He'd heard the stories; seen the sketches, but Capper had never actually been inside the Baelock mansion himself. With the exception of trained Glaive diplomats, their clan-members rarely went any further than the monumental metal gates.
Now ... well, now he needed to wrap his head around every detail, and fast.
The entrance hall dwarfed the atrium of his own clan. A broad ceiling with a shallow arching roof, it stretched well over a hundred yards from left to right, and it was packed with vampires. The smell of rich blooded incense filled his nostrils, mixed with a whole mist of scents that the clan members wore. They stretched out before him, a veritable army that blazed with colour and power.
Male, female, short, tall, young, old; every kind of vampire imaginable was represented in this gathering. He could see over a dozen clans with a single glance: Wolf, Wrath, Caeleon, Hunter, Furrick ... though he saw that Hearth were conspicuously absent. That was quickly forgotten, however, when he spotted a group of Pyre vampires gathered around an Elder-Blood that he recognised, with a tremor of unease.
Khymera stood a little taller than those around her, aided by the tall set of jet black heels she wore. Her crimson hair was clipped short, with a heavy fringe that partially concealed her left eye. The long dress she wore was deep, rich green, with a full sleeve over her left arm, while her right remained totally uncovered, displaying the flaming skull motif of her clan. Pyre held the nominal position, after Baelock and Glaive, as the next largest clan at play in Veridian Shores, and they were well-placed to be king-makers, or king-breakers. Khymera had manoeuvred herself into position as someone who could not, and would not, be ignored.
Spokesperson of Pyre's Elder-Bloods, she was about as powerful as you could get without actually being an Elder, and Capper was under no illusions that she carried a hell of a lot of weight within the clan hierarchy. If she wanted to do something, it would be a safe bet she would carry the majority of their Elder-Bloods with her. That certainly made her one person he didn't want to get on the wrong side of tonight. Her black eyes flashed over him for an instant, and that was long enough for her formidable Aspect to crash against his.
He felt Gliss's arm tighten around his.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine." He placed a hand over hers, pulled his attention from Khymera. "There are just a lot of powerful, dangerous people in this room right now."
"Yeah, I can feel it."
Capper steeled himself, squeezing her hand once, to comfort himself as much as her. "Well, we've come this far. Let's dive in."
A thrall seemed to materialise out of nothing, a shaven-headed male vampire with a trembling Aspect, clad in featureless grey servants' robes. In one hand he bore a massive circular tray that was jammed with high necked glasses. The a rainbow of coloured beverages might have daunted another, but Capper grabbed two of them without a thought, and swiftly placed the green one in Gliss's gloved hand.
"To a night of thrills and revelry." She bared her teeth and clinked her glass against his, with surprising daintiness. Then she took a sip and her features twinged unhappily.
"That bad?" he laughed.
She glowered at him. "I'll survive."
He raised his own glass to his lips, only vaguely tasting the sickly sweet, pear-flavoured ichor, his concentration focused on examining the edges of the massive room. Baelock guards flanked every exit, like statues clad in iron grey sheaths of body armour. Each of them carried a bolt-thrower and a long, forward curving dagger, with a blade broad enough to remove a head with ease.
"Pretty heavy security," Gliss murmured as though reading his mind. "What do you think?"
"Well, it's nothing we didn't expect," he replied. He looked down at her. "In any case, we're nowhere near the Drucatta. It'll be central, somewhere right in the middle of this maze where it can be easily protected, but still on display."
"On display?"
"I know Baelock," he told her. "They don't keep that stuff around for posterity. They want the other clans to know the power they hold."
"It's a long night. I guess we can play along for a little while while we figure this place out." Then Gliss hooked her arm through his again. "C'mon, Elder-Blood, let's make some introductions."
The first group who exchanged greetings with them were from a minor clan that skirted the edges of Glaive territory – Manticore. Capper felt their Aspects recoil slightly as he approached them, all four of them standing straighter as though in the presence of one of their own Elders. The Elders wouldn't be seen in this informal milling session, though. They'd arrived separately and were probably already neck deep in the most important discussions that had taken place in the city for generations.
He kept his words short, but civil when addressing the representatives of the minnow clan. They received Gliss as cordially as could be expected, and for her part she showed them the perfect balance of respect and authority. Manticore didn't have much sway in the city, but they'd never caused trouble for him, so they parted amicably. They weren't the ones he was keeping an eye out for.
Baelock's Elder-Bloods were out in force tonight, a display that couldn't go unnoticed. Power rolled off them in waves of tangible force, their groups marked out by the vulture head tattoos visible on many exposed arms. Wherever they drifted, those they approached lowered their heads in respect. Or fear.
At the head of the group, he spotted Arcil, and as always Vandel wasn't far behind. Part of him recoiled at the prospect of facing down the golden twins of Baelock's hierarchy, but he knew he equally couldn't back away. He'd clashed with them more than once, but never off the back of a full-blown physical confrontation.
"Alright," he said quietly to his companion. "Careful how you tread here."
"It's like you don't know me at all," she murmured with a wry smile.
Feeling less than convinced by her blasé attitude, he nevertheless led her into the jaws of Veridian Shores' deadly diplomacy.
Arcil noticed him and his features furrowed into a grim, thin line of a smile. Like a wolf sighting its prey, he turned, and his companions turned with him. The girl hanging off his arm was a slender-framed individual with angular features, that Capper didn't recognise, with a cone of peroxide blonde hair adding almost a full eight inches to her height.
"Here we go," he said quietly to Gliss. She nodded stiffly, pulling herself close against his side as the Baelock Elder-Bloods approached. Vandel's face made his distaste for the encounter abundantly clear, and the girl latched onto him looked bored out of her mind. He braced himself as both sides came to a halt. A moment of tense silence sizzled between them for what felt like an age.
"Capper," Arcil said eventually, dipping his head in a surprising gesture of respect. "Glad you could join us."
"Wouldn't miss it," he replied.
Arcil's eyes flickered to his side. "And this is...?"
"Gliss Raynor," Gliss said shortly before Capper could even open his mouth. "Formerly of Clan Thorne in Iron Hollow."
"And now?"
"She's with us." Capper tightened pulled Gliss closer to him, his protective instincts pushing to the fore. She didn't stop him – in fact, a provocative smile slid across her face.
"Nice to see you all again," she told them with undisguised venom. "This is a nice place. Beats that little back-alley bar."
Part of him wanted her to reign it in a notch, but the look of fury that coiled across Vandel's face was so priceless that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Arcil, however, wouldn't be so easily baited.
"That it does," he returned smoothly, taking a sip of the drink in his free hand. "I don't suppose you've ever seen anything like this in the North."
"Not really, no." She threw him a withering look. "We're a little more ... utilitarian about things than you."
"How many Clans answered?" Capper interjected before she could push things too far. "This is a pretty full house."
"All the largest are here," Arcil told him with a hint of pride. "A handful of the minnows haven't arrived. Probably too busy trying to keep themselves alive. At any rate, no one is missing who matters. The rest know better than to ignore us."
"I suppose that's true," Capper conceded, raising his glass to his counterpart. A moment of uneasy silence yawned out between them. When he spoke again, his voice was steady; measured. "You know, Arcil, I've never wanted to be your enemy."
The statement seemed to catch the Baelock Elder-Blood off guard. He blinked, eyes narrowing. Vandel, however, missed the point of the statement.
"No-one wants to be our enemy, Glaive," he grated, and the girl beside him grinned evilly. Capper shuddered to think what she could possibly see in her maniacal partner. "We run this city."
"Not for long, with that attitude," Gliss snorted dismissively.
Vandel turned a wild glare on her but she held his stare. Capper was well aware that the barbs they were trading went right back to their bloody encounter in that alley. He cast a pleading glance at Arcil, hoping to drag out some kind of sensible response.
"Easy, Van," Arcil said quietly after a moment, nudging his brother. "We didn't call this Synod to make things worse."
"Worse?" Vandel shrugged. "I'd say we were doing just fine."
"Maybe so, but I think we can hold our urges in check, at least for tonight. Don't you?" Arcil shot a grim look at his brother. This time Vandel clocked the meaning. He twitched uncomfortably; nodded once.
"I'm glad to hear it," Capper said carefully. "I hope, after tonight, we can get back to what we had. Our clans weren't always locking horns like this, and it doesn't help either of us to keep doing it."
"I suppose that's for the Elders to decide, in the end." Arcil drained his glass and neatly scooped up another from a passing thrall. "We'll see you on the debating floor, Capper."
"Can't wait."
He grimaced as the Baelock party moved off, on to 'greet' the rest of their guests. He took another drink, no longer caring about the taste. He signed heavily and looked down at Gliss. "Well that was pleasant."
"About as pleasant as I was expecting," she replied, watching the Baelock Elder-Bloods intently.
Capper let his gaze wander away from them, trying to put Arcil, Vandel and everything that this evening represented out of his mind for a few blissful seconds. His eyes fell upon more members of the Glaive party making their way around the room, exchanging barbs and greetings in equal measure. Breen and Leanor glided around arm in arm, resplendent in their contrast of an oil-black suit and a star-white dress.
Then caught sight of Brooke and his chest twisted uncomfortably when he saw who she was with. Marshall's leering face was twisted into a faux smile as he exchanged words with one of the Pyre Elder-Bloods. By his side, Brooke nodded enthusiastically, smiled prettily on cue, and laughed at all the right moments. All the while Marshall's arm lay coiled around her waist and the sight twanged an inexplicable chord of jealousy in Capper's mind. He reminded himself that he'd chosen not to go with her; he'd chosen Gliss, but somehow the scene still hurt.
"You okay?" Gliss asked quietly, squeezing his arm.
He turned back to her. "Yeah, I'm fine it's just..."
"Brooke?"
"Not so much her, but him."
"That's ... Marshall, right?"
"Yeah."
"He's a real snake."
"You have no idea." Capper sighed. Maybe it was just that he thought Marshall was an arrogant, cowardly blow-hard. Brooke didn't need to be with him, but she could certainly have settled for better than her current partner.
The time for reflecting on his own personal politics was cut abruptly short, however, when a tall, emaciated vampire stepped onto the dais at the head of the room. When he spoke, his voice echoed impossibly, as though it sounded from every pillar and brick in the walls.
"Honoured Clans of Veridian Shores," the skeletal individual thundered. "Welcome to this four hundred and second Synod, called by the blood right of Clan Baelock. On this night, we are one body, one world and one race. We hope, as you hope, to guide our people through the difficult and changing times ahead. Your presence here illustrates your importance, and your desire to be a part of that change. This desire will not be forgotten or cast aside. Now, within these walls, we stand as equals – no voice greater than another."
He gestured to an immense set of burnished, gold-gilded double doors that had begun to swing open behind him. "I now invite you all to join us in the ballroom."
The crowd of vampires dutifully funnelled into the entrance, but Capper felt Gliss's grip on his arm tighten sharply.
"Ballroom?" she hissed through gritted teeth.
"Afraid so," he whispered. "It's tradition for a dance to be held prior to the Synod gathering of debate."
"You have too many traditions."
"Yeah, well, we're stuck with them for now." He gave her a smile and gently shifted so he could take her hand in his. She seemed to relax then, exhaling a long breath and following the procession through the doors.
If the atrium had been impressive, the ballroom was jaw-dropping. Its ceiling soared a hundred feet above, held together with immense jewelled arcs of marble. Bulbous chandeliers blazed with candlelight, illuminating the cavernous space in a golden glow. Gigantic circular tables were surrounded by sentinel-like high-backed chairs with rich burgundy cushions, their surfaces covered with blue table cloths, smooth and patterned as though someone had draped a piece of the ocean over them. Crystal decanters filled with blooded wine sat in the centre of each, along with a collection of emerald goblets.
At the far end of the room a low, long stage stretched out and atop of it sat a band. They bore a series of bizarre instruments, some with multiple strings, others collections of hollowed out metal bars and a handful with large drums.
Everyone seemed to know the drill. The leader of the band announced the name of the first dance and the body of vampire Elder-Bloods dutifully took up their positions in serried ranks in the openness of the ballroom floor. It felt like standing in an empty city square.
He guided Gliss into position, standing facing each other on the right hand side of the gathering. The centre of the room was largely dominated by the Baelock pairings, but he noticed with a hint of pride that Brooke had managed to manoeuvre herself and Marshall into a central spot against the odds. But his attention was really captured by his partner. Gliss looked like a deer in headlights, thoroughly out of her comfort zone. Put a weapon in her hand and there was no fight she would shy away from, but a dance? He'd known long before they got here that this would probably be her toughest challenge of the night.
They moved close together and he breathed in her intoxicating scent. He felt her tremble lightly as his hand nestled against her hip, then she positioned herself, a hand on his shoulder, the fingers of the other laced delicately through his. She looked up at him, green eyes reflecting the flickering blaze of the gas-lamps that illuminated the halls.
"I'm not much of a dancer," she told him softly, a faint smile on her face.
Capper grinned. "That makes two of us. Don't worry about it – just follow my lead."