Leta's family were presumably killed during a Rebellion, and she was whisked away by one of her father's most trusted guardsmen to a faraway island to live out her days in exile, as ordered by the new King Calas. After King Calas's death, the Lady L...
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As soon as he reached the City Square, Gale realized there was something wrong. It was never half this busy for a meeting of the Quorum. He shouldered his way through the crowded city square to the entrance of the Council Hall, quickly glancing up at the guards flanking the doors. He crossed the ante-chamber, colorful tapestries flapping slightly in the draught, slipped through the inner doors and into the space beyond. His footsteps echoed as he hurried down the aisle towards the high table. Pike was standing beneath one of the tall windows, face splashed with colored light from the stained glass, frowning at a leather upholstered bench with a metal rail along its base, which had been placed to one side of the floor.
"What's happening?"
"Your brother's let it be known there'll be some great matter to discuss."
"Is it the South?"
"Don't know." The big man shook his head. "But we'll soon see."
The great doors were swung open and councilors began to flood down the aisle. The usual procession, if not a little more purposeful. And though these representatives were obliged to swear that they would in no way accept gift or reward from any party in before them or give advice to any man, great or small, in any action to which the King was a party himself, it was a well-known fact that at least half of them were accepting rewards of a sort.
"Lord Delacroix himself," Gale whispered.
"And Lady Drummond." Pike nodded at a handsome woman just behind Delacroix. "And Emerich and Galan. It's something big."
Gale took a deep breath as four of the Union's most powerful noblemen arranged themselves on the front row. He had never seen the Quorum half so well attended. On the Quorum's half-circle of benches there was barely an empty seat. And high above them, the public gallery was an unbroken ring of nervous faces. The Lord Chamberlain burst through the doors and down the aisle, and he was not alone. On his left a tall man flowed along, slender and proud-looking with a long, spotless robe of black and wearing rounded spectacles. High Justice Gideon. Four members of the Quorum, here.
High Justice Gideon lowered himself slowly into a high chair on one side of him, frowning all the while. Radclyffe took his place before the table, not the usual brightly dressed idiot, but a tall man in his fifties, clean-shaven, with a shock of red hair.
"I call this meeting of the Open Quorum of the Union to order!" he bellowed. The noise gradually died away. "There is but one matter for discussion this morning," said the Lord Chamberlain, peering sternly at the house from beneath his thin brows, "a matter of the King's Justice." There were scattered mutterings. "A matter concerning the royal licence for trade in the city of Millstone." The noise increased: angry whispers, uncomfortable shufflings of noble arses on their benches, the scratching of quills on the royal ledgers. Gale saw Lord Stafford's heavy brows draw together, the corners of Lord Galan's mouth turning down. The Lord Chamberlain sniffed and took a swig of wine, waiting for the noise to die away. "I am not best qualified to speak on this matter--"
