“Of course I have,” Cladas snapped at her. “He’s a criminal. He’s on your most wanted list. Why? Why are you asking about him?”
“Russet Welliver is in Daydawn,” Hallie answered. “We think he may actually be in the building.”
“That is utter nonsense,” the old man said. “Wait. Why are you asking me about him? Do you think I brought him in?”
“No, sir, I do not,” Hallie said. She didn’t need her truth sense to know that Cladas Larch had nothing to do with what had happened that day. But others did. She braced herself andturned to face Nanters Gable. “You know the name as well, and you knew he was in the building.”
“No, I did not,” Nanters answered, his already high colour deepening to an unhealthy shade. “That is an outrageous accusation.”
“I didn’t say you got him into the building,” Hallie pointed out, “but you did know he was here.” She tilted her head, eyes on the man’s face. “Didn’t know exactly what was planned, though, did you? Didn’t know that you would be in direct danger?”
“I most certainly did not,” the man said, almost spluttering in his haste to get the words out. Hallie believed him. “None of it, I mean. None of it.” And he was back to lying. She just wasn’t sure about what. The knot of tension she was carrying turned over, a foul taste in her mouth at the lies he was telling. She had an impulse to grab the man by his collar, to force answers out of him. There was no time for patience or finesse. Pain bloomed in her head, reminding her that she had used a lot of magic so far today. She might not be able to compel him to respond, even if she could overcome her bone-deep revulsion at the idea. She would need to get to the truth some other way.
“Not your idea, then,” Hallie said, eyes travelling over the group again. Tristram was back to wearing his mocking expression. “Not your idea, either,” she said.
Tristram’s brows lifted and an unhealthy gleam of mischief entered his eyes. “Now, why would you insult me so? Don’t you think I’m capable of such destruction and chaos?”
“I am quite sure you are,” Hallie said, earning an almost gleeful chuckle from him, “but not in this instance. I don’t see what you gain by destroying the Conclave.” And there it was. The slightest of twitches. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it. “But you do gain something, don’t you, Hoel Buchanan?”
“I do not answer to you,” Hoel told her in a cold voice, looking down at her.
Taking a closer look at him, she could see hard lines under the soft robes he was wearing. Body armour. He was the only one of the Conclave wearing it, or the only one that she’d noticed. She was quite sure some of the members habitually wore protective clothing.Hochlentechnology produced light-weight, flexible body-armour, like the gear the investigators wore. But Hoel’s was sturdy enough to show through his robes. More like the heavy duty armour that the tac team wore. Sturdy enough to help protect him from a bomb blast, perhaps? Hallie’s chest tightened. That kind of armour was not readily available and not something he’d just happened across that morning. There had been considerable planning involved.
“Today, you do answer to me,” Hallie told him, facing him squarely, noticing how the other Conclave members in the group looked at him for guidance. Well, apart from Tristram. Hoel was most definitely the leader of this particular group. Again, apart from Tristram. Tristram’s motives were, for now, unknown. She focused on Hoel. “Why did you plot to destroy the Conclave?”
“What makes you think I did any such thing?” Hoel asked, pale blue eyes full of icy hatred as he stared at her. She remembered being at Vertiger and wondering if any of his fellow Conclave members knew just how dangerous he was. It seemed she’d also underestimated him. She’d known he was full of powerful emotions, but hadn’t realised how far he would go to act upon them.
“Well, you haven’t denied it, and an innocent person would have done so,” Hallie answered, proud that her voice didn’t shake. She held her ground as he seemed to grow taller, looming over her, his fury an almost physical presence.
“What did you hope to gain?” Girard asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“Gain? Oh, nothing much. Just the ability to make my own decisions about my own lands and people. Freedom to choose, as my father and our forefathers had,” Hoel said, bitterness in his words that had the flavour of old, old resentment. The truth of it rang through Hallie. He genuinely believed he had lost something valuable.
“I don’t understand,” Hallie said, brow wrinkling in confusion. “You are the head of your people. You are a member of the Conclave. You have authority and freedom. Far more than almost anyone else in the world.”
“You know nothing about it,” Hoel said, contempt clear in his voice and expression. “But you could not possibly comprehend, could you? With your little life and your little concerns. While I have my people to think of and my legacy.” The contempt didn’t bother Hallie nearly as much as the belief that rang through his words. He thought he was right. He thought he was doing what was required. He slanted a look past Hallie to where Cotovatre and Emmet were standing. “This world, this Conclave, were formed of traditions and values. The old ways that have served us well for hundreds upon hundreds of years. My ancestors would never have stood for a woman in this gathering, or adding humans to our group.” The disgust in his voice as he saidhumansmade Hallie feel sick. He cast another look back at Hallie and her skin crawled under the fury she could see there.
“Your people are barely surviving,” Girard said, and Hallie could tell that he was struggling to maintain some semblance of calm, anger still leaking through. “You deny them the advancements in medical care, in transport, in technology, all the things that would allow them to live more comfortably and more fully in your lands.”
“You want to keep your people in a previous time,” Hallie said, the words hard and sore in her throat. “And you want to keep the whole world there with you.” The scope and scale ofit had her breath catching in her throat. “But you didn’t need to do any of this. You could have gone back to your lands, lived as you wished. You didn’t need to involve anyone else, or try to destroy the whole Conclave.” Even as she spoke, Hallie wondered if that was really true. The technology existed and, however much Hoel oppressed his people, they would know that there were other places where things were different. And like the humans who had moved to Paradise seeking a better life, she could imagine that at least some of Hoel’s people would leave, escape his control. He would not like that at all. So he wanted the whole world to operate to his will instead. She supposed it must seem logical in his twisted mind. She found it appalling and abhorrent.
“Do not question me, woman,” Hoel said, taking a half-step forward. “You speak of things you cannot possibly understand.”
“Well, you have failed,” Hallie said, holding her ground and meeting his furious gaze. “We’ve discovered your plot. The bombs that were set have gone off. Some people have died, which is awful. The Conclave, though, is still standing.”
A slight, cruel smile formed on Hoel’s mouth and Hallie’s mouth went dry, heart thumping. The twisting knot in her stomach tightened further. She’d been right. The explosion and the molten gold had not been everything. Not nearly. There was more to come.
“No. You’re not done yet, are you?” she asked, her voice a harsh whisper. “What else do you have planned?”
An intervention came from an unlikely source. “Oh, yes, please, do tell us. What else do you have planned?” Tristram asked, apparently thoroughly enjoying himself. “I always knew you were half-mad, Hoel, but this is quite extraordinarily insane. Bombs in the Conclave? Destroying the whole institution? Really, I think the ice has frosted your brain.”
The sword was in Hoel’s hand before Hallie saw him move to draw it. With far quicker reflexes than the younger man, Girard grabbed hold of Tristram, dragging him out of the way. Hallie shoulder-charged Hoel. It was like hitting a wall. The furious man didn’t even twitch. He glanced down at her and brought his sword around. Hallie let out an undignified squeal and dropped to the floor, under the sweep of the glinting edge of the blade, rolling away and drawing her gun as she scrambled back to her feet, seeing that Girard had done the same. They were both aiming at Hoel who stood, suddenly isolated, sword raised.
Hoel didn’t look intimidated or defeated. He looked triumphant. A smile split his face, eyes bright. “And now you will learn who holds the power here.” He turned the wrist of his sword arm, using his other hand to press a particular point on his sleeve. There was a soft click.
Hallie took several scrambling steps backwards, but there was no explosion. Not this time. Instead, the gleam in Hoel’s eyes deepened. Her eyes paused on the length of the sword. A primitive weapon which he used with consummate ease. Ideal for personal combat. So, no bombs. Not right then. Explosions were not his style.
“What have you done?” she asked.
