The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu) (20 page)

As they took him from the shaft in the basement, LaJay helped him rise. There would be no more fat little leaves until just before the meeting. It would not do to fall asleep. A single SHORT was waiting with the engine running. Rat was standing outside the open passenger door. Kimraig stopped abruptly, not willing to enter. In his condition, there was no way to fight his way out of this.

“Relax, old man,” Brody-1’s massive hand was trying to reassure him, but it was not helping ease the tension. “Rat brought a second SHORT back for you. Mistress Ann and Leader Breen left a short while ago.”

“Explain how this helps me,” Kimraig asked. Rat had a look about her he had not seen before.

“I take him,” Rat said as she grabbed Kimraig’s arm, none too gently, and ushered him to the door, half dragging him into the interior. Between LaJay and Rat, he was laying on the back seat in no time, his hands locked again. This time, the manacles were in front. He was not going anywhere without their help.

“Not sorry I do this,” Rat’s voice was the same, no nonsense. “Me people at Number 1 Building took to cell in basement. Should ‘a toll us you gunna’ be Wicca’s first male Leader. They not ‘bout ta share nothing with you.”

Kimraig had no answer. He had not bothered to think of how his actions would look to those who had supported his journey. He had not thought past the takeover of One Nine. Well he had taken it over all right. Won the battle and lost the war: trite history.

Finally, building One Nine passed behind them. He did not remember crossing the street to the annex where their attack had begun. He did not remember Luna slipping out to bring what remained of the Crossers delegation back to join them. Marta and Luna had kept Commander Colt’s stripped Team 1 in reserve in case they found Loyal Richards. They were not needed—no Loyal Richards.

At least the two women had not turned the blame on him as he had originally guessed.

Chapter 8. Silent Vote

Number 5 Building

Outside the Wicca Council Chambers

Kimraig had no recollection of the ride back home. Two bodyguards met the SHORT as they arrived. Someone had remembered him, ordering protection for the people’s hero. It did not matter if the guards were only protecting his body for deposit in the Compost Heap.

Brody-1 and Hunter Curtis were on either side of Kimraig in the holding cell outside the Chamber doors. They had guarded him while he watched the Vid-screen as the Wicca Leader of Leaders laid out the charges against him for his second treason trial. These two had made sure no one saw him on the trip from the basement to the showers, to the changing room. They knew his status with most of their population so it would not do for the ordinary people to see him in chains.

“LaJay sent a reminder, ‘the hard part comes now’ so be aware.” Hunter Curtis chose to whisper in his ear as the cell doors swung open.

“Got it, she told me. Thanks,” Kimraig answered before he could finish.

He had heard it all before and he knew just what would happen if he did not swallow.

Kimraig pushed the wad of chewed leaves into his cheek for storage. He had been chewing only a few—the remainder stashed in his pocket—chewing a long, long time and he was beginning to see shadows around things that had no shadows. He remembered why this “euphoria” could be the dangerous “hard part” LaJay had described. Everything wrong with his world seemed right and a little bit of that went a long way. He had needed that effect in the elevator shaft but he could not afford it here. He swallowed.

His two guards ushered him to the temporary prisoner benches with its speaking lectern, deliberately set off to the side of the assembly. Except for those seated on the rail, the main body of people could not see these seats. Each delegate would have to stand and crane their neck to see the prisoner, as if his mere presence in these seats proved guilt.

He looked to the seated Wicca Council, found Breen in her thirteenth spot in the last row. She looked worn down by the weight of the manacles holding her wrists in front, but looked as beautiful as ever despite a small swelling on one cheek. No bruise showed. It might be the paint some females wore, or LaJay’s medicinal leaves. Two armed guards stood a respectful distance away.

Not for the first time he compared her to Char. That was unfair for both of the women. He tried to push the comparison aside, only to have LaJay’s image push it back to him. He had never been in a situation where there was more than a single woman in his life. Usually that was a Queen and required duty. Now he had three he deeply cared for. Although Mistress Breen, it seemed, was almost certainly a love-hate bond.

The sight of Mistress Ann rushed him back to reality. She sat in her normal seat as Number 1 Building’s Superior. Now she wore a bright blue scarf tied across her mouth as a defiant gag, manacled wrists spread wide, the small chain pulled tight, hands held out in supplication. Making a spectacle, appealing for sympathy—or—he had no idea. An additional brace of guards stood within reach, as the council filed into their seats.

The other four Superiors sat in their appointed place, constantly arranging their robes as if they were drawing attention away from Mistress Ann.

As Kimraig took his place on the single bench at the side of the podium, a general clamor filled the chamber. The Crossers delegation had arrived.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Prime Minister Painter-Richards enter on a rolling platform designed to keep her upright as she traveled. Loose of her restraints, the small woman was very good with a second set of canes like the ones she had loaned him at One Nine.

Two Leaders ushered her to a reserved seat up front, an honored guest. Behind her were Luna and Marta dressed in battle armor, their helmets tucked discreetly under left arms: no Loyal Richards, no animals nor empty chairs.

“Well at last, we are ready to continue,” Leader Pace said waiting for the large double doors to close. “Our honored guest,” she vaguely gestured toward the spectacle of their entrance, “representing the Crossers is Prime Minister Painter-Richards.”

Leader Pace was not long on introductions unless it was her own. “Unfortunately, we do not have a representative from the Outsiders.” She paused, her chubby hands making a good show of checking her notes.

“Will the male named Kimraig please stand to hear the vote on guilt or innocence.”

“No Miss,” he answered.

“You will do as ordered. You have heard the charges against you. Now stand.”

“I have not heard those charges. Ten minutes of your proceeding were removed from the broadcast,” he had guessed at the time, so he chose to remain respectful. He continued to remain in his seat.

Leader Pace looked to Mistress Ann for direction. The Superiors from the four other buildings stood, almost as one. The closest walked the short distance to stand in front of Mistress Ann, effectively blocking her from view. They were expressing their displeasure at the charges brought against their counterpart. Superiors were exempt from this type of harassment.

It appeared to Kimraig that the missing minutes were a clever ploy to disrupt the proceedings. Who had arranged that, and why?

Leader Pace, lost now, could no longer make eye contact with Mistress Ann.
No orders if I cannot see her,
she gulped.
Guess I have to brazen through this part.

“Hunter, for the last time I order you to stand and be convicted.” With her bluster, Leader Pace realized she had said the wrong thing. She pronounced him convicted before the Wicca’s vote. She stammered, looking for words to change what had happened, but it was not to be. Two sets of hands grabbed her elbows. She feigned a collapse as the two eldest among her peers led her from the podium. Leader Pace would have a hard time remaining a Leader.

In the rows of seats, many began to stand. A Silent Vote had begun.

This was just the second time in the Builder’s short history that this illegal vote presented itself. Their Rules of Order did not allow filibusters. None of those standing said a thing, but the spirit of the single word—filibuster—was intact.

Across the rows of twelve seats defining each building, more representatives stood—bright blue scarves on many. The reactionaries were first, those intimidated out of their views in favor of the status quo. A few stood in support of their Superiors. Most stood against the obvious attempt to convict anyone of a crime, male or female, without the benefit of all pertinent information. They knew it could be one of them. Pandemonium would soon reign.

There were not enough lawmakers sitting in the rows to make a simple majority in either the ranks of the building representatives or the Wicca Council. The Council was closest. With the removal of the former Leader Pace and the five standing, they numbered six instead of 13. Leader Breen, like Mistress Ann, could not vote, they stood accused along with Kimraig. No simple majority.

Order began to disintegrate. Someone must take charge. Normally, the most senior Leader would jump into the breach, but she was standing. No one standing could take part in a vote—too many rules for good government. The simple act of standing cast a silent vote in support of the accused. They had not forgotten their hero.

Leader Sala, from Number 5 Building, stood and moved toward the lectern. She was the youngest elected to the body since Mistress Ann. Her walk displayed purpose and determination, a child’s body with cherubic features obscuring the strong, intent young woman under the robes—a chameleon hiding a snake. The noise in the assembly had grown to an uncomfortable roar as she took the lectern.

“Quiet. This is a trial, not a tea party. Three of our own are in danger of losing their freedom,” she shouted. “Leader Breen has asked to explain the full story of the attack during the occupation of the building named One Nine. Now shut up while she does that.”

There was no doubt now, Leader Sala was in charge.

Kimraig knew the missing ten minutes of his trial transcript had deadlock this meeting. The only one with power enough to pull that off was Mistress Ann—that answered who had cut the minutes. Leader Sala was sure this elaborate plan had to do with Mistress Ann wanting sloppy Leader Pace gone.

The two guards moved to Leader Breen’s side. Each took an arm and helped with the short walk to the podium. The two low steps to the lectern were another matter. When she hesitated, they helped her up these as well. Each returned to the base of the two steps and stood guard. Her painful journey helped calm the assembly.

Slumping for a moment, catching an imminent fall with forearms planted firmly on the lectern, she had their attention. Her two guards moved back to her. They remained close enough to touch, on the first step of the platform.

“This male, Kimraig, was under my command during the time Leader Pace accused him of ignoring orders and attacking the Outsiders. Without his quick actions in leading a counterattack, Mistress Ann and I would not be here defending our approach to the acquisition of One Nine.” Leader Breen paused and waited. She did not need to tell them that Mistress Ann and she had let things get out of hand.

“Mistress Ann and I are the guilty parties here, not him.” Leader Breen now commanded every ear with her statement of responsibility. Very few Leaders took responsibility for anything less than the greatest successes.

Leader Breen went on to explain, her former Hunter’s capture and his trip, restrained with handcuffs and chains, to the new building. She and Mistress Ann did not want him attacking them, as he had the rebel Commanders during the Gender war.

She again reminded them that his allegiance had always been, and remained with, the Wicca. Leader Breen and Mistress Ann felt they needed his reputation with this council to sell the idea of a male as Co-Superior. He, along with herself, would fill that requirement for the peaceful occupation of One Nine.

This brought rumbles of distaste from almost everyone in the assembly, standing or not. Males served only as breeders during the Mating Rituals, expendable Hunters and workers to build more space for the ruling female class.

Leader Breen did not let the complaints stop her explanation. In addition, she informed the council that she and Mistress Ann had planned to negotiate peace with the Crossers and Outsiders, which in itself, is an act of treason.

As noise began to build, she explained their reasoning. Each of these groups would not join forces with a population that sacrificed males, or any other human life, as if they were leftovers fit only for insects. Half-truths, half lies, but it worked.

“Kimraig did exactly what he was trained to do, protect his Queen, in this case his Leader.. In the process he saved me and Mistress Ann from the hands of the Outsiders.”

With that, Leader Breen finished. She turned to her two guards, directing them to take her to the row of chairs alongside her temporary Hunter. She chose not to register the fact that the assembly had gone quiet as she sat down next to the condemned male, instead of returning to her own seat with the Wicca. She looked neither right nor left as she withdrew to a safe internal space.

Leader Sala jumped feet first into the silence.

“All of you get it together. We have already lost the right to decide who went to One Nine. We will not lose anything else because you continue to bicker over trivia.”

There is always someone ready to seize an opportunity for total control.