just can’t bear to vote a man off to his death,” Sordith drawled out as his eyes drifted to Valmere. “This one seems quick to end his own life without my assistance.” Sordith eyed the younger mage.
Luthian smiled. “Then we will adjourn this council and reconvene in the testing ring. Let us say, two hours. I fear I must change, and well, I want to give Valmere time to put his affairs in order.” He nodded to Valmere as if he had just afforded him the greatest respect. He inwardly found amusement at the flash of anger in the other mage’s eyes.
Valmere snorted then turned and strode from the room. The council all rose with an excited clamor. It was not often that there was a power struggle of this magnitude on the council; many were excited to see such magic at play.
As they were left alone, Sordith rose and approached Luthian, goblet in hand. “That was really unfair you know,” Sordith said, his tone muffled to prevent someone just outside the door from listening in on his words.
Luthian looked surprised, but more that Sordith had noticed than the doubt about what he was saying. “Why, whatever do you mean?” Luthian innocently asked, his hand coming to his chest. “I was hardly the aggressor there,” he pointed out, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.
Pseudo-Dragon (The Blue Dragon's Geas Book 4) Page 11
