The Empress of Beasts, page 9
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
And in the dungeon, Toren lay on his back. He jerked—looked around. Why was he lying down?
Oh. He’d fainted. He’d heard ‘The Wandering Inn’. And then he’d heard…the skeleton stared up at the ceiling. He’d heard that wrong. Hadn’t he?
Solstice?
…Erin?
6.49
It was a fact unbeknownst to anyone in the world that Liscor had a population of two intelligent skeletons living in the region. However, as facts went, those weren’t the ones that demanded the attention of the people of Liscor. Even if someone were to tell a pedestrian on the street that a skeleton named Ijvani had occupied a cave in the Floodplains, they would probably ask if it could wait until tomorrow.
Of course, if they were aware that Ijvani were a minion of Az’kerash, said pedestrian would probably have a lot more questions to ask and bump up the priority of undead dispatch on their list of priorities, but that was obviously an extraneous detail to the example. Only one fact occupied the minds of Liscor’s inhabitants. And that was that it was election day.
And the election had come and gone. The polls, which were really just guarded booths where each citizen could, after swearing under truth spell, deposit a vote for a candidate of their choice in a box, were closed. The day had been full of note, from a certain [Innkeeper] organizing a group of Pallassian Garuda to fly a banner over Liscor to numerous fights over the candidates in the city.
It was all anyone could talk about. Krshia and her Gnoll candidates for a more open Liscor! How could you argue that the crazy Human and her inn hadn’t been good for the city? That the Antinium weren’t allies, especially the painted ones? What kind of close-minded scales-for-brains would say the city needed more army interference, needed to close its walls?
At the same time, who could trust the Antinium, really trust them? Or Goblins? Or that crazy Human, who, let’s be fair, was behind half of the disturbances to the city? And why not kill that damned Minotaur in the prison? Those were the stakes, and they had divided Liscor—until today. The arguments, strife, and in one case an assault with a spatula, had been resolved. Some people were in jail. Some people had concussions. Some people were just rather upset.
The tense, nervous energy of the day had given way to a quiet sort of hush. Everyone was waiting. No one knew what the future held and as the Watch took the guarded bins of votes into city hall, a seldom-remembered spot except in times of crisis, everyone waited.
The [Scribes] would be counting, tallying up the votes. And soon, the current Council would announce who had won. Who had it been? Krshia? Lism? They had fought over one district. Would she win, but face a Council full of Drakes? Or would he take the victory? Would any Gnoll win? …Would they all win?
The people had no idea. So a crowd gathered, waiting outside the building in more or less silence. A line of [Guards] had been deployed outside the building to keep anyone from interfering. And so, everyone waited. First for an hour. And then two. They were restless. How long would it take to count all the votes? Then again—it was a big city. And everyone whom everyone asked said they’d voted. So…how long? What would the results be? The people waited, breathless, wondering what the future held and wondering, in the back of their minds, if they’d made the right choice.
Inside the city hall, the building was mostly quiet. It was not, as those outside imagined, a feverish mess of [Scribes] sorting through an imagined mountain of ballot votes. In fact, the [Scribes] were having a drink while they waited for the announcement. If there was any feverishness, it was in the meeting room of Liscor’s Council.
Liscor’s Council. An oft-overlooked body of leaders. Few people in the city could name even one of the Council members until last month. That was because by and large, the Council kept Liscor running. It did not shake the boat. In fact, it didn’t even really pilot the boat. Liscor had a High Command in the form of the army. The Watch Captain secured the city.
Sometimes a crisis reared its head, but you had a [Strategist] for that. The Council’s modus operandi had been ‘don’t fix what isn’t broken’, or perhaps, ‘if it still sort of works, let’s just not bother fixing it.’ And it had worked. So the people inside the room were a bit peeved that no one seemed to appreciate the hard work they hadn’t done.
The eight Drakes sitting around the meeting room were reclining on their comfy chairs, scowling at each other. They were all rich. One of them, Ulseil Greenscale, was the current head of the Merchant’s Guild. The others were in the same sphere of affluence. That was who comprised Liscor’s Council, and each time they changed positions, the current Council traditionally nominated their replacements.
Again, until today. The outcry of the public had forced an election. And astoundingly, not one of Liscor’s damned, the ungrateful, er, wonderfully active citizenry had thought to consult the current Council on whether they thought this was a good idea, thank-you-very-much. But here they were.
“Elections. What has this city come to?”
Councilmember Yalla spat as she took a gulp of the fortified wine. She stared blankly around the table; the other Drakes were giving her more or less the same looks. One of them, Ulseil, cleared his throat. Someone had to say it. The Drake [Scribe] had been standing there for three minutes. He turned to her.
“The votes have been recounted?”
“Three times, Councilmember.”
The [Scribe] gave him a very put-upon look. It stopped Ulseil from suggesting another recount. He hesitated.
“And you’re sure…?”
“My [Scribes] and I were checked and the [Guards] who watched everyone put the votes in were checked. And the voters were checked. We all passed truth spells, Councilmembers. These are the results.”
The female Drake pointed to the list that lay in front of all of Liscor’s Council. Ulseil looked down at the neat tallies and winced. Clear as day. Every vote accounted for. Winners, losers—how many each candidate had got and who had won each district. He nodded slowly.
“Hm. Thank you, Miss. We’ll send word of the…results shortly. Have someone come back in—ten minutes?”
It was too short. Some of the Council stirred and looked at Ulseil. He slowly sipped at his cup and wished he had a puffer—one of those nice ones you could light up and smoke. It was all the rage in the south, especially if you could light it with magic or your own fire breath. Too expensive for him to import regularly though, especially at the Council meetings. Then everyone would have to have a few.
Not that that would be a problem now. He was out. Ulseil smiled bitterly. But this! He looked up and met the eyes of his fellow Councilmembers. Ulseil cleared his throat.
“Well. It’s not…bad. Two of our own won.”
The other Drakes nodded after a moment. By ‘our own’ they meant people that they thought of more or less like themselves. Councilmember Yalla tapped the list.
“Tismel and Zalaiss. I wouldn’t have made Tismel my first choice—the fellow’s a bit indecisive. But he’s a proper Guildmaster, has been for three years. There are worse picks. And Zalaiss is one of my [Merchants]. She can keep the helm steady.”
Another Drake grunted sourly.
“She’d need to. Look at this. They won two of the eight districts and these…others won the rest!”
“To be fair, there are two other Drakes that won. Er, this Jeiss fellow and Alonna.”
“I know him. A Senior Guardsman. A bit unconventional, but it wouldn’t be so bad if they were like him. He’s a decent fellow. I was one of the people who approved his nomination for Senior Guardsman, come to that.”
“Me as well. No, no problems here. Alonna…well, she is a Guildmistress in the end. That’s something.”
“Guildmistress? But you said—”
“Mage’s Guild.”
“Oh. I see.”
Another bout of silence. Obviously, [Mages] were a bit…different. A bit odd, a bit unconventional. And Ulseil happened to know that Alonna was new to her position. Still, they could have happily accepted her, or even Jeiss, for all the oddity of his position but for the other four new members of the Council. He stared at the list. Someone else cleared his throat.
“Four Gnolls on the Council? Not bad at all. Just…”
He trailed off. And what was not said spoke volumes. The other Drakes nodded. Yes, not bad! Not bad, but—and there it was. No one had a problem with Gnolls! Certainly not! My son married a lovely one—I have tea with so and so every other week! They add a bit of complexity to the city! Be tiring to look at scales all day. Lovely people. A bit annoying when they shed.
But this was Liscor. Their home. And Gnolls, having an equal distribution of power in the new Council? Not to mention…Ulseil looked at the list and sighed.
“Senior Guardswoman. [Armorer]. [Shopkeeper]. And [Beast Trainer].”
Not one a Guild leader. Although Ulseil was conveniently forgetting that exactly two Gnolls in the entire city held a rank equivalent to Guildmaster. The other Drakes were nodding. One sighed louder.
“They took four districts. How? I thought that other fellow, the…er, whatshisname, ran a good campaign. I voted for him. Or rather, his candidate. I was in Tismel’s district.”
She looked around, daring the others not to nod in agreement. In fact, they’d all been in Tismel’s district, which, come to that, was probably why they’d won. Ulseil buried his head in one claw as he saw why the districts had led to four Gnoll candidates winning. He muttered a reply.
“The Drake who lost was…Lism. Lism Swifttail. A [Shopkeeper], yes, but he’d be the one we wanted as opposed to this Krshia Silverfang and her lot. But he lost.”
The others fell silent.
“If he had won—”
Yalla leaned over towards Ulseil. She’d crumpled her bit of paper up, never mind it was a waste of good paper.
“How much did he lose by?”
“Not much. But he lost, Yalla.”
Ulseil snapped, shoving the paper at her. Yalla raised her brows.
“So?”
“So—”
Ulseil hesitated. Yalla looked around the table. The rest of Liscor’s Council sat up. Yalla narrowed her eyes.
“It’s just a number. And who knows who won, really? Just us and a few others?”
Silence. Liscor’s Council had not been looking forwards to posting the results of the election. They’d let it happen because they hadn’t figured out a way to stop it without getting in trouble. And they’d delayed their announcement because, well, they were unhappy with the results. Until now, they’d been doing what the Council did best: avoiding the problem. But now that they’d run into it, a few desperate minds started churning away.
Another Councilmember leaned back. He didn’t quite steeple his claws or give the others a conspiratorial look, but that was mostly due to inexperience. He slowly put out the thought everyone was thinking.
“How many [Scribes] did the counting?”
“Not many. But I’ll bet they all know the result.”
Ulseil nodded. He spoke, trying to feel out his thoughts verbally.
“We could…insist this was a Council affair. Persuade them to keep quiet.”
“Under threat?”
Silence. Everyone was trying to look at everyone else now, for signs of doubt. No one was particularly averse to the concept, it seemed. The plot began to thicken. Ulseil frowned.
“Right. But what are we threatening them with, exactly? The Watch?”
—And then it fell apart. The Councilmembers paused. They looked at each other, coughed. Somehow, getting Watch Captain Zevara to go along with threatening the [Scribes] didn’t quite…gel.
“If we made it a general threat…I mean, the Merchant’s Guild has guards, Ulseil.”
“Wait, my guards? But they voted!”
“Well, what if they were all Drakes who voted, er, for the right candidates?”
“Okay, but what if the [Scribes] talk anyways?”
“We deny it. Obviously! And we burn the votes and these lists! Look, I have a match—”
“Careful where you wave that thing! I accidentally set my desk on fire with them!”
“Nifty, aren’t they! Shame they run out. But as I was saying, deny it! Simple!”
“What if they ask us to swear under truth spell?”
The Council paused. One of them coughed after a moment.
“…They wouldn’t do that. Would they?”
The Drakes thought about it for a second. Gloom immediately set in. They would absolutely do that. The losing party would howl it from the rooftops if the Council didn’t do it—purely as a formality—to ensure the truth had been upheld. The Council looked at each other and the half-burgeoned plot, barely formed, fell apart.
They were too late. If they wanted to meddle, they should have done it earlier. They should have been better at it. But they weren’t [Politicians]. This was a side job! It was just—Ulseil sighed.
“Four Gnolls? Two would have been fine. Really, even three…”
Gloomily, he stared at the list. You could even see who the most popular candidates were by numbers of votes. Krshia Silverfang had won, handily, but honestly, if you just looked at the numbers, there were more Drakes than…he caught his breath.
“I suppose we make the announcement. Soonest done, soonest over. We’ll convene the Council tomorrow. Try to get it into their heads how it works. And then? Out of our claws, really. And that’s a relief! This year has done havoc to my scales with all the stress…”
Yalla was standing up with the others, resigned. Ulseil waved a claw urgently and they all looked at him.
“Hold on! Hold on! I have a solution. Look at this. If you look at the list—”
“We can’t lie, Ulseil. They’ll find us out!”
The Merchant’s Guild’s leader shook his head rapidly, a bubble of delight forming in his chest. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work. He looked up, grinning at the other’s blank expressions.
“Who said anything about lying? This is perfectly legal! Look! Check the number of votes each candidate received. Do you see? Do you see?”
They scrambled for the lists. And they did see. There was murmuring, a hint of dissent. Ulseil overruled it.
“We said we’d consider the election. We didn’t say we’d do it. Did we?”
The Council looked up. Yalla hesitated, although Ulseil was sure she’d agree.
“We’d have to explain the decision somehow. If it goes ugly…if the losers object—it could be bad.”
The Council fell silent. The worst case scenario popped helpfully into Ulseil’s mind. What would happen if the people objected to this idea?
Riots in the streets. He gulped. The Drake wavered. He looked at the list, trying to decide.
“Four Gnolls on the Council. We could live with that. It’s not a majority.”
“But it’s half. And they could push through a lot of votes, especially since it’d be down to Zevara…”
“Two would be perfect.”
“It’s risky…”
Yalla looked around the table.
“If we did it this way…what is it this time?”
“Three.”
“Three’s good. And it works! No one’s going to riot. And we never promised.”
“Exactly. So, all in favor?”
The Council of Liscor looked up. And they cast their last vote. It was unanimous. And they only felt a little guilty doing it.
——
It was late evening in Liscor. Election day. There was a crowd outside city hall. Thousands of Drakes and Gnolls, filling the plaza and going all the way up to the steps. A line of [Guards] kept anyone from entering. Erin Solstice stood near the front, peering on her tiptoes while Lyonette held Mrsha in her arms.
“You’re heavy, sweetie. If I’d have known it would take this long, I’d have brought a chair. Climb up and hold on, would you?”
Lyonette groaned to Mrsha. The Gnoll cub obligingly held onto Lyonette’s shoulders, taking the burden off the [Princess]’s arms. Erin glanced sideways at Lyonette. She was antsy with anticipation and nerves.
“Why not let Mrsha down?”
“And let her be stepped on?”
Lyonette looked reproving. The crowd was thick with bodies. Erin hesitated.
“Right. Well, I can hold her—”
“No, I have her. It’s good training for my arms, anyways. Although Mrsha’s a lot heavier than a sword.”
Erin blinked.
“You still practice?”
“Every day. Some days I forget, but I do try! Yvlon’s mentoring me.”
“Huh. How come I never notice this?”
“I do it in Liscor. Anyone can use the Adventurer’s Guild’s training courts.”
“Oh. That’s why you take so long to buy eggs.”
It was idle chatter. And their voices were one in thousands of conversations. Mrsha sighed and rubbed her face against Lyonette’s shirt, making an inarticulate sound of protest. Lyonette patted her on the head.
“Just a bit longer, honey. I promise. If they don’t finish in…twenty minutes, I’ll buy you a snack. Promise! But it’s a big day.”
Mrsha nodded. And Erin nodded. And everyone in earshot nodded. It was worth waiting for. Because everyone was here, or waiting for the news. Street Runners were poised to earn some tips delivering the message. Voters were ready to celebrate or maybe, riot.
Erin cast her gaze towards city hall’s steps. There they were at the head of the crowd. The main actors in this drama.
Krshia, Senior Guardswoman Beilmark, Elirr the [Beast Trainer], Raekea the [Armorer], and the other four Gnolls stood together in an anxious knot at the head of the crowd. Selys stood behind them, anxiously hopping up and down to see past the taller Gnolls.
Across from them, alternating between staring at the double doors and glaring daggers at Krshia’s side were Lism, Senior Guardsman Jeiss, Alonna the Guildmistress of the Mage’s Guild, and two Drakes and three Gnolls. Olesm stood next to his uncle, not a candidate, but a part of it all. Erin glared at the back of his head and he winced, as if feeling her stare.
