not be called in what is an essentially frivolous endeavor.”
The Berrilya’s frown deepened, adding brackets around the lines already etched in place. “It is not frivolous to remind any member of this Council that this chamber is neither a tavern nor a theater.”
“If you feel Solran Marten should be excluded, you will be asked for justifications,” Jewel said. “And I feel that those justifications, in this case, will of necessity be slender.”
“And if my reasons are less than frivolous?”
Jewel inclined her head. “The Council will uphold them.”
“Very well. I believe her interests and ours are not aligned.”
“I would say that her interests and the Kings’ are not aligned; I fail to see their significance to The Ten.”
“You have heard?”
“That The Wayelyn has penned a song which has freely traveled? Yes.”
“And the song itself?”
“I have not heard it.”
The Berrilya straightened. “When you hear it, if you do, it will change your opinion in this matter.”
“Kalakar?”
“I am uncertain. I believe you were—and are—unaware of the song itself. But if the song is considered significant to the bardmaster, it would be better, in my opinion, to demand the reasoning for her decision to ignore the Kings’ request. Something,” she added, “we cannot do if she is not present. As she will be present at her own request, we expend no political capital to receive an answer.”
Jewel nodded; she agreed.
“Solran Marten is not a woman to answer demands,” The Berrilya pointed out.
“No, indeed—but I have not heard that the Kings demanded an explanation. She will find it difficult to ignore such a question posed in this chamber.” The Kalakar folded her arms.
After a long pause, The Berrilya said, “Very well. I will not, however, tolerate song.”
* * *
Within the next half hour, The Ten filtered into the chamber. The Morriset arrived fifteen minutes early, with only an aide in tow; The Darias arrived at the side of The Fennesar, which surprised Jewel. The Fennesar was a woman similar in style to Amarais; she looked almost severe today. The Darias, however, seemed completely at ease in her company, and their conversation implied that they had been conversing for some small time before they arrived at the open doors of the Council chamber.
The Korisamis arrived five minutes before the hour. Jewel was surprised. Of The Ten, he had shown the most obvious displeasure at the need to reschedule the meeting. She had, of course, made no excuses and offered no explanations that would ameliorate his assumption of frivolity or incompetence on her part. She’d been too busy, and was also aware that admissions of any such kind had a political cost. He was, however, dressed in the southern style of Korisamis, which was the preferred formal dress for the House.
On his heels, and very much in House colors, came The Wayelyn; he did not arrive alone. Instead of advisers—of which he had many—he had chosen to escort the Bardmaster of Senniel College. Solran, silver-haired, wore the Senniel tabard. She offered a bow to the table at large before joining it at The Wayelyn’s side. Jewel thought The Berrilya would object; he did not. The Wayelyn appeared to have divested himself of musical instruments, but the bardmaster more than made up for the lack. The Berrilya was not apparently pleased at this departure from the etiquette which otherwise governed the full Council meetings; nor was he the only one to look askance.
Jewel thought it clever. Clever, in her experience, always courted trouble, something The Wayelyn seemed to thrive on.
To no one’s surprise, The Garisar arrived exactly on time, and to no one’s surprise, The Tamalyn arrived five minutes late, looking as if he had only barely managed to dress on the way out of his manse. He looked slightly bewildered; the woman at his side looked slightly frustrated. Were he not so guileless, it would have been difficult not to assume this was orchestrated, an act designed to render those around him careless. Jewel had never understood—and, given her role in Terafin, was never likely to—how he managed to maintain his position as the head of his House.
They took their seats as the doors rolled to a close.
As they did, The Berrilya rose. Jewel glanced at Avandar; her domicis nodded. Although each of The Ten Houses held a relative rank in the eyes of merchants and bankers, it was not official. The members of the Council had devised a rotation by which each member of each House—should they so choose—had the opportunity to open the meeting. In