quiet comment to soothe her. Both times, the other listened and sat.
Interesting.
Eldridge reached Alistair and leaned toward him. “You sent word,” he said in the barest whisper. Shaped as it was and carried by the power of the elementals, his voice would reach no farther than Alistair, as if drifting into his ear alone.
Alistair’s frown deepened. “Such was the request, was it not?”
Eldridge nodded. Request might be too kind a word, but the scholars didn’t make demands, regardless of their structure. Still, if Alistair wanted to return to Atenas, or even leave his assignment in Jornas, he would need to follow the request of the cardinals who led the scholars. “Such was the request,” Eldridge agreed.
Alistair pointed to an empty chair along the table. “You’re welcome to have a seat,” he said more loudly than was necessary. “This meeting, as helpful as it’s been”—irritation dripped from his words—“is nearly over.”
“This is a meeting to discuss Jornas strategy, Scholar Alistair,” the dark-haired woman said. She seemed to have gained control of herself, but her jaw clenched as her gaze drifted from Alistair to Eldridge. “You can’t allow some… some street performer into our council.”
Eldridge glanced down at himself. Street performer? That wasn’t the look he thought he had, but maybe Jornas had changed more than he realized. Places like this, so close to the border of Rens, rarely had merchants come through, let alone performing troupes. Had the pressure with Rens eased more than he had realized?
“You should know that this is Bishop Eldridge,” Alistair said.
At the mention of his formal title within the College of Scholars, shapers of the order studied him with a different interest. The scholars already recognized his name, though he’d met none of them. That didn’t really matter. Not within the college.
A thin, elderly man near the end of the table looked up. He was too old to be of the order, at least those sent here for the fighting. That likely made him the governor. “Bishop?”
Eldridge studied the man. He had bent fingers and wore no mail, unlike the others. He had a plain brown jacket with black embroidery along the cuffs as the only flourish upon it. For a shaper of the order, this man was much older than most assigned to Rens. Something like that meant he had either taken it as punishment or had requested the assignment.
Interesting, and more questions for Alistair when they were alone.
“He looks nothing of the sort. I’ve seen your bishops, Alistair, and they are not men like this. He looks like he could practically be one of the order!” the woman said.
Eldridge smiled. “Alas, I am nothing of the sort,” he said and spread his hands on the table. “A wind shaper only, and likely the only reason that I managed to ascend to bishop in the first place.”
Alistair snorted softly, but Eldridge suspected he was the only one to notice. They had known each other a long time, long enough that Alistair should know when to be quiet.
The girl whispered something more, and even with wind shaping—and his connection to the elementals—Eldridge couldn’t quite make out what it was that she said. She looked upon Eldridge with a considering expression, her dark eyes watching him with a clarity that made him understand what it was the elementals must have seen in her.
“Unless you have other objections, Deidre, may we proceed?” Alistair asked.
She frowned at Eldridge a moment longer before turning her irritation to Alistair. “Fine. Let it be noted that I disagree with allowing another—even a ranking official in your college—to join the discussion.”
“Your objection is noted,” Alistair said. “I am certain your commander will be pleased to hear that you have defended his interests in Jornas as you have.” Turning to the rest of the table, Alistair paused to meet each person, the dramatic flair he’d always shown in Atenas still
Interesting.
Eldridge reached Alistair and leaned toward him. “You sent word,” he said in the barest whisper. Shaped as it was and carried by the power of the elementals, his voice would reach no farther than Alistair, as if drifting into his ear alone.
Alistair’s frown deepened. “Such was the request, was it not?”
Eldridge nodded. Request might be too kind a word, but the scholars didn’t make demands, regardless of their structure. Still, if Alistair wanted to return to Atenas, or even leave his assignment in Jornas, he would need to follow the request of the cardinals who led the scholars. “Such was the request,” Eldridge agreed.
Alistair pointed to an empty chair along the table. “You’re welcome to have a seat,” he said more loudly than was necessary. “This meeting, as helpful as it’s been”—irritation dripped from his words—“is nearly over.”
“This is a meeting to discuss Jornas strategy, Scholar Alistair,” the dark-haired woman said. She seemed to have gained control of herself, but her jaw clenched as her gaze drifted from Alistair to Eldridge. “You can’t allow some… some street performer into our council.”
Eldridge glanced down at himself. Street performer? That wasn’t the look he thought he had, but maybe Jornas had changed more than he realized. Places like this, so close to the border of Rens, rarely had merchants come through, let alone performing troupes. Had the pressure with Rens eased more than he had realized?
“You should know that this is Bishop Eldridge,” Alistair said.
At the mention of his formal title within the College of Scholars, shapers of the order studied him with a different interest. The scholars already recognized his name, though he’d met none of them. That didn’t really matter. Not within the college.
A thin, elderly man near the end of the table looked up. He was too old to be of the order, at least those sent here for the fighting. That likely made him the governor. “Bishop?”
Eldridge studied the man. He had bent fingers and wore no mail, unlike the others. He had a plain brown jacket with black embroidery along the cuffs as the only flourish upon it. For a shaper of the order, this man was much older than most assigned to Rens. Something like that meant he had either taken it as punishment or had requested the assignment.
Interesting, and more questions for Alistair when they were alone.
“He looks nothing of the sort. I’ve seen your bishops, Alistair, and they are not men like this. He looks like he could practically be one of the order!” the woman said.
Eldridge smiled. “Alas, I am nothing of the sort,” he said and spread his hands on the table. “A wind shaper only, and likely the only reason that I managed to ascend to bishop in the first place.”
Alistair snorted softly, but Eldridge suspected he was the only one to notice. They had known each other a long time, long enough that Alistair should know when to be quiet.
The girl whispered something more, and even with wind shaping—and his connection to the elementals—Eldridge couldn’t quite make out what it was that she said. She looked upon Eldridge with a considering expression, her dark eyes watching him with a clarity that made him understand what it was the elementals must have seen in her.
“Unless you have other objections, Deidre, may we proceed?” Alistair asked.
She frowned at Eldridge a moment longer before turning her irritation to Alistair. “Fine. Let it be noted that I disagree with allowing another—even a ranking official in your college—to join the discussion.”
“Your objection is noted,” Alistair said. “I am certain your commander will be pleased to hear that you have defended his interests in Jornas as you have.” Turning to the rest of the table, Alistair paused to meet each person, the dramatic flair he’d always shown in Atenas still
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