“What we need to verify before we go jumping to any conclusions,” Gavin said, “is whether this information is accurate. Before the incident with the Guild, I was taking all this to Valera in the hopes that she would be able to verify its authenticity. I sent it here with Mariana to keep it safe until we could resume investigating it.”
“We need more information,” Carth said. “At what stage are they in their preparations? How many troops have they gathered? Is the leadership there with the troops, or elsewhere? That’s just what I can think of now. I’m sure there’s more we need to know.”
“Can you get word to Garris?” Sypara asked. “Have him bring the Battle-mages back from Hope’s Pass?”
Gavin frowned. “I didn’t realize we had that kind of authority.”
“Well,” Carth said with a slight grimace, “if I sent the note, it would just be the big brother who used to thump him asking him to bring the Battle-mages home with no good reason. If he were to receive a note sealed under the Glyph of Kirloth, however…”
Gavin stared at the floor as he turned the matter over in his head. Even though the Battle-mages were nominally a unit of the Army of Tel, that was just a matter of convenience. The actual language of the Constitution was that the Battle-mages of Tel collaborated with the army upon the pleasure of the Society of the Arcane. Every Battle-mage under colors swore their oaths to the Society and the Arcanists’ Code…not the Constitution of Tel. This would not-in most cases-be an issue, as the Archmagister was the head of government for both the Kingdom of Tel and the head of the Society of the Arcane…unless there happened not to be a sitting Archmagister.
A part of Gavin wanted to keep his head down. After all, he just brought the Council of Magisters to heel in a public forum. He couldn’t be the most popular individual right then. If he suborned the Battle-mages, who knew what kind of damage that would do?
On the other hand, something needed to be done…and preferably before a hostile army was marching on Tel Mivar. The notes Mariana had found contained battle plans for a general invasion of the capital city. Countless innocent people would be caught in the fighting, and the kinds of people the papers suggested Sivas was hiring for the army were not squeamish at all about rape, pillage, and murder.
The mental image of a woman bleeding on the street and begging for her son to run settled the matter for Gavin. He lifted his eyes to Torval.
“May I please impose upon you for writing materials and sealing wax?”
A short time later, Gavin dribbled melted wax over the folded message and pressed his medallion into the wax. Once the wax dried, Gavin collected the missive and stood from the Conclave table.
“Excuse me a moment, please.”
Gavin stepped outside the Conclave Hall and frowned as he remembered Declan hadn’t joined them for the trip to the Mivar Estate. He left the manor house and watched the gate unlatch and swing wide as he approached it and stopped just outside the gate. He lifted the sealed note so that the sealing wax with the Glyph of Kirloth impressed in it could be seen by those passing the gate.
Within moments, a young woman in the heavy leather jerkin and trousers of a courier stepped out of the traffic and approached Gavin. Her brown hair was pulled into a braid that ran down her back, and she wore several blades. Once she was close, she pulled back the left sleeve of the jerkin, revealing the tattoo of the Wraiths.
“How may I serve, Milord?”
“I need this in Garris Roshan’s hands as soon as possible.”
The woman nodded once as she accepted the folded parchment.
“Are you aware of what was found at Vischaene Vineyard?”
She nodded once.
“Get word to the others. I want to know everything there is to know about that as soon as possible. Both the note and the information are top priority from here on out. I’m also going to need people to move these strongboxes; I don’t know where Battle-mage volunteers are, and I don’t want to wait for Mariana to find them.”
“I’ll see to it, Milord,” the woman said and turned away, disappearing back into the crowd.
Gavin returned to Mivar’s manor house, and as he passed the curving staircase that led to the upper floors, raised voices faintly wafted from the doors to the Conclave Hall. The walls and doors were too thick for one to hear clearly what was being said, even if one were to press an ear against the door, and Gavin entered the Hall to find Lyssa and Torval arguing with great vehemence.
“Lyssa,” Torval said, “what you’re saying is almost treason. Without an Archmagister, both the Conclave’s and the Council’s positions in the overall scheme of things is extremely nebulous. The Conclave of the Great Houses started as an advisory body to the Archmagister, and the Council itself has no standing in the government of Tel. What would you have us do? Depose the Council? Depose the King?”
“We do whatever we must to keep those murderers and rapists off our streets, Torval!” Lyssa shot back. “I would gladly give my life if it meant this coup never happened.”
“We’re not doing that,” Gavin said, drawing everyone’s attention to him as he approached the group.
“Who are you to tell us what to do?” Lyssa said, her face flushed and her nostrils flared just a bit.
Gavin could tell that something in the discussion he missed had struck a nerve with Lyssa, and while he had no idea what it was, he also knew he didn’t care.
“For one thing, it’s my evidence. For another, I’m Kirloth. You said it yourself, Lyssa; one does not summon Kirloth. Why is that?” Gavin held Lyssa’s gaze until the flush faded from her cheeks and she looked away; everyone in the room knew why no one summons Kirloth. People still spoke of Kirloth in hushed tones mixed with fear and awe, thousands of years after Marcus stopped using the name. “I’m not going to stand here and try to convince you that I have some kind of grand plan that will work without any effort or worry. I’m not going to stand here and tell you I have everything in hand. What I am going to stand here and tell you is that doing the wrong thing for the right reason is still doing the wrong thing. We’re better than that.
“I’m going to take this evidence to Valera for verification and, then, present it to the Council. I already have intelligence-gathering operations under way to get us the information we need. I don’t know how long it will be before I have a report on what’s happening at the mercenary camp, but I imagine it will be sooner rather than later. I don’t believe we know enough now to decide what our course should be. All I ask is that you go about your daily lives and be ready when I call you.”
“What happens when doing the wrong thing for the right reason is the only option we have?” Lyssa said, her voice a shadow of its former strength.
“Then, I will make that decision and do what needs to be done. I was told not too long ago that’s what it means to be Kirloth.”
Gavin entered Valera’s outer office and saw Sera working on papers at her desk. It was several moments before Sera looked up, and when she did, she froze.
“Good afternoon, Sera,” Gavin said, “I need some of Valera’s time.”
“I’m afraid she’s in a meeting right now.”
“I regret that, but this is a matter of importance.”
A slight smile quirked one corner of Sera’s mouth before she controlled it and looked away.
“I know, I know,” Gavin said, deciding on the direct approach. “Everyone believes their matter is a matter of importance. The thing is, I don’t know how much time I have, so I’m afraid I’ll have to be a bit rude. Either you can announce I’m here, or I’ll just walk on through.”