The Tower of Bones by Frank P. Ryan Read Free Book Online

I’m sure that the Princess Laása will also have explained our protocols. It’s unprecedented in the history of the High Council to allow a man to attend a plenary meeting of the Half Hundred. We are bound by strict rules. And the Princess Laása will be excluded from the meeting.’
    ‘Ma’am – Sister Aon, if that’s what I should call you – I’m asking you to let the Ambassador stay with me. This meeting is important for both our sakes, and without her advice I’m likely to offend you without intending to.’
    ‘There are those among us who think that the Ambassador, as you call her, should stand before our Court charged with profligate abuse of her role.’
    ‘Ma’am! If you want any cooperation from me you’re going to have to forget about any such trial. I regard the Ambassador as my friend.’
    ‘You speak wilfully. Yet greater forces may be at work than you realise.’
    Alan was rapidly running out of patience with diplomacy. ‘Sister Aon – I suspect you already know why I’m here.’
    ‘You seek the whereabouts of the portal.’
    ‘Will you show me where to find it?’
    Aon shook her head in vexation. ‘Perhaps the Ambassador should stay! But be advised that if you choose confrontation you will place your own life, and the lives of all who depend on you, in danger.’
    ‘Ma’am, thank you.’
    Aon turned to Milish. ‘Have you warned him against such foolishness?’
    Alan spoke for Milish. ‘The Ambassador has repeatedly warned me, much as you have. But I have no choice but to confront the Fáil!’
    Sister Aon stared at Alan for several moments, as if questioning his sanity. But the look of determination on his face persuaded her. ‘Very well! But you will not be allowed to use your power to probe minds in this chamber. And you will both be excluded from our subsequent deliberations.’
    So saying, she led Alan and Milish into a semicircular chamber where the remaining forty-nine members, all wearing gowns of lime-green, were seated in tiered rows. Aon took her place next to a very old woman who sat on an elevated rostrum at the centre of the semicircle, and here the Pretender to High Architect accepted a small sceptre that she tapped just once on the dark oak bench before her.
    ‘Members of the Half Hundred! The Mage Lord, Alan Duval, together with the Princess of Essyne Xhosa, beg audience. Grave times beset us. The Mage Lord wishes to discover the portal once resident at Ossierel, but brought here for safe keeping. What are we to make of such a request?
    ‘None among us, under any normal circumstances, would sanction a confrontation of the power beyond that portal. We would assume that it would lead to the destruction of this ancient sanctuary, even Carfon itself. Yet these are not ordinary circumstances and the Mage Lord is no ordinary mortal. In his brow he bears the Oraculum of the First Power of the Most Holy Trídédana.’
    Alan’s eyes moved back to the old woman, recognising the bent and twisted figure that had warned him from the assembled crowds as the Temple Ship had arrived into the harbour. That same figure had warned him that his quest here might prove to be a poisoned chalice. As then, a thrill of alarm pulsed in his oraculum.
    But what did it mean?
    Sister Aon continued to address the council. ‘We recognise that the golden age of Ossierel is past. A new political reality prevails. The Kyra of the Shee is but across the water. Daily her forces gather. The Elector, Ebrit, supported by the High Families, raises a mighty force of arms in the city’s defence. Two armies not altogether allied to each other now ring this chamber, while others more malignant regard our sacred charge with avid eyes.
    ‘And now,’ she turned to face Alan directly, ‘this stranger demands audience to demand access to the portal. If I understand him, he offers commonality of purpose to this Council in return for our assistance. Thus do we face the gravest dilemma since the fall of Ossierel.