Red Leaves and the Living Token - By Benjamin David Burrell Page 0,23

vital, and this man is not?” Mar said.

“That is what I propose.” Valance said.

“And what if the Senate approves your plan but does not approve you as the manager of it. There is unprecedented risk in this rationing plan. Whom ever we support in this action must be the sure candidate to win Senate appointment. If we tied our boats to the losing team, the potential repercussions would be unimaginable.

“I will speak plainly to you Lord Valance because I feel we must be perfectly clear on this point. While I believe your plan has merit, I do not believe you are the man to bring it to the Senate. I do not believe you would win popular support. My friend, you are not the young man I once knew and quite honestly, feared.

“I suggests that you and I both align ourselves with another Senator, someone already strong enough to gaining the necessary support. Allow that person to present the measure. I have a few names I could suggest.

-

Lord Whiting sat forward as Valance and Barnus settled into their seats. The Carriage driver closed the door. A moment later they felt the jolt of motion.

"Three of the Clans will support any plan we put forward," Lord Whiting began.

Lord Valance took in the information as he tapped his foot patiently.

"Three are middle ground, which means they won't go against their own. The other four are against us." Lord Barnus finished.

Valance sank further into the soft leather of his seat. "The Senate review will be difficult." He let out an exhausted breath.

His mind pulled back to the conversation with the Clan Lord Mar. It was political maneuvering at its finest. The Clans would spare no opportunity to reposition themselves with greater advantage. They’d agree to his plan but not to his leadership? Convenient.

He’d been foolish to assume political aspirations would’ve been set aside in light of the potential crisis. Foolish, yes, but he felt it was more than that. This was the first real attempt to exercise his influence in a great while. The first time he’d had to ask anyone for anything. The asking was bad enough, the result of that asking was horrid.

Twenty years ago no man would have dared directly oppose him the way the Clan Lord just had. Sure they might’ve talked in quiet corners, rally numbers to mount an opposition. But they’d face him as a group. This single man had called him weak to his face and simultaneously proved it at the same time.

How did this happen? He wondered.

Going up against the Senate now seemed like a complete waste of time. Or worse, it could further expose his lack of influence. Those outside the inner circles of government may still respect and fear him. A public display of disrespect could destroy what ever standing he may have left. That would have a directly negative impact on his business dealings, his ability to negotiated contracts, acquire more land at a favorable price.

If his plan was to be effective, he’d need to start putting things into place now. There was no time for this political battle. Couldn’t Mar see he was trying to avoid catastrophe, the collapse of their society?

For now, he’d have to risk calling a hearing with the Senate. He should at least have that much influence left. In the mean time, he’d have to start putting together a plan to circumvent their authority. There had to be a way to get around them.

"We've received," Lord Barnus interrupted, "information that might be of relevance."

Valance continued tapping his foot, half listening.

"Some one came forward, "Barnus continued, "albeit, asking for money, but seemed to have very specific information about the Token. He knew exactly what it looked like."

Valance looked up.

Chapter

THREE

Handers pushed aside a pile of papers to make room on the small table for a plate of snack cakes he’d brought. The room was so small it was hard to keep it from getting cluttered.

“Good morning. Sorry I’m a little late.” He tidied up the rest of the table a bit.

“Emret?” He turned towards the unusually quiet hospital bed.

Empty!

That’s odd, he thought. He didn’t remember any scheduled appointments this morning. He made a reactionary glance under the bed. Nothing. Was he really that distracted that he’d forget a doctor’s appointment? Emret wouldn’t take it well if he did.

He pushed open the bathroom door. Again nothing. Maybe they pulled him out to clean the room or change the bed sheets? He wondered. He stopped at the nurses station down the