Victor of Tucson-Chapter 23Book 12: : Moonglow
23 – Moonglow
“And now, we bring our attention to the final matter of the day. Lord Consul Vesavo, this is your addition to the docket. Would you like to address the Council?” The tall green woman—who’d never named herself—moved to the side of the dais, as she’d done dozens of times over the course of the assembly. Vesavo, a lich of great repute, had hardly stirred for the four-hour-long session, but now he cleared the cobwebs from his throat and stood.
He didn’t look undead, but Victor supposed Energy gave that body as much life as most actual, living things. He stepped away from his throne so that he could turn to address his fellow council members. “As I’ve made you all aware, I’ve been grievously slighted, and today I ask for your judgment in my endeavor to find justice.”
“That bastard,” Arona hissed, and Victor saw Tes reach over to take the other woman’s hand.
Meanwhile, Vesavo continued, “An apprentice of mine, one who owed me everything, one who had bound herself to me via a binding, System-generated contract, fled her service. She went to great lengths to rob me of my due. She destroyed her body and reconstructed her Core, all in an effort to invalidate the contract she’d willingly entered into.”
The other council members stirred, some of them affecting shocked expressions, though Victor doubted any of them were hearing Vesavo’s claims for the first time. Yon, Vesavo’s feathered sycophant, squawked a warbling, clicking sound, then leaned forward and—undoubtedly prepared ahead of time by Vesavo—asked, “Please outline the sum of your losses, Lord Consul.”
“My apprentice was serving the ninety-second year of a five-hundred-year contract. More than the years of service, however, she stole from me decades of personalized instruction, priceless spell patterns, and the very flesh of her vessel, which was mine to do with as I pleased—a common arrangement when an apprentice takes on a master in the art of undeath. The sum of my losses is impossible to calculate—it would be equivalent of a large nation’s treasury.”
“And this apprentice?” Yon prompted. “Is she here with us today?”
Victor looked at Arona, saw her face had gone as white as a sheet, her eyes squeezed shut, and he nearly stood and shouted the bastard down. He clenched his fists, his knuckles popping. How could he have thought this was okay? How could he make Arona stand before her abuser after hearing his lies and—
“I’m fine,” Arona whispered, reaching over to grip Victor’s wrist. That was when he realized he was veritably aflame with rage. His vision had tinted toward red, but Arona’s assurance and Tes’s cool hand on the back of his neck reminded him where he was. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could fight the entire council. It would ruin their plan if he lost it now, and…
He turned to Arona—Vesavo’s droning answer to Yon just background noise—as he asked, “You’re sure? I’ll get you out of here right now, if you want. I don’t care about the consequences.”
“Hush. I’m stronger than that.”
“…there, sitting among the guests.” Vesavo finished, his voice strident as he pointed toward Arona.
Victor looked into Arona’s eyes, saw her conviction, and forced a grim smile. He leaned back as he fought to drag his rage back into his Core, well aware that it was flaring in response to the fear he felt for her.
Meanwhile, Yon had stood, jerking his big, black-feathered head left and right to regard his fellow consuls before turning to glare in Arona’s direction. He squawked in what seemed like an involuntary outburst before raising his voice to say, “Arona Moonshadow, I call on you to stand before the Assembly!”
Victor and Tes stood, making room for Arona to pass before them, and as she walked by, he softly said, “Just tell the truth. Leave the rest to me and Dar.”
She looked at him bravely, smiling as she jerked her chin in a quick nod. “I know.”
The audience had broken into murmurs when Vesavo made his case, but they were silent now, watching Arona with rapt attention. She was stunning in her diamond-studded gown. She’d worn her silken black hair high, curled and pinned in place with platinum combs. They, too, glittered with masterfully cut diamonds. As she moved, every light in the great hall served to add to the luster of her glow. Her steps were smooth and graceful, and when she mounted the great dais, she curtsied elegantly before the assembled lords and ladies, though her eyes avoided Vesavo.
“Arona Moonshadow—” Yon started to say, his voice harsh and squawking, but he was cut off as a clarion voice, crystalline in its beautiful clarity, rang through the hall.
“Lord Consul Yon. Allow some of the rest of us a chance to speak.” Victor knew the voice immediately; it was Lady Rexa. As Yon closed his beak with an audible click, she continued, “Please be seated, Lord Yon. If no one objects, I will lead the questioning of this young woman.”
Mentally, Victor chuckled at the notion that Arona, a woman who’d lived more than a century, could be labeled as “young,” but then, he had no idea how ancient Lady Rexa, a full-blooded fae, might be.
Yon made a strange clicking, grumbling sound in his throat, every part of it audible thanks to the enchantments in the room, but he sat down after puffing his feathers out a bit. Meanwhile, Vesavo stared at Arona, and she studiously kept her focus on Lady Rexa. Victor could see that Vesavo wanted to speak. He was eager for this confrontation, but he glanced at the fae woman, and then toward Duvius Black, and he kept his mouth closed. His glare said enough.
“Arona Moonshadow, you have heard Lord Consul Vesavo’s allegations. Have you a response?”
Victor could only see the top of Arona’s curled hair due to the height of her robe’s collar, but her response rang through the assembly hall, clear and loud, despite the characteristic gravel in her voice, “I do.”
Rexa nodded, her clear emerald eyes never leaving Arona’s face. “You may proceed.”
Arona nodded, and she began to speak. Her voice wasn’t pitched to carry; she didn’t shout. Nevertheless, the enchantments worked into the very stone of the great hall ensured that her voice was clear and loud to every person seated within. “When I was a child, my father saw my potential with Energy, and he sought to profit from my talent. He sold me into Vesavo’s service, earning payment that would undoubtedly earn him a comfortable life for many years. I was not a willing participant in that bargain, nor any of the subsequent ones that Vesavo bullied me into.”
“The System saw fit to enforce those contracts! Claiming coercion now is far too convenient—”
“Lord Consul Vesavo,” Rexa said, holding aloft one pale hand. “Allow Lady Moonshadow to speak. You’ll have your chance for a rebuttal before the Council rules.” ⱤÀ𐌽ỐＢĘ𝐒
Arona, whose gaze never wavered from Rexa’s face, continued, “Thank you. As I was saying, I was never a willing participant; however, I understood the binding nature of those contracts. I didn’t break free of Vesavo’s service; I was slain whilst undertaking a suicidal mission he sent me on.”
“Outrageous!” Vesavo cried, though when the other consuls all turned toward him, several glowering, he contained himself, turning to pace away from Arona while she continued speaking.
“I was slain, my physical vessel utterly destroyed. A dear friend carried my spirit from the dungeon. You all know it well—the Iron Prison. He was unaware that the bone he carried was my phylactery, nor did he intend to steal me away from Sojourn. Still, he carried me with him to the world of Ruhn, where he helped me to fashion a new vessel—” She paused and gestured to herself, then spread her arms wide and turned in a slow circle so that everyone could see her. Victor couldn’t have been prouder at the defiance in her eyes. “—forging a new Core and freeing my spirit from Vesavo’s illegitimate bonds.”
Vesavo whirled, bristling. “I demand she retract that claim! I demand she address me with the proper respect!”
Again, Rexa held up her hand for quiet, and then she said, “Lady Moonshadow, please refrain from statements of accusation that veil themselves as facts, and please do use the proper honorifics when addressing or mentioning the esteemed members of this hallowed Council.”
Arona bowed elegantly. “As you say, Lady Rexa.”
“Have you more to add?” the fae woman asked.
“Only that the woman who entered into contracts with Lord Consul Vesavo”—the sneer in her voice was barely disguised—“has died. This woman before you now is no longer a Death Caster. I am Arona Moonglow, and I serve the light!” Suddenly, Arona surged with potent Energy, and she began to glow brilliantly. The diamonds and exotic silken fibers of her robes exploded with radiance, so that the entire hall lit up as if a sun had been born at its center. Vesavo hissed, stepping back, and Lo’ro, too, retreated into his robes, his cowl completely hiding his face.
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“Enough!” Roil’s harsh voice hissed. Arona’s light vanished as if a sun snuffed beneath his shadow. “You’ve said your piece. Lord Vesavo, do you have any further words? I’m ready to be done with this matter.”
Victor had been startled by Arona’s display; it hadn’t been part of their plan, but he loved it. At the same time, his rage was fighting to be let loose as Roil bullied her into silence. Clenching his jaw, he pushed against the hot, crimson flames in his Core, consoling himself with a simple, silent mantra: soon.
“Indeed, I do, Lord Roil,” Vesavo said, stalking back toward the center of the dais. Arona moved to the side, hands folded before her as she turned sideways. Her eyes darted his way, and Victor smiled, nodding quickly.
“She was amazing,” Tes whispered.
“I know. I’m proud of her.”
Vesavo raised a silk-clad arm, his long pale finger ending in a hooked black claw. “This woman deceives! Not only was she bound by contracts to my service, but she and I worked for months to build her a new vessel. I taught her how to create a phylactery, and the one we made still lies empty in her chambers at my estate! She built a new one in secret, kept it close to hand, and then purposefully allowed herself to be slain. She stole away with that boy of Ranish Dar’s, and secretly constructed a new vessel, with nary a word for me, her master!”
Victor squeezed the arms of his seat, and the fine, enchanted mahogany creaked and cracked, splinters falling to the lush, deep blue carpet. Again, Tes put her hand on his neck, and again, he struggled to contain his rage.
“Is something happening with you?” she whispered. “It seems you have less control than before…”
“My rage is a part of me, Tes,” Victor said through clenched teeth, willing the red to bleed from his vision. He was so distracted with his efforts that he missed another exchange between Roil and Vesavo, but as his breathing smoothed out and his heart stopped thundering in his ears, he refocused in time to hear Roil try to wrap up the proceedings, his harsh, almost guttural voice slithering through the air like smoke:
“I believe we’ve all heard enough. Shall we have a vote on the disposition of the young Lady Arona and her debt, or lack thereof, to Lord Consul Vesavo?”
“Ahem,” said a new voice, one well-familiar to Victor. “Pardon me, but might I address the assembly?”
Roil—and everyone else—turned toward Lo’ro, and Victor grinned, glancing at Tes. “Here we go.”
“What is it, Lord Consul?” Roil asked. Whether he’d left off Lo’ro’s name in the formal setting as a purposeful slight was open to interpretation.
“Lord Consul Vesavo mentioned an esteemed former member of this council, and he did so in a less-than-complimentary tone. I believe the Assembly member, Lord Ranish Dar, should be given the opportunity to address any perceived slights.”
Roil sighed and leaned back, waving a hand. “I leave it to you, Lady Rexa. Indulge the man if you think it wise.”
Again, Victor grinned; Dar had predicted that Roil—a man who hated the spotlight—would avoid a public argument.
“What an intriguing turn,” Tes murmured, still gently stroking the back of Victor’s neck.
Rexa turned to the assembly, her musical voice ringing out: “Is Lord Dar in attendance?”
Dar, dressed as he usually was in bright, flowing, pajama-like clothing, stood, his blazing white eyes shining in the dim lighting. “I am.” His voice echoed in the hall, like two boulders scraping against each other.
“Would you like to address the council with regard to any perceived slights by Lord Consul Vesavo’s testimony?”
Vesavo, for his part, had managed to maintain most of his composure when first Lo’ro and now Rexa implied that he’d been out of line. Now, however, he folded his arms almost petulantly and glared down at Dar. The two had never been close, but their rivalry was a small thing compared to Dar’s hatred of Lord Roil—the real target of his and Victor’s schemes.
“My only desire is for the council to hear a related grievance,” Dar rumbled. “An apprentice of mine has a tremendous stake in the decision you make regarding the Lady Arona. I believe you should hear his request.”
“Ah,” Tes whispered, “that’s your in.”
“Oh?” Lady Rexa asked, turning to look into the audience as though this was all news to her. “You say it will have a bearing on our decision?”
“It certainly should,” Dar replied. “Hear him well, and if you take his words into consideration, I’ll remove myself from any further involvement in these proceedings.”
“The magic words,” Victor whispered. Dar’s public proclamation not to interfere was like blood in the water to sharks like Roil and Vesavo—they just didn’t know what was bleeding yet.
“Very well,” Rexa said, turning her head left and right, looking up and down the line of other consuls. “Any objections?” When her query was met with silence, she turned back to Dar. “Which apprentice of yours shall we hear from, Lord Dar?”
“His name is Victor Sandoval, a man from a city called Tucson, and a lord of great property and respect on several worlds.” Even from such a distance—fifty yards or more—Victor could see Dar’s eyes shift from Rexa to Roil as he said, “Hear him well, and you’ll not have to contend with me on these matters.”
Rexa turned to regard the audience. “Is Lord Sandoval in attendance?”
“Luck,” Tes whispered as Victor stood, clearing his throat. He’d dressed as he always did for official functions on Ruhn—a fine linen suit, including a silk-lined jacket, enchanted to remain clean and unwrinkled, with his ducal sash of office from Iron Mountain. His boots were polished to a high sheen, and the golden buckle on his belt—an ornately carved Lava King with glittering ruby eyes—shone in magical lamplight.
“I am here,” he said, his voice echoing in the silence that had fallen over the chamber.
“Please. Step forward and stand before the Council.” Rexa showed no recognition, and Victor wondered how much was an act. He’d met her a couple of times, just as he’d met many of the other consuls. They had disciplined him for damaging a dungeon, and then, later, they’d sent him into another dungeon to retrieve a prisoner. Roil definitely knew him; he’d wanted to use Victor’s situation against Dar more than once.
Even so, the consuls looked at him like owls observing a strange-looking mouse as he climbed up the steps to stand before them. Arona was off to his left, still standing, face serene as she awaited judgment. Vesavo was to his right, glowering down his long, straight nose, his dark eyes unreadable. Victor focused on Lady Rexa as he bowed formally.
“So, Lord Sandoval, will you explain to the council how these proceedings affect you?”
He nodded, smiling as he inhaled, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I’m afraid Lord Consul Vesavo’s claim on Arona will have to be secondary to my own.”
For the first time, the crowd’s reaction threatened to overwhelm the enchantments to keep their noise down to a low background hum. Vesavo unfolded his arms and opened his mouth to react, but Rexa beat him to it: “Please explain.”
“As she told you, Arona was slain by an unruly, unexpected steel seeker in your Iron Prison. I carried her phylactery—unbeknownst to me—out of that place and then to the world of Ruhn. When I learned that her spirit was still on this plane, living in that enchanted bone, I went to great expense, sacrificing tremendous treasures and artifacts to build her a new vessel.” Victor inhaled, steeling himself, wrapping himself tightly in his aura, making his Core and his spirit impervious to even the piercing gazes of the powerful beings before him. It was time to lie, and he couldn’t risk them seeing through his deception.
“I did so because she was my friend, but also because she swore fealty to me. She swore to serve me. I understand Lord Vesavo’s claim. I understand his frustration; however, I depend on Arona’s service. Currently, we’re in the midst of a campaign, and she’s critical to its success.”
Rexa tilted her head to the side, reaching up to stroke her sharp jawbone with her delicate, lavender-painted nails. “That’s quite a quandary. It seems that your claim is significant. Would you be able to put a monetary value on what Lady Arona owes you? Perhaps Lord Vesavo could pay to release her from your service.”
“Absurd!” Vesavo growled.
Before he could say more, Victor shook his head. “The artifacts I used in the creation of Lady Arona’s vessel were priceless. Moreover, I need her service on Dark Ember; it’s invaluable to me.”
Kreshta Griss leaned forward and, in her dry, crackling voice, said, “Have Vesavo give the boy a handful of apprentices. He can conquer his little world without the girl.”
No one bothered to correct the crone for her disrespectful labels. Instead, Lady Rexa looked at Victor with an arched eyebrow. “Would that suffice?”
Victor shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“What then?” Roil growled, interjecting. “I grow weary of this matter. Let us simply vote. One of these men will have to be unhappy.” His lack of concern for Arona’s fate, his tacit dismissal of her arguments that she should be free of Vesavo, allowed a trickle of rage to slip free of Victor’s control. It slithered into his pathways to tint his vision and make his pulse throb in his temples.
“One moment, Lord Consul Roil,” Rexa said. “Lord Victor, did you have a solution in mind? Your dismissal of other options tells me you do.”
Victor nodded, unclasping his hands and folding his arms over his chest as he turned to glare at Vesavo. “Let us duel.”
The hall erupted into chaos as the crowd’s reactions overwhelmed the enchantments. Roil snorted out a choked laugh, a cloud of gray smoke escaping his hood. Vesavo openly guffawed, and the rest of the consuls reacted with similar amusement, though most of them were far more contained. Even Rexa played along, tittering behind her hand as she looked at Victor with obvious pity, like an adult whom a child had just challenged.
When the crowd finally began to settle and the enchantments kicked in, throwing the hall into silence, when the consuls had gathered their composure, Lo’ro played his part again, waving a hand dismissively as he said, “So what if he’s only a steel seeker. If he has the audacity to challenge Vesavo Bonewhisper, let him. Vesavo surely won’t shrink from the opportunity to put this matter to rest. A pity for Ranish Dar, but that’s the way the dice roll sometimes.”
If Roil hadn’t seen the opportunity to embarrass his rival before, then he certainly saw it now. He leaned forward, turning his smoke-filled hood toward Vesavo. “Well, Lord Consul Vesavo? Will you shrink away from this duel?” His tone left no doubt—if Vesavo declined the duel, he’d lose an ally.
The Death Caster stepped closer to Victor, sneering as he ran his gaze over him. “You understand what you’ve asked, yes? I’m no jumped-up novice. I’ve conquered dozens of worlds.”
Victor decided to poke the bear a bit more. “Slaughtering a million sheep doesn’t turn a dog into a lion.”
“You dare!” Vesavo stepped toward him, Energy coalescing around him like a typhoon of death. His aura slammed into Victor—cold as gravesoil, full of clawing hands reaching from death itself. Victor didn’t fight the pull; he stumbled back, shrank into himself, and held his hands up defensively. Then Roil shouted something, and the assault ended—utterly gone like it had never begun. Vesavo dismissed Victor, turning to face his fellow consuls. “I accept the challenge.”
