Mage Prime (Book 2) (22 page)

Although the sun was barely over the horizon the Council Chamber was already a hive of activity. The sun’s weak wintry rays filtered through the high windows casting a pale cheerless light onto the scene below. The air crackled with anticipation as ministers dashed from group to group, gathering and dispensing information, arguing and assessing. Still smarting from the sharpness of Vailin’s tongue during the previous day’s meeting, the Prime Minister now kept himself very much in evidence. Having ensured that all his ministers were cognisant of the relevant facts, he applied himself to establishing what percentage were still favouring the dissenting faction. For about half an hour he scurried busily from group to group, gathering notes and fending off pleas to be heard first. He was about to intervene in a rapidly developing argument between Chancellor Leggitt and the Minister of Transport, when the thunder of grounding halberds stilled the clamour. Every head turned towards the dais.

As usual, the young king had dressed down for the occasion. Since his accession to the throne, Vailin’s determination not to wear robes of state unless it was absolutely necessary had caused the normally imperturbable Jobling a great deal of consternation. Today was no exception. Vailin’s choice of attire had his own comfort very much in mind.

After acknowledging the synchronised bows of his ministers, he hitched his dark blue velvet trousers and seated himself on what he referred to as his ‘bargaining throne’, all the while studying the sea of faces, gauging moods. What he saw filled him only with the certain knowledge that today was going to be very long and no doubt tedious. Each face reflected grim resolve, each minister fully apprised of the situation, each one determined to have their say and to be heard. Even the Prime Minister seemed to have acquired a new backbone, and stood forward of his ministers, an anticipatory glint in his eye.

Master Gibb leaned forward from behind the throne. “All the ministers are present, sire, even Minister Bloom.”

Vailin turned and looked at Gibb in astonishment. “Graveyards, Parks and Gardens? Good grief! This meeting’s about enemies, not anemones!”

Grinning widely, Gibb slid behind one of two small desks at the side of the dais and prepared to take notes. Vailin leaned back.

Hands resting on the arms of his throne, he addressed his ministers. “I think it would be a good idea if we dispensed with the preliminaries and moved straight to the main topic of the agenda, which, I’m sure you’re all by now aware, is the ever-increasing threat to our country of Albita. You will also be aware of my feelings regarding the situation in which we find ourselves. I will also reiterate what I have previously told Prime Minister Duckitt. To attempt to meet this threat with conventional weapons would be sheer folly. I also strongly believe the matter is already out of our hands, and we shall be mere observers, no more than that.”

The room became a veritable forest of little blue flags as ministers vied with each other to catch the eye of the king. He in turn, quietly surveyed their upturned faces.

Perversely, his gaze settled on a minister who, unmarked by a flag, was standing quietly, reading a note. “Minister Diggins. Have you nothing you are bursting to say?”

The Minister of Farming, Fish and Food looked up from his note and inclined his head respectfully. “Nothing of any import Your Majesty. As we have no army to speak of, what alternatives do we have? Perhaps we could we raise a peoples’ army of farmers and fishermen? Then they could lend us a big net and we can gather these grelfon creatures in that.”

A few ministers responded with restrained laughter, and Vailin gave a rueful little smile. “I sincerely wish, Minister Diggins that the matter were so easily resolved.”

Glancing round the room Vailin noticed that the Minister of Defence who, up until now he had considered to be a complete waste of space, was practically dancing in his desire to be heard.

Vailin nodded towards him. “Minister Bellows. I think it best we hear you, before you have a fit of apoplexy.”

The Minister of Defence, a wiry man with a shock of unmissably ginger hair, stepped forward. In a quiet, almost wheedling voice which made a mockery of his name, he addressed the floor. “We still have a little less than a year. An army can be battle trained in much less time than that. Besides, we do have a standing army, albeit a small one. They are good capable soldiers, willing and able to train recruits to their own high standard. I propose that, rather than rely solely on magic, we follow this course. Let us declare war on Naboria and show them that we won’t be so easily cowed by their evil doings.”

He was forced to pause while a cacophonous mix of hoots of derision and roars of approval echoed round the room. “Besides, I gather it has been discovered that there is a whole city out there, teeming with users of a vile magic called Vedric. What chance do two magicians, even if they are the country’s best, have against so many?”

To the accompaniment of further clamour the minister stepped back, his face flushed with exertion. The Prime Minister raised a hand for order. Vailin noticed that this time slightly fewer blue flags were in evidence. Breaking with tradition, the young king stood up and crossed the two short paces to the front of the dais.

He glared down, inwardly relishing the shock and surprise evidenced on the faces of some of the more dyed-in-the-wool traditionalists. “Let us get one thing straight, gentlemen. Our enemy is not Naboria. In fact, as recently as yesterday our spymaster presented me with a report. This makes it abundantly clear that our enemies are those who dwell in a city called Vedra, which lies somewhere out in the vast desert beyond the city of Nebir.” He paused to look round the crowded Council Chamber, making eye contact with none, but seeing all.

“I’m sure you will all agree that it would be the utmost folly to even consider moving troops and equipment to an undetermined location in an inhospitable country that is at best, a six week sea voyage distant. On the strength of information I have received, there are already steps being taken which could prove to be far more effective.”

One minister’s patience began to wear a little thin. Snatching a flag from the hand of a nearby attendant, he raised it high in the air. Protesting loudly, the usurped attendant marched off, followed almost immediately by his fellows, throwing their flags on the floor in support as they left. A mad scramble to retrieve the little blue pennants ensued, while the Prime Minister almost shouted himself hoarse in an attempt to restore some kind of order. Vailin braced his knees, folded his arms and looked down at the melee with amused indifference. The minister who had instigated the commotion stood firm, his pennant raised defiantly above his head.

Yielding to a grudging admiration, Vailin returned to his throne and waited patiently for the bickering to subside. “It would seem, gentlemen, that a new tradition has been established. From now on you can all wave your own little flags. No doubt we can find far more productive occupations for our loyal attendants.”

A muted cheer went up from the back of the room, where the dozen or so floor boys were standing at ease. Vailin rewarded them with a little smile.

He turned his attention to the minister who still valiantly refused to lower his pennant. “Minister Stamp. Your arm must surely be aching by now. Please rest it, and let us hear what is so vital it has caused you to dispense with hundreds of years of tradition.”

The Minister of Health lowered his arm, relief evident on his careworn and kindly face. He took a pace forward. “As it appears that we have little choice but to consign our fate to the powers of magic, are there not in this whole wide land other skilled magicians who would be willing to unite with Master Symon and Master Karryl? If they were to combine all their powers, then I for one would feel more optimistic about the outcome.”

Once again the room echoed to cries of derision and roars of approval. Quickly they subsided as Vailin raised his hand. “Minister Stamp, I will tell you and everyone else assembled here. It is virtually guaranteed that Master Symon and Master Karryl will not be standing alone in this.”

A clear voice rang out from a shadowed alcove just below and to the left side of the dais. “Indeed they will not.”

The tall stately figure of the Lady Evalin moved forward. Her loose flowing robes of iridescent blue shimmered as she stepped gracefully up onto the dais and crossed to stand beside Vailin. A hush immediately fell over the room.

Evalin smiled at the king. “Now, isn’t that amazing?” The smile fell from her face and her expression darkened as she turned swiftly to face the assembled ministers. “I have no desire to insult your intelligence, but you gentlemen really do not know what we are up against. None of you experienced the horror of the grelfon attack, which is indeed fortunate, but I tell you this. If they were to arrive in force, then without the use of some very powerful magic, none would survive. To talk of raising armies is wasting breath. One Vedric magician could fell the best part of a battalion before they could even raise their puny weapons.”

Protocol was abandoned. A tide of blue flags thrashed furiously, the ministers all shouting at once. Through all the commotion, a small figure in a dark grey robe moved purposefully forward. He stood, hands clasped, waiting patiently in front of the dais.

Vailin’s stentorian roar surprised even Lady Evalin. “Prime Minister! Call your members to order! We would like to hear what Minister Thios has to say.”

Keeping his voice low, Vailin leaned towards Lady Evalin. “Personally, I’d like to beat every one of them about their silly heads with their little blue flags. It might be an exercise in futility, but it would certainly give me an inordinate amount of satisfaction.”

The expression he showed his now quietened ministers was almost smug. “There! You see gentlemen, what a quiet, orderly approach can achieve.”

He leaned forward and looked down at the diminutive Minister of the Lower Temple. “You seem to have no blue flag, Minister Thios.”

In anticipation of a royal reprimand, a few sniggers flitted round the room.

Thios opened his tiny hands and turned a benign expression up to his king. “I have never felt the need of one, Your Majesty.”

Stifling the onset of an appreciative chortle, Vailin indicated that Thios should continue.

The grey robed Minister tilted back his tonsured head and regarded the Lady Evalin with bright, guileless eyes. “With reference to my lady’s last and I must admit, rather disconcerting observation, would I be correct in assuming that our own magicians would have comparable powers.”

The Lady Evalin raised an eyebrow in consternation. “My dear Minister Thios. To be sure it surprises me that you find it necessary to ask. Had you been a little more attentive in your prayers, I have no doubt you would have found the answer to that and many other questions. However, for the benefit of those assembled whose strength of faith may be found wanting, let me assure you that any practitioner of the magical arts who comes against our own, will find themselves very hard pressed.”

Murmurs of approval rippled round the Council Chamber, little groups breaking off and debating amongst themselves. Vailin smiled to himself. The number of dissenting voices had reduced considerably. He had a sneaking suspicion that Lady Evalin was gradually and surreptitiously taking a hand in influencing the direction of the proceedings. Deciding to spend at least a short while as an interested spectator, the young king rested his chin in his hand, crossed his ankles and startled the mild-mannered Minister Thios with a wide and boyish spontaneous grin. Uncertain how to respond, Thios gave a brief but respectful tilt of his head, before returning his gaze to the Lady Evalin, who was about to continue addressing the ministers.

Noticing that the grey-robed cleric had not returned to the main body but was standing patiently, albeit wearing a slightly aggrieved expression, Evalin bent forward and spoke quietly to him. “Would there still be something troubling you Minister Thios?”

The diminutive Minister wrung his hands a little, and looked up earnestly into Evalin’s face. “It may not have any direct bearing on the business at hand, my lady, but I feel you should know. For the twenty-seven years I have been Minister of the Lower Temple, I have not once relaxed in my duties of service and devotion. Nevertheless, in all that time, it has never been my good fortune to have communion with the goddess to whom my temple is dedicated.”

Evalin gave him a benevolent smile. “Persevere and have patience, dear Thios. Maybe it is not yet the right time, but rest assured, you are not forgotten.”

Looking slightly dubious, Thios thanked her and turned away, as one minister broke away from a large group near the back of the room. He held his flag high in the air.

Vailin groaned inwardly and sat upright. “Chancellor Leggitt. I was beginning to think you were not in attendance. You have been uncommonly quiet.”

The tall, soberly dressed Chancellor sidled towards the dais like a dog after scraps. Vailin half expected him to bare his teeth. He wasn’t disappointed. The ingratiating smile was almost sickening, and Vailin briefly entertained a thought about the security of the treasury.

“Not for want of trying, Your Majesty. As second only to the Prime Minister, I feel that I should have been heard more promptly.”

The hard glint in the eyes of both his king and the Lady Evalin should have warned the peevish Chancellor that he was on thin ice. Appalled by this singular lack of courtesy, the entire assembly fell silent. To a man, they waited with bated breath for Leggit to fall headlong into his self-made pit of impropriety.