“As nothing,” Captain Torhammer snapped, rising from his seat next to Toric, “you will be silent.”
The archbishop stopped, eyes wide in shock. His face reddened, and he drew in a breath to argue. The Precinct captain cut him off.
“You are now a private citizen, Elcarei Tuddlehead,” the captain asserted.
“I am the Archbishop of Heiast—”
“Ex-archbishop,” Torhammer stated coldly, cutting him off mid-sentence again. “With the dissolution of Mekha and the removal of His Patronage, there is no priesthood in this land. Your own rank was dependent entirely upon the existence of the God you worshipped. With that God eliminated, by law, your guild no longer exists . . . and I will uphold the law, sir. Because you now lack any guild standing whatsoever, you are not invited to this meeting, Private Citizen Tuddlehead. You and your companions are thus asked to remove yourselves from this hall. It is reserved for Guild Masters, grandmasters, masters, and other representatives of the various Guilds in this land.”
Elcarei blinked and stared. Rexei quickly scooted off the bench she was on, giving way for the Guild Master of the Actors Guild to take her place. Taking her project with her, she stuffed the wool into the bag and leaned against the back wall, since there were no more seats to be had.
Grandmaster Toric spoke. “As you can see, Milord Tuddlehead, we do not have enough room in this meeting for extraneous visitors at this time. Please remove yourself from the hall. I promise you, all decisions made by this Consulate this evening—if any—will be printed up within two days by the Binders Guild and posted on the reading boards at all city squares and in all public taverns.”
Elcarei was made of sterner, and quicker-witted, stuff than that. He did not leave, but instead he lifted his chin. “Then I petition the right to represent all mages within Heias Precinct, as I am the most powerful, most highly trained mage present, and I have already held the rank of grandmaster in another guild, so that surely qualifies me for a high rank in the incipient Mages Guild.”
Alonnen, again proving himself bolder than Rexei ever would have been, leaned forward and spoke bluntly, if with a smile on his spell-altered face. “Sorry, milord, but we already have one of those . . . and by the duly ratified Charter of the Mages Guild, all members of Mekha’s priesthood, past, present, and future, have been banned in perpetuity from ever joining. I’m sure you’ll realize why.”
Two red blotches of color appeared on the ex-archbishop’s face. They had nothing to do with the contrast between the snowstorm outside and hearth-heated air inside. Eyes wide, mouth tight with fury, Elcarei lifted his chin. “If you think you know anything about magic, you untrained, savage—”
“You’re outnumbered.” Rexei didn’t know where this sense of rebellion in the last two days was coming from, but she swallowed and met Elcarei’s gaze as the archbishop turned to face her. His eyes narrowed in recognition, but she lifted her chin anyway. “Remember? You set all your God-drained prisoners free. One hundred,” she emphasized, pushing away from the wall to stalk slowly toward him, “and fifty-three. Some of them have recovered. Some of them may even be in this room right now, under disguise. And there are many more mages roaming this land, ones that you never captured.
“You are outnumbered, ex-priest . . . and you are a fool if you think you can just take anything from anyone ever again, by spell or by force.” She stopped just beyond arm’s reach and lifted her chin. “If that’s what you think. So. Which are you? A wise man or a fool?”
His lip curled up in a sneer, and his gaze slid down over her body and back. “A fool, to have been fooled by the likes of you. Congratulations, boy. You had me actually believing you were a lackwit. Be grateful you aren’t a mage. Mekha would have drained you dry the moment you crossed the temple threshold . . . and I would have done nothing to stop Him.”
“We noticed,” Toric stated dryly from his seat at the center of the table.
“I want my cap back,” Rexei said, remembering the worries from yesterday that they could track her down by a stray hair caught in its wool. “And my jacket.”
“Your cap and your jacket?” Elcarei asked, taken aback by her demand.
“Yes. If you haven’t noticed, it’s bloody cold outside, and I’d like my cap and my coat back. You shoved me out the temple door before I could fetch either,” she reminded him. “The others in the Servers Guild lost theirs as well. You need to return them.”
“And why should I?” the ex-priest challenged her. “You were in my temple under false pretenses.”
“Wrong. I am a Gearman. I’m allowed to go anywhere under the direction of the Consulate. I was sent into the temple to investigate rumors of improper conduct against members of the Servers Guild,” she explained. She glanced at the Precinct captain, then looked back at Elcarei. “I will confess that from what I saw, you haven’t done anything wrong against the Servers, but if you keep my cap and coat, that’s theft. For that matter, I could accuse Novice Stearlen of raping one of the women you were keeping below ground . . . since he was taking her without her consent after Mekha vanished, and that means after your guild was legally dissolved, taking with it your God-cursed right to do whatever you wished with non-priestly . . . mages.”
“Stand down, Journeyman Longshanks,” Grandmaster Toric stated. As Rexei backed up, striving to hide how her hands wanted to shake, he said, “Private Citizen Tuddlehead, you will return all such belongings still held within the temple’s confines to the Consulate, with such notes as you can deliver regarding the names and identities of their owners. Doing so through this facility will protect your fellow ex-priests from any . . . upset feelings. You will have three days to comply. For now, you and your companions are dismissed from this Consulate meeting.
“Now please go. Your continued presence will only cause more problems at this point in time.” Toric held Elcarei’s gaze until the latter lifted his chin, turned on his heel, and strode for the doors, pushing past the other three priests with tightly contained anger. Aiming a dark look of his own at Rexei, Hansu turned and followed, as did the other two velvet-clad men.
Rexei waited for the doors to shut behind the priests, then waited a few seconds more for her knees to stop feeling like they were going to collapse. Only then did she move back to the wall. As she did so, Guild Master Grenfallow stood and cleared her throat.
Grandmaster Toric, as arbitrator of the Consulate meeting, nodded to her. She sat down again, once acknowledged, and settled in to listen. Rexei leaned against the back wall, hand digging into her shoulder pouch in search of her crocheting needle.
“Right, then. I am Grandmaster Toric of the Gearmen’s Guild, and leader of the Heias Precinct Consulate. This emergency meeting was called by one of the local Guild Masters to discuss the disappearance of the God of Engineering from Mekhana and what that means to the guilds of all regions near and far.
“Given the short notice of the meeting and the inclement weather, we are very honored to welcome the Guild Masters visiting from our neighboring Precincts of Tanis, Luxon, Velchei, Grandsong, and Hollowfeld.” Several of the Guild Masters dipped their head at the introduction, including Grenfallow. “Your local guild chapters are pleased you could attend, and the rest of us are grateful you are willing to represent your people.