The navigator Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Eoin McNamee
over great buttresses that went down and down until they reached the floor far below. Owen gasped and grabbed Cati's arm. She made a face at him to be quiet and pointed. Far below them, the Convoke had started.
36
It was a while before Owen's eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the scene below. The first thing he noticed were the banners that hung from the ceiling, enormous cloth banners in faded colors that seemed hundreds of meters long. Then he saw that the banners framed a great hall of flagged floors and pillars and stone walls. Massive chains hanging from the roof held globes of blue light and in their glow he could see figures on the ground, some standing, others sitting on a raised dais, and many more standing in a circle around them. He could see that one of the standing figures was the Sub-Commandant and even from far above Owen could tell that the small man was pleading with the figures on the dais.
To the right of these figures was a fireplace where great logs burned, and in front of the fireplace a figure sprawled in a chair. It was too far away to see who it was and Owen was distracted just then as the Sub-Commandant began to speak. His voice was low and even, but there was an intensity to it and Owen guessed that there was some dispute going on.
"You are talking about history in this, Chancellor, but we aren't certain about what took place," he said. Owen could just see Chancellor shake his head as if in sorrow.
"I think that you are the only one who doubts what happened, Sub-Commandant," Chancellor said. "We had the Mortmain and with it the security of the world, or at least as much as was in our power to guarantee. But the Mortmain is gone." His voice was mellow but full of
37
authority, a leader gently rebuking a much-loved but erring lieutenant. Even from his perch in the rooftop, Owen could feel that the crowd in the hall was swayed by him.
"We cannot judge the future by the past," the small man said. "There are many things that we don't know."
"I agree that there are many things we do not know," Chancellor said, "but we have to work with what small knowledge we have. I feel that the boy should not be admitted to our counsel."
The crowd began to murmur this time. Glancing sideways, Owen could see that Cari was worried. Chancellor leaned back in his chair. He looked weighed down by the gravity of the situation. Suddenly Owen heard a woman's voice--a ringing voice with a tone of harsh amusement to it.
"The boy should be allowed in," the voice said.
"You have been listening to our arguments, Pieta?" Chancellor asked.
The woman made a scornful sound. "I have no need to listen to your talk, Chancellor," she said. "I know what is right and so does the man who has watched for us these long years. The boy is allowed into the Convoke by right of who he is." Owen realized that the voice was coming from the chair by the fire.
"Would we leave him outside, parentless and confused?" the Sub-Commandant said softly.
"Is that your final position, Pieta?" Chancellor asked. His voice was low and there was a hint of anger in it.
38
There was no reply from the chair, but Owen heard a bottle clinking against a glass and there seemed to be a kind of finality to the sound.
Chancellor sighed. "You have the right to ask much for your defense of us. ..."
"Yes. I have the right, Chancellor."
"I appreciate your reservations, Chancellor," Contessa interjected gently, "but I think justice demands that the boy be brought before us."
"You appeal to justice, Contessa, but are you certain that the boy does not appeal to another part of you?" This new speaker stood up. He was a long-haired man dressed in a uniform of somber but rich red. As he spoke, he swept his hair back over his shoulder. A silence fell over the hall. Contessa did not reply, but Owen could feel a chill stealing through the air.
"That settles it," the woman they called Pieta said. "Bring the damn boy and bring him now. If our resident
36
It was a while before Owen's eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the scene below. The first thing he noticed were the banners that hung from the ceiling, enormous cloth banners in faded colors that seemed hundreds of meters long. Then he saw that the banners framed a great hall of flagged floors and pillars and stone walls. Massive chains hanging from the roof held globes of blue light and in their glow he could see figures on the ground, some standing, others sitting on a raised dais, and many more standing in a circle around them. He could see that one of the standing figures was the Sub-Commandant and even from far above Owen could tell that the small man was pleading with the figures on the dais.
To the right of these figures was a fireplace where great logs burned, and in front of the fireplace a figure sprawled in a chair. It was too far away to see who it was and Owen was distracted just then as the Sub-Commandant began to speak. His voice was low and even, but there was an intensity to it and Owen guessed that there was some dispute going on.
"You are talking about history in this, Chancellor, but we aren't certain about what took place," he said. Owen could just see Chancellor shake his head as if in sorrow.
"I think that you are the only one who doubts what happened, Sub-Commandant," Chancellor said. "We had the Mortmain and with it the security of the world, or at least as much as was in our power to guarantee. But the Mortmain is gone." His voice was mellow but full of
37
authority, a leader gently rebuking a much-loved but erring lieutenant. Even from his perch in the rooftop, Owen could feel that the crowd in the hall was swayed by him.
"We cannot judge the future by the past," the small man said. "There are many things that we don't know."
"I agree that there are many things we do not know," Chancellor said, "but we have to work with what small knowledge we have. I feel that the boy should not be admitted to our counsel."
The crowd began to murmur this time. Glancing sideways, Owen could see that Cari was worried. Chancellor leaned back in his chair. He looked weighed down by the gravity of the situation. Suddenly Owen heard a woman's voice--a ringing voice with a tone of harsh amusement to it.
"The boy should be allowed in," the voice said.
"You have been listening to our arguments, Pieta?" Chancellor asked.
The woman made a scornful sound. "I have no need to listen to your talk, Chancellor," she said. "I know what is right and so does the man who has watched for us these long years. The boy is allowed into the Convoke by right of who he is." Owen realized that the voice was coming from the chair by the fire.
"Would we leave him outside, parentless and confused?" the Sub-Commandant said softly.
"Is that your final position, Pieta?" Chancellor asked. His voice was low and there was a hint of anger in it.
38
There was no reply from the chair, but Owen heard a bottle clinking against a glass and there seemed to be a kind of finality to the sound.
Chancellor sighed. "You have the right to ask much for your defense of us. ..."
"Yes. I have the right, Chancellor."
"I appreciate your reservations, Chancellor," Contessa interjected gently, "but I think justice demands that the boy be brought before us."
"You appeal to justice, Contessa, but are you certain that the boy does not appeal to another part of you?" This new speaker stood up. He was a long-haired man dressed in a uniform of somber but rich red. As he spoke, he swept his hair back over his shoulder. A silence fell over the hall. Contessa did not reply, but Owen could feel a chill stealing through the air.
"That settles it," the woman they called Pieta said. "Bring the damn boy and bring him now. If our resident
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