Arrival of the Traveler (Waldgrave Book 1) (37 page)

“For what?” Griffin asked.

“For going out that night. If you knew, he had to know. Why wasn’t he angry?”

Griffin averted his eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “He knew you were gone in the first place, and I think he finds your passive-aggressive rebellion somewhat entertaining. You treat the laws set out by the Council with the same disregard that he does. The family resemblance is stronger than you think.” Griffin smirked at her again. “Ironically, after you did it, he started to think you would be a good wife again. Not a great one, but your blatant disregard for Council rulings means we’re on the same page at least part of the time.”

Lena must have made a horrified face, because Griffin laughed. He set up a few more meeting times to work through Dominic Cassius’s writings. Griffin excused himself to start doing Master Daray’s paperwork, and Lena went back down to her room to read and unwind from her encounter.

The meetings drew to a close, and sooner than she would have thought possible, Lena found herself sitting in a waiting room attached to the main Council hall on the fifth floor. There was a stack of index cards clutched too tightly in her left hand, and five young men, ranging in age from their late teens to their mid-twenties, seated in the room with her. There were no windows, and talking amongst themselves had been prohibited. A guard, who had been chosen at random, stood next to the only door. As Lena’s luck would have it, it was Master Astley Senior; the father of the man who had tried to kill her only a few month earlier. Astley watched her closely, and Lena tried to ignore him by keeping her eyes focused on the wall directly in front of her.

I could have you kicked out of this whole ordeal, you know that? All I’d have to say is that I saw you or heard you do something illegal. They’d believe me.

Lena felt her throat go dry. She tried to ignore the voice in her head.

I want you to know he was framed. My son is a Christian, and he wouldn’t have tried to kill you. He was good friends with your father when he was younger. He wouldn’t have done what he’s been accused and exiled for.

Lena looked over and met the pained eyes of Master Astley. He was a ruddy-faced man with a barrel chest, thinning hair and a very wrinkled forehead. His eyes were watery, and she was finding it hard to not speak back to him. She wanted to call to Howard, but she knew that the Council was likely to take the word of Master Astley over hers. It wasn’t worth the chance.

I’m very sorry for what happened to you, and I hope you can forgive my son and my family. We’ve never gotten along, my family and your mother’s, but we’ve never wished harm on you.

The door opened, and Howard summoned Lena into the Council room.

Master Astley’s last words shocked her; the look in his eyes and the tone he took left her feeling they couldn’t be anything but genuine. 
Good luck.

Lena gave a last look over her shoulder at Master Astley, and then tried to push him from her mind. She tried not to think about the night it had happened, but it was coming back to her. She had never really thought about that night since it had happened, and as was her luck, it had to surface again before the biggest public speech of her life.

Lena walked out before the whole of the Council more than slightly rattled by the encounters she’d just had with Master Astley and her memories. She had initially put on a white blouse that morning, but then Mrs. Ralston had put her in a black one. Now that she was sweating profusely, she was glad she had made the switch. There were at least a hundred people staring at her. Happily, she saw that there was a stack of paper cups and a pitcher of water next to the podium she was going to speak at. She prepared herself a cup and took a tentative sip. She forced the feeling of the rope closing around her neck as far away as possible, and tried to focus on Howard’s face; he was sitting in the fourth row from the front. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she stepped up to the podium and began.

Members of the Council, my name is Abilene Collins. I came to live here at Waldgrave the winter after my grandmother’s death; I’m sure you’re familiar with the story. Though I’m the youngest hopeful to speak here today, I have probably experienced more than any of the others. In fact, I have probably experienced and survived more obstacles than many of the people in this room. My life has dealt closely and frequently with the issues that you vote on, and I feel the consequences of the decisions made here. I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with many of you on a personal basis over the past few weeks, and…

Lena said her bit into the silence, finished, and was led out of the room by Howard. He wasn’t allowed to speak to her until the voting was done the next day, and so passed her off to Mrs. Ralston, who took her back to her room and brought up a large lunch because Lena hadn’t had the stomach for breakfast. Lena went over and over her speech in her head, hoping it had been good enough. She had never wanted respect so badly in her life; she knew she would get in, but was only now finding out how badly she wanted to get in by herself. She wanted the respect and the dignity of getting in the way that typical named heirs do, because after this point in her life, at least in her mind, she was no longer Pyrallis Daray’s granddaughter.

The next day, an hour before the last dinner the collective of visiting Silenti would share together, Howard called Lena to his office. He told her to sit down, because they had a lot to discuss concerning the way the next few years were going to be handled. There was a stack of paperwork on his desk more than a foot thick and a half-empty snifter of brandy sitting next to it. Lena wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. She looked up, and Howard was smiling.

“You made it.” He said.

Lena smiled and tried to act surprised. “How much? How many wanted me in?”

Howard raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. “Seventy-two percent. I have to say, that was a little surprising to me, but there was evidently more at play than I knew about…”

Lena’s heart almost stopped; he knew about the deal with Daray. “Oh?”

“Well, when it got down to it, there were more reasons to let you in than I anticipated. I think your grandfather slowed us down a bit—some spoke against you on the grounds that it might prevent you from ever marrying or raising a family, but I think that won you as many votes as it lost you. A lot of people spoke in favor of you, too, but not for the reasons we had hoped. You still have a lot of proving ground to cover. It seems many, mostly in the New Faith group, wanted you in because they feel they can keep a closer eye on you if you’re tied up in meetings.”      

It was true; when Council was in, Lena hardly saw Howard at all except at meals and the odd event of emergencies of some sort—like the time Griffin had snitched on her for sneaking out with the kitchen staff. “Well, at least I got in. That’s good.”

“It is.” Howard smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud in my life. Your dad would have been very proud. There were some complications, though. Not unforeseen, but more difficult to manage than I had thought they would be. You’re officially on the books as a Collins now, and your status as an heir means that you share equal standing with all the other heirs. You should have seen the look on Daray’s face, Lena,” Howard’s demeanor changed, and he frowned slightly, “I haven’t seen him so happy since…well, since you came to live here, actually. Your status as an independent means that there’s no legal recourse to keep Griffin out of this house anymore. We were only able to keep him out before because your grandfather was your vicarious legal custodian, and he wasn’t the type the Council wanted making decisions for you. Before, you were a young woman in need of protecting, and now you are expected to do that for yourself to a higher degree. And before you ask, no, you can’t leave either. Your name has changed but your status as a personage of conflict hasn’t—for your own safety, you still have to keep approved escorts and clear your travel plans with the Council.”

What little pang of hope she had experienced at the words ‘your status as an independent’ was fading quickly—politics sucked. Even when they acknowledged that she was fully within her legal rights to make her own decisions, they weren’t going to let her. And now Griffin was coming back to hound her every day for being less than she ought to be in her grandfather’s eyes; she had known the two of them were up to something. But still, her status now was better than it had ever been, even though Griffin was going to be allowed to hang around and harass her about her life goals.

Howard sighed. “So. Here’s how it’s going to work. Griffin lives on the upper floors and you live on the lower floors, excepting meals and meetings. Any time spent together needs to be scheduled beforehand and may only involve business, and if either one of you needs to break the pattern you have to get approval.”

Lena met Howard’s gaze. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. How can they impose those rules? I mean, you just got done saying how we’re both independents and equals and all that.”

“Oh, those are my rules, not the Council’s. I’m still the custodian of this family. It’s my duty to keep everyone out of trouble and in good political standing, and believe me, it’s more necessary than ever. The Council wasn’t happy about Griffin moving back in, and what with the stories your mother’s been telling about how close the two of you have become over the past few weeks, I had to promise to do something about it.”

Lena heaved a sigh, and the two sat quietly for a moment. Ava and her obsession with keeping up with the Perrys. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy for her; every time she opened her mouth Lena could swear it was to say something about how all of her friends’ kids were getting engaged, getting married, or having kids. Even Hesper, though no one knew about her condition yet. Even though Lena had accomplished becoming one of the youngest junior Council members, and the only female, she was somewhat lacking by the standards of female Silenti social success.

“Well.” Howard stood up and clapped his hands gingerly, as if trying to break the spell that had come over them. “I’m proud you made it in. It was an excellent exposition, especially compared to some of the others. I suggest you dress up tonight because a lot of people will want to congratulate you, and then after dinner you can get to work.”

“Work?” Lena asked. “Is there a meeting tonight? I thought they were done after the expositions…”

Howard clapped a hand down on the pile of papers on his desk. “These are the year’s petitions that we went over this Council. They need to be organized by subject, date, and then alphabetically, and then put into binders.” Howard’s eyes went wide and crazed; he had found his definition for being ‘grounded.’ “Welcome to the pond, new fish.”

Lena stared at the pile of papers, and then looked up at the deliriously happy expression on Howard’s face; Lena got the feeling that he wasn’t intending to do much of his own paperwork anymore. “You didn’t say anything about doing your filing when I signed up for this.”

Howard walked around the desk, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood in front of Lena. “Nor did my father. Someday, I hope you get the chance to pass on the tradition. Until then, I hope you enjoy alphabetizing things, and remember it the next time you want to go sneaking out. The Council is thoroughly outdated technologically, and you’ll find there’s always things I can find for you to sort, resort, make copies in triplicate, find, file…” Still smiling, he walked toward the door.

As she watched his retreating form, she suddenly realized that there had been something bothering her since the exposition that she had meant to ask him about. Lena twisted around in her chair. “Howard?”

“Hmm?” He paused.

“Well, it’s just…someone told me something. Someone told me that Warren Astley was a Christian, and that he used to be friends with my dad. Is that true?” She asked.

Howard turned and leaned against the door frame. He didn’t quite frown, but she could see she had evoked some sort of memory in him. “Who told you that?”

“Just someone. I don’t remember his name.” Lena lied.

Howard looked questioningly at Lena. In an apprehensive voice, he started. “Yes. He was a good friend of your father’s for a long time. They shared the same political ideology, but I think they grew apart when Warren became more devout in his beliefs. He moved away and spent several years in seminary school before coming back to serve on the Council, and in that time he changed a great deal. He got married, had several children…and your father, well, he was off somewhere with you. I don’t think they knew each other very well after the age of fifteen.”

Howard let the silence sink in. Lena thought for a moment, and then got at what was really bothering her. “If he was a Christian, then why did he want to kill me? If he doesn’t even believe in the portal? What did the Council say about that?”      

Howard sighed and tried to think back to that day. He had paid close attention, but the evidence had been so condemning and the trial so short that there wasn’t much to think back to. “Well…it wasn’t his religion. It was the fact that he’s…he was caught in the act of strangling you, Lena. That was good enough for a lot of people. Why does 
anyone
 want to kill someone else? I can’t answer your question…”

Lena nodded, and Howard nodded back. He walked out of the hall and continued on to his previous engagement. His answer hadn’t been anywhere near satisfactory for her, but he had made some excellent points. Murder was a horrendous crime, and frequently it didn’t make sense at all—many people were murdered over the matter of whatever little money they had in their wallet that they didn’t want to give up, and it happened on a much more regular basis than most people liked to think about.