Dragonfly Web: Whitestuff

Twenty Six | Speak!

In the morning Ciara ran down the face of the glade as fast as she could. She had rested well for the first time since she'd come to these mountains. Somehow she knew how she'd got here and she couldn't wait to tell Skye.

"I know what to say now, Skye!" she bellowed from the fields.

Skye-voice stirred, his massive invisible head swinging around to look at her, sleepy, confused.

Where have you been? He asked her in 'mind'.

"I know how I got here! I found it. I found the mascot. I know how I got here—I found everything! I know how to get the Council to listen to what you want me to say," she yelled.

This had Skye-voice up quickly. Grukk—? He uncoiled his massive body, unseen on the ledge. This sounds like a fine thing. Then we waste no more time—

I need to rest, Skye. I ran down the whole side of the mountain.

Where were you?

"Just wait and you'll hear—" Ciara bent over, catching her breath. She wasn't feeling as well as she had been the moment before.

Yes, but please hurry.

It will be all right, Skye. This time I know they will listen to you.

How are you sure?

Because I'm your Proxy—and I have an idea. Ha!  She stood up. Tell me again what it is you want them to know.

˜˜˜

Ciara's heart beat so loudly she was sure everyone at the Spire could hear it thumping. She approached the grand white polished hall between marble pillars where many magi had mingled in front. She was tiny. They were tall, by twice. And some, by four, were wider than she.

She walked bravely towards the Council doors to the chamber. The meeting was almost in session.

She edged into a space between groups. They were busy debating their specific topics. She slipped inside, unnoticed. The ceiling seemed much too high, the sounds much too loud.

She knew she must push herself to the front and find the large desk where the orator sat to one side, as Alphonse had told her to do—to introduce herself. She swallowed.

Knees knocking and short of breath, she made her way. She stood in front of the solid wood table and looked up to a bearded soul, who's eyes glistened like all the night sky. "What is your purpose, young one?" His voice was gentle, but firm.

She felt a rustling inside her bag and pulled the string tighter, then she straightened the vest Alphonse had loaned her to cover her berry-stained clothes and cleared her throat.

"I've come to speak for the one you know only as the 'Interference of Lout' in the Guild Mind-voice. I am proudly Lout's Proxy."

The orator's gaze turned oddly amused and in his inside-outside voice the minds of all boomed, just as Ciara could hear, The young guest is ready. She has the floor. Show her the courtesy we all expect of a Speaker in House. She is our Caller de Jour! And turning in her direction, he said simply, "Proceed", but his steady eyes held hers and strengthened her courage.

She walked straight to the center. Someone let an enormous door swing shut. Voices paused and silence fell around her like heavy drapes closing.

Inside the Spire, the scrape of a chair leg echoed off the high vaulted space between marble towers. There were fourteen men and three women who sat at a long table before her.