The Executioner's Cane by Anne Brooke Read Free Book Online Page A

her, the light touch of Johan’s hand on her shoulder.
    The elders were as Talus had described them:
lined up in an open semi-circle on the road outside her home. They
could have been waiting there a lifetime and they looked as if they
would be happy to wait another one also.
    First, she saw the longest-serving elder,
with his grey-streaked hair and the lines of age on his face. He
had acted, she knew, as a guide and mentor to the former First
Elder from the very beginning, and she wondered if he would expect
to offer the same role to her. She was unsure whether she wanted
him to do so. He came from the makers of glass and his works had
been the most destroyed in the land. The scars and memories he
carried would be weighty.
    Next to him stood the maker of chairs. The
carpenter looked at Annyeke as she gazed at him, his bald head
glinting in the morning sun, his rounded body a contrast to the
delicacy of his fingers. He might have been about to venture a
narrow smile, and she nodded at him, but it did not come. Perhaps
it was not the time for it.
    On the furthest side of the semicircle of men
stood the maker of gardens and parks, his long fair hair lifting in
the breeze which floated the scent of cypress-wood through the air.
Strong and bitter as the aroma itself, she wondered if he had kept
his anger at the destruction of Gathandria’s plants and trees
hidden deep under his customary veil of gentle humour all these
long year-cycles. The gardens were blossoming again now, slowly,
but would it be enough for him to be willing to help her? None of
them, herself included, had travelled this path before.
    Finally, Annyeke turned her attention to the
one who never spoke, who was an obligatory member on all Councils
of Elders, but whose mind was intended to hold them all in harmony.
Such harmony as there might be, or that they could discover. His
family was from the makers of words, both written and performed and
she did not know if for him his silence was a liberation or a trap.
She would never dare probe further though, as First Elder, it was
her right to do so.
    Of course there should be more of them, but
six were vanished forever, including the most recent casualty, the
former First Elder himself. They would never return. Annyeke
swallowed hard. Four elders remained. It would have to be
enough.
    But how would they respond to her leadership?
And how could she build them up to be a true Council again?
    She pressed her hand briefly to Johan’s where
it still lay on her shoulder, took a breath and stepped forward
alone.
    “Welcome,” she said, surprised to find her
voice was steady. “It is good that you are back with us, people of
the Council. Many things have changed since you left and many
things have altered. But the land is beginning to heal, even in
this winter, and there is much that needs to be done. We need you
here.”
    So much else she could say, so many
accusations filling her mouth. If she paid heed to them, they might
choke her. Because Annyeke knew that to vent her anger against the
so-called leaders of their land in a public place such as this and
in front of those she loved would be foolishness. Still, she
imagined even the Gathandrians crossing the other side of the park
might pick up her emotions and the colours of her mind at this
moment. Redheads weren’t known for their subtlety. Was this the
same in every land, she wondered?
    She stepped to one side. They could start in
her home, whatever happened after. She’d be damned if she took them
to the old Council buildings, such as remained. After all, she was
First Elder and they would have to obey.
    “Please,” she gestured at her threshold.
“Come in. We have much to talk about.”
    Once the four elders were in her kitchen,
huddled round the small table, Johan and Talus headed towards the
garden and made themselves scarce. In one sense, Annyeke missed
their comforting presence indoors, but they were there if for any
reason she needed them. And, besides,