Chapter 27 #2
“Miss Talbot.” Tristram Jacobs gave her a little bow as she approached.
It struck a discordant note for Hallie as the gesture seemed completely genuine and at odds with the insincere tone she expected from the youngest member of the Conclave.
“We owe you our deepest gratitude for saving our lives.” He gestured to the wall of gold where the doorway to the chamber had once been.
“Perhaps the most terrifying thing I have ever seen. And that does make the second time that you have clearly saved my life. I do not wish it to become a habit.” And that was more like the Tristram she expected, with the slightly mocking overtone and sly humour.
“I am glad to have been able to help,” Hallie said, gaze flicking around the rest of the group. The other five men - including Hoel - had polite expressions on their faces, but she had the sense that at least a couple of them did not entirely agree with Tristram.
“How long are we going to be expected to stay here?” one of the other men asked.
Cladas Larch, Hallie remembered. One of the longest-serving members of the Conclave, he wore his years deeply etched on his face and was trembling slightly.
Frightened. Hallie didn’t blame him. Most of the Conclave members lived privileged lives far from violence.
And they had just seen several people, including their colleagues, killed by molten gold, then their escape route had exploded, killing another person. So fear was understandable.
“We are working on a way to get out now,” Girard said, in his calm manner. “While we’re here, it would help if you would answer some questions.”
“Questions?” Cladas Larch returned, chin lifting as his trembling faded a little, fixing Girard with a stare full of what Hallie thought of as hochlen arrogance. “You presume to question us?”
“I do,” Girard answered, still in that easy manner.
Hallie saw the brief confusion on the older man’s face.
He’d expected Girard to back down. He’d expected to be treated with deference.
And while Girard had been perfectly polite, he had also held firm, showing that deep core of integrity that had been one of the first things that had drawn Hallie to him.
“Have you heard of a man named Russet Welliver?” Hallie asked Cladas.
She might have directed the question to him, but she was also watching the others in the group and saw a few of them stiffen.
Her stomach twisted a little. Not just one or two but at least three people.
That suggested that the planning had gone much further than she had imagined.
With so many strong personalities and differing points of view in the Conclave she could easily have imagined one or two plotting together, but more than that suggested something even more rotten and damaged at the heart of the Conclave.
“Of course I have,” Cladas snapped at her. “He’s a criminal. He’s on your most wanted list. Why? Why are you asking about him?”
“Russet Welliver is in Daydawn,” Hallie answered. “We think he may actually be in the building.”
“That is utter nonsense,” the old man said. “Wait. Why are you asking me about him? Do you think I brought him in?”
“No, sir, I do not,” Hallie said. She didn’t need her truth sense to know that Cladas Larch had nothing to do with what had happened that day. But others did. She braced herself and turned to face Nanters Gable. “You know the name as well, and you knew he was in the building.”
“No, I did not,” Nanters answered, his already high colour deepening to an unhealthy shade. “That is an outrageous accusation.”
“I didn’t say you got him into the building,” Hallie pointed out, “but you did know he was here.” She tilted her head, eyes on the man’s face. “Didn’t know exactly what was planned, though, did you? Didn’t know that you would be in direct danger?”
“I most certainly did not,” the man said, almost spluttering in his haste to get the words out.
Hallie believed him. “None of it, I mean. None of it.” And he was back to lying.
She just wasn’t sure about what. The knot of tension she was carrying turned over, a foul taste in her mouth at the lies he was telling.
She had an impulse to grab the man by his collar, to force answers out of him.
There was no time for patience or finesse.
Pain bloomed in her head, reminding her that she had used a lot of magic so far today.
She might not be able to compel him to respond, even if she could overcome her bone-deep revulsion at the idea.
She would need to get to the truth some other way.
“Not your idea, then,” Hallie said, eyes travelling over the group again. Tristram was back to wearing his mocking expression. “Not your idea, either,” she said.
Tristram’s brows lifted and an unhealthy gleam of mischief entered his eyes. “Now, why would you insult me so? Don’t you think I’m capable of such destruction and chaos?”
“I am quite sure you are,” Hallie said, earning an almost gleeful chuckle from him, “but not in this instance. I don’t see what you gain by destroying the Conclave.
” And there it was. The slightest of twitches.
If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it.
“But you do gain something, don’t you, Hoel Buchanan? ”
“I do not answer to you,” Hoel told her in a cold voice, looking down at her.
Taking a closer look at him, she could see hard lines under the soft robes he was wearing.
Body armour. He was the only one of the Conclave wearing it, or the only one that she’d noticed.
She was quite sure some of the members habitually wore protective clothing.
Hochlen technology produced light-weight, flexible body-armour, like the gear the investigators wore.
But Hoel’s was sturdy enough to show through his robes.
More like the heavy duty armour that the tac team wore.
Sturdy enough to help protect him from a bomb blast, perhaps?
Hallie’s chest tightened. That kind of armour was not readily available and not something he’d just happened across that morning.
There had been considerable planning involved.
“Today, you do answer to me,” Hallie told him, facing him squarely, noticing how the other Conclave members in the group looked at him for guidance.
Well, apart from Tristram. Hoel was most definitely the leader of this particular group.
Again, apart from Tristram. Tristram’s motives were, for now, unknown.
She focused on Hoel. “Why did you plot to destroy the Conclave?”
“What makes you think I did any such thing?” Hoel asked, pale blue eyes full of icy hatred as he stared at her.
She remembered being at Vertiger and wondering if any of his fellow Conclave members knew just how dangerous he was.
It seemed she’d also underestimated him.
She’d known he was full of powerful emotions, but hadn’t realised how far he would go to act upon them.
“Well, you haven’t denied it, and an innocent person would have done so,” Hallie answered, proud that her voice didn’t shake. She held her ground as he seemed to grow taller, looming over her, his fury an almost physical presence.
“What did you hope to gain?” Girard asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“Gain? Oh, nothing much. Just the ability to make my own decisions about my own lands and people. Freedom to choose, as my father and our forefathers had,” Hoel said, bitterness in his words that had the flavour of old, old resentment.
The truth of it rang through Hallie. He genuinely believed he had lost something valuable.
“I don’t understand,” Hallie said, brow wrinkling in confusion. “You are the head of your people. You are a member of the Conclave. You have authority and freedom. Far more than almost anyone else in the world.”
“You know nothing about it,” Hoel said, contempt clear in his voice and expression.
“But you could not possibly comprehend, could you? With your little life and your little concerns. While I have my people to think of and my legacy.” The contempt didn’t bother Hallie nearly as much as the belief that rang through his words.
He thought he was right. He thought he was doing what was required.
He slanted a look past Hallie to where Cotovatre and Emmet were standing.
“This world, this Conclave, were formed of traditions and values. The old ways that have served us well for hundreds upon hundreds of years. My ancestors would never have stood for a woman in this gathering, or adding humans to our group.” The disgust in his voice as he said humans made Hallie feel sick.
He cast another look back at Hallie and her skin crawled under the fury she could see there.
“Your people are barely surviving,” Girard said, and Hallie could tell that he was struggling to maintain some semblance of calm, anger still leaking through.
“You deny them the advancements in medical care, in transport, in technology, all the things that would allow them to live more comfortably and more fully in your lands.”