might receive instructions. Their function was to agree with
and support Soulcatcher if she happened to speak. Significantly, all three
represented Gunni cults. Though the Protector used the Greys to enforce her
will, the Shadar had no voice in the Council. Neither did the Vehdna. That
minority simmered continuously because Soulcatcher arrogated to herself much
that properly applied only to God, the Vehdna being hopelessly monotheistic and
stubborn about keeping it that way.
Swan was a good man inside his fear. He spoke for the Shadar when he could.
There were two other men, of more significance, present. They were positioned
behind tall desks located back of the table. They perched atop tall stools and
peered down at everyone like a pair of lean old vultures. Both antedated the
coming of the Protector, who had not yet found a suitable excuse for getting rid
of either, though they irritated her frequently.
The right-hand desk belonged to the Inspector-General of the Records, Chandra
Gokhale. His was a deceptive title. He was no glorified clerk. He controlled
finances and most public works. He was ancient, hairless, lean as a snake and
twice as mean. He owed his appointment to the Radisha’s father. Until the latter
days of the Shadowmaster wars, his office had been a minor one. The wars caused
that office’s influence and power to expand. And Chandra Gokhale was never shy
about snatching at any strand of bureaucratic power that came within reach. He
was a staunch supporter of the Radisha and a steadfast enemy of the Black
Company. He was also the sort of weasel who would change all that in an instant
if he saw sufficient advantage in so doing.
The man behind the desk on the left was more sinister. Arjana Drupada was a
priest of Rhavi-Lemna’s cult but there was not one ounce of brotherly love in
the man. His official title was Purohita, which meant, more or less, that he was
the Royal Chaplain. In actuality, he was the true voice of the priesthoods at
court. They had forced him upon the Radisha at a time she was making desperate
concessions in order to gain support. Like Gokhale, Drupada was more interested
in control than he was in doing what was best for Taglios. But he was not an
entirely cynical manipulator. His frequent moral bulls got up the Protector’s
nose more often even than the constant, quibbling financial caveats of the
Inspector-General. Physically, Drupada was known for his shock of wild white
hair. That clung to his head like a mad haystack, the good offices of a comb
being completely unfamiliar.
Only Gokhale and Drupada seemed unaware that their days had to be numbered. The
Protector of All the Taglias was not enamored of them at all.
The final member of the Council was absent. Which was not unusual. The Great
General, Mogaba, preferred to be in the field, harrying those designated as his
enemies. He viewed the infighting in the Palace with revulsion.
None of which mattered at the moment. There had been Incidents. There were
Witnesses to be Brought Forward. The Protector was not pleased.
Willow Swan rose. He beckoned a Grey sergeant out of the gloom behind the two
old men. “Ghopal Singh.” Nobody remarked on the unusual name. Possibly he was a
convert. Stranger things were happening. “Singh’s patrol watches an area
immediately outside the Palace, on the north side. This afternoon one of his
patrolmen discovered a prayer wheel mounted on one of the memorial posts in
front of the north entrance. Twelve copies of this sutra were attached to the
arms of the wheel.”
Swan made a show of turning a small paper card so the light would fall upon the
writing there. The lettering appeared to be in the ecclesiastical style. Swan
failed to appreciate his own ignorance of Taglian letters, though. He was
holding the card inverted. He did not, however, make any mistakes when he
reported what the prayer card had to