Chapter 11 #2
“Like Refoel, Ratsiel has always considered themselves neutral in all high house conflicts,” Nic said.
“Yes, and look how neutral Refoel turned out to be,” Gabriel retorted.
“Just took a little strong-arming from Seliah and Jadren,” Nic acknowledged.
“If you’re not fighting evil, you are evil,” Han pronounced solemnly.
“But how do we know we’re on the side of good and not evil?” Iliana asked, blanching a little when everyone speared her with incredulous expressions.
Bertie closed his book and nodded. “Iliana asks an excellent question and one worth exploring.”
Gabriel groaned inwardly. He liked Bertie, but his tendency to fall into long dissertations on obscure subjects could get wearying. However, they had slowed considerably in the tangle of traffic around Convocation Central and would not be at Convocation Academy for some time.
“It’s often said,” Bertie continued in his professorial tone, “that history is written by the winners. This has the effect of spinning the side of ‘good’ or ‘right’ in favor of those winners, regardless of the inherent effects of their actions.”
“I don’t understand,” Iliana said, frowning.
“Too many big words,” Han confided in a loud whisper, grunting when she elbowed him sharply.
“No, no, Iliana is correct that I’m obscuring rather than explaining what is a fundamentally simple concept, if we accept a basic premise that we are all human beings with equivalent value, that we each possess the right to lead our lives as we see fit.”
“But…” Iliana looked around the carriage. Two wizards. Three familiars. “We don’t all have equal value. Wizards have more value than familiars, because they can work magic and we can’t.”
“Is that why you ran away from Convocation Academy?” Gabriel asked, pointedly, but not unkindly.
Few things annoyed him more than the complacent assumption within the Convocation that human value depended on ability to generate and wield magic.
“If you believed that, Iliana,” he continued, “you wouldn’t have run away with Han so you could be together.
You’d have given up your life to do what Sabrina Sammael wanted of you. ”
Iliana leaned into Han. “I loved him too much to contemplate what Sabrina would do to him.”
Han kissed her hair. “I feel the same, love.”
“An excellent example.” Bertie nodded approvingly at Gabriel and he experienced an unexpected flush of pleasure at the praise. “If we accept the premise that every human being has the right to live their lives as they wish, then I posit that anyone who tries to take that away from them is evil.”
“But what if it’s for their own good?” Han asked thoughtfully.
Bertie shook a finger at him. “Ah, but then you are assuming you know better than they do, giving your opinions more weight than theirs. You’re valuing yourself and your ideas more than theirs.”
“What if I know something they don’t?” Han debated enthusiastically. “Like, what if Iliana is about to eat a poisoned apple, so I take it away from her so she won’t hurt herself?”
“Why didn’t you tell her that the apple is poisoned and let her decide?” Bertie fired back.
Han frowned. “But what if she doesn’t listen to me? Iliana can be stubborn.”
“Then you failed to make your case,” Bertie answered. “And it’s her life to live or lose, not yours.”
“I think we can all agree,” Gabriel put in smoothly, to get the conversation back on track, “that if there’s a way to allow familiars to wield magic on their own and not be dependent on wizards for their lives and freedom, that this is an ultimately good thing and anyone who acts to prevent that from happening does not respect the rights of non-wizards to lead their lives as they wish. ”
No one argued.
“So,” Gabriel continued into the quiet, “if we’re toting up which houses fall on which side of this equation, I make four on our side, if we count Ratsiel. El-Adrel is off their team and now on ours, thanks to Jadren and Seliah. Six, if we count House Phel. Half and half.”
“Except House Phel isn’t a high house,” Nic corrected absently, clearly thinking about something else.
“I thought we were on probation to regain our previous high house status,” he replied.
“We are.” She brought her focus back. “But there are always twelve high houses. Did you think they’d leave Phel’s spot open in case the impossible occurred and your house recovered, against all probability?”
He actually hadn’t thought about it at all. This was one of the many gaps in his understanding of the Convocation, as he lacked the proper education. Now that Nic said it out loud, that did sound ridiculous. The Convocation abhorred a power vacuum.
“Who moved up when Phel dropped out then?” he asked. Here was a potential motivation to bring down House Phel that he’d never considered and no one had suggested. Could it have been purely ambition and all the rest of the conspiracy thinking simply red herrings and window dressing?
Everyone paused, thinking, some people ticking the houses off on their fingers.
Bertie heaved a huge sigh, shaking his head. “What do they teach at Convocation Academy these days? House Seraphiel.”
“The house of dark arts?” Iliana blurted in shock. “But they aren’t one. Their banner is never hung with the twelve houses.”
“It’s usually nearby, though,” Han said thoughtfully.
“They are a high house,” Nic said. “Sometimes they’ve been considered the unofficial thirteenth high house, when the roster of twelve is complete.
I believe they find it amusing. Something about existing as both a high house and not one at the same time.
It’s a dark arts concept to both be something and not be it simultaneously. ”
Bertie nodded at her. “You always were an excellent student Lady Phel.”
“Why didn’t the Convocation simply keep Seraphiel as the unofficial thirteenth house then and move a second-tier house into the twelve?” Gabriel asked.
Nic looked pointedly at Bertie.
“Certainly a number have applied for the position,” Bertie replied, “but it’s fairly easy for those petitions and negotiations to be stalled.
The high houses like the status quo and don’t really want anyone else admitted to their elite set.
Seraphiel serves nicely for a temporary replacement as they go their own way, aren’t interested in wealth and power, and don’t really care if they’re an official high house or not. ”
“A definition that includes Refoel, Ratsiel, Uriel, and Harahel,” Nic said, “except for the part of being an official high house.”
“Yes, those three, and Harahel also, always have representatives present at the council, particularly for votes, and to serve on subcommittees.”
This was not the first Gabriel had heard of the high houses sending representatives for the council and subcommittees, but it was the first time he’d given the notion much thought. “Representatives for votes?” he echoed, mainly asking Nic.
“Yes, either the head of the house goes or they send a representative. It hasn’t come up since Phel isn’t a high house again,” she answered.
“Yet,” Iliana put in staunchly, nodding encouragingly at Gabriel. Nic must have given her some kind of stern look because the red-headed familiar stilled and sat back.
“But I understand Seraphiel never does.” Nic added a lilt, making it a question for Bertie, no doubt since he was being so forthcoming.
“Never,” he confirmed. “Which saves the trouble for everyone of debating whether Seraphiel should get votes—or have representatives on subcommittees—if they aren’t precisely an official high house all the time.”
“Why don’t they participate?” Han asked, puzzled. “Isn’t that the point of having high-house status, to influence policy?”
Bertie shrugged as if he couldn’t be bothered with wondering, but his lined face was alight with interest. “A fine riddle, that.”
“What it means in effect, however,” Nic said, ever practical and never one to have much patience for abstract questions, “is that ever since House Phel departed from the roster, there have been effectively eleven votes on the council, and only four voting for what we’re defining as ‘good.’”
“In effect,” Bertie clarified, all playfulness gone, “only two, as Ratsiel and Refoel almost always abstain.”
“To maintain their cursed neutrality,” Gabriel guessed on a weary sigh. “So the evil seven have been allowed essentially free rein to set policy for centuries.”
Bertie looked sympathetic. “Just so, young Phel. Just so. Even before that, as House Phel often failed to send representatives, happy to keep to their own pursuits in Meresin, even then.”
“I think we need to keep our eyes on the future,” Nic said decisively. “We can count on Refoel to vote with us now, and El-Adrel. Maybe we can convince Ratsiel, since Refoel has decided to give up their pretense of neutrality in the face of this conspiracy.”
“Except we don’t have an actual vote, correct?” Gabriel asked her.
“Correct. Not until the council votes to reinstate House Phel. We’ve met all the criteria. They’re only stalling at this point.”
“And we can’t get them to reinstate House Phel with six houses voting against us,” Iliana nearly wailed.
“Maybe,” Nic said thoughtfully. “We might be able to budge Seraphiel. They helped Alise. I doubt Morghana acted without house approval.”
“She might have decided on her own.” Bertie shrugged again.
“We don’t know. That’s the trouble—one of the troubles—with practitioners of the dark arts.
They follow their own paths, the left hand, and the crooked ones.
They act entirely for their own, often obscure reasons, and don’t abide by anyone else’s rules. ”
“Then I will find out,” Nic declared. “Convenient that we’re going to Convocation Academy. I’ll pay a little visit to Morghana.”
“I must have missed something here,” Han complained, after a beat when it seemed no one else was going to jump in. “What are we anticipating the high houses having to vote on?”
Iliana gave him a disbelieving look. “Using Anciela Phel’s data to unlock magic in familiars, so they can be wizards also.”
His expression of disbelief more than outmatched hers. “They’re never going to vote for that. It’s against their own best interests. High houses are run by wizards and wizards want to use familiars, not liberate them.” He glanced guiltily at Gabriel. “Ah, no offense to present company, Lord Phel.”
“No offense taken, Han,” Gabriel replied. He knew full well he thought differently from most wizards in the Convocation. Nic knew it, too, having said those exact words to him any number of times, and rubbed his thigh soothingly.
“You see, Han,” Nic said gently, “a year ago—even six months ago—I would have said the same thing. But I’ve changed my mind.
The Convocation isn’t a monolith, as much as it may seem so, and this conversation proves a great deal of that.
Yes, there are plenty of people who crave power and control above all else.
My father is one of them. Those people, given the power of wizardry, gain political control.
They’re the ones who want it, fight to get it, and scheme to keep it.
But there are also wizards who don’t care about controlling other people’s lives, like Gabriel, like Jadren—like most of the Harahel wizards, I suspect—”
“Indeed,” Bertie put in decisively.
“—and those who regard familiars as people and not as useful tools. Because certain awful wizards formed an alliance ages ago, set repulsive policies, and then chose heirs to perpetuate those positions, we’ve ended up here, thinking all the Convocation is this way forever and always.
I used to describe Convocation society as an impervious wall, but now I see the cracks—and it is those cracks we’re going to exploit. ”
“To pull down the wall,” Iliana breathed reverently.
Nic nodded. “Yes. To change the world we live in. Who knows—maybe Anciela’s research contains methods to unlock magical ability in everyone, even mundanes.”
They all sat with the implications of that. Bertie opened his book again, humming happily.
Gabriel glanced out the carriage window, suppressed a sigh of impatience and said, “In the meanwhile, since this traffic is ridiculously slow. Let’s consider the evil six. Are there any of those we can talk over to the side of good?”
Nic gave him a wide-eyed look of astonishment. “Like who?”
“I think we should consider them all, since we’re contemplating turning the world upside-down. Let’s start with House Elal.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “My father would never, ever…”
Gabriel nodded at the dawning realization in her eyes. “But Alise would, if she is Lady Elal.”
“That would mean my father’s death.” She sounded odd, not exactly upset, but as if she couldn’t quite comprehend it.
“It might come to that,” he suggested softly.
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “I’m coming to terms with that. The question is who will kill him? Who can kill him?”
Gabriel knew he was capable, but there was a reason he hadn’t rid the world of Piers Elal the first time he had the opportunity: he couldn’t risk Nic looking at him and seeing her father’s murderer.
“Maybe our potential allies will have ideas. Possibly we could bring him to trial and have him legally executed.”
Nobody said anything and Gabriel knew they were all politely declining to laugh at that preposterous idea or point out all the reasons that could never happen. Better to change the subject. “Let’s talk about other five—Sammael, Tadkiel, Hanneil, Ariel, and Chur—who is most likely to crack?”
They settled into the debate.