by Janeal Falor
I draw the cloak tighter around me. Despite the warmth of the room, I'm more grateful than ever for the shield it offers. Several more minutes pass of men entering. Silence continues. Is it always silent or is it just me? Warlocks always seem full of talk and boasting, but I don't know if it's the same at a meeting.
Finally, someone says, “The Grand Chancellor.”
I start to look up, but Zade's hand is behind his chair pointing to the floor. I duck my head back down. The only sound is the Grand Chancellor striding closer. His chair creaks as it's pulled back. He passes right by me, his cloak brushing against the tips of my shoes. I force myself not to take a step back. It's easier since the window is close behind. I've nowhere to go.
He takes his chair. “Proceed.”
There's a shuffle of movement. I chance another peek, though Zade is still pointing down. A tarnished is being led in the room. By the curves beneath her robe and delicate nose, I'd guess a woman. What's she doing here? I thought no woman had been before.
Her eyes are glazed, but her face is pure and clean save for the black tendrils of ink curling over her face. A servant helps her onto the table. My breathing quickens. What is going on? She lays with her head at the Grand Chancellor's place. The tournament flashes through my mind.
The Grand Chancellor casts a golden spell. After the gold recedes, silver gleams in his hands. At first I think it's part of the spell, but then realize the object holds its shape. The sharp blade of a dagger. It darts toward her.
My vision sways. Sacrifice. They're going to sacrifice her. My small breakfast threatens to come back. I focus on breathing. Once I've more control, I force my gaze away from the scene and clench my fists. No matter what happens, I can't do anything. No screaming, no fainting, no intervening. What would yelling do? The fact that I'm here is going to endanger Zade more. Calling out would only make his fate and my own worse, not save the girl.
There's not a sound. I count to twenty. Maybe it's not what I thought it was. I chance another glance, hoping I misunderstood.
The girl's eyes have gone from dazed to lifeless. Her face is white, making the ink more vivid against her skin. The tip of the dagger drips crimson on the table next to her.
A hole is above her collar bone. From it runs a thin, red line staining the side of her neck. No other blood taints the scene, but she's clearly dead. I bite my lower lip. Hard.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It's difficult to tell under the light of the sun, but the Grand Chancellor appears to be glowing again, just like after the sacrifice at the tournament. He claps three times. Four servants come in and take hold of the woman's remains. Pinpricks of light fill my vision. I hold my head down and take slow, deep breaths. Despite my efforts, I almost faint. I think of my sisters. Let them fill my thoughts. Finally, the world comes back into view. Though still dizzy, I resume standing straight.
The scraping of chairs and chatter of voices fills the room. I knot my hands together. The servant next to me moves to the Grand Chancellor. I sneak a glimpse. The council is relaxing, servants filling their glasses, one is getting his shoulders massaged. Once the glasses are filled, the servants return to their posts.
“Before we get to the agenda,” the Grand Chancellor says, “I'd like to be informed why a female is in our meeting.”
“Hear, hear,” Father says. “If she were mine, I wouldn't permit it.”
Zade straightens in his chair. “I believe that's no longer your decision. I've a right to do whatever I wish with my possessions.”
“You can't break the law no matter your ownership. One of my own possessions has been informing me of what's going on in your household.” Father's words cut into me. Bethany. What information has he gotten from the spell on her? Coming was a bad idea.
“What information is that?” The Grand Chancellor asks.
I hold my breath as Father says, “They've been visiting the tarnished area of town. Getting dresses that are two pieces and not just one. Dresses they can get in and out of by themselves.”
Silence. Are they going to tarnish me now and kill Zade for not keeping control of me? I stare at Zade though I can't see his face. I didn't mean to bring this on him.
“I don't think there's a law that dictates how women dress,” Councilman Daniel says. “There's only the guidelines in the Woman's Canon.”
My chin quivers. I work to hold it still. Will his words be enough to save us?
“Unfortunately,” Chancellor Ryan says, “he's correct. Maybe we should look into changing that.”
“Put it on the agenda for a different day,” the Grand Chancellor says. “Today is full and we have yet to address the issue of why a woman is present.”
Will they really let us wear what we want? Not punish Zade or me for it? For now at least, it appears that way. But it also sounds like they are going to make plans to correct the oversight. I don't know whether to be relieved, angry, or sombered by the thought.
“But—” Father starts, but the Grand Chancellor ignores him.
“She may be your possession, Chancellor Zade, but I see you're still not used to our customs. No woman except the sacrifice has ever been allowed to our meeting. Are you offering her as one?”
My airway constricts. I picture myself laying on the table. I grip my hands tighter. Is the altar about to become my final resting place? I won't allow myself to be taken without a fight.
“I'm sure you'd love the power of her blood, but that's not why she's here.”
Power of my blood? What does that mean? Is that why the Grand Chancellor was glowing? The magic in her blood combines with their own?
“Then, please do tell us why she's here so we can move on to more important matters.”
“I felt it would be a good lesson, having her here submitting to my will. In fact,” he turns toward the servant next to me, “give her the jug, she can keep my glass full.”
The servant next to me thrusts the jug at me. Wine splashes on my cloak. I grab hold of it and try to mimic how the others are holding it. It's heavy.
A murmur fills the room.
“He's brilliant,” Councilman Daniel says above the noise. “Jonathan, fetch my wife.”
The servant behind him scurries from the room. The chatter grows louder. I almost don't dare hope Annabelle will arrive. Through my lashes, I watch the Grand Chancellor's body grow taut. Next to him, Zade lounges back in his chair, content to study the paperwork before him instead of the growing fray around him.
The voices speak too fast for me to keep track of.
“Can they really do this?”
“There's no law against it.”
“We should make one.”
“Wait, let's not be too hasty. Maybe it's a good idea.”
“It's a good idea. Did you see how pale she was? I thought she was going to faint.”
“She's still pale. I'm still expecting her to fall on the floor.”
I grip the pitcher tighter and keep my gaze lowered.
“Women don't need to hear warlock's work.”
“Not like it'll make a difference to them. Except maybe to teach them to be more respectful.”
Their comments increase my desire to hold myself together. The debate continues. More are for it than I supposed would be. Not for the reasons I'd like, but it's better than nothing.
Finally, the door opens. Risking a peek, I see Annabelle wandering toward her husband looking confused. Relief fills me. She's halfway across the room from me and I can't say a word, but I'm no longer alone. Councilman Daniel motions for her to get behind him and promptly ignores her. She's given a jug like me, which she cradles to her body. She risks a peek at me, her face free of emotion, then lowers her head.
The Grand Chancellor taps a finger on the table. The arguing quiets, attention shifting to him. “First order of business?”
“Isn't it that there are women present?” Father asks.
“Clearly not, Councilman Stephen.”
Father's face is a l
ivid red.
Someone clears his throat. “Last time we didn't finish discussing the latest changes to the tarnished law.”
Though I was already listening, I fix my full attention on the discussion and push the discomfort of the situation to the back of my mind.
“We've been arguing over this for months. Let's just pass it and get on with it,” a warlock says.
“Or not pass it and get on with other things,” another argues.
“I've given this a lot of thought over the break,” a third, whiny voice says. “What if we compromise? Instead of forcing the tarnished to get marked and tracked monthly, they're rewarded for it. And before you brush this aside, I want you to really think about it. If we give them a reduced tax rate, it would be a good incentive and we'd get a good turn out.”
I suppose this option is better than the original. Yet they'd still make them check in, taking more freedom, making them more bound to the warlocks. That would really affect Katherine. Would she be allowed to come to my house if they're tracking her? Or anywhere else she wants to go? What would it be like having someone always know where you are?
“How much of a tax break are you thinking?”
“We can discuss that, of course,” says the man with the idea. “I think my biggest point is that we'd be getting what we want accomplished, but with less work for us and other warlocks.”
“Why didn't you bring this up sooner?” Father asks.
Good question. Is this why Zade thought I'd want to be here today? And how did he know it would come up now?
“Didn't cross my mind earlier.”
A previously silent Councilman says, “They'd still have to abide by our rules.”
“And check-in regular like.”
“You're forgetting one thing. How are we supposed to find funds to pay for this?”
“Raise taxes.”
“Always raising taxes. You think we've problems now, we keep raising taxes and they'll get worse.”
“Things aren't free, people have to learn that.”
“We could make another tax on those who don't get monitored monthly.”
“Added incentive,” Chancellor Ryan says. “It'd be a good addition.”
“You've been quiet, Chancellor Zade.” The Grand Chancellor faces him. “What is your opinion?”
“Sounds like they've finally learned to compromise.”
Does that mean Zade agrees? He's always so nice to Katherine, I thought he'd be different.
The Grand Chancellor turns back to the other side. “And you, Chancellor Ryan, you're for it?”
“I'd like the law to be stronger, but it'll do. As long as I don't have to do any of the tracking or ink spells myself.”
“Let's vote then.” The Grand Chancellor addresses the group. “Those for the tarnished opting in to be tracked and marked in exchange for a tax break and raising taxes for those who don't?”
I hold my breath. Zade's shoulders are stiff.
The room fills with “Ayes.”
“And those against?” The room stays silent.
Why isn't Zade saying anything? He knows Katherine. He pays the tarnished in the household. Why isn't he sticking up for them?
“I agree with the majority. Law passed. Chancellor Ryan, see to its implementation and recruit those you need to help.”
“Yes, Grand Chancellor.”
“Next item of business?”
Someone answers, but my heart thuds so loudly, I can't pay attention. Just like that, my friend has lost even more freedom. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Thoughts of Katherine and what this might mean to her distract me. I wouldn't want a spell permanently cast on me, tracking me where ever I go. Most hexes are bad enough, but I would hate for them to be able to find me whenever they wanted. Hiding is one of my few escapes. Changing color monthly wouldn't be as invasive, but still too much. And having to be monitored so often. I can't fathom what it would be like.
The rest of the morning goes by in a blur of activity. I understand little of what they speak of. Things that have to do with which warlock can host what party and how much a woman should be punished for disobedience. The multi-wives law is mentioned briefly, but mostly they talk of things that seem to have little importance.
At some point, servants enter with food. They bring dishes of boar and venison, duck and fish. Cakes and pastries. The savory smells mixing with the sweet in a sickening way. They lay it on the same table where the woman was sacrificed.
I'm offered nothing and accept it gratefully. I can't bear to watch the warlocks eat. The very idea is repulsive. I try to catch Annabelle's eye, but she doesn't turn my way. My arms ache under the strain of the jug. I hope it's not too much for her.
The meeting progresses throughout the meal. Though it seems more like a boasting party as they top stories of one another's spells, occasionally speaking of how it relates to a law. Empty dishes are taken away, replaced with heaping ones. The men talk and grunt and laugh. Wine flows freely. The longer it goes on, the more food and drink splotches their clothes. Those with beards fall victim to the debris more often.
From behind, I can't get a good look at Zade, but he doesn't seem to be over indulging. The few times I've had occasion to see him after a council meeting, he's never been as soiled as his fellows. As they are now, it's more like the feast after my engagement ceremony than a meeting.
Looking closer, I realize there are a few others that aren't as piggish, one being Councilman Daniel. They're not all slothful then. The Grand Chancellor also abstains from almost everything. His servant never refills his cup, and he consumes only a little food on his plate.
“That was the last item,” the Grand Chancellor says. “We'll reconvene in two weeks with reports as assigned. Dismissed.”
Finally, I'll be able to set the wine down. One downside to Zade not drinking more, the jug never lightened. But the warlocks don't seem eager to go. They slump in their chairs, cradling their glasses and picking at the last of their food. No wonder most of them are so fat. Some of them, including Father, pull out a pipe. The room fills with an acrid, bitter cloud of smoke.
The Grand Chancellor is the first to depart. Everyone else continues talking, smoking, and eating. The air is choking with the pungent odor. Zade pushes his cup aside and reads over more papers. After a while, they start to leave. One-by-one. With so many hours of food and drink, it's a wonder they can move at all.
Chancellor Ryan stands, but instead of leaving, he leans over Zade's shoulder. I strain to hear what he's saying.
“Think you got away with bringing a woman here? You haven't. You've only succeeded in making the visits you've been getting more serious.”
Zade's back stiffens, but none of the others seem to notice. Chancellor Ryan straightens and catches me looking at him. I know I should break the eye contact, but I can't. Each breath is a struggle. I want to collapse on the floor. If I heard right, it means Zade is going to die because of my constant insistence of having things my own way.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The thought of me causing Zade's death seems to freeze time for several minutes. Yet it's probably only a moment before Chancellor Ryan sneers and slams his fist into my stomach. I groan and press my hands against the pain. Zade jumps to his feet. The room goes silent.
“Sorry,” Chancellor Ryan says with a grin. “I tripped.”
Zade's frame quivers. I bite my lip hoping he won't let his temper make the situation worse. They stare at each other. Every passing moment, Zade's shaking increases, the muscles in his face growing more and more taut, and Chancellor Ryan growing more and more relaxed.
Finally, he slaps Zade on the shoulder. “Won't happen again.”
The pain is already receding from where he hit me, but the damage has been done. Chancellor Ryan strides out of the room. The remaining council members begin to chatter again, though quieter than before and with gazes drifting to Zade. After a moment, Zade slams himself back into the chair withou
t looking at me. I never should have asked to come.
The rest of the members don't linger. As the last one, save for us and Councilman Daniel, stands to go, he smirks at Annabelle and me. “Maybe it's a good idea to have the wenches around. Both are properly subdued.”
Of course we are, who wouldn't be? Someone was killed, the tarnished are going to lose what little freedom they have, and my owner's life is under more threats. He may think it was a good idea for us to come when really, I made another mistake.
Zade doesn't look up from his papers, but Councilman Daniel grins. “We'll see you at the next meeting.”
Once he leaves, my muscles loosen. The servants clear the remnants of the meal.
“You can put the jugs down, wenches,” Councilman Daniel says.
I place the jug on the table and rub my hands and arms. My body aches, especially my legs, back, and arms. My feet are sore. Everything hurts. It's been a while since I've had to stand like that. It's a fitting punishment for asking to come, but not harsh enough for endangering Zade even more.
Zade breaks the silence, his voice sounds surprisingly normal. “Good showing, Daniel. The food is excellent.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I've something else you might like. A new hunting rifle.”
“Great. Perhaps your wife could keep mine company while I take a gander.”
Councilman Daniel snaps his fingers. “Annabelle, take her and keep out of sight.”
I open my mouth to say something, but she squeezes my arm and shakes her head. Together, we scurry from the room. “What power the Council has. I knew they were impressive, but that was unlike anything I've imagined.”
The table laden with a dead woman followed by an overabundance of food flashes in my mind. “It certainly was.”
“I'd best be on good behavior,” Annabelle says. “Can you imagine if he makes me go to another one? I don't think I'd manage it without fainting.” She steers me down a hall. “Let's stop at the water closet before strolling through the gardens. I'll have one of the servants bring us a bite to eat.
