Midnight Quest (34 page)

“Yes,” Essen sighed, half-resigned. “All inquiries on when guards would be dispatched came to a dead end. Something’s not right here, but apparently Priestess Jomadd knows that. Didn’t come to report to superiors, obviously, so what’s wanted?”

“Records,” Chizeld answered simply. “Specifically contract records and the records of recent orders, say from the last five years. There’s corruption in the ranks, and Priestess has ordered to find the source and clean house.”

Essen snorted. “About time someone did. Alright, wait here. Won’t take any time to fetch the books and come back.”

Chizeld gave him a casual salute of acknowledgement before digging back into the (admittedly delicious) lunch spread out on the table.

Proving to be a man quick on feet, Essen indeed reappeared with the books in hand before Chizeld could polish off dessert. Without a word, both men cleared the dishes off and stacked them onto one corner of the table, making room for the books.

Chizeld started with the orders book, which contained a copy of every formal command that the guard had received in the past five years. Most of the orders were standard—moving here or there, orders for relief of command or new postings. But a disturbing trend started to develop quickly. Most of the orders were not given by a high priestess, but by members of the Thornock Council. With every page flipped, Chizeld’s uneasiness grew. When had Thornock gained such a stranglehold on the Guard?

Essen watched in silence as Chizeld set that book aside and grabbed the next, the book that contained every written oath that each guardsman had taken. The book was a formality only—a simple way to keep track of when a man had sworn into Elahandra’s service and when that same man retired. Chizeld ran across the oath signed by own hand midway through the book.

Then, abruptly, the contents changed.

The oath had been replaced completely—instead, the wording here read more like a simple contract of employment. In fact, the terms listed didn’t have anything to do with loyalty to…well, anyone, really. Chizeld flipped page after page, growing faster each time, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What is this?!”

“When the Guard last deployed to Belthain, the oath was replaced,” Essen remarked neutrally. “Didn’t know?”

Chizeld growled in the back of his throat. “No. Didn’t have time to review all the records after sent back home.”

“Thornock’s been slowly changing Guard’s policy for generations,” Essen added, looking suddenly older and much more tired. “But none of the priestesses tried to stop it.”

Chizeld let the book thump back to the table and raised both hands to press against throbbing temples. “Doubt priestesses were even aware of it. Too busy fighting politics with Thornock’s ministers.” Actually, that was a thought… Chizeld lifted the book again and thumbed back through the pages, looking at the authorizing signatures. Ah, sure enough. “The same ministers that supposedly swore these men also were the ones that signed off on orders.”

Essen just shook his head, not surprised. “Men in power like to stay in power.”

That certainly wouldn’t happen, not after Chizeld reported all of this to Jewel. Jewel would no doubt report it all to Elahandra, who would give Tamarra Matthison further orders, and no minister alive could fight
that
woman and win. The thought brought a smile to Chizeld’s face.

“Alright. Next question is, how many of the guard actually swore the oath and how many are just employees of Thornock?”

“Need to make a list,” Essen suggested after eyeing the thick tomes.

Yes, truly. And that would take time. “Will anyone miss these books for a day or so?”

“Likely not. No one even noticed them being borrowed, after all.”

Good. “Will come officially when the list is compiled,” Chizeld promised.

“Didn’t doubt that.” Essen gave a crooked smile before standing. With a pat on Chizeld’s shoulder, the old man walked out of the café, calling back over one shoulder, “Take care of the tab!”

Crafty old man… Well, lunch seemed a fair trade for fetching the books. With a shake of the head, Chizeld threw some money on the table, gathered up the books, and headed back for the mansion.

~*~*~*~

They spent a full day doing nothing but planning and making notes. Jewel focused on the task that Chantel had requested of her, but she heard snatches from the other side of Chantel’s study. The new priestess and Sarvell were gathered around a table and making a plan of attack. The figures, projections, and trade negotiations the two discussed quickly went over Jewel’s head. Still, they sounded as if they were quite happy with their numbers and figures.

On the day of the council meeting, Jewel only felt vague surprise when a summons came from Chantel. Piers delivered it in a long-suffering monotone that tickled Jewel’s sense of humor. “The mistress extends her greetings and inquires if you are willing to attend the meeting this morning with her.”

Jewel had only just tucked into her breakfast so she paused with the cup halfway to her mouth. “Now?”

“I believe you have enough time to finish your meal, Priestess.”

Good. Going into a long-winded meeting on an empty stomach was never a good idea. “Tell her I will join her, Piers. Where is the meeting to take place?”

“At the building across the street, Priestess.”

“I believe we can find it,” Rialt assured him dryly. “We will go in a bit.”

“Of course, sir.”

Jewel’s head cocked slightly as she heard the man’s light steps retreat back into the hallway. “I must admit, I’m not surprised Chantel wants me there.”

“Eh, I be no either.” There was a pause as Rialt ate something from his plate before he added, “I saw Chizeld last night, afore I came to bed. He said to tell you he has had to thump a few heads together, but he will get the full story today.”

She
had
wondered where’d he disappeared to this morning. “Did he seem pleased with his progress?”

“Looked to be in a right snit. I do no think he likes what he found.”

Oh dear. She let out a sigh and put her cup back down. “One problem at a time. Let’s focus on Chantel first.”

“Eh, no sense borrowing trouble afore we need to.”

They finished breakfast in peaceable silence before leaving the table and venturing across the street. Jewel absently hoped that she wouldn’t need her seal to prove her identity as Chizeld still had it.

It turned out such a thing wasn’t necessary. Chantel met them at the front steps of the building.

“Jewel, thank you for coming.” Chantel came close enough that a puff of her perfume wafted against Jewel’s face. Her voice lowered to a more confidential tone as she continued, “I probably won’t need you to say anything. Just your presence alone will help. They’re under the impression that the high priestess of an Order is also a person with a great deal of political power.”

“They’re not far wrong,” Jewel agreed with a rueful shake of the head. “Will we or nil we, political power seems to come with the job.”

“Apparently so. Regardless, I thought that having two of us will nail my message home nicely. Well, let’s go inside. Rialt, there are several chairs that are arranged right behind the floor’s podium. Just guide her there.”

“Will do.”

She gathered the impression of polished stone floors, very tall ceilings and a long, drafty space. The chill air and the way the sound of their footsteps echoed told her that she was in a hallway.

She felt a puff of displaced air as a door opened. The quietness of the hall disappeared without a trace after she stepped into the room. Here, many male and female voices were speaking, overlapping and sometimes raising their voices to be heard over each other. The abruptness of it made her flinch instinctively.

“Alright, lass?”

“I didn’t expect so much noise,” she explained. “How many people are in here?”

“Hmm…let us see.” Rialt didn’t speak for a long moment as he did a quick count. “I see sixteen.”

“Twelve of them are on the council,” Chantel said from just ahead. “Two of them are the clerks of the Hall of Records, here to record the meeting, and the others are all aides of the City Office. Normally, all twelve are not in attendance for a single issue.”

But they were today. Jewel had a sinking feeling that meant Chantel was going to be facing a lot of opposition.

The conversations faltered at their entrance and then seemed to double all at once. Jewel had been around politicians long enough to not be surprised by their reactions. She kept her mouth shut and her face a mask of serenity as Rialt guided her across the room and into a chair. Bortonor seemed to take a cue from his mistress and sat down next to her feet, not moving an inch from the sentinel pose he adopted once he settled.

A loud clang reverberated through the room, making Jewel’s heart jump. She recognized the sound instantly—a wooden mallet against the podium.

“Let’s call this meeting to order,” a gruff voice called out to the room. Jewel pegged him as a pipe smoker just on the quality of his voice. “Everyone in their seats, please. Clerks, note the date and time as we begin the proceedings. Priestess Chantel Moltabon of Veris has come to us with a petition. Priestess, the chair recognizes you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Chantel responded serenely. “I believe there is a draft of my proposal in front of you, so I shall not go into the details just yet, but allow me to state an overview. As you may know, I have been recently called as the High Priestess of Veris and—”

Jewel tuned out this opening speech, as she had heard it all before. Chantel and Sarvell had been hashing out what needed to be said and Jewel had heard every possible variation of it yesterday. Instead, she turned her head slightly and murmured to Rialt, “How does it look?”

“Four of ‘em look right grumpy,” he whispered back in a threadbare tone that she could barely hear. “I do no think anything she says will make a dent. A few are listening hard, but the rest have specious smiles on their faces and nodding like fools. It be a hard crowd she has to sell to.”

So, Chantel had called it true. But she didn’t have to win over all of them—just the majority. Seven votes and they would be able to move that crystal. “Does she have seven?”

“Three, it seems to me. Mayhap four.”

Jewel started praying for a miracle.

She listened in silence as Chantel started trotting out numbers and figures and trade percentages. The argument was well laid out (as it should be after all of the work and preparation) but the responses and questions from the council were not favorable.

Jewel had no concept of how much time had passed. Her backside had turned numb from the hard wooden chair she sat in and her stomach started grumbling complaints about neglect. If they’d been sitting for less than three hours, she’d be very surprised.

Rialt’s chair creaked slightly as he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “She’s swayed some of them. I count five on her side now.”

Five was not seven. “I’m going to have to step in.”

“Eh, belike.”

Why did it always come down to this? With a shake of her head, she gained her feet and walked forward. She’d heard Chantel’s voice for so long that she knew exactly how far to walk to reach the other woman’s side. When her hand touched Chantel’s back she stopped and raised her voice. “I request the Chair’s permission to speak.”

“Are Jewel Jomadd, High Priestess of Ramath, are not?” the chairman asked slowly.

“That is correct.”

“Have permission, Priestess. It is always a pleasure to hear from Elahandra’s chosen.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t count on the ‘pleasure’ lasting for long. “Councilmen, you know who I am, but do you know why I’m here?”

A woman’s voice answered, clear and precise. “To move Veris’s crystal is what was told.”

“That is it precisely,” Jewel agreed. “I am not sure how much you know of the barrier and the crystals that power it, so allow me to give you a basic explanation. The crystals of each clan were placed in such an alignment so that they could fuel and balance each other. All crystals must be in the correct place for them to power a barrier. They also must be in place for any crystal to be charged. Such is the way that Elahandra created them. Councilmen, I put to you that the barrier will fail in the very near future because two crystals are not in the proper position. The Veris crystal is one of those two. It
must
be moved.”

“This is surely not the emergency it is made out to be,” another man protested. He had protested more than the others, proving himself to be more vocal in his opinions. “These crystals have been out of position for over two hundred years, after all.”

“The crystal of Thornock has mere months before it loses all energy and fails,” Jewel reiterated firmly. “When that happens, the Daath are poised to take advantage and march instantly. The High Priestess of Bryn assures me that she has been seeing Daath scouts for months, scouts that are testing the barrier’s weakness even
this
far south.”

A wave of murmurings and unhappy tones swept the room at this point.

Chantel cleared her throat and spoke loudly enough to drown out the mutters. “I am Veris’s Priestess and so my focus is the wellbeing of this clan. A new bridge, built to accommodate the new influx of trade, would benefit everyone in Veris. That is why I posed this proposal to you first. But if we
don’t
build a new bridge and move the crystal, then by this time next year we will not have anything left to trade.”

“This doom are prophesying is too much,” a boisterous man boomed out. “The Daath have no interest in Veris!”

“No interest in a trade city that sees more wealth and goods than any of the other clans?” Jewel shook her head at the notion. “Great heavens,
you
should be more worried than any other clan. After the Daath have conquered Ramath and Thornock,
you
are the next easiest target.”

“Priestess is hardly schooled in the art of war—” someone interjected in an amused tone.

“Perhaps at first, but my armsman is a veteran Ramathan commander,” she riposted curtly. “This is
his
expert opinion that I am restating. You are the next target after Thornock falls. It’s a simple matter of geography. The Honorvar River leads directly to your doorstep, ladies and gentlemen. For an army far from home, who is need of supplies and money to continue their campaign,
you
are the perfect target. It would take a mere two weeks for them to float downriver and launch an attack at you. It would actually take them longer to attack Bryn or Jordia because they’d have to march over land. Do you dare risk it?”