“Members of the Sunedrion—good afternoon,” she said. “The Sunedrion is full today, as it should be on such a day as this when we have heard the drums of war beating from Dos-Aralon. Their king sent his chancellor to speak with us this very morning. He awaits our reply.”
She bowed her head, drew a breath, and looked up in the balcony where she seemed to see Thealos. “We received a message recently from Thealos Quickfellow, a young man from the faith of Vannier that many of you are aware of.” There was a brief murmur in the room. “He has returned from the Shoreland with news that expands on that of the human chancellor. The Bandit Rebellion has already taken the city of Landmoor. The king of Dos-Aralon does not know this. But that fortress is on land that rightfully belongs to the Shae, for it holds the ruins of one of the Watchposts of our fathers. Ballinaire himself commands the forces at Landmoor, and we’ve come to understand that he is using Forbidden magic to bolster his insurrection.”
Giving Thealos another quick glance, she continued. “Thealos Quickfellow also brought us news concerning an ancient artifact of Silvan magic buried in the crevices beneath Landmoor. It is called the Silverkin Crystal. It is magic that can defeat Ballinaire—if wielded by the proper hand.” She faced the Sunedrion, raking them all with her eyes. “As the acting ruler of Avisahn, I seek the approval of the Sunedrion in sending forces to Landmoor to reclaim this artifact and that fortress for the Shae.”
A stunned hush smothered the murmuring council. A trickle of sweat glided down Thealos’ ribs. He mustered his courage, squeezing his hands behind his back and continued to stare at Laisha. She would name another to go to Landmoor instead of him. He tried to keep the disappointment from his face.
“It is my hope to seize the city in the name of the Shae and restore the abandoned Watchpost of Jenterhome to our rule.” Her eyes traveled over their many faces. “It is my wish that you support my decision and lend your confidence to this endeavor. Thank you.”
Laisha calmly returned to the head chair and sat down. Abtalion, sitting nearby, looked thoughtful. It was quiet for the span of three shallow breaths before the entire council began talking at once.
“Your Highness, the guild leaders of Axewood lend their total support...”
“Has your Highness lost her wits...?”
“Remember the Purge Wars? Remember the cost in lives...?”
“This is absurd! We’ll be fighting Dos-Aralon and the Bandits both!”
“Come to order!” Abtalion thundered, coming to his feet. His voice seemed like it came out of the clouds, not from the tall, subdued chancellor. That alone seemed to cow everyone in the chamber. He spoke softly as he continued. “This is the Sunedrion, not a schoolyard. We will not call for a vote until we have answered all of your questions. I understand that this is sudden, but a decision must be reached tonight. We must have an answer to give to the King of Dos-Aralon. I echo the Princess’ words, and encourage us to be unified in this. Now according to Deep Law, the senior Council member will be allowed to speak first. Noblerin Nortinyoung?”
A stooped Shae labored to his feet, gripping a cane made of beech wood, and spoke from where he stood. His face gazed up at the light streaming in high over their heads to the top of the dome. “I have three comments to make,” he said in a quivering voice. His hair was short, white as snow. “Surely your Highness is aware that only a unanimous vote of the Sunedrion can start a war. Surely your Highness remembers that unanimous consent has not been given since the Purge Wars, nigh on seven Silvan Years ago. The graves of our dead are still fresh, and I mourn the loss of five of my great-grandchildren.”
Thealos’ vantage point was perfect. He could see both the aged council member and Laisha.
Laisha sat straight. “There were many graves dug during that war, Noblerin Nortinyoung, and many new trees growing today. I spent part of the morning in the shade of the oak marking the resting place of my brother. I feel the stab of loss as deeply as anyone.”
“Let me finish, your Highness,” the aged Shae continued, still looking up at the top of the dome. “My second point is that Deep Law requires the deliberation of war for at least eight moon cycles before coming to a decision. That is eight moon cycles, not eight hours.”
“We commend your knowledge of the Deep Law,” Abtalion said, brushing his hands, “but it is also written that the King—or Queen—may muster soldiers if we are threatened. Surely, Noblerin Nortinyoung, you would not expect us to wait eight moons if Dos-Aralon started crossing the bridge with soldiers this evening?”
Thealos grinned and hid it behind his hand. Abtalion and Laisha did not look at each other, but he knew that they had already rehearsed to debate the controversy.