Catalyst by Brandon Crilly

Author:Brandon Crilly
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781945009914
Publisher: Atthis Arts LLC
Published: 2022-06-20T23:01:20+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Everything about being Lord-Magistrate involved meetings, and Woldren Breck hated it.

Committee meetings with specific Councillors. Inspections of new geothermal vents or repairs to the Unyielding Walkway. Petitioners who wanted his ear—which he used to not mind, since the people were why he accepted the appointment, until they started needing to screen anyone taking issue with Edict Nine. During the Incursions, his special position as Lord-General meant he could run things as he wanted, putting lieutenants in charge who he knew didn’t need supervision, while he focused on overall strategy. Now, even the people he trusted most expected regular meetings, simply because. Like the Legislative Council, seated around the table with him right now, determined to remain until they finished every item on Councillor Oreel’s checklist.

It was late, and he wanted to be in bed.

The oozing green pustules on the ceiling didn’t help, either.

They varied in size, from smaller than a luxury chit to the width of a dinner plate. Sickly green droplets fell from the ceiling every few seconds, burning holes into the council room’s table or the floor. When Watch Commander Termot reached for her tumbler, one sliced cleanly between her thumb and wrist. She didn’t react to the burning hole it left, which disappeared the next time Breck blinked.

You’re not the only one who’s bored, he thought, unsure if the Raw under the Keep could hear him at this distance.

“ . . . and the airdockers want a twenty-two-meter gap beneath each berth in the new expansion, instead of the usual twenty.” Oreel never looked up from his ledger while he spoke, as sizzling droplets he couldn’t hear, feel or see plopped onto the back of his neck.

Trade Commissioner Jenneri leaned forward to argue with him, as usual, clacking her rings together on the table in frustration. Breck only paid partial attention to what she said, carefully waiting for when he could step in and settle the debate. He compared it to preparing a surprise attack: too early and someone would pipe in with a new argument, sometimes useful but sometimes not; too late and some of the Councillors would have already dug in their heels on some asinine point.

“ . . . let us receive shipments more rapidly from the Unity, you must see there are concerns with . . . ”

As Oreel stood from his seat in that pretend-polite way when he argued, the pustules disappeared and his throat opened, gushing thick blood across his tunic. His wizened russet flesh grayed as the blood left his body, showing an attention to detail the Raw hadn’t managed with their illusions yet.

“ . . . and if we take those provisions, the time and materials should not be prohibitive to complete the project . . . ”

“Let’s do that,” Breck said. Jenneri tried to interject, almost like clockwork, but he continued over her. “Our usual captains will want to compete for the new berths. Organize a lottery or something so it’s fair, and if anyone doesn’t like it, tough.

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