“Lower your arms. All opposed . . . ?” Toric asked. This time, the number of arms was easily countable, less than ten. “And those who abstain?” A few more arms raised. He gestured for the arms to drop, consulted under his breath with the Precinct captain, then nodded. “The number of votes for is over eighty, which is where I lost count because it’s too late at night. The number of votes against is nine. The number abstaining is twelve. Motion passes. The Consulate of Heias Precinct grants you the title of Guild Master Rexei Longshanks of the incipient Holy Guild. Don’t let it go to your head,” the elderly Gearman warned her. “You are acknowledged a Guild Master, but you are young, and your Guild virtually nonexistent . . . not to mention not yet fully acknowledged.”
Rexei bowed her head, acknowledging his point. He continued, addressing the others.
“Guild Masters. You have been apprised of your responsibilities locally for those prisoners released from the Heiastowne temple. You have been informed of the release of prisoners elsewhere in your homeland and the fact that the inhabitants of those other towns are attempting to absolve themselves of their chartered responsibility for all members, current and former, of good standing . . . and I shall remind you that being kidnapped by the False God’s priesthood simply for the ability to . . . to cast magic does not make any guildmember a member in bad standing.
“As Guild Masters, you have the right to make unilateral decisions for all guildmembers within your purview. As we now have twenty present, we have a quorum for kingdom-wide decisions. Shall we return these . . . ex-prisoners . . . into your individual guilds’ care in small groups? Or shall we place them all into the care of the one guild which even now none of us cares to formally name out loud?”
The men and women seated at the Consulate table exchanged wordless, wary looks. It was clear they weren’t comfortable with the idea of taking back into their midst known mages, whom the priesthood could come back and grab at any point in time. Rexei wanted to say something, but she knew this wasn’t her fight.
The one man who knew whose fight it was did not stand up again, but he did speak sharply.
“If they get shoved into my guild,” Alonnen told the hall, “then I will demand tithes from each of your guilds to cover the costs of feeding, clothing, and giving each ex-prisoner adequate medical care and emotional support. And a stipend to cover all further expenses that may crop up . . . and if you will not give those supplies willingly, then I shall have no choice but to command my people to take those supplies, just to keep everyone from starving to death within the first week.”
“Thank you, Guild Master Tall. I will presume that you vote to insist that every guild take up the care and responsibility for at least some of these ex-prisoners,” Toric said dryly.
“Damn right, I do,” Alonnen shot back. “We’ll take in a few, but we can only afford to take in a few—there are five guilds in this town with less than a dozen members, from masters to apprentices, so we’ll take in one for each of them, plus the three who were registered with us before their capture. Any others will require a full-support tithe, and the maximum we’ll take in will be thirty . . . so twenty-two of them would require support tithes.”
Rexei seized the pause that followed his words. “I also must insist that the guilds accept and manage their responsibilities toward each other in this matter.”
“If we will continue from that end of the Consulate bench,” Toric stated dryly, “I shall take that as two votes for multiguild management of the ex-prisoners. Guild Master of Actors?”
“I vote for each of the guilds to take in a few of the prisoners,” the redhead stated firmly. “Regardless of the outcome, the Actors Guild will take in at least three. My fellow guildmembers can manage that much locally here in Heiastowne. In Luxon, the temple has yet to release its captives, but when it does, I know we can care for five or six in the larger arms of the Actors Guild there. We won’t abandon anyone, though we, too, are limited in how many we can accept.”
“Guild Master of Modellers?” Toric asked.
“It is all our responsibility, not just Guild Master Tall’s. We can take in three here in Heiastowne without any strain to our resources. Hollowfeld to the south is a small town. We had only twelve prisoners released total,” the male Guild Master stated, “but the Modellers Guild has a solid presence for its size, there. We, the Tillers, Woodwrights, and Hospitallers all took in the released mages pretty much immediately. We can even take in two more from this area, ship them to my fellow Modellers in Hollowfeld, and see that they receive proper care . . . and wherever possible, we will take in one or two elsewhere as well.”
“Guild Master of Wheelrights?”
“We’ll do it across the kingdom . . . and we’ll take in five here in Heiastowne right away. Or at least when the weather improves,” the rough-voiced man stated. “I saw the snow outside. We’ll all have to take refuge in town tonight.”
The vote continued down the line. Each man and woman questioned agreed to accept responsibility kingdom-wide, and most listed a number, small but significant, which they knew their nearest groups could take in immediately. Hearing so many accept their responsibilities, Rexei started to relax. However, she could see Alonnen tensing, no doubt worried that a single vote otherwise would throw his whole guild into turmoil.
Torhammer dipped his head slightly when it was his turn. “As Precinct captain, it is my responsibility to enforce the law. This I have done as firmly as I could. The law says that each guild owes a responsibility to all of its members, past and current, provided they are all of good standing. That means the orphans of lost guildmembers can call upon their parents’ guilds for support and protection. Injured members can request their guilds to pay for their apothecary expenses, and so forth. I am well aware that these ex-prisoners are orphaned and injured, as much or more inside their hearts and minds as in their bodies. My vote goes toward all guilds across the land accepting their share of responsibility.
“However, that being said . . . this and the other Precinct militias cannot accept the responsibility of any of these orphaned and injured mages into its ranks—let me finish,” he added sternly, raising a hand as several in the audience across from the head table started to protest. “Not because we do not care, but because we must manage the Hunter Squads. Some of which are still out there, hunting down mages because they may not yet realize that Mekha is indeed gone from everywhere, rendering their captives unnecessary. I have reached some of them via talker-box in the last day . . . but not all of them have reported in, yet.”
“Mekha doesn’t exist anymore!” one of the female Guild Masters asserted. “There’s no need for them to keep and drain their prisoners.”
“Mekha being gone simply means that there’s nothing to stop these bastards from draining any captive mages for their own benefit,” Alonnen growled. “It isn’t quite blood magic, but it is still a form of rape most foul. I must agree with Captain Torhammer; his support of the law is deeply appreciated, and technically all Precinct militias are a form of guild, and all of captain or higher rank have a vote in this quorum . . . but I also must agree that his reason for abstaining from direct support is understandable in the light of his explanation.