Chapter 22 #2
“Tell me, Miss Talbot, where do you stand on the question of chips?” Tristram asked.
Hallie blinked at him, replaying the words in her mind, but was no closer to understanding what he was asking about. Or why. And the why was always important among hochlen. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Chips?”
“Microchips. Very useful little things, aren’t they?” Tristram said.
And Hallie realised that the flush in his face was from anger. Somehow one of the other Conclave members around him had sparked his temper. She had the sinking sensation of being led to the edge of a precipice, a long fall and a hard landing in front of her.
“The kind that go into mobile phones and computers and the like? I mean, I find them very useful. Is there some debate or question about that?” Hallie asked in turn.
She saw the tightening of Hoel’s face and a frown gathering on the face of one of the other members.
Unease crept through her. She knew that the Conclave disagreed on a lot of subjects, but she’d never wanted to be put into the middle of one of their arguments.
“This is ridiculous, Jacobs,” Hoel said, voice sharp with irritation. “All I said was that we should not be so quick to worship new technology.”
“I would agree,” one of the other men said unexpectedly.
He was shorter and softer than Hoel, his face suffused with colour that seemed natural.
If only Hallie could remember his name. She’d heard it tonight, and not that long ago as well.
Nanters Gable. That was it. And the other man, standing with his hands behind his back, listening intently to everything that was going on, was Echoid Bondar.
Both were long-standing members of the Conclave but hadn’t done anything remarkable to draw attention to themselves, or not that Hallie had heard about. “Not everything new is progress.”
“And I still say that’s incredibly backwards thinking,” Tristram said. “But it shouldn’t surprise me, as your people live in such a backwards place.”
“Gentlemen,” Cotovatre said, steel in her voice.
“Please save your healthy disagreements for the chamber, not my dining room. And I think you are all correct. The possibilities of new technology are dramatic and exciting, but we must not lose sight of our own history while we race ahead. Tristram, I wonder if you have had the chance to speak with Lamorat and Ocvran recently? I know you missed the last gathering.”
“You are wise as well as beautiful, my lady,” Tristram said, his colour fading back to normal. “I’d be delighted to speak to Lamorat and Ocvran again. Oh, and I see Ulfiam and Padarn close by, too. Excellent.”
Hallie stood, a little awkwardly, while Cotovatre led Tristram away.
Hoel was still simmering with temper, but both Nanters and Echoid had thoughtful expressions.
The brief argument had reminded Hallie of her conversation with Cotovatre about the changes the Conclave was facing.
It also reminded her of just how tired and worn out she was.
The restorative boost from Emmet was slowly working its way through her body, but she was aware of feeling footsore and thick-headed from all the people she’d spoken to, all the emotions she’d dealt with.
She wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cotovatre with Tristram, Lamorat and Ocvran.
They all seemed to be getting along much better than Tristram and Hoel had been.
“You set great value in tradition, sir,” Hallie said, turning to Hoel. “I’d like to hear more about why that is.”
Hoel looked down at her and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he let out a short breath. “It reminds us of who we are and where we come from,” he said simply.
Hallie took a moment to let the words roll around her mind, and decided that she was not up to debating the issues with Hoel. She settled for a polite nod. “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. If you’ll excuse me, sirs.”
She headed away, back to the entryway, and found Emmet and Girard there, almost as if they had been waiting for her.
“Emmet, I am sorry, but I’m wondering if it would be very rude of me to leave now?” she asked, and heard a pleading note in her voice that she hadn’t meant to let slip.
“Of course. Girard will take you home. And you have more than done your duty here,” Emmet said, smiling at her.
With her truth sense letting her know he was being honest, she was able to smile back then go out into the night with Girard again, settling into the car and sinking into comfortable silence for the short ride back to the building where they lived.
It didn’t feel like home. Not yet. Perhaps it might eventually. She wasn’t sure.
She shared a lingering goodnight kiss with Girard, glad that there was some privacy in the apartment building they now shared.
She was tempted to invite him into her new living space but could feel exhaustion weighing on her so left him on the ground floor, grateful for the lift to take her up to her front door, almost crying with relief and gratitude when she found that Alys had left lights on in the apartment, along with a glass of water by her bed.
She managed to get the pins out of her hair and get out of the dress without damaging it, sinking into her new, warm bed with relief.
As she settled to sleep, her mind was still working, turning over all the things she’d learned.
Verain, trying to insist that she marry Girard.
Cotovatre’s deft handling of the conflict between Hoel and Tristram.
Hoel quietly stating his love of tradition.
Ocvran’s kind smile. Emmet and Cotovatre’s quiet and deep bond which merged into Lamorat and Yselda’s affection.
The irritation of many Conclave members at the lack of progress by the director and the rest of the investigators.
And the nagging feeling that she’d been given answers tonight, or at least things that would point her to answers, and had missed something very important while she was still worrying about her own feelings.