Farris cringed at the recollection. For the past few weeks, he had performed all sorts of mental acrobatics to try and justify his actions. He had drunk too much; he had eaten too little… but nothing could excuse him for what he done.
“I have something to add,” said a gruff voice. A bearded, thickset man clad in layers of green spoke, leaning back in his seat as if he were lounging before a fireplace. He was a Geomancer, and a particularly good one, apparently, but Farris didn’t know much more about him.
“Enlighten us, Earthmaster Seán,” said Borris with a nod.
“In all my years counselling the Triad,” he began, “I have not spoken directly to our king once. Yet he has a vote equal to Borris and to Cathal, along with the right to veto either of theirs. The Triad was founded to bring Humans and Simians together, under the rule of the Crown, but it seems King Diarmuid would rather we do that ourselves.”
He sat forward, gesturing towards Argyll. “With all due respect,” he said, “the accusations you bring here to us today are irrelevant to this issue. Regardless of the king’s actions over the past few moons, removing him from the Triad was always a considered course of action.”
“Considered for one moment and dismissed the next,” snapped Borris. “Taking the king out of this government is not a decision we can make on our own. The Triad would need to be in agreement, and we’d need a majority vote from the earls of Alabach before….”
Farris’s attention waned as the argument went on. It seemed that he had been demoted back to the position of Ruairí’s shadow again, for he was no longer needed in Nicole’s laboratory. Even without the sound of her voice and the scent of her fur, Farris would have easily chosen the lab over this meeting room. But Nicole needed no further help; she had finally stumbled upon a material stronger than Simian steel. She claimed that it was well beyond the reach of any Geomancer, but how she came to that conclusion, Farris had no idea.
No fucking idea, he thought, balling a hand into a fist beneath the table. I used to be in the Silverback’s inner circle. I used to help with the Movement’s most important work. Now I sit and watch like a child, while the adults make all the decisions.
Since Garth had returned from his skirmish, he had spent more and more time with Nicole, providing aid for the Reaper Project, whatever that was. Why couldn’t I have helped her with that instead?
But that was nearing completion, too, all without any input from Farris.
Fuck them. If they want to free our people on their own, they’re more than welcome.
The debate steadily grew more heated. Seán was standing now, arguing vigorously with Borris, but Farris must have missed a point from earlier that would have allowed him to understand what they were talking about. Still, he pretended to listen, nodding idly as each person made their points.
Skies above. What’s the point in me even being here?
The door to the meeting room slammed opened, and a guard strode in. He was a Simian, armoured in steel tinted blue. He walked straight towards Seán, barely paying any mind to anyone else in the room.
“Apologies for the interruption, Earthmaster,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “But there is a young lad here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”
Seán waved a hand. “Bah! It bloody well better be. Send him up.”
The guard left, leaving the room in silence. Farris wasn’t quite sure where to look. Seán had taken his seat again, fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands. Argyll remained still, as if there hadn’t been an interruption at all.
Moments later, the door opened again, and there stood the strangest sight Farris had ever seen. A young lad wearing a red cape, draped over a torn shirt and dusty breaches. The edges of the cape were charred black, and the lad’s thick black curls were mottled with soot.
But the strangest thing about the young lad’s appearance was his arm. One arm was twice as large as the other, with a shoulder as thick as a leg. As he limped into the room, he leaned to one side, as if the weight of the arm was too much to bear.
“Earthmaster Seán!” cried the lad. “It’s Conleth. He’s dead, I….”
Seán stood up abruptly. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
The young man paused, his eyes widening with fear. Farris had seen fear like that before, in a Pyromancer he had travelled through the Glenn with….
No. It couldn’t be. Fionn lost his arm in the Clifflands. I watched as the troll tore it from his body. The healer said there was little chance of surviving.
“Who is this, Seán?” asked Borris, sceptically. “Is this Firemaster Conleth he speaks of? It’s tragic news, but Conleth lived a long life. He was ill with old age and—”
“I killed him!” cried the mage in red. “He went mad and attacked me, I… I….”
“Sit down, Fionn,” said Seán, offering a seat by the table. “Take as much time as you need and tell us exactly what happened.”
It is Fionn. But how did he survive….
“Now,” said Seán. “In your own time, and in your own words, tell us what happened.”
“Here,” said Ruairí, offering Fionn a Simian-made pocket-flask. “The Simian stuff tastes vile, but it’ll help with the shock.”
Vile?If he believes that, why would he carry a bottle of it around with him? Farris supressed a smile. Perhaps he’s becoming more like one of us.
Fionn took a mouthful of thainol, cringing as he swallowed it. He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his over-sized arm. Its skin was scratched and abraded, and it too was dark with soot.
“I was about to take an exam,” he began, after a moment. “Conleth was training me to become a Firemaster. He was sleeping in his quarters, and I called him into the study. When he came, he was acting strange. He was talking gibberish, and then he attacked me. With fire. We fought and... the fire. It was everywhere.”
“When did this happen?” asked Borris. “Did you report the fire?”
“About half an hour ago,” said Fionn. “I informed the guards. They’re fighting the flames now, but I didn’t tell them about Conleth.”
“You were alone?” asked Borris, raising an eyebrow. “Have you any proof that he attacked first?”
Before Fionn could respond, Seán raised his voice.
“Gods above and below, Borris. Can you not see the state he’s in? Does this look like the time for an interrogation?”
Borris paused, considering the young mage once more. “You’re right,” he said, eventually. “We can investigate this another time.”
“I’ll vouch for his character in the meantime,” said Seán, patting Fionn on the shoulder—his normal sized one. “Is there anything else you need?”
Fionn nodded slowly, his unblinking eyes far away.
