Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 9: Iskalon Stands: Stasia

 Stasia sat on a simple stool fashioned from ice, on a platform above the Council, Wyfus’s nasal voice making her more and more drowsy. Far above, the impenetrable burial ice glowed with its soft purple light, and her copper-clad ancestors watched the proceedings with lazy eyes. Once, it would have been considered sacrilege to live and hold council in a chamber as sacred as this. But hard times called for change, and Stasia did not think the Ancestors would begrudge them this refuge.

 Beneath her, a full council of thirty-five sat on simple, back-less stone seats, no more than benches, really. In the front row, Mowat and Cygnet flanked Wyfus’s empty space, their eyes glazed and chins drooping. Beyond the Council, a small crowd stood, where in the Council Hall the benches would have been. Beyond them, filling the rest of the widened cavern, recruits were practicing with scavenged weapons, the sound of metal ringing against metal and occasional grunts and curses punctuating Wyfus’s speech about re-capturing the lake.

 Glace and Larc stood side by side at the front of the “benches.” Stasia had so little support there that she had ordered Glace to leave the recruits to another Officer and attend Council, to argue for her position on important matters. He looked restless and impatient where Larc looked fascinated, as if there was nowhere she would rather be than stuck in another Council Meeting.

 Slightly behind Stasia's stool, Casser sat close enough that she could hear his quiet breath.  Kiner sat beside him, but a little further back. Stasia had realized quickly that although Larc was an excellent advisor, Casser was more seasoned, and Larc's force on the floor could turn the council to favor Stasia. Barely. The whole council, even Guilds which had full heartedly supported her father, seemed to hate Stasia. Even Larc's brilliance could scarcely make up for that.

 Stasia was beginning to understand why her father had wanted her in council so often. While the Royal representative could not speak, anyone in the audience could, so it helped to stack the audience with allies; people who understood and supported your position. Stasia would have given all the Ancestors above to the Svardark to have more than two allies in this crowd right now.

 Bored by Wyfus' arguments, for she had heard them over and over in the nearly two months since Iskalon in Exile began holding Council meetings, Stasia let her thoughts drift. Things had been going well, lately, though not nearly well enough to consider an all out attack on the lake. But the last raid had resulted not only in a huge cache of food, but in piles upon piles of weapons as well—swords, maces, axes, even knives. Though they'd lost five Icers and several Warriors in the raid, Stasia knew with regret that the find was worth the loss. The weapons were nearly enough to arm their recruits.

 The loss. Stasia did not think she would ever become comfortable with ordering people to their deaths. How had Father borne the guilt, the feeling of inevitability every time he saluted a squadron and sent them out to the tunnels? Yet balancing that guilt was the tremendous weight of all the lives depending on her. In the face of the survival of ten thousand, five lives seemed a small price to pay.

 The worst was that she did not know if she was being effective as Regent. After the first council of Iskalon in Exile, she had been meek as a baby raihan. Even when it meant giving way on important issues, she had tried to show the Council that she would not be a tyrant, tried to be fair and just, even when the Council's decisions seemed utterly foolish. But did that make her a good leader? Casser seemed to think so, and Larc applauded her efforts. She wasn't sure. Didn't a good leader make the difficult decisions, the ones no one else was willing to make? If only Father were here; he could surely tell her. Stasia realized that he had tried to tell her many times, tried to involve her in the leadership of Iskalon, but she had shut him out. She could only hope that one of her sisters showed up soon, so she would be relieved of her gnawing doubts and the lonely burden of ruling.