Page 13 of Home Is Where the Witch Is
“Means he doesn’t trust us to act impartially between himself and Tya,” Hella pointed out, sounding as bitter as collard greens.
“That’s ridiculous,” she replied, looking across the room to where Aata was standing with a group of his supporters. He was talking to them quietly, huge shoulders hunch as they tried to keep others from hearing their conversation. It looked more like a football huddle than a show of commiseration. “How can we proceed with the election if he thinks we’re prejudiced against him?”
Hella’s expression was as flat as a glass of week-old soda. “We can’t. Welcome to the first delay.”
“Who do we have that can step in and act on behalf of the Council?” Declan asked. By the look in his mossy green gaze, Rosie could tell the wheels in his head were already turning.
“Dracula?” Rosie suggested. “He’s kind’ve like Switzerland in this whole thing.”
“So Medea can get up in arms about a ‘vile creature’ being used to question a witch of status and integrity?” Hella pressed her lips together into as thin a line as her filler would allow. “Great idea.”
“Okay, maybe not,” Declan agreed. “What else can we do?”
“Looks like we might be about to find out,” Rosie replied, nodding in the direction of the approaching witch.
Chaoxiang walked in a line as straight as an arrow, the crowd automatically parting to allow him through. He hit the target of the podium, set up on the stage the Council had occupied the day before. Wheeling with a flurry of his deep-red silken robes, he gazed out at the crowd. His expression was as unreadable as ever, his coal-like gazed measured and calm.
“We have had a vote of no confidence lodged against the Council. This is a matter we take very seriously and must treat with the respect it deserves.”
Less than half the crowd seemed surprised, which only went to show that good gossip did indeed travel fast.
“As there is no suitable party available to act on behalf of the Council at this time, we must put it to a vote. Each person present—save for Council members—will be asked in a moment to cast a vote of confidence towards the Council. Those votes will be tallied magically and an automatic response received. If the vote of no confidence stands, proceedings will be postponed for a week to allow the Council to find a proxy. If the vote of no confidence does not stand,” Chaoxiang straightened his back, “we will proceed as planned. Good fellow witches, please cast your vote now. User blue energy for a vote of confidence, and red energy for a vote of no confidence.”
There was a hum of energy as each witch in the room drew their arcane magic into themselves. Rosie looked around, not only fascinated to see such a gathering of witches preparing to use their power, but also fascinated to feel it. It was the buzzing sensation of humming with your mouth against a balloon, and it was ticklish and uncomfortable all at once. But before she could think about it too deeply, a blue zap of magic shot up into the air like the sparks from a flare gun.
Another followed, and another. And each blue bolt of sparks that launched itself was countered by the same spell only with red sparks. They collected in the air above the heads of the assembled witches, launching upwards and swooping across before bursting and fizzling out like a blanket of mostly blue fireworks. This continued for several minutes, before dying out completely once the last vote had been cast.
Chaoxiang waited as though he had an earpiece in and was waiting to hear the results of the vote. A brief look of relief came over his face before he looked back to the crowd.
“The vote is against the motion, and the motion does not stand. We will continue with the proceedings,” he declared. Rosie watched him officiate, offering him a small smile of encouragement when their eyes met. She thought for a split-second she saw Chaoxiang smile, but then convinced herself it must have been a figment of her imagination.
“The first event of the Arcane Ordeals is the Ordeal of Pure Heart. Each candidate will be asked a question determined to assess their ethical and moral values. The first candidate to be questioned is… Medea Florakis.”
The woman closed her eyes as though having feared she would be first, but when she stepped forward she had all the bearing of a warrior going into battle. She held her head high as she passed Alain, and refused to look in Dracula’s direction as she stepped up to the candidate’s podium. Chaoxiang looked across at her, waiting for an indication that she was ready for her question. Medea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she gave Chaoxiang a tiny nod.
“Medea, your dilemma is being required to destroy a priceless historical magical artifact, or face being asked to step down from the Council. Which do you choose?”
It was clear that whatever question Medea had been expecting, this one had thrown her. The woman swallowed, considering the question from all angles. Declan had already told Rosie the candidates weren’t on a timer for their answers, and it seemed Medea was intending to take her sweet ass time. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked out to the crowd.
“Earning a place on the Council of Witches is not an honor to be taken lightly,” she began, glancing amongst her fellow witches. “Therefore, I would destroy the artifact if it meant retaining my place on the Council.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, and Rosie raised an eyebrow. The irony of the question didn’t surprise her. After all, in her experience the Council tended to hold on to dangerous magical items for longer than they ought to. She had to respect Medea’s answer even if she didn’t respect the woman’s political views.
“Thank you,” Chaoxiang said with a curt nod. “The next candidate will be Alain d’Louncrais.”
The Frenchman looked thrilled to be participating, compared to his Greek opponent. He strode to the candidate podium and flashed a bright and toothy grin at the audience, settling in as though this were no more disturbing than having a drink at his local pub on a Friday afternoon.
“Alain,” Chaoxiang said. “Your dilemma is a situation where you had to choose between maintaining the Secrecy, or saving the life of a mundane friend.”
Though his grin simmered into a smile, Alain appeared no less charming.
“The Secrecy is and always ‘as been one of the foundations of our existence as witches,” he began. “It should always be held in the highest regard and adhered to in order to protect our kind. However,” he added, his demeanor becoming more serious. “If I knew someone was in very real danger of losing their life, I would have to act to protect that life. The Secrecy can be repaired, no? We have seen it time and time again by the Council. And what better reason to have to bend a sovereign rule but to save a life?”
It was hard to tell the crowd’s overall reaction to this answer. Unlike his opponent, Alain didn’t wait around to stare down the crowd. Instead he opted to leave the stage as people still talked quietly amongst themselves—perhaps debating the moral dilemma together.
“Thank you Alain.” Having known Chaoxiang for some time now, Rosie thought she could detect a hint of amusement in the Chinese man’s often stone-like expression.
“That concludes the questions for the candidates vying for the European Line. We will now hear from the candidates for Australia. The next candidate will be Aata Taylor.”
