Nathaniel Sparrow strides into the Inner Chamber of the Summoners Collegium. His ego is still stoked, after all the meetings since his election, to note Summoners in the lower and upper gallery rise at his entrance.
The Lower Gallery Summoners are garbed in Red Capes; Maker Professors, one of whom would succeed him.
The Upper Gallery is filled with Masters of the 4th Path; Doctors of Summoning. Their dark blue capes only allow them leave to attend and not to speak.
The weight of the Chain Links of his office and the swish of the crimson red robes of rank are reassuring. Here is a place where he has authority, a place where his genius had been appreciated.
A lot of the seats and a few of the rows are empty. Not due to low attendance; a Candidate refusing to attend without good reason was almost akin to sacrilege.
The chamber had been designed with hope that they’d one day be crowded. The designers had yet to be proven right.
When he reaches the end of the isle leading to his High Seat, the Proctor bellows as well he can in his reedy voice, mentally broadcasting at the same time for those who could not follow high Latin:
“The Summoner, Lord First Maker of Summoners and our Honored seat on the Council of the Six!”
The Lord First takes his seat and, with a slight gesture, signals the Hall to take their seats and benches. There are slight frowns on the faces of a few of the Summoners in red capes, piqued at his tardiness no doubt. One of them, he notes carefully, is Priya Rajasthani.
The same Professor Rajasthani who he had deviously blocked from the seat he sits on.
That was one of his political maneuvers of which she knew. He doubted that she was aware of the scheme he had contrived to block her elevation to Candidate. He grimaces internally when he recalls how that particular plot failed.
No matter, in the end he triumphed.
You stand in my presence now, you brown bitch
The Summoner’s Path was not one suited to women, with their emotions and mood swings. It was not politic to say it out loud nowadays, with three of the Six being women, but he knew most agreed.
Women just did not have the minds to match men in an intellectual Society like the 4th. He could count the number of women, both professors and doctors, on both hands with fingers to spare.
He frowned, puzzled, as the female Maker Professor suddenly faced front. Her usually steely expression was tinged with a hint of worry. She quickly brushed the tips of her right fingers through a snow-white lock of hair - a lock that stood out from the rest of her silky, raven hair.
"Well, this should be interesting," he smirks internally, “something about today’s meeting has put her out of sorts.”
The murmuring in the room finally settles into silence.
The First Maker clears his throat. He then straightens his lapel mike - cave man technology they had had to use to prevent spying from other Societies.
His thick dark brows beetle closer, lending gravity to what he’s about to say. He looks towards the Provost, annoyed. The septuagenarian hastily remembers himself and announces.
“The Lord First Maker will now make his report on the recent emergency meeting of the Six.”
In his best authoritative voice and fluent High Latin, First Maker Sparrow proceeds to do just that.
He smoothly skims over the first part of that meeting; increased non-Society sightings of darklings and Daemon possessions. The second half of his report is key.
“The 3rd Society have found the child of the Eighthborn, the Magi who was known as Spider. This child is also the new Spider Magus.”
The reaction from the hall is muted; of course, in their minds the child of the Eighthborn means little. Even if she's one of them herself, she's just another Magi creating complications for the Societies to clean up.
“The child is young, remarkably so amongst the Magi. We believe that he may represent a great opportunity to the Societies during The Rising.”
He had to admire the cunning of Tenzin and the child Fae. Somehow, throughout the meeting, they had concealed the location and name of the child Spider. He'd sent a few Acolytes searching for the boy, mostly in the Third World dump that was the birthplace of the first two Spiders.
After holding a pause for as long as is reasonable, Sparrow finally spells out the core of the matter.
“We of the Six have decided that the child’s abilities be developed. Developed in the hope of making him a candidate and eventual Leader of a Seventh Society.
He pauses again to weigh the emotions in the hall
"A Society of Magi.”
The Hall rises into an uproar. He lets it continue for a while, lets the fear echo within the chamber and build up.
Professors and Doctors of summoning turn to each other, making comments with various expressions painted on their faces: concern, annoyance, fear and irritation.
A few words are repeated. “Preposterous”, “Irresponsible” and “Uncontrollable” are amongst the top 10.
With a stern, reproving look, Sparrow finally raises a hand for silence.
“Personally, I had strong reservations. This proposal is not set in stone. If the child proves to be intractable or a troublemaker, the Six cannot in good conscience continue with the plan.”
He looks meaningfully at his favorites in both galleries. A few nod slightly. Good men.
“That is the end of the report on the Meeting of the Six. Is there any other business?”
He ends his speech formally and grimaces internally at the full minute of silence. His expression, of course, betrays nothing.
The provost is nudged out of a fitful doze by a Red Cape behind him. He looks around with owlish eyes before recalling what he is meant to say.
“Lord First, our thanks to you for that report. There is other business. We of the Inner Chamber are here to bear witness to the trial of August Amanda Gaines, acolyte Maker of our Society, for multiple grievous infractions of our law and vows.”
The First Maker’s face remains calm, but his mind scrunches as he tries to recall why the name seems familiar. The name does sound British, but there is something else. Why does her name sound familiar?
The answer suddenly comes to him.
Sir Henry Gaines CBE, celebrated physicist, Society blood for generations and Blessed Son of the Faerie. The girl must be his daughter!
His mind delivered up another delicious morsel. Gaines and Rajasthani had been friends since they were acolytes. His child was the only acolyte that Rajasthani had taken in decades.
Rajasthani had been making quite a fuss over the child. Gaines was apparently some sort of prodigy, aged just 14. Rumor had it that she’d give a public defense for elevation to gain a blue cape before the season was out. Red capes had been tipping her to join their ranks before she was thirty. He had though the information slightly trivial at the time, now he was glad he had listened.
“Leave is given for the acolyte, Maker August Amanda Gaines to enter the Inner Chamber."
The doors swung open and the girl enters, flanked by two, tough looking, black caped acolytes.
Her reddish blond hair is a mess, eyes downcast in shame, and hands in polished cuffs. Lord First Sparrow is glad the girl is at least penitent for whichever grievous crimes she'd committed.
His ire is stoked when she finally stands before the dais of the high seat and looks directly at him.
All the shame must have been a sham… unless. He glances up to the gallery, at the clearly worried expression of the brown Maker Professor.
Of course! The girl was only ashamed to catch the bitch’s eye. She valued her opinion over his?
He had meant to use mercy as a favor, a chain around Rajasthani’s neck. No more. Gaines would have to be crushed, mercilessly.
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