“Gods help her.” A barely there mutter from Llir.
A moment of quiet, the only sound the spitting of the great fire.
Then Llir spoke again: “What of Regent Dunlin’s condition, Father?”
I heard the clink of a glass, the faint panting of the wolfhounds. “It won’t be long now. A matter of weeks—or days. My correspondents inform me he is declining rather rapidly.”
A huff from Vercha. I pictured her lounging on the couch. “Idowish he would hurry up so the rest of us can just get on with the vote.”
“Now, Vercha. Dunlin has served the Chamber well.” There was the creak of a chair as Rexim shifted position. “Levelheaded man. Kept the others in line on many an occasion.”
“But the longer he hangs on,” said Llir, “the longer Crake has to catch your lead.”
At that name, I remembered Caerig’s words:“There’s a…rivalry there. Things are a little tense at present.”
“Crake can’t catch up now, can he?” Catua this time. “Most Houses don’t want someone so reactionary, surely? He’s stuck in the past, especially about Orha. Just look at Breova—the same thing will happen here soon enough.”
Breova. The kingdom that neighbored ours. Our lessons had covered their bitter infighting, which had raged, on and off, for a century now, but glossed over the social upheaval that came after.
“Will it really?” Vercha, an edge to her voice. “I rather think that’s your own progressive sensibilities talking.Misguidedsensibilities, I might add.”
The rumors, spread by trainees whose families had read the pamphlets, were that Breovan Orha now had almost as many rights as common folk. None of us knew for sure, since our border was closed, had been since Breova’s latest war, decades ago. The Regents kept voting to keep it shut, claiming the decision was for Nenamor’s safety.
“Crake’s losing because of the land grab he’s planning with Shrike,” said Llir. “Not because his policies would be harsher on Orha. The Houses don’t care what happens to Orha, but they don’t want to end up at war with Breova.”
“That’s right,” murmured Rexim. “Crake’s always been a warmonger, and I believe the appetite for that is drying up somewhat. Annig’s reign has depleted the Houses’ resources…They’re tired of all the skirmishing. They’re looking to me to move us forward.”
“Yet you’ll still let society be dictated by the Great Revolt?” said Catua. A few seconds of tense quiet followed.
“Well, anyway, Crake’s not the real threat, is he?” Vercha again. “You heard the latest from Tresteny, I assume? Brigantess Blackcap,poisonedat her own breakfast table?”
“Indeed.” Rexim’s voice had turned grave. “We must be morewatchful than ever. Especially on the mainland. I keep telling Emment—”
“Wasn’t one of their hidey-holes blown up in Pen Aryn last week?” Llir, who sounded like he was pacing the room. “Doesn’t seem to have slowed them down much, by the sound of it.”
My skin prickled all over. They must be speaking of the Cage.
“Forget Crake,” Vercha said. “Thosemurderersare trying to destroy our society. Don’t they know what things were like before the Great Revolt? Don’t they realize what would happen if Orha were given free rein?”
“They know the histories,” Llir murmured. “They just don’t believe them.”
Vercha scoffed. “It was our ancestors who saved this realm from ruin. If anything, I’d say we needstrictercontrols.”
A mutter from Catua: “You’re starting to sound like Crake himself.”
After a short pause, Vercha’s tone grew a little more conciliatory. “It’s very unfortunate, but the Orha at those Institutions are just too powerful, too valuable, to be left to their own devices. To direct their own destinies. Don’t you agree?”
A huff from Catua. Silence from Llir. If Zennia had been here, she’d have marched right in, too angry to worry about the repercussions.
Our lot in life made me angry, too, of course. But unlike Zennia, I’d felt mostly fear. Fear that I’d displease whoever I worked for and wind up in a wagon bound for Crake’s Quaglands. Fear that if I pleased the Instructorstoowell, I’d end up as one of Regent Shrike’s black-eyed servants…And fear that Zennia, if she’d been foolish enough to run, would have met her end on the gallows—as Owyn likely had.
“Perfectly stated,” Rexim was saying. “I’d be willing to consider minor concessions to Orha rights…but not these bizarre reforms Regent Finch is pushing. Breova has made a grave misstep, in my opinion. The Hundred need someone they can trust in the Chamber, someoneas steady handed and, yes,predictableas Dunlin. Particularly since whoever wins this Seat will have the power to sway policy one way or the other.”
Without warning, a patter of footsteps approached the door. My insides clenched, and my breath hitched in my throat. There was no time to run. I reeled backward—
As one of the waist-high wolfhounds slipped through the door.
Amber eyes gazed out at me from a shaggy mass of gray fur. I held my breath, steeling myself for a bark, or at least a growl, but after a few seconds, he padded quietly past me, clearly deciding I was no threat and of no interest.
