Excerpt from "Ancestors" by Donald Jacques

A portly man rose and addressed the woman. She had paused to recognize his turn to speak, but had not yielded fully by remaining standing. Her defiance unnerved him.

"Mistress Lynne, when your hus-"

"Sir, he is not here. I am." Her words bit into him like an icy knife.

"So you are, Mistress." He drew himself up again. "To do what you ask would divert needed resources already allocated at the request of Atlas himself - surely, even you would not wish to challenge him yourself?"

He saw her glance toward the empty galleries above. He noted also, her distinct awareness of the many missing members from council. She was in her element now - the most sparse number of witnesses. And of those present, all were afraid of her. She held something over each of them. Hers was an attempt to overrule an agreed upon order by minimum quorum.

"Quite the contrary, old friend." He imagined he could feel her icy breath reaching its stranglehold toward him. Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, loud enough for his ears alone. "I challenge you. For I know it was you who sought to buy Atlas' favor by committing your province's resources to his pet project. Even so, we both know the resources you offered were truly paltry, in exchange for his approval to sidestep this very council and line your pockets."

Her cold stare burned into him, freezing his tongue. "But - but - how could you know?" he stammered under his breath. His eyes grew wide in panic, wondering how much she knew.

Almost, it seemed in answer, "Now, sir. Make the motion." Her body had not moved, yet the force behind her whisper made her seem at his very ear, instead of five seats away. "And use care in your words councilor, lest I reveal all to the scribes when they return from mid-day meal."

He paled, and stammered. She cocked her head menacingly. He closed his eyes and collected himself, and with his heart beating furiously, cleared his throat. "Fellow councilmen, may I offer a second to her ladyship's proposal." He saw the wicked grin spread across her face, and knew his worst fears were already realized.

The meeting closed, as he kept looking for the return of the scribes to the gallery. But none appeared. His panic grew as he gathered his notes and hurried out the doors to try to reach his carriage. There his fears were realized. It was worse than he thought.

Members of Atlas' personal guard stood about the carriage. His heart skipped a beat. He could feel his hair rising on his neck.

"Menlos." A familiar voice said behind him. "My old friend, Menlos." The king's voice was a deep baritone, thrumming the air between them. "You have disgraced us all, and embarrassed the council of kings." The tall, regal form of the king stepped in front of Menlos, his lips pursed in disapproval. "Your ship waits in the harbor. Her captain has the orders for your exile from all of the ten kingdoms." He started to turn and stopped. His eyes bored into Menlos' own. "Your mistake was trusting too much. You forget that her spies are nearly as good as mine. You have made things intolerable, and she will be insufferable. Goodbye." As the king walked away, the guard opened the carriage door.