Council War - There Will Be Dragons - Council War - There will be Dragons Part 7
Library

Council War - There will be Dragons Part 7

"Okay," Rachel replied. She'd realized that Marguerite was just about the only person at the party she wanted to talk with, but she felt constrained to hang around. "Talk to you later.""Bye."

She sighed and looked around, wondering how to ditch Herzer.

"About your dad," Herzer said, continuing where he'd left off. "I was wondering, could you introduce me?"

"To mydad ?" she asked. "Whatever for?"

"Uhm, some friends of mine have gotten into the whole reenactment thing," he said. "You know your dad's sort of famous, don't you?"

"Yeah," she said, shortly. She wasn't about to go into how disinterested she was in reenactment.

Her father had dragged her to events since she was a kid and every trip seemed to be like a continuation of school. Learning to cook over smoky wood fires was not her idea of fun. And learning to hunt and butcher was just grotesque.

"I'd hoped to meet him; I'd like to see if he'd be an instructor for me."

"I'll send you an introduction projection," she said. "Oh, look, it's Donna. I think I'll go talk to her.

Take care of yourself, Herzer."

"Okay," he replied to her retreating back. "Have fun."

CHAPTER FIVE.

When Edmund came through the front door of his house he was more than a little surprised to see Sheida Ghorbani lounging in his chair, a goblet of wine in her hand while her lizard was perched on the table snacking on a mouse.

"Make yourself right at home, why don't you?" he asked, shaking off his cape and hanging it up.

After stamping a bit he took off his boots. These were right/left fitted with a good sole and oiled leather; he wasn't so into period that he was willing to wear the rotten footwear available in even the high Middle Ages. Once he had them sort of cleaned he set them outside the door on the portico; they were coated nearly knee-high in mud.

"Anyone else would simply translate from the inn to their door," Sheida said, taking a sip. "Or all the way into the house. Only our Edmund would stomp through the mud. Nice vintage by the way."

"I'm not 'our Edmund,' " Edmund replied, walking over to the matching chair and throwing another log on the fire in front of it. Fireplaces were inefficient methods of heating a room as large as the front hall and he'd often considered breaking down and putting in a potbellied stove. But that wastoo out of period for his tastes. So he put up with having to spend half the winter in front of the fireplace. "Charlie sent it up from down-valley; he's finally replicated some of the rootstock from the Merovingian period.

It's not nearly as undrinkable as most people thought." He sat down and stuck his feet up in front of the fire. "So to what do I owe the pleasure and privilege of a visit from a Council member? You realize, of course, that that 'our Edmund' sounded uncomfortably like a royal 'We.' "

"Come on, Edmund, it's Sheida," she said bitterly, stroking the lizard as it downed the last of the mouse. "Remember? Sister of some redhead named Daneh? Sister you were datingfirst ?"

Edmund smiled without looking at her and summoned a glass of wine for himself. "Thatwas a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"It wasn'tme who disappeared for twenty-five years," she replied, taking another sip and twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

"No, it wasn't. I still don't know why you dropped in."

"We . . . the Council . . .I have a problem," she said.

"And you came to an old recreationist, a, what was the phrase, 'a man so stuck in the past his Latin name hassaurus in it,' for help?" he asked.

"Yes, Edmund, I've come to you." She stopped for a moment indecisively then went on. "I came to you for a few reasons. One of them is that you're so steeped in the past that youunderstand it, and the .

. . problem I've uncovered hasn't been faced for nearly two thousand years. I also came to you becauseyou're a good strategist, as good a one as I know. Last but not least, I came to you because . . . you're my friend. You're family. I trust you."

"Thank you," he said, looking into the fire. "I had begun . . . I've been wondering lately if anyone evenremembered I existed."

"We all remember," Sheida said. "You're quite hard to forget. Also hard to live with, but that is another matter.

"I have to ask for your word that you won't mention any of this to anyone. It's . . . I'm not sure that what I think is going on is reality. I might just be going paranoid in my old age . . ."

"There's nothing wrong with paranoia," Edmund said with a shrug. "It's when you can't separate reality from fantasy that's the problem."

"Well, I wish this were fantasy," she sighed. "Do you know Paul Bowman?"

"I knowof him," Edmund said, shifting to look at her. "I don't think we've evermet if that's what you mean."

"I think Paul is planning a . . . well, the only correct term appears to be 'coup.' "

Rachel had met Donna Forsceen through Marguerite and cordially detested her. The girl thought about nothing but the newest fashion and looked like a young boy from all the sculpting. So she only exchanged a few words and then moved on to the buffet. She looked at it and groaned. There were two types of food available, the usual heavily spiced and extremely hot food that was all the rage, and an array of chocolate confections. She didn't like the current trend towards "how hot can we make it," and simply grazing off the chocolate would probably put ten pounds on her, all in the wrong places. As soon as she was eighteen she was going to be sculpted down to a toothpick, whatever her mother thought, and have it locked in.

"Rachel! Rachel Ghorbani! What do you think?"

The voice was high and squeaky and emanated from a unicorn about the size of a large pony.

Rachel picked up a strip of protein flavored somewhat like pork, immediately flashing back to one time when her father made her eat opossum, and regarded the creature with puzzlement. The unicorn was a brilliant white, of course, she'd rarely seen much imagination in the unicorn look, had golden hooves and horn and bright blue eyes.

"Very, uhmmm . . ." she paused. "Barb, is that you?"

"Yes! Do you like it?"

Barb Branson hadn't been the brightest brick in the load before she started off on Change after Change. Normally there was no real threat to personality or intelligence integration in Changes. But in Barb's case, "normally" didn't seem to be working out; Rachel was sure Barb was getting dumber with each Change.

"Very nice, Barb," Rachel replied. "Very . . . very unicornish."

"That's because I'm aunicorn, silly!" the girl trilled, spinning in place. "Ilove it! Ooo, there's Donna!

She'll go spar!"

"I'm sure she will," Rachel replied, heaving a sigh as Barb trotted off. "I swear, even when I can Change I'm not going to getthat addlepated."

Finally she loaded a float-plate with some grilled protein, the same one that tasted, she swore, exactly like opossum, and looked around to see if anyone had arrived who was worth talking with. The elf was still surrounded by a huge group of people, all hanging onto his every sibilant word, and there was a wall of mostly male bodies around the dragon, who in human form was on the far side of gorgeous even ifher body was a bit on the busty side as well.

Rachel got as close to the elf as she could, without being rude, hoping he would notice her and maybe call her forward. When that didn't work she stood at the back of the group and tried to listen to the questioning at the center. Unfortunately, the conversations on the periphery blotted it out and she couldn't even Cast to the center because of the privacy shields so many of the people had up; thetechnique effectively created a pool of privacy around the centerpiece so that only those in the first circle or so could hear what he was saying.

"Rachel, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Herzer whispered in her ear.

She stifled a sigh and looked around. Then up. Then up some more. She had seen some large humans and humanoids before but the person Herzer was with was very physically imposing. He was about two and half meters tall and broad in proportion. Herzer was not small, but next to this person he seemed slight. The stranger had dark skin, black really and not melanine black but some other additive that made it look black as midnight. When she finally stepped backwards for a good look she noticed some slight elven enhancements and wondered at them. Because of the Net ban on full elven upgrade, elven enhancements were generally frowned upon, especially by the elves. Adding an elven look was . . .

impolite. The thought came that she knew who she was looking at just as Herzer introduced them.

"Rachel this is . . ."

"You'd be Dionys McCanoc, wouldn't you?" she asked with a nod. "Protein strip?"

"Indeed." His voice was mellifluous and she suspected that if you didn't keep your wits about you you'd drown in it. But Rachel for some strange reason found herself mildly repulsed instead. It was just too much. The size, the sardonic elvish and not-elvish face, the voice set to charm the skin off a mink.

When he took her hand he kissed it and drew his thumb across the inside as he withdrew, sending a shiver through her body but leaving her emotionally even more determined to resist the charm onslaught.

"And you are the beauteous daughter of Edmund Talbot and the fair Daneh Ghorbani. I know your mother of old." He had moved forward to take her hand, crowding her personal space again and making her have to crane her neck to look up. But she refused to back up again. He could damn well hit her shields first.

There was a slight emphasis, somewhat embarrassing, on the "know." Or it would be embarrassing if Rachel hadn't heard her mother's comments about McCanoc. Daneh had gotten out of the reenactor movement, but it didn't mean she didn't keep up with some of the politics. And Daneh had much the same opinion of McCanoc that Edmund did. Rachel was sure that if she was here she'd have an even lower one. On the other hand, Rachel was pretty sure mother had nevermet McCanoc, so that was one flat lie she'd caught him in.

"I am sure you know my mother and father; they are well known in the reenactor movement. As are you, Dionys," she said with a simpering smile. No reason to incur his wrath herself and a lie for a lie.

"Whatever brings you here? I would think such a . . . simple affair would not be to your tastes."

"Oh, Marguerite's mother and I have somedealings, you know," he said. "And when I was invited I was delighted to find that Herzer and Marguerite were friends. Now we're all friends together," he added, making an expansive gesture.

It was only then that Rachel noticed the group with him. She couldn't determine what it was about the group of five that hovered at his back but she couldn't find a thing to recommend them. One of them looked at her and positivelyleered . Just like McCanoc to somehow round up a group of total losers.

But what in the hell were he and Herzer doing hanging out? She felt a flash of irritation and distress and put it down to having big-sisterly feelings for the boy. Until recently he'd had almost no social life at all.

"So how do you know Herzer?" she asked, looking around at the gathering and ignoring his crowding. She snorted as a faint blue luminance appeared in the air between them as he leaned forward.

"And you seem to be encroaching on my space, Dionys. That is most inconsiderate." She took a surreptitious breath, feeling security in the shield. He was trying to intimidate her, but she had been intimidated by the best of them and even his size was not going to throw her off.

"So sorry," he said in his deep, lilting voice again. "Surely we don't need shields betweenus ?"

"But, lah, sir, we have hardly met," she simpered again, fluttering the elaborate fan that had come with the outfit. She now wished she'd worn something more suitable for running. Or fighting.

"Herzer is a recent acquaintance," Dionys said, giving the boy a clout on the shoulder. It looked like a friendly hit, but it still staggered Herzer. And there was very little friendliness in McCanoc's eye."I met him at a reenactor meeting," Herzer said with a grin. "Do you know that he was nearly the King of Avalonia!"

"And I would have been, were it not for the judges," Dionys said darkly.

"Yes, I'm familiar with your . . . rise in the ranks," Rachel said, trying not to let any humor enter into her voice. She had heard enough about McCanoc to know how viciously vindictive he could be. She had no interest in starting a war; it just wasn't worth the effort it would take.

He regarded her for a moment trying to discern if there was anything to that simple statement. "Are you part of the reenactor movement?" the giant finally said.

"Oh, you know," Rachel dissembled. "Dad was forever dragging me off to those things. It wasn't really my sort of thing and once I could put my foot down I quit going. Some people love it and more power to them. But all that dressing up in tabards and bell-bottoms . . . not me."

"But that's a reenactor outfit," Herzer said. "Manchu Dynasty, right? And you used tolove to study history."

"Well, study," Rachel said with an honest chuckle. "Notlive . And the period Nazis are theworst . I mean, the ones who go around with their clothes washed in urine, or not washed at all. Trying to replicate the 'authentic life of the period.' I mean,why ?"

She almost started as she drew what was apparently a real chuckle out of McCanoc. "Good point.

But they were good times, times for the strong." He grinned tightly and shook his head. "Not like these fallen times."

"For the strong?" Rachel said with a grimace and a chuckle. "I suppose. But if being 'strong' means fighting a battle while dealing with dysentery, I'll take these 'fallen' times."

"Well . . ." Herzer said just as a languid hand brushed him to the side.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing here, McCanoc?" the elf said.

"Why, Gothoriel, why ever shouldn't I be?" McCanoc replied with a thin smile. "Friends and acquaintances, don't you know. Yourself, of course, included."

"Because you were instructed to remain at least one hundred meters from any of the Eldar," the elf said, ignoring the jibe. "I note, also, that you have made further adjustments towards the Eldar. They shall not be permitted."

"I can change myself as Ichoose, " McCanoc suddenly shouted, his voice echoing across the square, caught in one of those odd moments of silence. "Stay out of mygenes ."

"Not using Eldar Changes," Gothoriel said mildly. "You know the law. You of all people should remember the law."

McCanoc breathed deeply through his nose for a moment and then spat on the ground in front of the elf. The spittle flicked off of the shield just short of the elf's feet. "Fisk you."

"I tire of this. The Council will be informed of yourfurther transgressions. For now, you have two choices. You can be leave or be banished."

"I have as much right," McCanoc started to say as Gothoriel raised his hand.

"Begone," the elf snapped, then snorted in satisfaction as the air in front of him was suddenly vacant. "Like the demon you so wish to be . . ." he added so softly that Rachel was sure that only she had heard.

He turned to the five who had arrived with McCanoc and shook his head. "Begone as well. You have no purpose here."

He turned to Herzer and frowned, the first expression that had crossed his face.

"You arrived with him?" the elf asked then shook his head. "No, separate. Are you with him?"

"He's with me," Rachel interjected hurriedly, not sure why she did.

"Rachel Talbot," the elf said to her, bowing deeply. "It is good to see the Talbots are growing and thriving. A fine family, one that I have watched, and sometimes watched after for these many generations. What were you doing talking to that . . . filth?""Trying to figure out how to break away, frankly," she said with a sigh. "Thank you for interjecting."

"What is wrong-?" Herzer started to say.

"Later, Herzer dear," Rachel said, pinching him. "I didn't quite catch your name Lord Eldar. And I forgot to welcome you,ethulia Eldar, cathane, " she said, crossing her hands on her chest and bowing slightly.

"Ethul,milady," the elf replied, bowing again in return. "I am Gothoriel, Rider of the Eastern Reach.

I have known your father for much of his life. Your lady mother less. She is, however, a fine woman.

And a splendid healer."

"Thank you, milord," Rachel said, curtseying deeply. She was glad she'd decided to bring robes.

"May you spend as many years in Dream as the most ancient trees and pass to the West in peace. And skip the purple protein strips."