The Water Road (6 page)

That seemed to please Alban. He
looked about ready to start across the room to refill his drink when an elegant
older man stepped in front of him. “Alban, it is a pleasure to make your
acquaintance once more,” he said, extending his hands.

“The pleasure is all mine,
President,” Alban said, bowing his head slightly.

Antrey knew at once that this was
Atilleo, the current president of the Grand Council. He was also a member of
the inner circle of the King of Telebria. Quite possibly, he was the most
important person in the city.

“President, I don’t believe you
have met my assistant, Antrey Ranbren,” Alban said, presenting her for
inspection.

“Why, yes, of course, I have seen
her in the chamber many times,” he said to Alban before turning to her. “Good
evening, Antrey,” he said, in a slower cadence and at a slightly higher volume
than he had been speaking to Alban. “Does it find you well?”

“Yes, President,” Antrey said,
somewhat self-consciously. “Thank you.”

The older man turned his attention
back to Alban. “Are you ready for the start of the session?”

“Of course, President. Antrey has
been hard at work making sure everything is in place while I finished my latest
volume.”

“Ah, yes. You do us great honor
with your work, Alban. It reflects very well on the Grand Council,” Atilleo
said.

“Thank you, President,” Alban said,
giving him a deferential nod.

“As does all your hard work,
Antrey,” Atilleo said, turning to address her. Again, he spoke with a halting
tone and talked to her as if she were deaf. “I know that Alban relies on all
that you do.”

Antrey mimicked Alban’s nod. “Thank
you, President. I have learned a great deal from working with Alban, both
within and without the Grand Council chamber. I look forward to hearing the
session tomorrow.” In spite of being treated like a dim-witted child, she did
her best to match Alban’s eloquence.

The effort obviously threw Atilleo
out of his comfort area. “Well, yes,” he said, before pausing awkwardly.
Finally, he took Antrey’s hand in his and patted it, like one might pat the
head of a small animal. “I am sure you will learn something.” He hastily turned
back to Alban. “I beg your forgiveness, but I must go and say a few words. In
the morning, then?”

“In the morning, President,
absolutely,” Alban said.

Atilleo gave Antrey one last look,
smiled nervously at her, and then bled into the crowd.

Alban stood for a moment,
speechless. One of the wine servers started to walk past and Alban grabbed him,
abruptly and without warning. He shoved his empty glass into the young man’s
hand, then took Antrey’s from her and did the same.

“Come on,” he said, turning and
walking away from the crowd that was gravitating towards where Atilleo was
about to speak. “Galenna was right about one thing. We have an early morning
tomorrow.”

Antrey said nothing and they walked
back home in silence.

The Grand Council met four times a
year, once during each season, for eight weeks. The rest of the year the
members of the Grand Council spent in their native lands, gathering
information, fielding complaints, and formulating strategy for the next
session. The spring session was the last one for the year and always had a feel
that everyone was merely trying to get through the session and go home. New
business was generally held over for the new year. Old business, either not
very important or too inconvenient, simply withered on the vine.

The session did not officially
start until seven before apex, but the chamber was a hive of activity well
before that. None of the actual Grand Council members were present yet, but
they were each represented by small armies of assistants, advisors, and
hangers-on who milled about. Some were busy making ready for the session to
start, while others spent the time renewing acquaintances with people they had
not seen since the winter session had ended. Antrey was busy making repeated
trips from Alban’s office to the chamber, assembling the supplies that he would
need to record the day’s debates. She also brought out the freshly printed
official record from the winter session so it would be easily available if
someone needed to reference it.

There were no old acquaintances for
Antrey to renew. Her presence in the chamber was simply an odd fact of life to
those who did business there. It was only because she worked for Alban that she
was able to set foot in the chamber at all. The events of the night before had
driven that home.

He held an honored position and was
held in great esteem by the members of the Grand Council and their staffs.
Their sessions were not open to the public, so Alban was responsible for
informing the masses about the debates among the Council members, how they
voted, and what measures passed or failed. His attention to detail and
obsessiveness with making sure the record was accurate were legendary. In
addition to his current duties, Alban also went back through the records of his
predecessor, who had a reputation for sloppiness and being too casual about his
work, to try and make sense of some contradictions in them. In the decade Alban
had been the clerk, he had made himself invaluable to the Grand Council.

The chamber of the Grand Council
was a large, open, ornate room that looked and felt like the seat of great
power. The vaulted ceiling was several stories high, allowing the chamber to
unfold itself in a series of terraces beneath. A skylight on top of the vault,
along with several high windows, allowed sunlight to fill the room all through
the day. The room was outfitted with dark oak furniture, all brought in from
the Arbor. Antrey had read about how that decision initially caused some stir
amongst the Telebrians and Guilders, but they eventually decided not to fight
about it. Instead, a compromise was reached, and most of the furniture was
assembled by Guilders using equipment from Telebria and raw materials from the
Arbor. It was the kind of arrangement that would become commonplace over the
next century.

The number three dictated the
arrangement of the chamber. There were three members of the alliance, therefore
it was important to assure that all were treated equally. In the center of the
room, at the very bottom of the chamber, was a circular floor, wood paneled
with decorative rugs (rotated on a regular schedule to assure each nation’s
artisans were showcased). It was from here that Grand Council members addressed
their peers. Ringing the floor were three equally sized curved desks, at which
the Grand Council members sat. They rose just a foot or two above the floor,
but it was enough that when sitting there, any member could stare down upon the
person speaking. Each desk had ornate carvings and accents on the front
emphasizing the history and people of that particular nation. Rising behind
each desk were a series of similar, though much less elaborate, desks where the
Grand Council members’ staff could be seated.

The only thing on the ground floor,
aside from the speaker’s position, was Alban’s desk, where he took notes. From
here he could provide the speaker with easy reference to what had been said
before. The desk was large and covered in neat stacks of paper, arranged in
Alban’s unique way. Antrey had a chair on the far side of the desk, where she
sat and waited for instructions from Alban. It amused her that, for all the
poor treatment to which she was subjected by the others, she was one of a
handful of people who did their work on the floor of the Grand Council chamber.

Each member of the Triumvirate
selected their members of the Grand Council differently. The Telebrian method
made the most sense to Antrey. One of their Grand Council members was selected
by parliament, one by the king. The third member had to be agreed upon by both
parties. That division ensured a certain amount of sluggishness on the
Telebrians’ part, because each of them represented a different faction in their
government. When all the Telebrian factions agreed on one issue, however, they
were a powerful voting bloc. It was nearly impossible to peel off one member to
vote against his countrymen. The Telebrian members of the Grand Council were
always men.

Given their situation, it amazed
Antrey that the Confederation was ever able to select three people to represent
them on the Grand Council. There were seven city-states that made up the
Confederated States of the Arbor. Each had its own political system, some of
them wildly different from one another. Every year, the leaders of the seven
states met to select three people to send to the Grand Council. From the
reports Antrey had read, the meetings could last as long as a week and had,
more than once, broken down into hand-to-hand combat. Regardless, every year
three new representatives from the Confederation made their way to Tolenor.
Most of the Confederation members of the Grand Council were men, but Antrey had
seen a few women take the post over the years.

As chaotic as the Confederation
sounded when it came to its Grand Council members, at least Antrey could
understand why. The selection method used by the Guilders baffled her to no
end. Of the three seats, one was always held by the Master of the Guild of
Soldiers, which represented the alliance’s birth in battle. For the other two seats,
the Council of Masters, which ruled the Guildlands, did not make any attempt to
select people to fill them. Instead, those seats were filled on a rotating
basis by the Masters of two of the Guilds. The particular representatives
changed every year. To Antrey, it seemed at odds with the Guilders’ reputation
for rationality and the rigorous application of logic to leave the decision up
to chance. Two of the current Guild representatives were women.

One member of the Grand Council
served as president. On paper, the only power the president had was to organize
the Grand Council’s agenda and oversee votes that were taken. In truth, the
presidency was a very powerful position, if wielded by someone cunning enough
to figure that out. It was unclear whether Atilleo, the current president, had
learned that lesson yet.

~~~~~

The morning assembly, as was
usually the case on the opening day of the Grand Council session, consisted
mostly of routine procedural motions and meaningless speeches. Everyone
involved knew that the actual business of the Grand Council would not begin
until later that afternoon. It seemed like a waste of time to Antrey, the
minutes given over to empty formalities. Alban had explained the importance of
ritual to her before, the need for everyone involved to reorient themselves to
the place and time they were in. It must mean more, and have more meaning, for
those Councilors and staff who were new to Tolenor and the business of the
place. At least Antrey knew what to expect.

Alban very nearly missed the
beginning of the afternoon session. Business could not proceed without him, of
course, so when Antrey noticed his absence, she went to find him. Rather than
being positioned in the Grand Council chamber well before the president gaveled
the session into order, Alban was sitting at the desk in his office, lost deep
in thought over some open book.

Antrey stepped into the office and
knocked lightly on the door frame. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“What?” Alban said, looking up towards
her. He looked as if he had been roused from a deep sleep. “Oh, Antrey, it’s
you. No, nothing’s wrong. Why?”

“The Grand Council is about to
resume for the afternoon, sir,” Antrey said. “You weren’t in the chamber, so I
came to see if there was something amiss.”

“No, no,” Alban said, closing the
book in front of him. “I was just looking up something I was curious about.”

“From this morning?” Antrey asked,
breaking his train of thought.

“What? No, of course not,” he said
with a laugh. “Did anything actually happen this morning? No, it was something
that came up at the Hare a few nights ago. It had slipped my mind until
something this morning jogged my memory. But now, for the life of me, I can’t
find it.”

“Very well, sir. The Grand Council
resumes in ten minutes,” Antrey said, turning to return to the chamber.

“Ten minutes, yes. I’ll be there,”
she heard Alban say as she walked away.

Antrey returned to the chamber and
sat down next to Alban’s desk. As the members of the Grand Council and others
slowly found their seats, Antrey kept a close eye on the clock perched on the
corner of Alban’s desk. Alban finally appeared and took his seat with less than
one minute to spare. He looked absentminded, as if his thoughts were occupied
by something far away.

When everyone was in place, Atilleo
descended to the speaker’s circle and began the afternoon with an ominous note.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Grand Council, I rise to speak today about a grave
threat which our alliance faces, a grave threat to its security and, perhaps,
its very existence.” Atilleo’s voice rang out in the chamber with just enough
volume to give it an extra layer of gravity. “I speak not of the great Neldathi
hordes of the south. The threat I will discuss this afternoon comes from the
north, from the Badlands and those that roam them with impunity.”

When Atilleo paused to let the
weight of his introduction sink in, there were audible groans from around the
chamber. Antrey had been here long enough to know that the Azkiri, the nomads
who rode through the Badlands, were not a popular topic of discussion.

In spite of the initial reaction,
Atilleo continued undaunted. “I speak of the Azkiri, those wanderers who dwell
well north of the sources of the great rivers. For too long they have preyed
upon our citizens who live on the northern frontier. Azkiri raids into
Triumvirate territory leave nothing but death, destruction, and ruin in their
wake.”

“Only in your territory,” said
Demaris, one of the Grand Council members, breaking into Atilleo’s speech. “We
have no problems with the Azkiri.”

Atilleo turned to face his
inquisitor. “With all due respect to my comrade from the Confederation, your
situation is quite different from that of the Telebrians or even the Guilds.
You have no territorial interest in the Badlands, which is your right. It is no
coincidence that the only permanent settlement of these people, Azkyroth, lies
north of the Confederation.”

“What are you implying?” Demaris
asked, obviously aggravated.

“I imply nothing,” Atilleo replied,
as if he were personally offended by the accusation. “I only point out that, to
casual observers, perhaps, or members of the press, it appears that the
Confederation may view the Azkiri as citizens of just another great city-state.
In doing so perhaps they underestimate the threat the Azkiri actually pose.”

Galenna jumped in when Atilleo
finished his response. “Putting that to one side for a moment,” she said,
steering the conversation away from insinuations, “I’m afraid I would have to agree
with my colleague from the Arbor. The Azkiri aren’t the problem you make them
out to be, President. In fact, the Azkiri in Guild territory were pacified
several years ago. They pose no threat to us now.”

“Of course not, not at this very
moment,” Atilleo said in response, completely calm. “The success of your
pacification program was based on driving the Azkiri out of your territory and
into ours. Their strength is not diminished, only relocated.”

Galenna was having none of it. “Our
research suggests otherwise, President. According to observers, not just those
from the Guild, the population of Azkiri in our territory is roughly the same
as it was prior to the pacification. Battle losses play some role in that, I am
sure, but only a minimal one. I can provide you with the studies if you wish,
President.”

“That will not be necessary,” the
Telebrian fired back, the veneer of civility slipping just a bit. “I am aware
of your data. Our analysts have reviewed it. They come to different
conclusions, that is all. Regardless, we do not have time now for arguments
about such irrelevancies.”

Demaris jumped back into the
conversation. “If that isn’t worth our time this afternoon, President, what
is?”

Atilleo turned again to face him.
“Our time this afternoon should not be spent questioning the reality of the
threat, which is without serious dispute. Our time should be spent considering
a solution. What are we to do with the Azkiri?”