Cinda Chima - The Crimson Crown

That’s always your solution, Han thought. More weapons.

“I’ve been to the camps in the Spirits,” Han went on. “The clans are strong, and they are determined. Get into a war with them, and it’ll last forever. Trade will shut down completely, and you won’t be able to get out of the Vale without catching a backful of arrows. But if the Spirit clans and wizards would collaborate, there’s nobody could stop us.” Han looked around the table, and the message returned from every face was, As if that would ever happen. “ Or we can go on squabbling with each other until we’re weak enough that somebody like Montaigne can pick us off. And you know what they do to wizards in the south.”

Abelard frowned at Han, as if thinking that her pretty-boy puppet had gone rogue.

Triumph glinted in Gavan Bayar’s blue eyes. “I think we’ve heard enough of this kind of talk. At best, the copperheads are jumped-up tradesmen who are skilled with their hands. At worst, they are barely civilized savages who present a grave danger to the society we have built.”

He sighed, straightening his sleeves. “In a perfect world, they would supply the flash we need without question—grateful for the trade and the protection we offer to the realm. In the world we have, the best thing that could happen is we would find another source of amulets and the copperheads would be exterminated.” He paused, driving his point home. “In my opinion, any wizard who fraternizes with copperheads is suspect.”

A murmur of agreement ran around the table.

“Really?” Han said. “Is that why the council forbids congress between wizards and the Spirit clans?”

“That’s one reason,” Gavan Bayar said, his mouth twisting as if the very idea were disgusting. “The other is the possibility of producing a mixed-blood child who is gifted. That would be a disaster. I know you spend a lot of time in the camps, Alister. While bedding a savage might suit someone of your proclivities, I encourage you to satisfy your appetites elsewhere.”

Han met the High Wizard’s eyes, held his gaze for a long moment, and smiled his hard street smile. “Sounds like good advice,” he said, “for all of us.”

Bayar’s eyes narrowed, fixing on Han for a long moment before he changed the subject. “Item three. We have contacted Randolph’s daughter, Mordra deVilliers, who remained in Oden’s Ford this summer. She will assume her father’s place on the council. She is on her way back, but is not expected for a few weeks, depending on conditions in the flatlands.”

Han brightened. He guessed Mordra wouldn’t have much use for the Bayars, since Micah and Fiona had treated her like gutter scummer at Oden’s Ford.

Still, Mordra could be hard to take. Whatever she thought tended to come right out of her mouth, like when she’d lectured Han on manners at the Dean’s Dinner. Han had kept his thoughts to himself, so they’d got on well, from her perspective, maybe.

“Unfortunately,” Lord Bayar said, “we have pressing business—business that cannot wait until Proficient deVilliers arrives. The selection of a High Wizard.”

Abelard stiffened. “What’s the rush, Gavan? Better to make a good decision than a hasty one.”

“The matter is urgent, Mina,” Mander said. “The queendom is in dire danger. As Alister pointed out, Montaigne is a threat from the south. He’s made it clear that he means to annex the Fells sooner or later. Not only that, but there have been several attempts on our young queen’s life, even though she has a—a bodyguard.” Mander licked his lips, shooting a glance at Han. “Wizards are being murdered right in Fellsmarch, and the copperheads seem intent on picking a fight with us. Our young queen needs a High Wizard to advise her.”

“Five is a quorum, isn’t it?” Micah said blandly.

They were like players on the stage, each speaking lines. Han knew immediately where this was going. But before he could say anything, Gryphon spoke up. “Yes, five is a quorum. But I would prefer to wait for Mordra. It seems only fair to allow her to be heard.”

Han stared at Gryphon in surprise, theories swirling through his mind. Maybe Gryphon doesn’t know the Bayar position on this, he thought. Or maybe Han had misjudged Gryphon’s feelings about Fiona. Or maybe Gryphon knew he didn’t have a rat’s chance in Ragmarket with Fiona, anyway.

“I agree with Gryphon,” Abelard said. “It’s not as though the post of High Wizard is vacant—if you’re willing to stay on until a new one is named.” She raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

Bayar sighed, fingering his double-falcon amulet—the one that matched the ring Willo had kept all these years. “Now that Queen Raisa has been crowned, frankly, I had hoped the matter of the High Wizard appointment could be handled expeditiously so that I could devote more time to my business interests, which have been neglected as of late.”

Han leaned forward. “But wouldn’t it be better to keep someone like yourself—someone experienced in dealing with killers?” He paused for a heartbeat, then added, “With all the killing going on, I mean.”

Bayar slowly turned his head and gazed at Han, his blue eyes scrimmed with ice.

“Of course, if you aren’t able to stay on, we could appoint someone else to fill in until Mordra arrives, and we can take a vote,” Han suggested innocently. “Maybe Dean Abelard would be willing.”

Abelard smiled, cheered that her protégé was back on the party line.

“Such an arrangement would present a risk,” Bayar said, steepling his fingers. “I am willing to serve until we can settle this matter satisfactorily.”

“Very well, then, I think we can conclude that there is no need to hurry things along,” Abelard said with a tight smile. “We can wait for Mordra.”

“I don’t think we can ask Lord Bayar to serve indefinitely,” Mander said. “We meet again in two weeks. I suggest that if Proficient deVilliers has not arrived by our next meeting, we proceed with the selection of a High Wizard.”

Gryphon nodded. “That is reasonable, I suppose,” he conceded.

I hope Mordra is careful along the way, Han thought, counting noses. Abelard figured she had Han in her pocket. She could likely rely on support from Mordra. Abelard would need one more vote to avoid Bayar’s tiebreaker for High Wizard. She might be counting on Gryphon, but Han wouldn’t put his money on him—not now, anyway.

Even worse, if Han stood for High Wizard, he couldn’t name a single person in the room—other than himself—who would vote his way. He just couldn’t see any way to win. He pressed his hands to his head as if that could stop his thoughts from swirling.

After a few more minor pieces of business, the meeting ended. Han meant to leave right away, so there wouldn’t be time to set up a new ambush, and so nobody would trail him to his secret entrance. But Micah got between him and the door before he could exit.

“Hold on, Alister,” Micah said. “I’d like a word with you.”

The others filed by and out the door, leaving them alone.

“How did you get here?” Micah asked, tilting his head in inquiry. “Did you fly?”

“What do you mean?” Han said, broadening his stance and taking hold of his amulet.

“I didn’t see your horse in the stables. I didn’t see you anywhere along the road. Very mysterious.”

“Why?” Han asked. “Did you want to ride up here together? I wish I’d known.”

“You may be king of the thieves, but this isn’t Ragmarket,” Micah said. “Whatever your game, you’re on our playing field now.”

“I never thought this was a game,” Han said.

“I don’t know what kind of threats you’ve made against Queen Raisa, or why she tolerates you, but if you betray her, or hurt her in any way, I will come after you .” Micah emphasized the last few words in case Han didn’t get it.