"Absolutely not!" raged the silver-haired woman in the heavy tunic and breeches of sand and ebony. She stared hard at a rather sheepish Brin as the commander of Tor Raphael stood before her and the rest of the Conclave.
"This man that you want is the most feared criminal in all of our modern history," the silver-haired woman went on in a tight voice. "The only reason he isn't already dead is that we fear he'd somehow figure out how to kill his own executioner and escape!"
"And I understand that, honored Chair," Brin replied then shrugged. "But the request was very specific."
"Fah!" The silver-haired woman threw up her hands in resignation before turning to a younger woman that stood nearby. She was a handsome lady dressed in the dark gray of Gideon's military, the rank of general on her sleeve and collar, with only a ribbon of white running through her black, pulled back hair.
"Tell her, General Eben, why this man has been imprisoned, will you? The good commander doesn't seem to understand it when I tell it to her."
Eben, the governing general for all of Gideon's military forces, bowed her head respectfully to the Conclave's Chair before turning to Brin. The younger officer immediately straightened as Eben's eyes fell onto her.
"Commander Nethal." A slight smile touched Eben's handsome features. "Of course you know our greatest military laws govern the behavior of lower ranking soldiers with regards to their superior officers. And the greatest of those laws states that no subordinate may cause physical harm to their superior, regardless of circumstance."
"Yes, general, I know this law," Brin replied with a nod. "It was instituted after our loss on the Day of Rebirth, when our military forces were decimated by the combined forces of the Fisted Races. Many of our greatest losses followed instances of where our own troops turned on their commanding officers, driven made with fear."
"Exactly." It was Eben's turn to nod, her face becoming grim. "By this law has the man you seek been condemned. Not because he caused physical harm to his commanding officer through his actions. He killed him."
Brin heard several members of the Conclave, arranged in the circular room in a half moon around the front of the chamber, begin quietly murmuring to each other at that point, many of them throwing hard looks at her. Ignoring them, she resolutely pressed on.
"A horrible crime, I agree, sir. But, as I've already clearly stated, the request for this individual comes from the highest authority."
"And what authority is higher than the Conclave of all Gideon?" another woman asked, somewhat heavier in build, her hair steel gray and her face stern above her council chamber robes.
Brin glanced over her shoulder at the woman and immediately recognized the Mistress of the Guilds of Gideon. The heavyset woman wielded perhaps one of the most significant powers in the human nation: that of Gideon's economy. Her guilds operated all business within Gideon's boundaries. Nothing happened without their say so. And that made her question all the more pointed. Who, indeed, had more power than the Guilds and the Military?
The commander of Tor Raphael thought quickly as she returned her eyes to Eben. Was it in the best interest to reveal that the request had come from the Masters of the Orders of Death, a part of Gideon that most, especially the Conclave, wanted to forget? And should she reveal what she knew of the Primiad's holy war and the Master's risky plan to stop it?
As Brin wrestled with these questions, the silver-haired Chair spoke once more, a frown on her wrinkled face.
"You will answer the question, Commander Nethal, that the member put to you," she tightly instructed in a hard voice. "We may have suffered you to come before us because of the standing of the Seth Nethal family in the guilds and commands of our nation. But what you ask of us is, frankly, a stain upon your family's honor! So if you wish to expunge a small part of that stain, you will tell us by what authority do you ask this of us!"
"Honored Chair, I gave my word that I would not reveal it," Brin quietly replied after swallowing hard. Her answer tightened Eben's expression and evoked rage on the Chair's.
"Then, commander, break your word! This Conclave demands it!" she barked.
"I gave her the authority!" Uthon boomed from the chamber's entrance.
The members of the Conclave turned to face the big man with a gasp as he stepped into the room, giving the guard he held in one hand a final shake before dropping him limply to the floor. Behind him, sprawled in the entrance way, were the other five guards that had warded the chamber's entrance, all of them unconscious.
"Kala Uthon!" the Chair snarled, her face wintery. "How dare you, . . .!"
The bear-like man swung his dark eyes onto the older woman and she immediately fell silent under the power of his gaze. But others weren't so easily cowed.
"Not since you broke with our society has the Orders dared to stand before the Conclave. You have no place here, Kala!" Eben snarled, stepping forward with her hand on her sword. Uthon immediately rounded on her to point at the dark-haired general.
"Stay your hand, general. There will be no victory in raising it against me," he rumbled warningly. He then stepped in directly behind Brin, looming over her like a churning storm cloud. The big man let his hard gaze rake over the members of the Conclave, each shrinking back in their chair as it passed over them.
"Yes, it's true," Uthon continued, his voice reverberating in the chamber like an avalanche. "It has been countless generations since the Orders have spoken with the Conclave. But, since my ambassador has failed in her task to win the freedom of the man we seek, I saw no other choice."
Uthon leaned forward, suddenly intense.
"But heed me well when I tell you this, rulers of Gideon. What we do, we do for the good of all humans, both of Gideon and beyond.; And for the good of our wounded world. We work to prevent a war greater than the Day of Rebirth, when our people were reborn in the blood of our slain."
"What nonsense!" The Mistress of the Guilds snorted, gesturing at the big man with a bloated hand. "Everybody knows that the Orders, . . ."
"Seek after their own council, Mistress of the Guilds?" Uthon finished for her with a sneer, his eyes focusing on her. The big woman blanched and tried to become smaller as Uthon's attention pinned her into her chair for a long moment.
"Or that we don't have humanity's best interests in mind? I can trot out other cliches about the Orders, but I'm fairly certain you've heard them all already. And frankly I don't have neither the time nor the patience to further bandy words with you. And I certainly won't attempt to reason or barter with you on this matter. We will have this man from you, willingly or not."
That was enough to get Eben to clear nearly a handspan of her blade from its sheath as she took another step towards the big man in black.
"You will not attempt to take him from us by force," she hissed, her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at the bearish man.
Uthon glanced in Eben's direction.
"You know us better than that, general. Attempt isn't a word the Orders have in their vocabulary. If we want to take him from you, we will take him from you."
"And then you will be shedding human blood, Kala. Human against human," the Chair rasped, finally finding her voice once more. Uthon turned to face her as she began to speak, once again lashing her with his dark, intense gaze. This time, however, she was unbowed. Her clear blue eyes looked defiantly back into his dark brown ones.
"Was this not the reason the Orders separated themselves from our society in the first place? Because of your willingness to take up the sword against your own species? You withdrew so you wouldn't shed the blood of your own kind, took binding vows that you would never strike down another human being. Yet here you are now after all this time, threatening to do that very thing, if we do not give you this man."
"And now you see the importance of it, honored Chair," Brin chose that moment to insert herself back into the conversation in the hopes of defusing the tension that had been escalating ever since Uthon had appeared in the council chamber. She spoke quickly, before either side could adjust their arguments to block her out.
"If it is important enough that the Orders are willing to forsake their vows which they've held for centuries without wavering even once to see this thing happen, you must see how truly important it is! For the entire planet, as Kala Uthon has stated.
The Chair paused as she considered Brin's impassioned words. To have an officer, and a well-respected one at that, from her own military agree with a Master of one of the Orders of Death spoke volumes about what they had brought before them. Perhaps it was worth considering after all.
With a final look at the bearish Kala, she spoke.
"Very well. We will consider this thing." That brought even more gasps from around the chamber as a ghost of a smile touched Uthon's lips.
"I said consider, not allow!" the Chair barked, silencing the gasps and muttering like a knife cutting through silk. "But before we do, we would have something from you, Kala Uthon."
"If it is within my power to grant, Chair of the Conclave," Uthon softly replied. Yet his eyes burned with an intense light. The Chair may be seeing the way clear to his reasoning but as far as he was concerned, this battle was far from over!
The Chair regarded him for a moment. Then:
"Give us the reason that you seek after this man, this criminal."
"That is within my power, Chair," Uthon replied, his face emotionless. "It is because he possesses the skills we need to fulfill a part in a plan we've created to forestall Gideon's doom."
"And what is this plan?" the Chair pressed, eliciting a thin smile from the big man.
"That, unfortunately, is not within my power to reveal, Chair. However, be content with knowing that all will be revealed in its proper time."
"Huh," the Chair snorted with a frown. "Now you are sounding more like a cleric than a berserker, Kala." Uthon's smile became enigmatic as he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of the Chair's words. The woman's frown deepened slightly before:
"Very well. Then tell us this: will this plan truly save Gideon from this destruction you so casually mention?"
"Aye, Chair, it will," Uthon confirmed with a nod of his shaggy head. "And there's nothing casual in how we've mentioned it."
The Chair's eyes narrowed slightly at that. Then she was dismissing it with a wave of her hand.
"Then it is good that this plan exists," she said as she returned Uthon's hard gaze with a bright and unrelenting one of her own. "Now, one last question before we begin our consideration."
Again Uthon inclined his head slightly, acquiescing to the question.
"Is there a chance that this man will die in his attempt to fulfill your plan?"
The Kala's smile broadened slightly as he saw where the Chair was going with her question.
"An excellent chance, Chair of the Conclave," he replied.
This time it was the Chair's turn to smile slightly.
"I see. Well, perhaps we can then kill two birds with one stone, hmm? You may have your man." Again the gasps, which the Chair promptly ignored to press on. "But I will again have something from you Kala."
Once more Uthon bowed his head slightly.
"A compromise!" the Chair announced and the big man instantly frowned.
"You know, of course, that the Orders do not compromise," he quickly replied. "We do not yield the field of battle and we do not retreat."
"Yes, yes, of these things we are aware," the Chair replied, her smile widening, "but you will compromise this time."
Just as Uthon drew in air to speak, Brin glanced over her shoulder at him, a frown on her face. Catching the look, Uthon's mouth closed with an audible 'click'. And when it opened again a moment later after some furious thought, a calculating look had appeared on the Kala's face.
"Just what kind of compromise are you considering?" he asked softly.