Hurricane by Michael Wisehart

Author:Michael Wisehart [Wisehart, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-23T06:00:00+00:00

I found the luxury of the Guild’s council chambers hard to believe, considering some of us were struggling just to find enough food to make it through another day.

Unlike the beautiful but austere marble foyer and halls we had walked through on our way up, these rooms were fashioned with a dark cherry wood, giving the place a more relaxed feel. The carpeting was the same teal and gold as the rest of the rooms on this level. Thick velvet drapes hung to either side of an enormous window at the back, giving us a clear view of the city.

There was a fire in the hearth and chandeliers overhead, supplementing the light coming from outside. I hadn’t noticed until now, but the building seemed impervious to the summer heat. In fact, I was actually hoping Spats would move a little closer to the fire.

In front of the window was a circular table, crafted from the same cherry as the wood paneling, with five high-back chairs evenly spaced around it. In front of each chair lay a colored marker, one for each of the five tribes. There were seating areas placed around the room, five in all, each positioned a safe distance from the next. At each, cushioned chairs and sofas surrounded a covered table with pitchers of drink and trays of snacks. We followed Spats over to the sitting area farthest from the other two chiefs.

Spats poured himself a glass of something red from a decanter and grabbed a handful of sugar-covered scones from the plate. He plopped down on the nearest sofa and began stuffing the sweet bread into his mouth.

I wanted to sample one of the glazed tarts but decided against it since Sapphire hadn’t touched anything. Instead, the two of us stood guard behind the sofa and kept an eye on the others.

“What do we do now?” I whispered, low enough so only she could hear.

Sapphire leaned in. “We wait.”

“Then what?”

“Then, while they hold their meeting and discuss whatever it is they came to discuss, we wait some more.”

“Wow. That sounds exciting.” My voice dripped with all the enthusiasm I wasn’t feeling.

She smiled.

Raised voices from outside the room caught my attention.

“Sign it yourself, old man!”

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot let you in if you won’t sign first.” The old attendee had left his desk and planted himself firmly between the open doors. He had lost his fluffy green hat in the process.

“And just how do you plan on stopping me?”

Our position against the far wall allowed us a clear view of the tall boy harassing the attendant. He was covered from head to toe in brown suede. A large brimmed hat cast a long shadow across his scruffy face. The only colored accent to his outfit was a white sash he had tied around his waist. Even the falchion he wore had a dark hilt and sheath. From the way Spats was choking, it was safe to assume this must be Cutter.

“Oh, just sign the flaming book

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