The Council had already gathered, having been briefed when they were summoned. It was unusual to bring them all together on such short notice. No one was happy about it. But certainly the circumstances warranted it. Cass stood at the door, silent and thus far unnoticed, watching them through her heavy veil. Aron, the oldest member of the governing body, thundered with a passion more characteristic of a man thirty years younger.
“Aron, please–” said Connor, holding up a calming hand, trying to soothe the older man. A mistake, Cass knew. His tone would inflame, instead.
“Don’t ‘Aron, please’ me, boy,” Aron said, whirling to face Connor. His finger darted out so quickly that Connor actually flinched from across the table. “This is exactly what I’ve been warning you all about. The disorder, the lack of discipline, the… the… the chaos out there has finally spilled over these high walls and infected the very heart of our city.”
Already Cass could sense a shift in the Council. Something was different. Off. And in a flash, her instincts confirmed her fear; someone in this room wanted her son dead. But who? And why? Or was she just being paranoid?
She thought of Three and his uncanny knack for reading subtle signs in people’s expressions, movements, breathing. What would he have seen? What would he have said? Trust your instincts. She would have to intervene soon or else the morning would be lost. But not yet.
“I told you,” Aron continued. “I warned you when you opened them gates to those people, I warned you they was gonna bring nothin’ but disease and decline. And you did it anyway.”
Hondo had his head back on his chair, eyes closed. Aloof, impatient with anything he considered petty or irrelevant. Vye was next to him, staring down at the table in front of her, ignoring the conflict. If the argument got too heated, she would wilt and refuse to take sides, regardless of what she believed.
“The damage was already done,” Connor answered. Civilian overseer of the entire guard. Not as skilled a diplomat as he believed, but level-headed. “You know it better than anyone. Those people were submissive only because they knew Governor Underdown would continue to protect them even outside the wall.”
“If not for Underdown’s tyranny,” Rae added, “those people would’ve been our friends. Our neighbors. Our allies.” She was middle-aged and fiery, ever the champion of the less-fortunate.
North watched with quick eyes and utter stillness. Cass was a little surprised he hadn’t noticed her yet.
“Underdown may’ve been a tyrant,” Aron countered, “but at least he brought order.”
“Through fear and deception!” Rae retorted.
“Underdown is dead,” said a voice, and a chilled silence immediately fell over the group. Cass realized it was she that had spoken.
“Lady Cass…” Aron said with a slight bow, and the hint of a tremble in his voice. From the adrenaline, not from fear. Never from fear when it came to Aron.
Cass was uncertain what point she had intended to make by reminding them of Underdown’s death. And she could not afford to seem uncertain. Not in this room. Not now. So, without another word, she strode from the door to a seat near the head of the table, but did not sit. Instead, she placed her hands on the table and leaned over it, addressing them in a low and well-controlled voice, hoping it would command the group’s respect, or at very least their attention.
“Last night someone tried to murder my son in his bed. I called you here to discuss solutions, and I see no value in revisiting year-old decisions in light of the difficulties that already lie before us.” She looked to Aron first, and then slowly to each member of the council in turn. “If any of you wish to discuss the matter further, you may do so with me later. Privately. Are we agreed?”
“Of course, ma’am,” said Connor, half-rising out of his chair. The others nodded their assent, Aron last of all.
Cass lifted her hand to indicate her veil.
“Take it off,” Aron said with a dismissive wave. He threw himself heavily into a chair at the table. “I can’t stand you hidin’ behind that infernal curtain.” His gruff words might’ve seemed like rudeness or disdain, but Cass knew better, and she took it as a good sign. It was more like a father’s thin impatience about a cherished daughter’s scandalous outfit; and Aron was only polite when he had an angle.
Cass raised the veil and took a seat, but not without noticing how quickly Rae averted her eyes. More than a year had passed since Cass’s return, and still some could not bear to look at her directly. Some. Many.
“I apologize for bringing you all here on such short notice,” she said. Hondo laid his head back on his chair again, closed his eyes as if to emphasize the point. “But I felt, given the circumstances…”
“Where’s Wren?” Rae asked.
“He won’t be attending today.”
“Is he alright?” North asked, his voice like distant thunder. Built like a mountain, he spoke rarely, listened deeply — and most often heard what went unsaid. A good man.
“A knock on the head, a bruised ankle. We’re grateful it was nothing more.”
“We’re lucky it wasn’t more,” Aron said. “And if he isn’t holed up somewhere under lock and key, you’re all a heap dumber than I thought.”
“I’m not going to imprison my son for someone else’s crime, Aron.”
“That boy, Cass, you know I love him like my own, I do, but that boy is more than just your son.”
“Where would you put him?” said Rae. “If he isn’t safe in his own room, where in Morningside could he possibly go?”
Cass defused the beginnings of another squabble by activating the table surface. The marble texturing melted away and was replaced by a number of images of Wren’s attacker. “Anyone recognize this girl?”
Hondo raised his head off his chair with an audible sigh, opened his eyes to look.
Vye’s hand went to her mouth, but not from recognition. Her compassion was well known. Tears welled in her eyes. “She’s so young.”
There was a brief silence as everyone scanned the pictures.
“An outsider, no question,” Aron said. A quick evaluation; maybe too quick.
“We don’t know that,” Rae responded. Possibly just to antagonize Aron.
“It’s obvious. Look at her. Clothes, dirt, all skin and bones.”
“Because Morningside’s never had poor inside the wall, Aron?” Rae asked, anger evident in her voice.
“Rae.” Connor stepped in. “Let’s not make it a class thing, OK? You have to admit, she doesn’t look like a citizen.” Rae sharply looked back at the images in front of her without response.
“Probably lost her family to an attack or something,” Aron said. “Maybe had it out for Underdown, and once we brought ’em all inside, she waited for a chance and decided to get some revenge on Wren.”
“Could be,” Vye said cautiously. “I guess it’s possible.”
“Stretching. Outsider, I buy,” Hondo added. “But personal vendetta? Pulled this off on her own? I don’t see that.”
“I have to agree,” said Connor. “Whatever her motives, she’s got all the marks of someone who grew up beyond the wall.” Beyond the wall. A phrase Connor probably considered more diplomatic, but still managed to make sound demeaning. Another way to say outsider. Second-class. Other. Like Cass.
“Or someone went to a great deal of trouble to make it seem like she came from the outside,” North said, and Cass watched his words ripple through the Council. Aron and Hondo exchanged a quick glance; Rae clenched her jaw; Vye just sat there looking at the pictures of the girl and shaking her head. Connor stayed very still. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the implications sinking in.