Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(21)
“Why are you talking about Jan—”
“We’re learning about the political history of the Southern Network as well as current events,” Leda blurted out, her nostrils flaring. “Would you care to join us and write an essay on why the Southern Network army needs metals found in the caves of the Western Network?”
“Lots to do today!” I said, taking a step back. “Hope you have some fun.”
“I’ll see you later,” Leda said dismissively and turned back to her paperwork, but not before a look of relief crossed her face.
Well played, Leda, I thought. She wanted to get rid of me, and she had. But why? She was definitely up to something.
“Now, the Southern Network has always been known for their talent in crafting weaponry,” Miss Scarlett began, and her voice soon droned into the background.
I ventured further into the library, past the circular, elevated desk that sat in the very middle of the room. Several librarians bustled inside of it, sorting cards, books, and slips of paper. The walls filled with dusty tomes gave off the scent of aged paper and ink. I perused the stacks with a disinterested eye. Treating Fungus, How to Properly Age and Preserve Mushrooms, and All About the Mansfeld Pact ran past my eyes. It wasn’t until I found a book entitled Bindings and Such that I felt a glimmer of hope.
A librarian passed by, ignoring me. I settled on the floor and cracked the book open, flipping through the table of contents. Old, nearly illegible handwriting covered the fading pages. I had to squint, working to read every line.
“The many types of bindings,” I read under my breath. “Eternal bindings. Inherited bindings. Bindings for children.”
Nothing on the list appealed to me. After combing through the book without success, I shoved it back onto the shelf and grabbed another from nearby. How to Fight in a Mactos. But that dealt primarily with magical fighting and blighters. I pushed it back.
An hour later I had a walloping headache, a suspicious librarian tailing me at every turn, and no progress on my goal. Could a binding be destroyed? I began to have my doubts. If it could, I found no evidence of it, which disheartened me. A male voice the next row of books over stopped my perturbed thoughts in their tracks.
“Derek deserves to be exiled,” it said.
My powers woke with a sudden start, surly and ready to fight. I paused, waiting, trying to identify the witch on the other side. There were no slats in the shelves in this section of the library, so I couldn’t peer through the tops of the books to see who stated those traitorous words with such ease.
“You’re taking on a big cause,” said a different voice with little inflection. Another male witch. Older, if the drawling tone meant anything.
“Yes, perhaps. But it’s a worthy cause, no doubt,” the first voice replied in a rush. “Derek lied to the entire Network! Our first leaders set up the rules against leadership having family for a reason. He willingly defied that tradition. Willingly! It’s insulting, that’s what it is, to all that went before him and made the sacrifice.”
“Some will argue that he still did his job well.”
“He fulfilled his duties, yes. So what? He lied the entire time. The real question is this: In a time of war, how are we to trust Derek to make the right decisions?”
A long paused stretched between them.
“The question is one you may choose to act on however you feel is best, Clive. I cannot stop you, but I would advise you to have a plan. The Council will not accept a petition that is poorly executed or presented.”
Clive.
The very name sent a cool chill through my blood. Clive had been the Coven Leader over Chatham City for the past five years. Because Chatham City was the biggest city in the Network, its Coven Leader had a lot of power. Usually, the Coven Leader eventually became a Council Member. No doubt Clive wanted to pad his career by getting rid of Papa, hoping to advance into the Council upon the next vacancy.
“I have a plan,” Clive said with a self-assurance that made me want to punch him. I balled my hand into a fist instead. The magic burned behind my ribs like a pile of coals. “Starting tomorrow, with your approval of course, I’ll begin holding rallies all across Chatham City. Once I gain the requisite 50,000 signatures from the occupants of the city, I’ll bring the petition to the Council.”
“You’re talking about Derek Black,” the deeper voice said. “Not an initiative to change taxes. You may meet some resistance.”
“I respectfully disagree. Derek is no favorite anymore, Council Member Jansson.”
Since Jansson oversaw Chatham City, it made sense that Clive was speaking to him about this. I hadn’t spoken with Jansson directly, but saw him working often with the High Priestess and Papa.
“You know of Derek’s waning popularity better than anyone,” Clive continued. “I wouldn’t be able to get five hundred people to sign something in support of him. But to remove him? I’ll get plenty of signatures. Chatham is foaming over it.”
And so are you, I thought, wanting to rake my nails across his face. You dirty snake.
“I came here today to ask for your support,” Clive said when Jansson didn’t reply. I whispered a cloaking incantation and stole to the edge of the bookshelves as the icy spell ran down my body, concealing me from sight. When I peered around the corner to see the two of them standing together, conspiring, my anger ignited again.