The Native Star - By M. K. Hobson Page 0,142

exactly what I am. Let them go on thinking it, if it makes them so happy. This time tomorrow I’ll be a hundred miles away!”

“Let’s get through tonight first,” Miss Pendennis said.

“Now, if we’re finished with ungentlemanly insults,” Mirabilis glared at Heusler, “we can proceed about our business.”

Turning, he laid a hand on each of the tall black doors. He spoke words in Latin, and there was a loud scraping sound as the tumblers of a great lock fell backward. When the noise finally stopped, Mirabilis gestured diffidently, and the huge doors swung open, silently, as easily as if they were spun of sea foam. When they had all passed through, Mirabilis closed the doors, locking them with an echoing chunk.

The vast room was murky—a gloom that even hundreds of tall white candles could not entirely dispel. In the center of the room was a circle of high-backed mahogany chairs, each upholstered in gold brocade.

The third sangrimancer was seated in the chair farthest from the door. In the low light, it was impossible to see his face. Emily smelled him before she could see him; he was smoking a stinking cigar. As she got closer, she saw that it was held in a twitching hand.

“It’s about t-t-time.” The stuttered words washed over Emily like ice water. She clutched abruptly at Miss Pendennis’ arm.

“Captain John Caul.” Mirabilis extended a hand toward the man sitting in the shadows.

“I don’t believe it!” Stanton stared at Mirabilis. “Sophos, you can’t allow him to participate. You know what he—”

“One doesn’t set a Precedent of this magnitude by bringing together friends,” Mirabilis said firmly. “Captain Caul has been relieved of all of his magical implements and he has been extensively searched. I am completely certain that he carries nothing on his person that can harm anyone in this room. He called off the Maelstrom attacks on the Institute. In reciprocation, I invited him to join us.”

“He blackmailed you,” Stanton snarled.

“Enough, Mr. Stanton!” Mirabilis barked. “Your lack of faith in my judgment is as unhelpful and annoying as I knew it would be. Need I remind you that if it were up to me, you would not be here?”

“Doubtless Mr. Stanton is afraid. It w-w-wouldn’t be the first time.” Caul drew deeply on his cigar, as if the smoke would help calm his shaking. “We’re in the heart of Mirabilis’ p-p-power, Stanton. What c-c-could I possibly do against that?”

There was a threat and a menace and a promise in his voice that made Emily shudder.

“Take your seats,” Mirabilis said firmly. “Let us begin.”

Emily sat next to Miss Pendennis, in the chair farthest from Caul. Without a word, Stanton claimed the chair next to her, glaring pointedly at Caul and then, with more bemusement, at Mirabilis. Flanked by Miss Pendennis and Stanton, Emily felt well defended. But she didn’t relax in the least.

Mirabilis stood in the center of the circle, hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a ringmaster, polished and suave.

“Colleagues, first I want to thank you all for agreeing to participate in the creation of what I am sure will be the most powerful Precedent ever. This represents a turning point in the history of magic, the birth of a new spirit of collegiality between—”

“For God’s s-s-sake, stop it” Caul roared, bringing a hand to his head as if in horrible pain. The big muscles of his arms and legs spasmed in sympathy with his annoyance. “I won’t have you w-w-wasting my time with credomancers’ games. Drop the pretense of this being a ‘collegial’ gathering and call it what it is … a n-n-negotiation for the survival of your institute.”

“I agree that it is more correctly called a negotiation, Captain Caul,” Rocheblave said. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only one at the table.”

“I’ll be d-d-damned before I let Mirabilis hand the stone to either one of you,” Caul said, glaring at Rocheblave. His eyes then went to Heusler, mad hate flaring in them like a match touched to Black Exunge. “Especially you, High Priest. I know exactly w-w-what you’d use it for.”

“Maybe you don’t like us, Captain Caul,” Heusler examined his ragged fingernails casually, “but surely you’re aware that your sentiments are not shared by everyone in the military.”

“You mean conciliatory turncoats like General Blotgate? S-s-slaves your outlander goddess has gotten her black claws into?”

“Gentlemen, enough.” Mirabilis’ voice rose above the din. “The aim of this gathering is to dispose of the stone in a manner most beneficial to all the

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