All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [5]
Audrey looked at Eliot as if he spoke a language she didn’t understand.
How typical. Audrey was very good at telling them what to do—not so good at listening to anything they had to say.
“That’s why you’re sending us to Paxington, right?” Fiona asked. She worked very hard to keep anger from creeping into her voice. She made herself sound polite, quizzical—keeping this discussion on an intellectual level. “I mean, you’re sending us there to learn about our family, their history, and how we’re supposed to fit into this world.”
Audrey blinked. “Yes, Rule Fifty-five is naturally abolished. You must learn everything that has been omitted from your education as quickly as possible.”
Fiona nodded and kept her face an impassive mask, hiding her glee.
Audrey had never lifted a rule. The only changes to the rules for as long as Fiona had lived were additions.
She and Eliot would have to be careful. They couldn’t push. Audrey tended to push back ten times harder when confronted with the slightest force.
As if sensing the precise wrong thing to say, Eliot leaned forward and asked, “So, what about all the other rules?”
Fiona could have killed him.
“We will revisit them on a case-by-case basis.” Audrey took a sip of orange juice. “If necessary.”
“So then, what about Rule Thirty-four?” Eliot said. Both his hands gripped the edge of the dining table.
Fiona gave him a kick—hard.
Eliot flinched, but he didn’t look away from Audrey.
Rule 34 was the “no music” rule.
RULE 34: No music, including the playing of any instruments (actual or improvised), singing, humming, electronically or by any means producing or reproducing a rhythmic melodic form.
Eliot had this stupid fascination with music—and an even greater fascination with the violin their father had given him.
In truth, though, Eliot and his music had done some amazing things. Magical things. Terrible things. But it was unpredictable, and that scared Fiona.
“Your music . . . ,” Audrey said.
She opened her mouth to say more, but for some reason Audrey hesitated, as if she was actually weighing the issues. Fiona had never seen her perseverate over anything in her life. Audrey always knew her mind—and she never changed it once made.
“We shall lift this rule as well,” Audrey finally said. “Play you must. I sense it is in your blood. But go slowly, Eliot, for you play with fire.”
“Yes, Mother.” Eliot eased back into his seat. “Thank you.”
So he was calling her Mother now? How annoying.
But maybe it was okay as long as he kept his mouth shut about the other rules. Even Eliot had to know better than to push their luck further. Two rules lifted in one day was real progress.
“Ah!” Audrey brightened. “I’d almost forgotten.” She opened her briefcase and retrieved a sheaf of legal-sized pages.
She set the inch-thick stack on the table and pushed it toward Fiona and Eliot.
Fiona grabbed it and pulled it away from her brother.
“The Council sent it this morning,” Audrey told them. “Turn to page six. That is the only relevant piece you need concern yourself with.”
Fiona flipped ahead.
She and Eliot read:
EDICTS GOVERNING NEW LEAGUE MEMBERS
1. New members must not under any circumstance, or by any means, convey, imply, or by means of not providing answers reveal the existence of the League of Immortals to non–League members.
2. With identical limitations as per Provision One, new members must not reveal their nonmortal status to mortals.
3. New members must not discuss the subjects of Provisions One and Two in public, where third parties may clandestinely eavesdrop, lip-read, or record conversations.
4. New members are accountable to these provisions/edicts and subject to penalties provided in Appendix D as sent forth by the Punishment and Enforcement Bureau circa 1878. (continued on the next page . . .)
“I hope,” Audrey said, “you two realized how seriously the League takes these matters.” She retrieved