The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (16 page)

“Does anyone have anything they wish to say?” Crane asked, turning to the other Elders, inviting them to speak first.

“I say that we have no one we can trust to lead our forces,” Elder Warryn said immediately, his big booming voice full of supercilious pomposity, clearly heard by every member of the Kindred.

“I say that we do!” Autmaran responded immediately. “We have General Goldwyn!”

“We do not have a
Prince of the Veil!
” Warryn corrected, rounding on the man. While Autmaran was tall and strong, Warryn was both taller and wider, though his girth lay in a large circle about his middle not across his shoulders. Autmaran took a step back and bowed his head, though Raven could see from where he sat that the deference was grudging.

“There is no one that we have that can be elected to the office. We have generals – Goldwyn, Gates, and Wyck among them – all fine men, men that I would trust with my life.”

There was a murmur of agreement here form the seated Kindred.

“But there is none that I would make ruler over me,” he continued with a ferocity of conviction that, despite himself, Raven couldn’t help but admire. “The Prince of the Veil is a man or woman chosen for a very specific purpose, to fulfill a very specific kind of need. What would be the purpose now? Invade the Empire? Such a thing could take years – lifetimes! – to conduct successfully. We have neither the manpower, nor the time, to fight a prolonged battle that has no end in sight.”

The Kindred were nodding, most of them apparently swayed by the argument. Raven looked closer at Warryn and realized … there was something different about him.

He was covering it well – the man was quite the statesman, and it was hard to see through the front he’d put on. But Raven had grown up around the most cunning and clever members of the Most High – he knew a man putting on a good show of face when he saw one. There was something going on here.

“Not only that,” Warryn continued, turning and speaking to the Kindred at large now, much more comfortable with this role than Autmaran was, “there is the simple fact that we have won not one but
two
great victories. We have struck a great blow to the Empire, in this I agree with Major Autmaran. But he is misguided on the simplest of levels – when you have seized a large amount of territory, you need to reposition yourself, absorb it and solidify your position. We do not rush forward blindly like the greedy peddler in the parable.”

Warryn nodded and stepped back, every inch a study in prim regality; Crane stepped forward in his simple gray robes, looking positively
drab next to Warryn in his black and gold. The Wise Elder turned to the others.

“Does anyone else wish to speak?”

For a long moment none of the Elders said or did anything, but simply stood there. Raven watched them curiously, comparing them, almost subconsciously, to his brothers and sisters. They were certainly more … what would be the right word …
respectful
, of each other. But who knew if that meant they were better rulers?

Elder Keri stepped forward, looking over the crowd with her beautiful smile, the kind that made them all feel like treasured children. But then her smile faded, and she slowly shook her head as she looked at Autmaran.

“I agree with Warryn. There should be no Prince.”

She stepped back, and Elder Spader stepped forward.

“I agree as well,” he said dryly. “I do not think now would be the most
opportune
time. Perhaps soon the time will come … but not now.”

He stepped back, and one by one the others stepped forward and agreed, even, in the end, Elder Crane, who was watching Autmaran with sympathy.

“Then I call for a vote of the people!” Called Autmaran, looking desperate. He turned on the gathered Kindred, many of whom were looking down now, embarrassed by his open show of emotion.

“I do not know how to convince you,” Autmaran said. “But I know this is the time! It is our chance to free ourselves forever from the oppressive oversight of the Imperial Tyrant! Please! Raise your voice for me, for us, for the Kindred!”

A few stood and looked around, self-consciously, at these words, and Raven saw a scribe suddenly pop up, seemingly out of nowhere at the far side of the stage, and start taking a tally. Apparently standing meant you supported the measure.

Crane let the silence draw out for a time, but when it was clear no one else would stand he stepped forward and laid a hand on Autmaran’s shoulder. He spoke softly in the Major’s ear, and Autmaran took a step back, looking dejected. Warryn strode forward and said something inaudible; Autmaran spoke back heatedly, and suddenly all of the Elders were talking with the Major, words flying rapidly, but too quiet to be heard in the gathered crowd.

“Why a veil?” Raven asked Leah, trying to covertly air some of his questions in this brief respite. The Kindred around the Odeon seemed to have had the same idea – they were all whispering to each other, and a low murmur had risen in the air around them like a cloud of humming insects.

“Hmm?” Leah responded, eyes still focused on the Elders below.

“Why is he called the Prince of the Veil?” He clarified. “I don’t understand what the veil part means. Veil of what?”

Leah responded slowly, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“The veil that separates the living from the dead,” she said. “It’s an old Kindred superstition. No one really believes in it.”

“A veil?” Raven asked, unable to keep skepticism from coloring his voice. He was almost a little amused – the Kindred thought that the world of the dead was located behind a veil? How quaint.

“Yes,” said the Exile girl, turning on him now, her fiery eyes daring him to say anything more explicit. He squashed his laughter and instead leaned his chin on his hand and courteously gave her his full attention. After a moment, she continued:

“The idea is a tradition from hundreds of years ago,” she said, still watching him suspiciously, speaking slowly, ready to stop at the slightest sign of mockery. “The legend goes that the world of the dead exists right alongside the world of the living, in a world that is only a step away in the right direction. The world of the dead is a shadow cast by the living, and the Veil is the only thing that separates them, that keeps them from meeting. There’s a bunch of other religious superstitions about it that no one pays attention to anymore, about there being seven doors that lead through to it, that a devil guards each one on the dead side and an angel on the living side. The rest of the legend says that when you die you pass through each door, becoming younger, until you’re a pure soul, striped of all worldly bias like beauty and strength.”

In spite of himself, Raven was intrigued. It was an interesting mythology if nothing else, and it told him that the Kindred had the same emphasis on the number seven that the Empire did.

“What happens after the last door?”

“The soul is judged,” she said. “And if it is a soul that is evil, it is sent through the final step of the Veil, and trapped there forever. If it is pure, it is allowed to return to the world, and to become one with all of life.”

She paused then and squinted her eyes as if trying to remember more.

“So then what is the Prince?” Raven asked after the silence had lengthened to what he felt was an acceptable amount of time. He wanted to prevent being considered rude – it was the one thing that would most assuredly stop her talking.

“I think the idea was that the Prince was supposed to guard against evil souls that passed the test through deceit and made it back into the world,” Leah said. “But that’s the superstition. No one actually believes it, at least in a literal sense.”

“So what does it mean today?” Raven prodded carefully.

“It has come to mean that the task the Prince is given is one he will carry out until he is taken beyond the Veil. One that, even in death, he has bound himself to serve; he becomes the Veil, standing between us and the evil trying to destroy the Kindred.”

For a long moment Raven was silent, and then a thought occurred to him.

“How many Kindred elected as Prince have survived?”

“Three.”

“Out of
three hundred?”
Raven asked, shocked.

Leah nodded.

“So anyone elected … can be expected to die.”

“Basically,” Leah said, “which is why the office isn’t usually filled by choice but by necessity. And very few have ever volunteered for it. It is an honor to be chosen of course, and it’s never been refused, but those who know the stories know they’re going to their death.”

“So … who would Autmaran want to elect?”

“Hear me!” Called the voice of Tomaz, a sound like the earth quaking. The Kindred all quieted once more, and Leah broke off, leaving Raven’s question hanging heavy in the air between them. The Elders had broken up; Warryn looked
very
grumpy, while Spader and Ishmael stood conversing off to one side as if observing an interesting experiment on which they intended to compare notes. Elder Dragon Lady was looking around with a gaze full of pure venom.

Autmaran had crossed the stage and was speaking hurriedly to Tomaz. When he was done, the giant turned to the crowd and the Kindred leaned forward, listening intently.

“Major Autmaran has decided to reveal his nomination,” Tomaz rumbled loudly, the booming echo rolling over them in sonorous waves.

“We’ve already defeated the measure!” Someone from the back called.

“Let the motion rest!” Someone else agreed.

“SILENCE!” Tomaz roared like the crack of doom, and talk stopped immediately. “The Major is within his rights, as you well know!”

The giant stopped and fell silent himself as he let this pronouncement sit heavy in the air. None dared to challenge it, and indeed some of the Kindred who had spoken out before looked uncomfortable, like chastened children.

“If I didn’t know him I’d be scared to death of him,” Raven whispered very low to Leah, who smiled with that wry sideways quirk of her lips.

Tomaz motioned to Autmaran, who strode forward once more.

“For the first time in the history of our great nation,” he began again, picking up right where he had left off, “we
do have
such a leader!”

He paused and turned to the gathered Kindred and faltered slightly, again appearing thrown off by the size of his audience.

“We love you Auty,” called a voice, “but not
that
much!”

Laughter followed this, and Autmaran took a deep breath.

“Not me,” he said. “I am not the man to lead you - but we do have a man here who has done what no one else has been able to do. We have a man among us here who knows the Empire like no Kindred ever has before, a man trained in leadership all his life, a man with the power and the motive to stand up to the Empire.”

He pointed into the watching crowd, straight at Raven.

“We have the Prince of Ravens.”

Shocked silence followed this, nowhere more profound than in Raven’s own head. Thousands of eyes turned to look at him, accompanied by the rustling sound of moving clothing as they all followed the direction of the outstretched finger.

For a long time no one spoke; they all just watched Raven for his reaction. Even Leah, sitting next to him, seemed to be at a loss for words.

The voice that broke this spell rang out from the throat of Henri Perci.

“
This is an insult!
”

Other angry words followed, which led to a number of heated replies that, to Raven’s complete horror, seemed to be supporting him.