Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (17 page)

Lauren’s usual seat at the Council table was occupied by the Ceannard from Vancouver. Lauren didn’t know the man well, but Dougie liked him and counted the man as an ally. That meant the Ceannard from Vancouver was honorable and boded well for Lauren.

Only three of the Ceannard seats were occupied by women. That did not bode well.

Lauren didn’t find the women Ceannard more softhearted in their judgment—in fact, he found just the opposite. In his experience, the women were more likely to vote for swift and sometimes lethal action than their male counterparts. They were just more levelheaded about it, and less manipulative. They tended to act when it was right to do so and not out of what they’d get in return for their votes. As far as Lauren was concerned, the more women at the table, the better.

Lauren needed every one of the women on his side. Even then, the vote would be close.

Less than three seconds had passed since the command to stand was issued by the King’s Second. The Arm-Righ, in full flowing gold and purple robes, entered with such pomposity that Lauren literally itched with the need to plant his fist in the man’s jaw.
Hard to smile with such derision without your teeth.

Giving a regal nod to all those standing, the Arm-Righ took his seat. Lauren swore if he ever became Arm-Righ, he would never do that before the oath was given. Of course he’d never wear those robes or shower himself in pretense either, so maybe he wasn’t fit for office
in its present incarnation.

The Second began to recite the oath of allegiance and the attendees followed suit. Lauren recited his vow to honor Lord and Lady; Earth, Sea and Sky; Body and Spirit; King and Council—all in Scots Gaelic. The words were sacred to Lauren and he meant every one. That was why he added: “
Office of the King and Council.”
He didn’t honor the current King and he wouldn’t say he did. He’d wait until after the meeting to pass judgment on the Council.

“Be seated,” the Second said at the conclusion of the oath.

Lauren sat, settling back into the high carved-back oak chair reserved for him, off to the side of the Council table and in a ring about five feet in diameter and about three inches lower than the rest of the room.
The Suplicant’s Chair.

If Lauren was named Arm-Righ, he planned to have the damned thing filled in and raised up to match the rest of the room. Everyone would be equal in his hall.

Lauren settled in his seat and then didn’t move. He scanned the hall without turning his head as he settled a mantle of mental calm, a kind of alert mindfulness that gave nothing he was feeling away. He waited, motionless, for the pomp and circumstance to end. The Council had important issues to discuss.

As he waited, Lauren heard a buzzing in his ear, faint, but steady.

He ignored it.

It got louder, and louder, until he let down his conscious barrier and let it in.

Merry Peacock’s unmistakable voice filled his head. He wanted to push it away until later when he could enjoy it, but the stubborn woman just wouldn’t leave.

MacBain, listen and remember. The Council is bound by its rules. The rules are a product of Council history. They will lead you where you want to go. Follow the rules and Council law will lead to what must be.

Merry’s voice trailed off in his head as the Arm-Righ hit the gavel on the lawmaker’s stone, signaling the formal start of the meeting. Lauren’s inner vision was clear, as was his purpose. He was ready for whatever came next.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Meetings of the Council were always tedious, this one even more so.

All Council business was discussed before Lauren’s petition to name Daisy as a certified Finder came up for consideration. That was understandable. The Arm-Righ’s unending mantra for each Ceannard to open their coffers of Celtic artifacts for the Arm-Righ and any of his agents was not.

Lauren had no problem sharing the knowledge he’d gained from his team of Finders and their finds. What he wouldn’t countenance was the King’s greed. Once the Arm-Righ had access to an artifact of any real significance, he took it for himself. The Ceannard who shared it never got it back. The Arm-Righ didn’t take them to share with the Council or the wider Court, let alone the public—the King simply took ownership of the artifact. It, and the insight into ancient life and culture, was lost to all but a select few. Those few, more often than not, were black-market elites who traded in power and influence and didn’t give a flying fuck if they hoarded knowledge from the rest of the world; knowledge that could illuminate ways to cure the sick, shed light on human health and longevity, and assist others in understanding a spiritual path aligned with Celtic nature religions.

As much as the King proselytized his desire for “sharing” artifacts, what he really wanted was access to Taryn and her bracelet. He believed Taryn was the key to finding not only the famed Druid’s Scroll, but also the most esoteric artifacts known to man—those of myth and legend that weren’t supposed to really exist.

James Duncan, Earl of Dreich, didn’t care about anyone or anything except James Duncan. The man was greed incarnate. Lauren took solace in the fact that the man’s days were numbered.

Finally the King ran out of Council “business” to attend to. The Arm-Righ’s Second, a supercilious, yet dangerous man with psychopathic tendencies, hit the gavel, silencing the room.

He announced, “Now to the last item open for discussion and vote…” then stopped, letting his voice trail off, as if Lauren’s petition was something momentous, instead of the routine kind of request the Council heard and voted on several times a year.
Pedantic ass.

Lauren folded his hands in his lap, exhaled, and pushed his shoulders infinitesimally backward, broadening them slightly. He was ready for a fight, but he hoped he wouldn’t get one just yet. His mind whirled with possibilities.
Remember the rules…

Lauren’s skin began to prickle with the Second’s tone. He knew the moment he heard it, the Arm-Righ had secured the votes necessary to ensure that Daisy would never be named as a certified Finder. Therefore, none of her finds would be attributed to Lauren. Worse than that, the Arm-Righ had first shot at securing anything she found. It was a way for the Council to sanction the King’s theft of whatever Daisy found.

Remember, MacBain. Trap him with the rules. The King must uphold Council law.

Lauren needed two thirds of the Council to support his petition.

The Arm-Righ only needed five votes to ensure that Lauren’s petition failed. Which five were with the King?

Lauren scanned the faces of the Council members from his seat below them. Dougie MacDonald was with him, as was the Ceannard from Vancouver. All three Council women appeared to be on his side as well. A further glance indicated he had Norway’s vote, which was no surprise, and France’s vote, which was a huge surprise since Lauren disliked France’s Ceannard intensely. He’d always thought of Le Chiffre as a complete ass who wouldn’t know a real artifact if it walked up and bit him. Now Lauren owed the man one, a debt Le Chiffre wouldn’t forget. Lauren himself never forgot anyone who helped or hurt him. A wise man never did.

That was seven. Lauren quickly scanned again. Wales was with him too, but the Ceannard from Germany looked like his vote could go either way.

Kolin Damnet, the King’s Second, spoke again, capturing the attention of the Council. “Ceannard MacBain has laid before the Council a petition to have Daisy Po Bennett named as a Council-certified Finder.” The gavel hit the lawmaker’s stone once more. “Motions.”

The floor was open for a motion to vote on the petition. One of the Arm-Righ’s lackeys stood to make a motion for a vote. Dougie MacDonald cut the man off before he uttered a syllable. With a smile toward the Second, Dougie said the one word guaranteed to forestall a vote. “Argument.”

Partick Damnet went from smug to looking like a man who tried to swallow a live squid and couldn’t quite choke it down. He didn’t appear capable of speech and the best he could muster was a sharp nod.

The King did not look pleased. That pleased Lauren quite a bit.

Damnet finally found his tongue and acknowledged Dougie’s demand. “Douglas James MacDonald, Laird of Cape Breton…”

Dougie cut Damnet off with the same contempt he’d shown the lackey before him. “That’s
Ceannard
of Cape Breton and all of Nova Scotia, Quebec,
and
Ontario,
Honorable
”—Dougie laced the last word with as much contempt as he dared—“Second Damnet.”

Damnet nodded. “As you say,
Ceannard
MacDonald.” Damnet turned to his King. “Ceannard Douglas MacDonald of Canada wishes to open the floor for argument.”

The King did not wish to allow it, but he couldn’t deny Dougie’s request.

Follow the rules.

The Arm-Righ looked first at Lauren, then at Dougie. “Proceed.”

His friend wasted no time laying out Lauren’s cause. “My lord, Council members, fellow Ceannard. I address you as one who respects and trusts our fellow Council member, Ceannard MacBain. He comes before us today asking that his apprentice, a scholar in her own right, a warrior trained in the martial arts since the age of twelve, be named Finder. Many without her credentials have been unanimously approved by the members of this Council.” Dougie paused to let that sink in.

He continued, “Ceannard MacBain has the greatest collection of artifacts among us. His team of Finders consistently recovers artifacts where other teams have failed. There is no legitimate reason not to trust his judgment and approve his petition.”

Dougie paused long enough for those loyal to the King to begin discussing the vote among themselves, most saying slurs under their breath. That wasn’t unusual enough for Lauren to take umbrage. Since it was supposed to be open debate, he kept quiet.

When the not-so-subtle taunts began, the King sat back and smiled, content to let the petty slurs go unheeded.

“She’s too young…”

“Too short…”

“Warrior? My ass…”

“Rich girl on a mission…”

“Daisy? What kind of a warrior is named Daisy…”

“MacBain’s banging her…”

“Slut…”

Lauren stood so fast and with so much fury at the last word that his heavy chair flew out of the supplicants’ hole. The sound of his chair hitting the stone floor reverberated in the room. After that, complete silence reigned in the hall, with the invisible energy of thunder.

Since the Arm-Righ had nothing to do with the silence or the ominous quality of it, he felt compelled to demand it. “Silence.”

His minions took their seats, cowed not by him, but by the volatile energy Lauren radiated from every pore of his being. Lauren didn’t wait to be acknowledged by the Council or the King. He didn’t ask permission to be heard. He thought it a supreme act of will that blood wasn’t already flowing on the stone.

Daisy was the daughter of his heart. He’d adopted her the day she came into his Milwaukee museum at thirteen and announced she was going to be the greatest Finder the world had ever seen. She said that if he knew what was good for him, he’d start training her then before one of the other Ceannard scooped her up. Lauren loved Daisy as much as he loved anyone on earth. The man who uttered that word would feel his fist. So, in time, would the King.

Remember the rules.

“I demand the right to name my Second.” Lauren’s voice echoed off the stone walls, filling the hall with his power.

It was one hell of a risk. Tradition dictated that the Arm-Righ be consulted before a Ceannard named a Second. The role of Second was too important to the entire Court not to be discussed. Naming a Second was like naming an heir, only it couldn’t be changed. Once named, a Second was a Second for the life of the Ceannard. Unless the Second died before the Ceannard, the bond could not be severed.

The King smiled, a deadly smile. His voice turned smooth, like a snake’s hissing. “The naming of a Second has not been discussed, Ceannard.”

“Council law does not require it.” Lauren didn’t even try to placate the King. His response was factual, not polite. “All that is required to name a Second is for me to state my intent before the Council. I have done so.”

Fury at being outmaneuvered was written all over the King’s face. Lauren had made a covert enemy into an overt one. He didn’t care. It was best that the Arm-Righ know that if he made a move against Daisy he was a dead man. Lauren was now within his rights to make it so.

James Duncan, Earl of Dreich, Arm-Righ of the Damselfly Court, said the words that would seal his fate and Lauren’s. “Ceannard MacBain, your Second has been named. May she be blessed with strength, courage, and long life.”

The Council replied in unison, “The Second has been named. May she be blessed with strength, courage, and long life.”

The Arm-Righ got up and walked away without dismissing the Council.

He’d just declared war.

Openly.

Lauren and Daisy were now marked as fair game for any Court loyalist.

Come and get us at your peril.