The Guild (22 page)

“One more thing, Grandmaster Toric,” Alonnen interjected, cutting him off.

“What
now
, Guild Master Tall?” Toric asked, rolling his eyes. “Or have you not realized you’ve proposed more than enough for this evening?”

“There is one more thing which needs to be discussed right
now
, Grandmaster, and that is the distribution and care of the ex-priesthood’s former prisoners. In other words, the
mages
that have
been released, now that Mekha is no longer draining them,” Alonnen stressed. Unlike Toric, he didn’t hesitate to say the
M
word.

Rexei had forgotten about them. She winced, berating herself silently for having forgotten the men and women who needed care and protection. Others around her winced as well, though more for the way he so openly said
mages
than for anything else. Using the word snared their attention, however, and she watched Alonnen firmly press the point.

“My Guild
cannot
take them in. Literally, we have not the room; we have not the food; we have not the clothing, nor anything else. We are already overflowing with people we
cannot
care for . . . and as soon as this snowstorm is over, I am going to have to send them
back
to your guilds, which means you,
all
of you, each and every other Guild out there, will have to care for, clothe, feed, and assist them in learning how to pick up their lives again.”

That
caused an even louder uproar than the debate over Rexei’s manifestation of the Goddess and abrupt Guild Mastery. The uproar was so loud, it took Grandmaster Toric several smacks of his gavel to get everyone to quiet down again. Alonnen seized their reluctant quiet to assert his reasons, rising to his feet as he did so. He spoke sternly, staring down the men and women across from him, and the men and women seated to either side of him.

“This is
not
negotiable! Heiastowne
alone
released one hundred fifty-three prisoners, and every
other
Precinct with a temple that released its prisoners wants to send them to
my
guild.
We do not have the resources for that.
More than that,” he stated, pulling out a sheet of paper from his coat. “
More
than that, I have here a document signed by our predecessor Guild Masters to
acknowledge
that
all
guildmembers of good standing, current or former, have the
right
to call upon every guild they ever served in for succor in times of great need, whether that’s one guild or twenty, whether
it’s illness, injury, or whatever . . . and these men and women
have
been grievously injured.

“And of these prisoners who have been released?” Alonnen added tartly. “Of all of them that we’ve taken in so far, nearly a hundred that you’ve tried to foist off on me, when we have neither the room nor the supplies to care for them? Only
three
were actual, registered members of
my
guild. The rest were taken off the streets and out of their homes long before they could ever take refuge with my predecessors and me. The responsibility is
yours
, gentles.”

Another session of outbursts and counterarguments echoed off the walls. Rexei, tired, overwrought, and now angry, shoved to her feet and smacked her fist onto the table with a
thunk
. “Enough!” she roared, her high tenor cutting through the babble. “Breaking them up into
small
numbers and spreading them out across
all
the guilds means that each guild with a large member base only has to support three or four people—which your guilds can do
easily
—and each guild with a small membership, save for the tiniest, can equally easily handle one or two.

“You will
not
abandon your responsibilities to your fellow guildmembers, is that clear?” Rexei demanded. She thumped the table with her fist again. “You will
not
abandon your responsibilities. You are the
guilds
of this land. You are the power, and the responsibility, that has kept the False God’s priesthood in check. But even though the False God is now gone, you are
still
responsible for maintaining order, for abiding by your own charters!

“And if you try to
refuse
your rightful responsibilities, then to the Netherhells with you! You will
not
abandon these people, nor force one guild alone to take up the entire responsibility of helping these undoubted
thousands
of Mekha’s victims learn how to live again!” She glared out across the stunned, silent crowd, then turned her furious stare on the Guild Masters seated elbow to elbow along the
length of the curved table. “Because if that’s how you feel, then take off your guild medallions and get out, right now! Get out of this land! You don’t deserve to live here! Get
out!
”

Her other hand jabbed hard at the main doors into the meeting hall, the ones that led straight to the front doors of the Consulate building and the snow outside. No one moved, and no one spoke. She lowered her arm, giving everyone a hard look.

“Since you’re one and all sitting there instead of leaving,” Alonnen stated in the silence that followed her words, “I’ll take that as unanimous consent that each and every guild
will
accept responsibility for however many ex-prisoner mages they can handle. As I said,
my
guild literally does not have the resources to host more than a bare handful, so the remainder will be sent
back
to Heiastowne and its guilds . . . and by your unanimous consent, you will all send word, particularly the Guild Masters, that it has been decided that all other towns shall retain and care for their own mage-prisoner populations,
and
protect them from the ex-priesthood still in our midst.”

Rexei sat down as he spoke, leaving him to hold the floor, but he was not uncontested. One voice did speak up.

“You may have shamed them into silence, Guild Master Tall, but the two of you cannot unilaterally make
that
kind of decision for the entire span of Mekhana . . . even if Mekha
is
gone,” Captain Torhammer stated. “I will continue to uphold the laws of this land for as long as I remain a Precinct captain. These contracts may be valid, but the scale of responsibility is far greater than anything we have ever seen as a nation, and the corresponding impact will be as great. The law states that any decision which affects the entire kingdom requires a quorum vote, the minimum for which is twenty Guild Masters. Even if we include Toric as a Grandmaster-ranked Gearman and myself as a Precinct captain, both of which do have full quorum-level votes at our ranks . . . we still have only nineteen assembled in this hall.”

“Then
I
move that we vote to acknowledge Master Longshanks as Guild Master of the incipient Holy Guild.” The man who spoke up had not said much, if anything, before now. Rexei had to squint to see the symbol on the Guild Master’s medallion. It took her a few moments to realize it was a lute crossed with a flute, the mark of the Luthiers Guild, instrument makers.

Toric quickly smacked his gavel, cutting off the start of the next round of conversational chaos. “Order! Be seated and be silent. This proposal is valid
and
fair. Incipient guilds have one year and one day to prove themselves, up to and including gathering a sufficient body of apprentices to learn the specific craft of that new guild.

“Since we have acknowledged that the Goddess Guildra did manifest in conjunction with Longshanks’ expressed beliefs in Her, and given we all witnessed Her giving Longshanks a Guild Master medallion, we shall take it as moot that She wishes Longshanks to be the Guild Master of Her Holy Guild. Whether or not
She
will be our Patron Goddess, and thus whether Longshanks shall be the permanent Guild Master of the new priestly order within the borders of our land, is a discussion for
another
day.

“We are restricted to voting to see if Master Rexei Longshanks will be acknowledged among us as the Guild Master of the Holy Guild, its incipiency to begin today. Guild Masters, grandmasters, and masters, if you are in favor of acknowledging Rexei Longshanks as Guild Master of the Holy Guild, raise your hands now.”

A forest of arms lifted into the air. Some shot up immediately, while others rose at a slower rate. Rexei couldn’t count them all from where she was seated, but it looked like she had a majority vote in her favor at both the head table and among the first five rows of the pews.

“Lower your arms. All opposed . . . ?” Toric asked. This time, the number of arms was easily countable, less than ten. “And those who abstain?” A few more arms raised. He gestured for the arms to
drop, consulted under his breath with the Precinct captain, then nodded. “The number of votes for is over eighty, which is where I lost count because it’s too late at night. The number of votes against is nine. The number abstaining is twelve. Motion passes. The Consulate of Heias Precinct grants you the title of Guild Master Rexei Longshanks of the incipient Holy Guild. Don’t let it go to your head,” the elderly Gearman warned her. “You are acknowledged a Guild Master, but you are young, and your Guild virtually nonexistent . . . not to mention not yet fully acknowledged.”

Rexei bowed her head, acknowledging his point. He continued, addressing the others.

“Guild Masters. You have been apprised of your responsibilities locally for those prisoners released from the Heiastowne temple. You have been informed of the release of prisoners elsewhere in your homeland and the fact that the inhabitants of those other towns are attempting to absolve themselves of their chartered responsibility for all members, current and former, of good standing . . . and I shall remind you that being kidnapped by the False God’s priesthood simply for the ability to . . . to cast magic does
not
make any guildmember a member in
bad
standing.

“As Guild Masters, you have the right to make unilateral decisions for all guildmembers within your purview. As we now have twenty present, we have a quorum for kingdom-wide decisions. Shall we return these . . . ex-prisoners . . . into your individual guilds’ care in small groups? Or shall we place them all into the care of the one guild which even now none of us cares to formally name out loud?”

The men and women seated at the Consulate table exchanged wordless, wary looks. It was clear they weren’t comfortable with the idea of taking back into their midst
known
mages, whom the priesthood could come back and grab at any point in time. Rexei wanted to say something, but she knew this wasn’t her fight.

The one man who knew whose fight it was did not stand up again, but he did speak sharply.

“If they get shoved into
my
guild,” Alonnen told the hall, “then I will demand tithes from each of
your
guilds to cover the costs of feeding, clothing, and giving each ex-prisoner adequate medical care and emotional support. And a stipend to cover all further expenses that may crop up . . . and if you will not give those supplies willingly, then I shall have no choice but to command my people to
take
those supplies, just to keep everyone from starving to death within the first week.”

“
Thank
you, Guild Master Tall. I will presume that
you
vote to insist that every guild take up the care and responsibility for at least some of these ex-prisoners,” Toric said dryly.

“Damn right, I do,” Alonnen shot back. “We’ll take in a few, but we can
only
afford to take in a few—there are five guilds in this town with less than a dozen members, from masters to apprentices, so we’ll take in one for each of them, plus the three who were registered with us before their capture. Any others will require a full-support tithe, and the maximum we’ll take in will be thirty . . . so twenty-two of them would require support tithes.”

Rexei seized the pause that followed his words. “I also must insist that the guilds accept and manage their responsibilities toward each other in this matter.”

“If we will continue from that end of the Consulate bench,” Toric stated dryly, “I shall take that as
two
votes for multiguild management of the ex-prisoners. Guild Master of Actors?”

“
I
vote for each of the guilds to take in a few of the prisoners,” the redhead stated firmly. “Regardless of the outcome, the Actors Guild will take in at least three. My fellow guildmembers can manage that much locally here in Heiastowne. In Luxon, the temple has yet to release its captives, but when it does, I know we can care for five or six in the larger arms of the Actors Guild there.
We
won’t abandon anyone, though we, too, are limited in how many we can accept.”

“Guild Master of Modellers?” Toric asked.

“It is all our responsibility, not just Guild Master Tall’s. We can take in three here in Heiastowne without any strain to our resources. Hollowfeld to the south is a small town. We had only twelve prisoners released total,” the male Guild Master stated, “but the Modellers Guild has a solid presence for its size, there. We, the Tillers, Woodwrights, and Hospitallers all took in the released mages pretty much immediately. We can even take in two more from this area, ship them to my fellow Modellers in Hollowfeld, and see that they receive proper care . . . and wherever possible, we will take in one or two elsewhere as well.”

“Guild Master of Wheelrights?”

“We’ll do it across the kingdom . . . and we’ll take in five here in Heiastowne right away. Or at least when the weather improves,” the rough-voiced man stated. “I saw the snow outside. We’ll all have to take refuge in town tonight.”

The vote continued down the line. Each man and woman questioned agreed to accept responsibility kingdom-wide, and most listed a number, small but significant, which they knew their nearest groups could take in immediately. Hearing so many accept their responsibilities, Rexei started to relax. However, she could see Alonnen tensing, no doubt worried that a single vote otherwise would throw his whole guild into turmoil.