Chapter 56
Sol was retreating into the sky as Councillor White was driven to the Shield's quarter. Her diary was an exercise in brutality, full of meetings with senior Contegons and Councillors, with any gap filled with paperwork, so her head was bowed, her concentration fixed on reports, and she didn't notice she'd arrived until her Servant opened the carriage door.
“We're here, Contegon Councillor,” Blast said as he unfolded the carriage's stairs.
“Thank you,” Tone replied as she folded her paperwork away.
The Grip, the Shields' home in Warrior's Welcome, was built of the strong stone as Aureu's outer walls. It was short, squat, and wide, but difficult to assault with its protected parapets and anti-Disciple defences such as the Baptism Launcher. Entrance was only possible through passages Tone had to walk through crabwise. At the end of the slender corridor was an iron door, which she bashed three times.
“Who goes?” a Shield called. They sounded quite old.
“Contegon Councillor Tone White.”
The door opened, and Tone shuffled through. She stretched as she exited the narrow courtyard, her old bones not enjoying the confinement and the cold. 'Courtyard' did the stretch of dirt that circled the main building a great service.
A clang rang out as the old Shield locked the door. Most Shields in the Grip should be on their Rest, but no one could be spared at this time of war. If the Disciples attacked Aureu again, Tone thought it would be all these Shields could do to not break their arms when unsheathing their weapons.
Not that Tone excluded herself from that: her time as a fighting Contegon ended decades ago. She no longer carried her spear, and her training sessions were sporadic. That was the way of the world: Sol had little light left come sunset.
The Councillor entered the main building, a cylinder buried in Geos' soil: one floor peeked out, four remaining hidden. Draw's office was on the lowest floor, the most secure spot. A central staircase drilled into the ground, the stone dampening as she descended. Two old Servants wiped the walls on the third sub-floor, clearing moss and mire. They acquiesced as Tone passed.
“Sol's blessings upon you,” Tone said with a smile.
The staircase ended abruptly, a varnished door with brass hinges and a knocker almost jumping out at Tone. It was only respectful that she knock. The impact echoed in the narrow space.
“Enter,” Draw boomed in response.
The floor was Draw's quarters and office. To her left was his private area, shuttered off with curtains held by brass hooks. To her right were great maps of Geos with models and markers representing the Front, a table big enough to rival the Mensa, bookshelves swollen with books, and several desks. Open bags of rice sat throughout the room to keep the dampness at bay: Strut, the first Shield Councillor, had rejected Artificer concerns about the damp problems, and hadn't lived to see how wrong he was.
Draw was stood at the model of Geos. “Contegon Councillor.”
“Shield Councillor. How does the day find you?”
“Busy,” he said, looking back at the model.
Tone stood beside him. An uneven and jagged line stretched across the map of Geos, taller in the west. New Call and New Response were fabric messes of tents a few miles behind the Fronts.
She looked up at him – the man always stood when they spoke, tried to use his height to intimidate her – and said, “Of course. We all are. If it's the same with you, I'd like to get this interview over quickly so I can get back to my duties.”
“Fine,” he grunted, his brow furrowing. “Ask your questions.”
“Let's sit, shall we? My old bones aren't as strong as yours.”
Few people's were: Draw was built like an ox, all muscle and height. Even now, twenty years since he'd seen a Front, he kept himself fit. Tone supposed physical strength showed power and discipline to other Shields. Their Station was a strange world... but then, every other Station was. Including the Acolytes.
“Fine,” he said again. He marched over to his replica Mensa and sat at the head, his back straight as a well-made blade. “Interview me. Though I don't see why you should.”
“Draw,” Tone said, sitting at the opposite head of the table, “you were issued a Secrecy Order, to keep secret that Acolyte Councillor Maya was planning to leave the city. Only you and the other Councillors should have known Maya was on that—”
“You seriously think a Councillor did this?” Draw interrupted. “After that debacle up in Buckle? Those damn Acolytes must've given it away.”
Tone shook her head. “The Acolytes were isolated from the issuing of the first Secrecy Order to the day they left for the Front. No one but these Councillors knew Maya would be on that trip, as Pale planned. Before you say anything, he will be questioned too. Anyway, Draw, we know this attack was one on Maya’s person because the explosive was put into her possessions.”
He tutted. “So they targeted her. A sound tactical move. It wasn't mine, though.”
“We can get to that,” Tone said, “but first I wanted to check what exactly caused you to be listed on the Secrecy Order? I couldn't puzzle that one out.”
Draw’s wide, clean-shaven face was blank as a slate. He took in a breath. “I asked where she would be on one of the days she was scheduled to be away. I was told she would be on a holiday, but that's a common Councillor tactic, so I pressed for more.”
“Why?”
He paused again before saying, “I had hoped to discuss the output of Acolytes with her: four per year is inadequate to progress in the war. I knew it would have been a delicate matter to raise, so I wanted to do it privately, not ambush her in a Council session.”
“Do you mind if I record this?” Tone asked, taking parchment and a pencil from her robes.
“If you must.”
Tone made some notes, underlining the Councillor’s unhappiness with the provision of Acolytes. “And what would you have done if the Acolyte Councillor said Sol could not Gift any more than he does?”
“I would have sought a second opinion.”
“You mean, you would have spoken to Lord Blind?”
“The Lords are the authority on Sol's actions, Contegon Councillor,” Draw said.
Tone pursed her lips. It had always been a curious debate, whether Lords or Contegons best represented Sol on Geos, being the mind and body of Solarism. The presence of the Acolytes had only muddied unclear waters further... and it was clear where Draw fell on the debate.
“What response did you get when you pressed for information about her diary?”
Draw sat back, stretched his arms behind his head. “The Secrecy Order, naturally.”
“Did you inquire as to Maya's availability through a subordinate?”
“Of course.”
“And how were they dealt with?”
“The usual way,” he said. “Cleric Councillor Pale issued a falsified note which said Maya's time had been locked by the Guardian, at the same time the Secrecy Order came to me in a sealed envelope. My underling reported this, and I pretended to be vexed, then dismissed them.”
Tone didn't write his use of the word 'underling,' but noted it nonetheless.
“Why don't you like Maya?” she asked, changing tack.
“That's a leading question.”
Tone leant back herself, tapped her pencil to her lips. “It's an accurate one. I don't need deduction to have noticed that in Council sessions. Why do you dislike her so?”
Draw narrowed his eyes. “Why would I give you more ammunition, more motive?”
“Because it would look more suspicious not to.”
Again he watched her, tried to unnerve her. That stare probably worked on his Major Shields, perhaps even on the Shield-Generals, but Tone knew what a real, dead stare was. Tone looked back, asserting her dominance as a Contegon and a once-superior warrior.
“Fine,” he said after some time. “If you insist.” Then he stood, leant on his table. “I dislike the Acolyte Councillor because she forced a Shiel
d-General onto me who was neither ready nor capable, all because she claimed Sol ordered it. It was nonsense: she felt guilty for damaging Snow's life and wanted to make amends by giving him the position his grandfather held. My plans for succession were ruined, and I had to accommodate someone who barely knew what a Shield was.”
“We're talking about Shield-General Acolyte Snow, yes?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Tone made more notes. “But didn't the Guardian accept her proposal? Wouldn't that change Maya's aim, even if it were selfish, a holy one? After all, he led the refugees from Call back, gave us enough warning to mobilise against the Second Invasion. He saved lives.”
Draw's mouth twitched. “Many young Shields save lives. I don't promote them to Shield-General for it. You asked me why I dislike her, and that is the main reason, the start of my distaste that has only bloomed since. I think she is unprepared for what Sol gave her, and arrogant in her ignorance of the importance of being a Councillor. She is a failed Contegon sitting at the head of the Mensa.”
Tone knew she'd prompted this, but she didn't enjoy the invective. “I notice you didn't mention the Loss?” she asked as she made more notes.
He growled. He actually growled. “No, I didn't.”
“Did Maya's reaction to the Loss not colour your perception of her?”
“It's not impossible,” he said. Only his mouth moved. Every other muscle was still.
Tone stood and walked round the table. “She demanded your removal from the Council. That must have angered you? Made your blood boil, especially with her highlighting what no one could call a successful mission? A mission entirely of your own devising.”
“I see what you're doing,” he hissed, gripping his hands into fists. “It won't work.”
Tone stood beside him, watched his wide chest rise and fall as he tried to control his anger, veins bulging from neck and forehead. She leant in, rested her hand on the table too. “Would it be fair to say, Draw, that you didn't like her before, but now she represents, and reminds people of, a high-profile and damning mistake which nearly ended your career?”
“Stop it,” he said, closing his eyes.
“She embodies that moment when you saw glory, your chance to make a name for yourself as Snow and Maya shot to prominence, and ignored good sense? Does she remind you of your weakness... or, perhaps, of your waning influence and power in Aureu?”
“Stop it!” With a roar, he punched his table. The boom echoed in the room, bouncing from wall to wall. The impact vibrated up Tone's arm, shook her bones, but she did not move.
“Contegon Councillor,” Draw said between breaths, “it would be unfair to say any of those things and you know it. I did not leak word of Maya's leaving, nor did I arrange for her death. I am a good man, a godly man, and I would never seek to destroy what Sol has raised.”
“Not directly,” Tone said.
He straightened and took a deep breath, his control returning. “A Lord is still a greater representative of Sol than any other. If Lord Councillor Blind thinks Maya should be prevented from getting her way in certain matters, then I support him.”
“Even if that prevents a Contegon's will?”
He did not answer that.
Tone made more notes before sliding the parchment into her robes. “Thank you, Shield Councillor, for your time. We have other Councillors to interview over the next few days. Your testimony will be considered alongside theirs. Please have the note Pale issued your 'underling' sent to my office.”
“I shall,” he replied, now fully relaxed.
Tone walked back to the central staircase. Before she left, she said “And Shield Councillor?”
“Yes?” he sighed.
She opened the door but did not pass through. “Maybe you should consider whether it is right to let your unhappiness at having to redo a plan, or accept the price of failure, obscure your perception of the Acolytes? I've always thought, in my prayers, that you might not have incurred such... folly... if you'd cared as much for the Acolytes' lives as you clearly do for Contegons'.”
Draw hung his head, but did not respond. Tone tutted and left.