All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [161]
Lucia sipped a flute of honey liquor and nibbled on a carrot stick, her eyes dark with concentration.
“Well,” Lucia said, “let us begin. Thank you for hosting, Aaron.”
Aaron raised his bottle in salute and took a deep draft.
Much to Audrey’s annoyance, Lucia found her tiny silver bell and rang it thrice, its tinkling notes grating on Audrey’s nerves.
“I call this session of the League Council of Elders to order,” Lucia announced. “All come to heed, petition, and be judged. Narro, Audio, Perceptum. I move to skip last meeting’s minutes and proceed directly to the Balboa business.”
“Second the motion,” Henry said with a wave of his hand.
They all nodded their assent to skip the minutes.
“Thank you, Henry,” Lucia said. “I believe we were discussing whether to support the current dictator, Balboa, in his civil war or overthrow him and install a democratically elected leader of our choosing.”
“Democracies are so tedious,” Henry said.
“And ultimately just as corrupt,” Kino added.
Aaron set his bottle aside and looked serious. “But I dislike this Balboa. He kills for pleasure. He is a beast that must be put down.”
Kino shrugged to Aaron, the closest thing to assent Audrey had seen from him. Curious. Had the two made overtures to peace? That was a highly unusual move for Aaron.
Dallas shifted in her furs. No longer a member of the Council, she wasn’t allowed to speak without permission. She was here only to report on her efforts with Fiona—a topic Audrey was far more interested in than the fate of one little Central American country.
“We remove Balboa,” Audrey said. “I have already made up my mind.”
Lucia sighed. “We do prefer to debate the issues before we vote, darling Sister.”
“My mind is decided,” Audrey repeated.
Lucia threw up her hands in frustration. “Do you understand that beneath the soil of this country, right where Henry has perched his little refinery, is more light crude oil than in the entire Fertile Crescent? That in thirty years, we shall ‘discover’ it and change the socioeconomic balance of the world? Besides filling our coffers, it will give humanity the cushion they will need to ease into a non-petroleum-based infrastructure and prevent a worldwide economic disaster?”
“Not with Balboa in charge,” Audrey said. “He has already sent geologists looking for gold in the region. He will discover the porous rock formations long before we want.”
Lucia’s mouth fell open; then she recovered and asked, “And how did you learn this?”
Audrey spread her hands, her fingers delicately moving as if over the weft and weave of some invisible pattern. “I looked, Sister,” she said, a cutting edge of steel to her voice.
Lucia pursed her lips and shot her back an irritated Of course I knew that look.
Aaron snorted a laugh. “Motion to vote, then. We kill Balboa.”
Henry sighed. “Ah well, I shall miss my golf games with the man.”
Kino nodded.
“Fine,” Lucia said. “Let the record show, we sanction the death of V. C. Balboa. Aaron, please see to the details, would you?” She smoothed the fabric of her dress. “Next item on the agenda: Eliot and Fiona.”
They all turned toward Dallas and Henry. The sun had set, and in the dimming light, the two were silhouetted by flames.
This is what Audrey had come to discuss—why she’d maneuvered her sister off, and had maneuvered herself onto, the Council.
Her children. Their fates. To defend them, if possible . . . and if not both, perhaps one of them could be saved.
She felt cold inside. Absolute zero cold.
She had to be. She had to think her way through this, for if she felt anything . . . blood would be spilled. And despite her certainty that oceans of blood would flow one day . . . that could not be today.
She prayed not today. She just needed a little more time.
Dallas broke the crystalline silence that hung in the air. “So I should talk?” she asked, dripping with sarcasm. “Now? Why, I’m not sure I have it all straight in my head.”
“Do not play games with this Council,” Lucia murmured.
Dallas stood and sneered at Lucia. “You’re no fun.”
She practically