“Willem,” Kyra guessed.
“He was already Head Councilman at the time, but he gained allies as those who’d looked to Hamel were cast afloat.” James’s gaze swept across the cell, as if he were viewing the myriad connections that held Forge together. “My point is, corruption in the city’s not like a scab to be torn away. It’s a tumor, spread throughout the body, and it grows back when you excise it. You can’t remove a cancer without digging out healthy flesh.”
“But what’s the cost?” said Kyra. “What’s the point of destroying the cancer if the body dies as well?”
“What’s the point of having a body if it’s riddled with disease?”
Kyra shook her head to dispel the headache that was starting to take root. “You can’t mean that. You don’t really want to raze the city to the ground.”
“And you don’t really believe me capable of obliterating the city.” He locked his eyes on hers. “It’s pointless to talk in extremes, because none of it will actually happen. But no matter how far we range with our philosophical fancies, the hard truth remains. You hold a blade now, Kyra, as does everyone who possesses power in this city. And every time you wield this blade, you must decide how deeply you wish to cut.”
S E V E N
Tristam was in his quarters, getting changed after his morning rounds when someone knocked on his door. A servant of Malikel’s bowed when Tristam answered.
“Sir Willem has called an emergency Council meeting at the tenth hour to discuss several Demon Rider attacks that occurred this morning. Your presence is required.”
Demon Rider attacks? He immediately feared the worst. “Were the attacks at Brancel?” Henril. Lorne.
“No, milord. Sir Malikel requires your presence because of your expertise with the Demon Riders, not because of any connection to Brancel. You are to observe the meeting and be prepared to answer questions if called on.”
For a moment, he was selfishly relieved, though the attacks in question must have been bad if they warranted an emergency Council meeting. “I’ll be there.”
The clock had chimed half past nine a short while ago, so he didn’t have long. Tristam changed out of his plain tunic into more appropriate court finery—an embroidered silk tunic with breeches and soft leather boots—and headed out the door.
The Council Room antechamber was a large room in its own right, lined with smooth black marble decorated with gold accents. A crowd had already gathered in anticipation of the meeting. Tristam saw no sign of Malikel, but Kyra came through the door soon after he arrived. She wore a gown of wine-colored linen to accommodate the Council’s dress expectations, though she no doubt still had at least one dagger strapped to her leg underneath. He knew she chose her dresses based on their sturdiness and how easily she could climb in them if needed. Her gaze drifted around the room, not quite focusing on anything, and Tristam had to call her name twice to get her attention. That was almost unheard of. Kyra was nothing if not alert.
She raised tired eyes to him as he approached. “Ho, Tristam.”
“Are you all right?”
There was the slightest pause before she answered. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”
He might have questioned her further, but a herald announced the beginning of the meeting, and the crowd filed through the double doors. On the far side of the main room was a raised platform where the full Council sat in two semicircular rows of tables. Observing benches lined the floor between the door and the Council seats, and Kyra and Tristam settled near the back with other observers of low rank.