Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

Pontifex steeled himself and stepped forward. The doors before him slipped silently aside, and he entered the chamber. No one spoke, but the room was filled with the shuffling sound of bodies trying to get comfortable. The assembled vedalken went still upon seeing him, and the room fell completely silent.

The Grand Hall, as it was often referred to, was nothing more than a giant spiraling pit dug deep into the ground. Wider at the top than it was at the bottom, the room itself had been designed by a vedalken architect who had taken his inspiration from the swirling storms and whirlpools of the Quicksilver Sea. A narrow platform, just wide enough to fit two vedalken guardsmen in full uniform side by side, wound down the edge of the pit, running in a spiral from the very ceiling to an open floor far below. To Pontifex, it looked like a corkscrew, winding its way down into the bowls of Mirrodin. That image amused him, and he smirked.

A railing skirted the edge of the spiraling platform. The original designer had wanted the room to feel-and be-dangerous. One false step and a vedalken could find himself on the floor in a big hurry. Down lower, that wasn’t much of a problem, but from this height, a body falling that far would be smashed into jelly.

This room is dangerous, thought Pontifex as he looked down at the collected vedalken, even with the safety precautions.

Gathered on the spiral, the assembled citizens of the vedalken empire stood against the outer wall or leaned up on the railing. Where Pontifex stood at the top of the winding platform he could see down on everyone, including the other two members of the synod who awaited him at the bottom. Beside them stood a third figure. Pontifex did not know this man, but he knew what his presence here represented.

“Lord Pontifex,” said a voice from far below, “so nice of you to join us.”

The round, lifting design of the chamber allowed every word spoken to be heard by all. It mattered not if the speaker were on the floor or along the railing near the ceiling, all had a voice here. However, any citizen who spoke out of turn or without being recognized was removed by force and thrown into hard labor for two full moon cycles. Many who had been punished in such a fashion didn’t live long enough to be released back into society. Consequently, while inside the assembly chamber, very few spoke at all.

Pontifex recognized the voice. “Hello, Tyrell,” he said, looking down to the floor at the vedalken. “It’s always a pleasure to be in the esteemed company of my fellow Synod councilors-” he circled his finger in the air, indicating the collected vedalken in the assembly hall-“and the elected citizen representatives.” He descended the long spiral platform toward the floor. “Welcome.”

Quiet clapping filled the room, and the vedalken representatives bowed their heads as their lord moved past.

Pontifex loved this. He loved that these people loved him. He had experienced nothing quite like it, and he relished every moment.

“Now that you have arrived-”

The vedalken’s clapping stopped.

“-may we proceed with the inauguration ceremony?”

These were the impatient words of Sodador. The younger, more hot-headed of the other two councilors, Sodador walked with the aid of a cane.

Yes, thought Pontifex, looking at him with narrowed eyes. You are anxious to lead the Synod.

But the councilor’s overzealous demeanor hadn’t won him the political power to challenge the previous leader, Janus. The latter had had too many allies.

Ascending to the head of the Synod was a nasty business. Assassinating one’s predecessor didn’t cast one in the most politically flattering light. It would be some time before Pontifex could overcome the negative image his rise to power on the body of Janus had gained him.

Pontifex smiled to himself. They might win this battle, but he’d make them pay.

“Oh, my, this is embarrassing, Councilor Sodador,” said the vedalken lord. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

Pontifex was nearly half way to the floor at this point. Sodador’s features cleared.

“I am most certainly not. We have followed every parliamentary procedure in calling this special assembly of the elected representatives.”

Pontifex stopped his descent, stepping to the railing between two representatives. He raised his finger. “Forgive me, Councilor Sodador, but isn’t a vote of the council required before we can bring a fourth member into the Synod? Certainly before we have an inauguration, we must have a vote. I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember voting on the inclusion of this person into our council.” Pontifex pointed down at the third figure on the floor. “In fact, I’ve never even been introduced to this man.”

There was a slight gasp from several of the collected representatives, and both Sodador and Tyrell seemed to squirm. Pontifex smiled. Their scheme hadn’t been covert, but now their motives for arranging the special assembly were called into question.

“Well,” he said, resuming his downward spiral, “am I wrong?”

“As you will recall, Lord Pontifex,” replied Tyrell, “this meeting was called in accordance with the law, which very specifically states there must be four members seated on the Synod at the start of each new moon cycle.” Tyrell ran his hand over his bald scalp. “It is dark outside, my friend. The moon cycle has begun, and we have an empty seat to fill.”

“Fill it we will.” Pontifex smiled wide. “However, I think you’ll agree just because we’re slightly behind schedule doesn’t mean we should abandon our long standing traditions and procedures. Our laws, Tyrell, were written to protect us from hasty decisions. Let us interview your candidate and bring him before a vote of the representative-as is the mandate for the Synod-before we swear him in.”

A light clapping followed.

“Our laws,” shot back Sodador, “were written to protect us from a council chair who abuses his power.”

Pontifex looked hurt. “Are you accusing me of something, Sodador?”

Sodador opened his mouth, but Tyrell raised his hand to stop him. “Our young councilor accuses you of nothing, Lord Pontifex. He merely speaks of the conventions of balance.” The elder statesmen turned to the assembled vedalken standing above him on the spiral. “As you all know, good citizens, the Synod is a council of four members. Though there is rarely a conflict of opinion, from time to time it becomes necessary to break ties when the council members do not agree. It is at these times that the council chair casts a second vote.” Tyrell spun as he spoke, making eye contact with each and every one of the elected representatives as he did. “Currently, there are only three members on the Synod. That is why you have been called here for this most unusual meeting. Many of you have never before set foot in this assembly hall. Many of you will never again be compelled to do so, but today is different. Today you must fill the fourth seat by wielding a single collective vote that will be cast in the event of a tie.”

Pontifex spoke in turn. “Because of the unusual circumstance which has brought you all here today, you have been given a rare glimpse into the workings of the Synod, and how we-” Pontifex indicated the other members and himself-“take into account the concerns and needs of the entire vedalken empire.” He nodded his head, smiling up at the representatives. “I, for one, am most excited. It is not every day that you get to witness the governing council at work, much less participate in the ruling of your own sovereign body. I’m sure you all are as excited by the prospect as I am, but I must take this opportunity to speak to you of the grave importance of the decision we are all about to make.”