after a minimum of one year’s membership.”
“Not that they’ve thought of it, clearly,” Vaste said.
“Not that it matters,” Longwell said, giving the troll a look of near-indifference. “The Luukessians are as fragmented as anyone else in this land. The cavalrymen are largely from Galbadien, it’s true, but we have others that are from Actaluere and Syloreas, and they have no loyalty to me any more than to any of you. Most of our discipline problems remain internecine quarrels between soldiers of the old kingdoms. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you; in the short term, they’re simply a voting bloc, and in the long term, they’ll be true members of Sanctuary.”
“Said the hawk to the fieldmouse,” Vaste said.
“You are more than a bit hectoring today,” Ryin said with a frown.
“It’s my job,” Vaste said, “much as yours is to make randomly contrarian pronouncements like, ‘Instead of swords, I think we should arm our warriors with garden snails’!”
“Some of them would do more damage with the snails,” Vara said. A hush fell over the Council, and every eye turned to her. She merely shrugged, as expressionless as ever. That was a hint of the old Vara. But only a hint .
“Anything else before we adjourn?” Curatio said, after the silence had been steady in place for a few more moments.
“I have something I’d like to bring up again,” Vaste said. “Can we please talk about—”
“No,” Vara said, her voice steely, the silence falling afterwards as complete as if she’d pulled out her sword and driven it into the Council table.
Vaste hesitated, and after a moment he spoke up again. “It’s been six months—”
“No,” Vara said again, and this time she stood, the first hint of thunderclouds gathering over her brow, which was stitched in a downward line.
She stood there, unmoving, staring down the troll, who looked back at her, unblinking. “When can we finally discuss it?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Cyrus breathed, and Vaste looked left at him. Vara looked at him, too, but in the same way she would have glanced at a wall in order to avoid walking into it.
“Some other day, perhaps,” Curatio said with a faint smile, clearly forced. “I think that’ll be all for now.”
“So says the interim Guildmaster,” Vaste said then looked at Vara again. “If only we could talk about electing a permanent one without breaking down into emotional hysterics.”
Vara stared back at him, and the storm breaking across her face expanded, turning her cheeks red with fury. “Not … today.”
“Fine,” Vaste said, unintimidated by her rising fury. “Pick a date and let’s schedule it. I’ll get a calendar.”
Vara’s hard expression did not break. After directing her furious stare at him for a moment more, she turned and walked out of the Council Chambers, her metal boots clanking against the stone with each step. She slammed the door behind her, rocking it on its hinges and causing Erith to flinch next to Cyrus.
“Perhaps it was something I said.” Vaste’s tone was light. “Still, now that she’s gone, perhaps we can finally at least discuss—”
“You heard her,” Cyrus said quietly, looking at the door. He stood and adjusted his armor, placing his helm back on his head from where it had rested on the table during the meeting. “Not today.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out the door, taking care not to slam it behind him.
Chapter 7
The halls of stone echoed with his steps, and Cyrus paused at the door to his chamber, listening for any noise down the hall. He wondered if Vara had returned to her chambers, but he heard no sign of her. Not that I had heard much sign of her before.
His hand rested on the doorknob, and he gave it a slow turn, eyes still watching the door two down from his, wishing almost unconsciously that it would squeak, that its hinges would announce its motion as it opened. He sighed, filling his ears with a
“Not that they’ve thought of it, clearly,” Vaste said.
“Not that it matters,” Longwell said, giving the troll a look of near-indifference. “The Luukessians are as fragmented as anyone else in this land. The cavalrymen are largely from Galbadien, it’s true, but we have others that are from Actaluere and Syloreas, and they have no loyalty to me any more than to any of you. Most of our discipline problems remain internecine quarrels between soldiers of the old kingdoms. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you; in the short term, they’re simply a voting bloc, and in the long term, they’ll be true members of Sanctuary.”
“Said the hawk to the fieldmouse,” Vaste said.
“You are more than a bit hectoring today,” Ryin said with a frown.
“It’s my job,” Vaste said, “much as yours is to make randomly contrarian pronouncements like, ‘Instead of swords, I think we should arm our warriors with garden snails’!”
“Some of them would do more damage with the snails,” Vara said. A hush fell over the Council, and every eye turned to her. She merely shrugged, as expressionless as ever. That was a hint of the old Vara. But only a hint .
“Anything else before we adjourn?” Curatio said, after the silence had been steady in place for a few more moments.
“I have something I’d like to bring up again,” Vaste said. “Can we please talk about—”
“No,” Vara said, her voice steely, the silence falling afterwards as complete as if she’d pulled out her sword and driven it into the Council table.
Vaste hesitated, and after a moment he spoke up again. “It’s been six months—”
“No,” Vara said again, and this time she stood, the first hint of thunderclouds gathering over her brow, which was stitched in a downward line.
She stood there, unmoving, staring down the troll, who looked back at her, unblinking. “When can we finally discuss it?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Cyrus breathed, and Vaste looked left at him. Vara looked at him, too, but in the same way she would have glanced at a wall in order to avoid walking into it.
“Some other day, perhaps,” Curatio said with a faint smile, clearly forced. “I think that’ll be all for now.”
“So says the interim Guildmaster,” Vaste said then looked at Vara again. “If only we could talk about electing a permanent one without breaking down into emotional hysterics.”
Vara stared back at him, and the storm breaking across her face expanded, turning her cheeks red with fury. “Not … today.”
“Fine,” Vaste said, unintimidated by her rising fury. “Pick a date and let’s schedule it. I’ll get a calendar.”
Vara’s hard expression did not break. After directing her furious stare at him for a moment more, she turned and walked out of the Council Chambers, her metal boots clanking against the stone with each step. She slammed the door behind her, rocking it on its hinges and causing Erith to flinch next to Cyrus.
“Perhaps it was something I said.” Vaste’s tone was light. “Still, now that she’s gone, perhaps we can finally at least discuss—”
“You heard her,” Cyrus said quietly, looking at the door. He stood and adjusted his armor, placing his helm back on his head from where it had rested on the table during the meeting. “Not today.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out the door, taking care not to slam it behind him.
Chapter 7
The halls of stone echoed with his steps, and Cyrus paused at the door to his chamber, listening for any noise down the hall. He wondered if Vara had returned to her chambers, but he heard no sign of her. Not that I had heard much sign of her before.
His hand rested on the doorknob, and he gave it a slow turn, eyes still watching the door two down from his, wishing almost unconsciously that it would squeak, that its hinges would announce its motion as it opened. He sighed, filling his ears with a
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