Glasswrights' Progress by Mindy L Klasky Page B

Hal barely swallowed his impatience.
    â€œAnd you know that most of us must return to our holdings, to supervise the final harvest, to make sure that our people are secure against the approaching winter.”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œThen, surely, you understand that we would be foolish to abandon those plans, those necessities , to ride after three captives, three children who are not even of noble blood.”
    Hal heard the indrawn breath of his other councillors. Tasuntimanu’s disdainful words went to the heart of the single greatest battle Hal had fought since stepping to the throne. Even as Hal had struggled to get his council to recognize his power, to support him as their liege, he had fought to protect the people who had been loyal to him in the bitter confrontation that had set him on the throne. Hal had fought to protect Rani and Mair, even though they had no noble status. Hal had even fought to preserve Bashi’s royal treatment, constantly reminding the council that the old king, Shanoranvilli, had commanded such a thing.
    Tasuntimanu’s outspoken stance, though, was all the more disturbing to Hal because the earl discussed other members of the Fellowship. Rani and Mair were both sworn to the organization; they were sisters to the earl who spoke against their rescue. They were sisters to Hal.
    Swallowing hard, the king forced his voice to remain even, forced himself to remember that he was the one who wore the golden fillet of Morenia. Whatever might pass between him and Tasuntimanu in the Fellowship’s shrouded meeting house, however higher Tasuntimanu might be in that shadowy hierarchy, Hal was king in this room. As king, Hal set his words into his council chamber, letting the chill of fear that surrounded his heart frost his words. “You forget yourself, my lord.”
    â€œDo I, Your Highness? With all respect, my liege, I forget nothing. You see, I remember that Bashanorandi is not even a prince by our reckoning. I remember that he is the rebellious son of two executed traitors. I remember that Rani Trader is a merchant – and scarcely that. She sold that birthright to join a guild so rebellious against your crown that it had to be physically dismantled, stone by stone. I remember that Mair is a Touched brat, sprung from who knows where, born under the sign of who knows which god. In the name of Jair, Your Highness, do you believe that I forget anything?”
    In the name of Jair . There. Tasuntimanu was not jousting with a tipped lance. He was summoning Hal to a true battle, calling into play the power of the Fellowship, the oaths that Halaravilli had sworn when he was only a prince, when he was the outcast younger son of a king who showed him neither favoritism nor respect. Tasuntimanu drew upon Hal’s bonds to the Fellowship of Jair.
    â€œI understand your concerns, Tasuntimanu, and all the counsel that you would offer me.” Hal hoped that he loaded the words with enough certainty that the earl would grasp his double meaning. There would be time enough, after the council meeting, to determine why Tasuntimanu was prepared to sacrifice Rani and Mair. Time enough, after Hal had cemented his own plans. He cleared his throat. “Nevertheless, my lords, this is a matter we have visited before. I have told you, I have told all of my people, that Prince Bashanorandi is to be honored in Morenia. My father, King Shanoranvilli, recognized the prince as his son and honored Bashanorandi from his deathbed. I would not be forsworn to my own father, blessed be he by all the Thousand Gods.”
    Hal paused to make a religious sign across his chest, a sign that the rest of his council aped. Peering up from his piously averted gaze, Hal noted which councillors took longer to fall into the platitude than others. Three men were notably slow in acknowledging Hal’s gesture, three plus Tasuntimanu. Fine, then. At least Hal still held the majority of the council. At least five men