Page 16 of Grave Situation

His smile disappears, and I decide to take my victory and flee while I still have some shreds of tattered dignity left.

I’m notlate for the meeting when I reach the door to the council chamber—I know, because I passed a few of the councilors on my way, dawdling along as though the words “immediate” and “urgent” mean something different to them. Regardless, one of the guards steps forward to block my way.

“Sorry, sir. This is a closed meeting. Councilors only.”

Briefly, I consider floating him out through one of the lovely big gallery windows and suspending him over the chasm, but heisonly doing his job. It’s not his fault my day’s been a giant heaping pile of steaming turds.

Plus, I like to stay on the good side of the guards. One day in the future, there’s a chance someone will actually come up with a reason to arrest me, and I’ll need people who are willing to look the other way when Tia breaks me out of jail.

I nod, say, “Of course,” and reach out to my master. I can see him over the guard’s shoulder, not thirty feet away from me.

“Master, could you write me a note for the guards?”

“What? Talon, I’m busy with these fools who don’t want to wait for everyone to arrive.”

“Everyone like me? Standing in the doorway, barred from entry?”

His head turns my way, and he scowls. “Let him in!” he shouts. “I need him for this.”

There’s an immediate hum of protest from the other councilors, but the guard just shrugs and steps aside. “If they make me drag you out again, no hard feelings, eh?”

I wave that off. “Just don’t slam my head against anything.”

“Pfft.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s for amateurs.”

Stifling a grin, I enter the council chamber and join my master. He’s wearing a brand-new robe and has taken the time to smooth down his hair, even though it won’t stay that way. But some of the councilors are snobs, and he probably figures he’s already going to upset them enough for one day.

“This is outrageous,” Master Meele is declaring loudly. “You said a closed meeting. You cannot have your apprentice here if I cannot have mine!”

Master levels him with a look that makes lesser mages quail. “If, within ten minutes of this meeting beginning, it has not beenmade sufficiently clear to you why my apprentice is here and yours is not, then he will leave. Or you can invite yours to join us. I don’t care.”

Master Meele is still sputtering, apparently not happy that I might be here for even ten minutes that his apprentice won’t be, but Master Cranch, the current chair of the council, interjects smoothly. “That sounds reasonable enough. And I believe we’re all here now.” He raises his voice. “If we could all take our seats, we can begin.” On cue, the heavy doors to the chamber clang shut.

Without waiting to be instructed, I go to sit in one of the chairs to the left of the dais. The council chamber is constructed like a semicircular lecture hall. Seats rise in tiers from the floor on three sides. On the fourth side, with the doors behind it, is a low dais with a lectern. Whoever is speaking stands at the lectern. Since Master called this meeting, he’ll be speaking today. On the right side of the dais is a small table for the records master. He’s a councilor in his own right, but also responsible for recording everything that takes place in a meeting and checking old records when needed.

It’s interesting to see the way the three councils all cluster together, even though the mages, at least, have their own preferred seats. It seems like all like to be surrounded by those who are most familiar to them. The mages have opted for the middle section, directly opposite the lectern. They’re all dressed in black or beige robes to depict their mage status. Oops. Guess I forgot to stop by my room to get mine.

The healers, who have taken up residence on the left side of the room, are dressed less uniformly. Some are in robes, while others prefer trousers with many pockets sewn in and shirts with half sleeves. This is what most people see healers wearing—clothing that gives them easy movement of their arms for healing and allows them to carry medicines, bandages, and otherthings they might need. In the same way that I teach my students the principles behind the magic they learn—you need sustained heat to light coals—healers learn how to augment their Talent with practical medicine. Not all healers are strong enough to heal all wounds and illnesses.

On the right side of the room are the dragon riders, and they are dressed uniformly… ish. They’re all in leathers, but since dragon riders aren’t really big on conformity, those leathers are in a variety of garishly dyed colors. It’s a rainbow of dead animal skin over there.

I asked Tia once why all the leather. Turns out, it’s not just because it looks badass. Leather is durable and tough, easy to maintain, and warm. Apparently warmth is an important factor when you’re flying at high elevations. She proceeded to give me nightmares by adding that it was skintight so the wind couldn’t catch hold of it and drag a rider from their seat to plummet to their death. And, just as a bonus, dragons are meat eaters, and the riders figure they might as well make the most of it and not waste what’s left of the carcasses.

Master Cranch steps up to the lectern with my master at his side. “It’s unusual for all three councils to meet in this way, so I won’t hold things up. Master Samoine, the floor is yours.” He comes to take the seat beside me, and I try not to squirm. I wonder if he suspects it was me who stole his box of imported Baswegian chocolates seven years ago?

“Thank you all for coming,” Master says. “I understand you all had other plans for the afternoon, and certainly this is unusual in any case. But something was brought to my attention today that you all need to know about. The attendee list for this meeting was not dictated by me.”

A confused murmur.

Master takes the wooden box from the voluminous pocket of his robe and sets it on the lectern, on the tilted part where peopleput their notes. He uses his magic to rotate the lectern so the box is clearly visible to the whole room. And then he flips open the lid.

I see it… the moment they all realize what they’re looking at.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Master Cranch murmurs beside me. I glance over at his face, which is as calm as always. There’s a hint of tightness around his eyes, though.

A hand rises among the mages. “I think now would be a good time for me to resign from the council,” someone calls. I can’t see who it is, but nobody laughs, and I get the feeling most of them are thinking the same thing.

“Denied,” Master Cranch says placidly. “Master Samoine, please continue.”

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