Cracks in the Shell

Chapter 13

The Jellyman provided them with a breakfast of sweet tasting bread that Carlos and Henry devoured hungrily. Ayzili didn’t touch the food. Instead, she took swigs from a flask concealed beneath the table. With each drink, she locked eyes with Henry as if daring him to say something. Carlos had sensed a rift between the two ever since Ayzili had learned Henry was a priest. 

“Do you mind?” Henry asked, reaching for her flask. To Ayzili’s surprise, he took a long swig and then wiped his beard clean. “Thanks,” he said, returning to the book on the spirits he’d found.  

Jell reappeared from the kitchen and frowned at Ayzili’s full plate. “An empty sack can’t stand up,” he said. “You’ll need your strength for the council meeting. Do they know the rules?”

“No, we don’t. What rules?” Carlos asked.

“The council is very serious about tradition,” Jell said, puffing out his chest in imitation. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, always address the group as a whole, never sit before a council member does —”

“Sounds like a fun group,” Henry said, licking his thumb to turn a page. 

“If you break the rules,” Jell said, “you won’t be laughing.”

“Is this council elected?” Carlos asked, his hands reaching instinctively for a flip pad. “Do you have something I can write with?” His brain could only hold so much information. 

After providing him with a quill and paper, Jell explained that Ginen was divided into four quarters, like slices of a giant pie. Residents from each quarter elected representatives to serve on the council. These in turn elected a council head, the de facto president of Ginen.  

“His name is Riyal and he’s a good man,” Jell said. “He enjoys support from most of the people, even though the high priesthood opposes his every move.” He went on to explain how the high priesthood had great influence over this, the Northern Quarter, and thus held many seats on the council. 

“They should stay in their little monastery and tend grapes,” Ayzili said. Carlos agreed that politics and religion shouldn’t mix but kept his opinions to himself. The last thing he wanted was to get embroiled in a power struggle. 

“We’d better get going,” Jell said. “It’s almost time.”  

Flipping his wrist, Carlos remembered that he’d lost his watch for the bribe. He’d have to keep an eye out for that guard. 

* * *

Hungar met them deep in the city, by the familiar staircase they had journeyed up the pervious night. 

“Ugh. Not again,” Henry said.

“Could do you good,” Ayzili said, jabbing him in the gut. After a dizzying round of corkscrews and halls, they finally came upon a colossal set of doors that, Carlos guessed, marked the entrance to the council chamber. Hungar nodded to the guards flanking either side, who opened the doors to a blinding light.

The room beyond was round, with windows that overlooked the garden they had visited the other night. Sun rays filled the chamber, and it took a few seconds for Carlo’s eyes to adjust.

Lowering his hand, he made out the shapes of several hooded figures. They stood behind desks that bore their names in an elaborate, swirling script. Most wore grey garments, but a select few were dressed in the purple cloth of the high priesthood. Carlos got the immediate impression that some of the council members didn’t like him. It was the same look he used to get when he’d drive his cruiser through certain Miami neighborhoods - suspicious stares. An awkward moment of silence passed, and Carlos used the time to glance over his companions. Hungar’s face was taught, with beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Carlos sympathized with him. This was a man, after all, charged with knowing everything that went down in the city; yet chaos erupted all around him. Ayzili, in contrast, looked cool and impatient. She returned the stares of each councilman without blinking. At last, an elderly man directly in front of them broke the silence. Although he had the appearance of an octogenarian, his voice was clear and strong.