Kared's Children - Chapter 4

If it were possible, Paird’s pale cheeks lost color. "You can’t just barge in. The Council has rules-" He licked his lips distastefully.

Raven crowded him toward the door. "If that’s true, short and ugly, why haven’t you put the guards on us?"

Shaerden eased past; Gerald and Dox followed. Behind Raven, with a glance toward the guards and then Paird, Benjamin bowed, as though already in apology. Piskin and Nartho remained behind.

In the doorway, behind the others, Paird was blustering. "I’m trying to advise them, Mr. Chairman. The proper rules of entry-"

"It’s all right, Degellion," said one of the men, an older one, with a narrow face, white hair, and kind, blue eyes.

Before them sat several men, behind a table which curved to their left and right. The one who’d spoken waved at Paird, and the fleshy man seated himself without another word in a high-backed Council chair behind the table to their right. The others, ten of them, were waiting gravely behind the thickly-cut table. They wore robes, most of them tan, one red. On the table lay scattered tankards, papers, quill pens, items of office.

Torches blazed along the walls. The room was windowless. Tapestries hung between the torches.

Gerald and Piskin, Raven, Dox, and finally Benjamin arranged themselves along a plush wooden bench that sat within the arc of the table. Shaerden alone remained standing as the guards closed the doors behind them.

The older man, primly bearded, in the red robe, nodded to the visitors. "Shaerden Coth."

Shaerden nodded toward the speaker and then to the other Council-members. "I apologize, most esteemed Council, Chairman, if what this shadow of his father said was true and you did not have the time to see us."

The Chairman gazed thoughtfully at Degellion, who didn’t look at anything in particular, then back at Shaerden. "We long have recognized your contribution to this city and to the Council. Your many favors in the past have made you friend. Please, seat yourself. No need to remain so formal." As Shaerden sank to the bench, the Chairman concluded, just as smoothly, "However, you must understand that this is a dire time for us. So please discuss openly-and quickly-your business."

"Mr. Chairman." Shaerden glanced at Benjamin beside him, then at Dox. "Neither I or my friends ever would have considered interrupting what must be quite serious and grave discussions of the news that has arrived regarding Rowan, and the preparations you certainly must be considering for our fair city, unless our business was of utmost urgency and, perhaps, relevance, to those discussions." He made a point of looking at each of the men behind the table. "I would like to thank you for speaking with us. We have a great deal to say. First, however, I must ask you a question. I beg the Council’s indulgence with an answer."

"Ask," the Chairman said.

"What news of the King?"

Plainly surprised that this was Shaerden’s question, the Chairman deferred to the members around him. A ruddy-faced man, seated to his right, spoke up. "These words must not leave this chamber."

"Of course," Shaerden said.

The others, members, visitors, all voiced their agreement.