Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 2: Council Interrupted: Larc

The second she was out of Casser’s sight, Larc began to run. She ran through the icy halls of the Palace, down the steps and across the long King’s Bridge, through quiet streets and the bustling Market. She kept running until she reached the steps of the Council, where she paused to incline her head briefly to Cataya’s statue and nodded a greeting to the Heritage acolyte standing watch. Once inside the building, she walked as briskly as decorum would allow up the wide, imposing halls of the Council Hall. She hadn’t realized she was so late. She could not miss this, the most important Council meeting in years, perhaps of her entire life. She wanted to know if Iskalon would go to war, if the King would assume martial law, if the Guilds would give way, if they would fight it.

The Council Hall was full to bursting, and Larc had to push her way through aggressively. Bodies pressed together to make way for her.  A nasal voice droned above the white noise of shuffling people. The benches were full, so she stood just inside the door, behind the blue tiled columns that ringed the room. She had never seen the Council this crowded.

 Councilman Wyfus stood in the center of the room, speaking slowly. His robes were made of gleaming lakehide. The Fishing Guildsman was old for a human, his skin hanging in wrinkles over his wiry frame, his thin white hair sticking out haphazardly from a blotchy scalp, but he was far from senile. As Speaker for the Council, Representative of one of the strongest Guilds in Iskalon, he wielded his power with ruthless cunning. He could speak for chime after chime about nothing at all, simply to wear down his opponents. Larc disagreed with the old man often, but she could not help but admire his technique. It appeared doddering; it appeared unintentional and ineffective. But it almost always worked exactly as Wyfus intended. Often when the benches were opened for debate, no one even remembered what topic had been presented at the beginning of his speech. Today, already, yawns and shuffling noises came from the benches.

“ . . . give only three precedents for this sort of thing. The first was two centuries after Her Majesty Queen Cataya's reign, during the Red Raids . . .”

Larc strained on her tiptoes, trying to see who was in attendance. Every one of the thirty-five stone chairs was occupied by a Guild representative, a rare occurrence. The powerful Councilors, like hulking Mowat of the Livestock Guild, and willowy Cygnet of the Gem Guild, sat up front. Zerid of the Weaver Guild whispered to Jold of the Tanning Guild. Mayl of the Heritage, not a true Guild but represented in any case, had a place of honor beside Wyfus’ vacant chair. Further back sat the scribes, water-clock engineers, cooks, miners, fungal farmers. 

“ . . . argue that the same division is not present. . .”

Though the Icers were considered a Guild, the King was officially their representative, so no Icer sat with the Councilors. On the opposite side of the room, in the center of a raised dais, King Krevas sat on the most elaborate chair, cushioned with powder ice, wearing the mighty crown of Iskalon, its tall blue diamond spires catching the lights in the room and sparkling like ice. Websilk robes hugged his lithe form. General Zental sat to his left in chirsh armor, Casser’s seat next to him empty, and to his right sat the two elder Princesses, Maudit and Jelina, resplendent in websilk dresses and sparkling tiaras.

Someday, when she had put in her time on the benches and risen in the political ranks, Larc hoped to be an advisor, sitting behind the King and murmuring secrets into his ears so he would know what he faced in the opposition. More than anything, she wanted that role. She wanted to pry out secret dealings, to organize networks of spies within the Guilds, to understand where all the Guilds stood on every issue. She wanted to dwell in the center of Iskalon politics.

“ . . . a question of succession; the previous leader died and the inheritance was unclear. . .”

King Krevas’ attention did not waver from Wyfus, but his advisors were scanning the crowd, looking for reactions and revelations on the faces of the people.