Sur-Rak listened to the combined voices of opera singers as she wound her way through the party. People always spoke about how Gold seals gave their bearers voices of perfection, especially when the individual possessed three or more, and she could certainly tell the difference between someone who had a Gold seal or not. However, having spent her youth coming to the Opera House at regular intervals, the voices here were normal to her--simply how someone should sound, and would sound once they had grown up. As for the singing itself, the impassioned warbling, no matter how perfectly pitched, simply did not affect her in the way it did others.
Sur-Rak viewed this as a strength since, in a place like this, it gave her the opportunity to bargain with those who were in a compromised emotional state from a superior position. So, it was with dry eyes that she surveyed her small retinue, taking stock of her limited assets. There were only three of them besides herself: quiet Mem, long-nailed Yoa, and affable Yuv-Vas. Her parents were not in attendance and would have been no help if they had been: her mother was still in the pointless throes of grief, and her father was too worried about his mate and their household to concern himself with his daughter’s inflated ambitions--she had heard more than one servant use that precise language, and Aspect knew they didn’t think for themselves. It was Sur-Rak’s grandfather who could have actually done something of meaning for her, but she hadn’t heard from him since their conversation on the wall. He had certainly reached the forces of Death by now, and she expected scout reports to soon arrive about the obliteration of the hold, but so far, nothing.
It had been somewhat satisfying a few days ago to be with the council members, her uncle included, when they received news about her grandfather leaving Lercel with no less than seven full knights. The reaction had been barely contained pandemonium until her uncle had managed to shout down their fears long enough to be heard. Their concern was understandable: without those knights the southern portion of the wall was almost undefended, and certainly understaffed. She actually agreed with the heavy criticisms her uncle had directed at her grandfather--his father--that day, saying how the old keshe had put them all in danger with his selfishness and paranoia. She hadn’t supported her uncle’s next call for her grandfather to be stripped of his knighthood if he managed to return, and neither had the majority of the council members despite their rattled state.
Agreeing with her uncle, even partially, was almost as bad as the rest of her family being useless. Of course, Sur-Rak hadn’t expected any of them to help her, and she was doing just fine on her own.
“I’m bored,” Yoa said, pulling Sur-Rak back to the skewer of meat she was nibbling on without tasting. Round, stone tables with such finger food were scattered around the Opera’s Reception Hall, each with a sweating ice sculpture of the Gargant in its center, and the four of them had come to a stop beside one near the western wing. Yoa turned a simpering look onto Yuv-Vas. “You surely have stories now that you’re a knight, much more interesting than anything we’re privy to.”
Sur-Rak didn’t bother pointing out that she was a knight now, too, or close enough, because she knew that wasn’t why Yoa was asking. Even someone with a single Gold seal could surely feel the minx’s desire for Yuv-Vas’s attention. It was a base thing to show, that cloying want that drifted off the keshe girl like steam, and frankly embarrassed Sur-Rak to be associated with. First, her acquaintance had failed to become a squire, and now she couldn’t control herself in a public gathering?
Yuv-Vas took Yoa’s remarks in stride, giving her a bow of his head even though his superior station demanded nothing of the sort.
“It is not nearly so exciting as people often say, at least not for those in the Inner Division. Mainly walking the lanes and standing about. Sur-Rak can tell you as much.”
He turned to her, as if for confirmation; Sur-Rak was sure that she was not imagining things when she noticed him keeping his gaze locked with hers for a good while longer than he had with Yoa. Sur-Rak hadn’t told him yet that she planned for them to be a pair, but she also expected him to deduce much of that on his own. He wouldn’t be worthy of her without a few mild challenges.
“It’s true,” Sur-Rak said, breaking eye contact to look over at Yoa. “The council members rarely say much of note, which is why a change of leadership will be a much needed improvement.”
Yoa dismissed the comment with a long-nailed hand. “So you often say, Sur, which is why I didn’t bother to ask.”
The gesture and tone put Sur-Rak’s back up. She wouldn’t outrank Yoa until she became a knight and gained her third Seal like Yuv-Vas, but most citizens had the decency to realize that squires were their betters.
Yoa went on to prattle about something else, and Sur-Rak pointedly ignored her, stripping her meat skewer clean and tossing the wood stick into a glass bowl meant to collect such trash. She hadn’t asked her one-time schoolmate to attend, or any of them for that matter, for their wit or conversation. Sur-Rak had done it to show those whom she spoke with that she was adept at making connections. None of Yao’s family were on the council, but her parents were wealthy in flats and often sought after to fund projects in Lercel. Nearly silent Mem’s mother was a well-regarded opera singer, probably performing here tonight, and her father worked as the under-advisor of the Academy, only one step below the academy council seat. And Yuv-Vas was not only the nephew to the engineering council seat but his grandfather was the daelon of the Archon’s Palace, who kept everything running in order.
Unfortunately, Sur-Rak had little to offer the engineering council seat, and the academy council seat was a longtime friend of her uncle’s, but she could still use the associated clout of her party members to her advantage. She had floated an idea to the merchant council seat not an hour ago that she was sure was better received because of Yoa mentioning that she could see her mother investing in such an endeavor--using self-healing Blood Tribe couriers for long distance travel now that having two seals of Tears was banned within the walls of Lercel. Sur-Rak hadn’t managed to get a guaranteed vote from the merchant council seat, but she would take the potential for one if that was the most to be had. It was a better result than her attempts with the miner seat two days prior. She had watched him nominate her uncle after her grandfather refused to be named interim, but she thought there might still be a chance to sway him to her side. She had been wrong. Well before she had finally forced him into speaking, he had rebuffed her attempts to meet with him, and when she finally did corner him, he hadn’t let her get in a word edgewise before storming from the room.
That left only the temple council seat, Tuu-Vah-Nes, a loathsome, preening keshe, but a vote was still a vote, and she would rather have too many than too few. Sur-Rak had spotted him over this way, and sure enough, when a group of partygoers shifted, they revealed the shorter keshe smiling in their center. She didn’t think someone devoted to the Aspects should take pleasure in such attention, but after spending time as the council members’ guard and then conversing with nearly all of them over this past week, she had found that most didn’t live up to her expectations.
He broke away from the group, and Sur-Rak immediately moved to intercept him.
“Come on,” she called without turning around.
He was angling toward their food table, but upon seeing Sur-Rak’s obvious approach, he slowed to a stop, letting her do the work of covering the remaining distance.
“Temple Council Seat,” she said when she finally reached him, trying not to show her annoyance at his pettiness. “I was hoping to have a word.”
“You are wise to seek out the wisdom of your elders,” Tuu-Vah-Nes said in a voice pitched too loud for the two of them, perhaps trying to draw more sycophants, though none took the bait yet. “Especially one who is a watcher of the Aspects. They reveal much, but only to those with careful eyes and sharp minds.”
Sur-Rak was not interested in hearing him aggrandize his profession, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a Gold ris covered finger that sparkled from the light of the chandeliers above.
“However,” Tuu-Vah-Nes said, “I, as a senior watcher and council seat, do not have the luxury of speaking to all those who might wish for the opportunity. Leave this gathering and go to the north-high temple. It is only a few lanes away, and there is always a watcher there waiting with open ears.” His command in place, he stepped forward expecting her to move but she stayed right where she was.
“It is not a question involving the divine,” Sur-Rak said, bowing her head as she did to hopefully smooth the slight of blocking him. “But instead the mundane, yet very important, predicament we find ourselves in.”
Peeking up, she could tell that he wasn’t happy, probably due to a combination of her ignoring him and that no one else had joined their conversation besides her three.
“And what, praytell is that?” Tuu-Vah-Nes said after a pregnant pause. “Have you gleaned something of import from guarding those above you?”
So he did recognize her from their time together in the Council Chamber. Sur-Rak wasn’t sure how much the familiarity would help her situation, but if an opportunity presented itself, she would be sure to use it.
“The current interim-Archon is not up to the task.” Sur-Rak heard what was likely Mim gasp behind her, but she didn’t let any doubt show on her face. She hadn’t spoken of her uncle in such blatantly hostile terms before, but if Sur-Rak had read this keshe right, he was interested in gaining power and would appreciate her candor.
The temple seat looked back at her for a moment, his blue topazes in his stretched lobes catching the light as well as his ris had. “You mean the one who is throwing us this very party?” he asked. “The one who I helped vote into power, which you watched happen? Your uncle?”
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“The very same. The one who is wasting limited resources during a time of near war, and one, if I may be so bold to guess, you chose because you felt you had no other options.”
“Did I now?” he said, giving her a dangerous look, but beneath it, she could sense his desire to hear more. It wasn’t as blatant as Yoa’s fawning over Yuv-Vas, but the feeling and scent were there. Curiosity to her always smelled sweet, like candy, and she inhaled a second, tiny puff of it with his next words. “And you have an idea who I should be considering instead, I presume?”
“The obvious choice would be you,” she said without missing a beat. “It is a shame that only knight council-members may be promoted to Archon.”
“Yes,” Tuu-Vah-Nes said, and she detected real bitterness in his voice. “It is an unfortunate restriction; a relic of our more fraught history that is surely past us now.”
Sur-Rak expected the opposite, that Lercel had more turmoil to go through before it would find balance again. However, she let none of that show on her face and kept her desires muted, using years of mediation to breathe out her opinions of his foolishness; foolishness which confirmed to her that if such a lauded skill as reading the future from the positions of the Aspects existed, the temple seat did not possess it.
“The new Archon could remove such a restriction,” she offered instead of insults.
“They could,” Tuu-Vah-Nes agreed, tapping a foot in impatience. “And this mystery candidate of yours would be?”
Sur-Rak did her best to look humble, a mindset she was not familiar with, so she took some of Yim’s way of standing and used it for herself: her chin down and eyes angled off to the side, her hands on top of each other, palms toward her dress, and her feet close together.
“There are those on the council who believe that I may be up to the task,” she told him.
“You?” he said, his eyes raking her up and down.
“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze again and holding them for four beats of her heart to prove she had enough mettle for the task.
Tuu-Vah-Nes frowned. “They have not spoken of this to me.”
“I’m sure they will when asked,” Sur-Rak said, smiling inwardly at the thought of him doing her that favor. If he brought her name up it would seem like the idea was his, which should only serve to embolden her supporters. “I’m equally sure that any new Archon, excluding my uncle, would welcome the guidance of someone with careful eyes and a sharp mind.”
If the temple council seat appreciated the use of his own words, he didn’t show it. Sur-Rak imagined he was thinking about the many people from his own order he’d rather use as a puppet instead of her, but she doubted any of them had the endorsement of other council seats.
“You, knight,” he surprised Sur-Rak by saying, looking past her to Yuv-Vas.
Her escort had been entertaining the two keshe girls in soft whispers directly behind them, close enough to be associated but not in any way interrupting or distracting from what Sur-Rak was doing. He really was managing to meet her expectations impressively well.
“Yes, council seat?” Yuv-Vas said, turning toward the older keshe without missing a beat.
“You stand with her and let her demean the leader of your Division,” Tuu-Vah-Nes said. “You would rather follow a young squire than a battle-tested arcknight?
“He cannot mate with a battle-tested arcknight,” Yao said, flippantly, hatefully.
Sur-Rak bared her teeth at the other girl, her fingers halfway through constructing a shot of ris aimed at her traitorous throat before she got herself under control. Thankfully, the temple seat’s attention was on Yao and Yuv-Vas, who smiled amiably, not a hint of blush on his cheeks.
“Sur-Rak is the most ingenious keshe I have ever met. Even studying a year ahead of her at the Academy, I knew it would only be a short while until she surpassed me. Truth be told, I was demoralized at first, until I realized that my proximity to such talent must be part of the Aspects plan, as I am sure this conversation is, too. Though my experience is less than yours, honored elder, I have found that believing in Sur-Rak is a wise move.”
Sur-Rak would have preferred Yuv-Vas to sell her as malleable to advisors, but incorporating the Aspects had been a nice touch, and all of it was long sight better than Yoa’s outburst. Sur-Rak would never be bringing that keshe anywhere again.
“Hmm,” Tuu-Vah-Nes said, sounding only mildly impressed. “I’ll need to speak with the others, but perhaps…” He looked at Sur-Rak again, scrutinizing her, no doubt imagining her as the Archon. “If the Aspects will it, you and I will soon know a great deal more about each other. Until then, do not approach me about this matter again.”
“As you say, council seat,” Sur-Rak said, inclining her head to him.
He swept forward, and she didn’t impede his path any longer, using the ball of her back foot to swing her lead foot around in a move that was just as useful at dodging ris as it was for getting out of the way of self-important fools. Instead of heading toward the snack table, Tuu-Vah-Nes angled to the left, toward a spot where a pair of other council seats were conversing--the das seat and fighting school seat, Aspects be praised. It seemed that he didn’t plan on wasting any time researching her viability, and with the confirmation vote in just three days time, she was glad of it.
Behind her, Sur-Rak could feel the stinging scent of Yao’s desire for the inevitable confrontation her words had created. However, Sur-Rak didn’t plan on wasting breath in chastisement. After today, any allied goals they had once shared were clearly at an end.
A familiar clank echoed through the room, and Sur-Rak turned toward the great set of stairs that led from the Reception Hall they were now in to the seats of the Opera’s Theatre proper. The stairs were on three levels, the uppermost having two sets that led to a wide, flat middle, and then from that plateau of stone, a swath of steps cascaded downward to the ground floor, letting hundreds ascend together if they wished.
Her uncle was walking across the middle section, likely planning to use the location for a speech. It had only been a matter of time until he did something of the sort. This event had been organized by him, after all, a celebration of the deconstruction of the Gargant, but Sur-Rak thought the now partially melted figures across the scattered tabletops were a more accurate representation of the sad state of things.
When he reached the edge of the steps, he addressed the gathering, his voice strained in an unleaderly-like shout.
“Honored citizens!” he called. “Thank you for joining me this day. We have much to celebrate.” He lifted a glass cup he was holding to the upper level, and there servants pulled back a red cloth from a chunky, keshe-shaped figure. Sur-Rak leaned forward despite herself, and she wasn’t the only one. The removal of the covering revealed a form very much like that of the Gargant, with two legs, two arms, and a blunted head. It differed, however, in two important respects: one, it was made of a dark, silvery metal, not gold, and two, it was much smaller than the original. At a distance, its exact proportions were hard to know with accuracy, but the nearby servants gave Sur-Rak a strong impression. It was perhaps a foot or two taller than a regular keshe, so a personal Gargant, she expected. “With these Golems,” her uncle said, naming the new construct, “specialized knight units will be able to fight with greater protection against our foes.” Three servants stepped forward, removing what seemed to be pins from the arms, chest, and legs, to show that those parts could swing open, presumably to allow their user to fit within.
“But that is far from all,” her uncle continued, and she saw him gesture to the other side of the upper tier. There, a much larger and blockier covering sat, and when it was whisked back, stacks upon stacks of gold could be seen over the railing. There was a collective gasp from the hall, her retinue of three reacting with just as much shock and awe. Sur-Rak had traveled the glistening hallways of the Archon’s palace on many occasions and had looked at the most precious possessions of the Grande Museum countless times, yet she had never seen this much wealth on display at once. Only the Gargant’s outer shell had been made of gold, but she hadn’t realized how much raw material that would still be due to the massive size of Lercel’s ancient protector. “As you’ve likely heard,” her uncle said into the stunned silence, “this gold is not for me or council, but for you. A way to enter the ranks for knights for any who desire the opportunity. Come, take the steps below me if you wish after such a chance.”
As expected, many young keshe scrambled forward, and even some older ones, filling the lower flight of steps in singles and groups so quickly it seemed like there might not be enough room on the huge sweep of stairs to accommodate them all. Sur-Rak had known her uncle would do something today to bolster his cause--why else bother with so costly a party?--but she hadn’t expected so much of the Gargant to be dismantled so quickly, or for them to already have a new version of it. Like with all setbacks, Sur-Rak took it in stride, that was until she spotted a particular keshe mounting the steps eagerly: Oph-Ahl, the son of the merchant council seat.
That had been no part of their agreement.
Though she couldn’t use her barrier to lift herself to the heights the previous Archon had, Sur-Rak managed to raise herself six inches off the ground, which made surveying the room a touch easier. She thought she spotted the merchant seat off to the east, so she deflated her barrier below her feet, and as soon as her shoes touched the ground, Sur-Rak made a beeline to her right. If she was wrong about what she had seen, the sooner she uncovered her error, the sooner she could look elsewhere.
Moving through a mass of people either staring up or flooding to the front made her progress slow, but her barrier helped, pushing some people aside or routing them around her.
“Sur-Rak,” she heard someone call behind her. “Sur-Rak!”
She ignored the speaker. Nothing they had to say could be as important as her reaching the museum seat before he, or his son, committed to something that couldn’t be undone. Despite her contacts, she hadn’t managed to find the stolen book yet, but she had until the vote, and she planned to remind him of that fact.
Hands made of criss-crossing lines of golden light appeared in front of her, the claws on them causing her protective barrier to spark. Sur-Rak whipped around to see who had dared try to stop her, guessing the culprit well before her eyes landed on the Yuv-Vas, the only one of her group trailing her.
“Something is wrong,” he said, not winded in the slightest from the brief chase. He pointed up to where her uncle stood.
Sur-Rak turned back to her rival to see that he was staring down at something in his hands. Leaving his side was none other than Gee-Rin, a knight of the Inner Division. He had obviously just been given some sort of new, but about what?
Yuv-Vas wasn’t wrong, her uncle looked completely different from before.
“It appears,” he said, and though he didn’t shout, the natural acoustics of the room and silence of the crowd let the words carry, “the Golem will be bloodied sooner than expected.” He looked up then, and Sur-Rak could tell that the quick temper her uncle was infamous for was in full bloom. “Lercel is under attack, and we shall annihilate them.”