Smoked - Mari Mancusi Page 0,46

gather these days, what with the dragons having decimated the world’s trees. Only a few heavily guarded forests grew in special greenhouse glass structures, and many had lost their lives protecting the Glades. The Council had justified this by claiming wood was necessary in certain medicines and weapons. But here, in this room, it just seemed like a waste.

And then there was the food. Mountains of it, piled high on almost every available surface. And not just the genetically engineered rations that everyone else ate on a daily basis, but real, unprocessed meats and cheeses and breads and sweets. Just looking at them made his mouth water—and his stomach churn. There was enough food here to feed half the Dragon Hunter army. Was it really just meant for these twelve people?

“There he is! Our man of the hour!”

Connor reluctantly turned away from the feast to focus on the front of the room. There, behind a long, carved wooden table set high on a dais, sat all twelve members of the Council, looming above like giant gods, ready to deliver blessings or curses to any who dared step into their inner sanctum. Connor swallowed heavily.

They’re just people, he tried to remind himself. No different than me or anyone else.

But that wasn’t true. Not exactly. These were people with power.

He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said, hating how nervous and hoarse his voice sounded.

“Please. It is us who should be thanking you,” declared the councilman at the center of the table. His name plaque read “Solomon.” “I hear you saved us from quite a potential disaster this week, while the rest of your comrades were across the strata at the Peace Parade.”

Connor had wondered if they were going to reprimand him for skipping out on the so-called Peace Parade as he had. But evidently they were willing to overlook the infraction, due to his eventual heroics.

“I was just doing my job,” he replied stiffly. “I was fortunate enough to be able to sing the five into stasis until the others could arrive to finish them off.”

“So modest too,” cooed the woman to Solomon’s left—Frederica, according to her nameplate. “A rare quality for a Dragon Hunter.” She laughed, and the fat under her chin jiggled. Then she raised her fist in the air. “What is it you say again? Hasta la vista—?” She looked at him expectantly, and he blushed.

“Hasta la vista, dragon spawn,” he muttered.

The Council laughed and cheered at this. Connor contemplated crawling under the table in embarrassment. But he forced himself to stand strong. He was a soldier. He’d come here on a mission. And he wouldn’t let these people intimidate him.

“So, Dragon Hunter,” Solomon said after the room had quieted. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to listen to a bunch of old men and women sing your praises. What can we do for you?”

Connor cleared his throat. This was it. “I wanted to report a violation of the Flame Shelter Act of PS One Fifty-Three.”

Solomon glanced at his fellow councilmembers, then back to Connor. “And what might this violation be?”

“As you know, the rules state no one should be turned away from a shelter unless they’re at full capacity, regardless of race or religion or economic status,” Connor continued, his voice growing stronger and more confident as he spoke. “But when I tried to bring a little girl to Negative twenty-three during the attack, the guards at the door attempted to turn us away, even though they were clearly not at capacity.”

“The guards tried to turn you away?” the man to Frederica’s left broke in, raising an eyebrow.

“They didn’t know who I was,” Connor admitted. “But that’s not the point. According to the law, they shouldn’t have turned me away regardless of my rank.” He drew in a breath. “It is my belief they are accepting bribes as payment for entrance to keep the crowds down. Which, I think you’ll agree, is a clear violation of the statute.”

He scanned their faces, searching for some sign of horror or offense that people could be doing such a thing to their fellow man. But the Council remained impassive, their expressions unreadable.

“Thank you for your report, soldier,” Solomon said at last. “We shall look into it, and I assure you, justice will be served.”

“Thank you,” Connor said, shuffling from foot to foot. “That’s all I ask.” He bit his lower lip. “Except…”

“Yes, soldier?”

“The little girl I told you about. Salla.